I don't own X-Men
I will be changing Rogue's character from the pathetically meek persona she posssessed in the movies to more towards her true personality of the comics.
Also forgive, I have no clue how to do a southern accent...
I will also be changing some details.
Right now, Rogue never earned her white stripes from Magneto's machine as it never existed - that's the stupidest thing I ever heard of and/or saw in the first movie
It had begun with a news report.
She had been sprawled on her couch, warm and comfortable, one hand resting absently around the violet tinged coffee mug, filled to the brim with a rich steaming cocoa that had been topped with whipped cream, her legs tangled around those of her dozing companion. Said companion hadn't stirred even when the emergency bulletin had appeared claiming that a freak hurricane was responsible for the base's destruction. She knew better though.
The images had been hastily filmed, the screens so blotched with static and flying debris that it was almost impossible to make out the figures of the airborne soldiers from the crumbled shapes of what had once been jeeps and trucks. It had been a tank which had eradicated the camera man though the machine had been so twisted and misshapen that it had only been the cannon tube, she supposed that was what it was called, at its foremost front that had identified the machine for what it truly was.
She could remember sitting there, watching the suddenly blank screen, feeling her heart stop somewhere deep within her chest... and begin beating again at nearly twice its normal rate.
There was no denying who was responsible. Nor could she blame him.... it was the concentration camps all over again... only this time people tried not to imprison the "others" just simple "cure" them.
Though the screen was little more than a black and grey blur she knew who could possibly be responsible for such turmoil. She did after all have him in her head, and what better way than to announce his return than to destroy the only reserves of the Cure; a remote military base that few knew had existed until now. After all two years ago had that same being not lifted the Golden Gate Bridge as if it was a toy swarmed over by little toy soldiers with a mere gesture.
It seemed, horribly so, that even after he was shot with four needles filled with the Cure weren't enough to keep Magneto; self claimed Master of Magnetism, from the playing field.
Once the reports had finally stopped coming in, despite her best attempts to stop it, the tears had come... some part of her delving to near hysterics at the thoughts of what would undoubtedly befall her. It had been her sobs, muffled even as they were with the couch's pillow cushion, which had awaken the other being within her small apartment... she had used the other as something of a tissue.
The next day while petting the neighborhood cat, she had realized that she too was no longer Cured... the feline had never known what had touched it for but a heartbeat after her bare fingers touched it it was dead.
It was the day that Anna Marie died once again.
Storm sighed, the African's dark tinged eyes closing, as she listened to yet another of the new mutants who had arrived within the manison since the arrival and administration of the Cure... wondering why one of her former students couldn't be taking her place as advisor as the mutant whose name escaped Ororo rambled on about how the Cure's apparent failure was cruel. The mutant, a lively creature with vibrantly tinged almost devilish eyes, was a charming individual even with his tiring habit of speaking in the third person something that Storm had discovered on the first day she had encountered this individual; as he insisted on referring to himself as either Remy, in familiar settings, or by his rather suiting alias as Gambit otherwise. Said mutant himself hadn't taken the Cure but he had been slated, unwillingly so by his fiance, for such a fate; ironically it had been the mutual assault of the Brotherhood and the X-Men that had seen to the mutant's escape... and subsequent arrival at the mansion.
Still he was entertaining.
And yet as Storm caught sight of Kitty Pryde, alias Shadowcat and once the girlfriend of Robert "Bobby" Drake or the Iceman now after a year skint was single, approaching rapidly a worried even concerned expression on her face.
"Ororo, we need your help." The petite brunette still possessed the same soft almost meek way of speaking.
"What..." There was real concern in the other woman's voice and eyes... something even the womanizer Remy LeBeau realized as he hadn't thrown his charming antics against Kitty. "What is it?"
"It's Rogue... she's come back..." A pause.
Ororo could feel herself tense at the name, Rogue probably one of the more potentially powerful of mutants Storm had encountered and yet the most limited for with her mutation been activated by skin to skin contact and with such dire results it was understandable how the younger mutant had sought the Cure. She supposed, Ororo did at least knew if she hadn't been in her Storm persona after the deaths of the Professor, Jean, Scott and so many others... and the defeat of Magneto and his lackies that she would have been more supportive of the other mutant turned human. But with the arrival of mutants needing help like Remy and Rogue's oddity in been the only true blue human, then, it had only been a matter of time before Rogue had become an outcast amongst her former teammates... not even Logan distraught as he was, had had much to say when she'd packed up and left the mansion.
Just a hug and a passing over a phone number, and a few thousand dollars... enough to just barely start a new life.
For a few months Rogue had kept in contact and then she'd stopped calling... with no Jean or Xavier to work the Cerbero they couldn't find her... even Logan, overcoming his grief, had found little when he located her old apartment.
And now that same once mutant turned human was back.
"Rog... Rogue..." Storm could feel Remy's gaze alternating between her and Kitty, but the southern said nothing.
"And she's not alone..." Teeth bit worriedly into Kitty's bottom lip. "I left Bobby there with them... but oh Miss. Munroe..."
"Real'li Kiti-cat," the voice was slightly deeper than before, more confident, "a' think ya's welcomin' is lackin'... leaving a gurl like me outsside in th raiin."
Storm's dark eyes instantly flickered from the petite brunette to the figure that had appeared through the doorframe, noting how two years had done much in allowing the other younger mutant to grow up. There was more meat on Rogue's bones and she had definitely developed some muscle, testament of having maintained a good lifestyle even without the state of the art training facility such as the Danger Room. The stark white bangs, a trait that the younger woman had had since Storm had first seen her, had been allowed to grow out standing out sharply in relation to the deep chestnut brown hair; pulled backwards into a loose ponytail the mane itself was thicker and wilder as if the other hadn't seen a hairdresser for a while and was long overdue. Like her mentor a duffal bag rested at the other's feet, it seemed both Logan and Rogue had so little that a mere bag could hold all their worldly possessions, though this bag was nearly stuffed to bursting.
"An... Rogue." It was a baritone voice and one Storm had never heard before.
But one Rogue was used to given the slight twitch of lips, the smirk aching to become a smile, as the skunk haired female turned to face whoever it was that had called her name from the hallway.
And who Storm left her heart stop.
Taller than Rogue by a good handful of inches, easily standing at 6 feet or over, and was quite muscular clearly stating that this being was quite used to phyiscal activities rather than relying completely on mutant powers. His skin was moderately tanned indicating that he had spent some time underneath the sun, not enough to necessarily burn but enough to give him a complexion that contrasted so sharply with his abnormally pale hair that it was oddly attractive. A pair of brilliantly hued eyes, more of a pale azure, peeked out from beneath dangling bangs which had been hastily brushed aside so that the right side was more up and resting atop of the head while the left hand side fell forwards to fan across narrow cheekbones and an angular face.
Yet that wasn't it which caused Storm to pause.
There was something vaguely, and yet horribly, familiar about this being.