Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.

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"If anyone asks, you're my kid sister."

"...I guess that makes me adopted?"

"And we didn't go tellin' ya till ya asked."

"So that also makes me kinda slow, huh?"

"Hey, I didn't go sayin' nothin'."

Getting a straight up dose of stink eye from her favourite little pain in the ass, Rogue ruffled Jubilee's hair. The girl was just another orphan turned runaway, something that made her a kindred spirit, albeit one with a questionable fashion sense. Having lived that life herself, Rogue didn't want to see the girl learning all the same, hard lessons that the streets had to teach.

"Man, there are dive bars and then there's this joint. Ten bucks says road kill's on the menu."

Some preconceptions about Canada aside, Rogue had to admit that they were damned far into the boonies when the next stop of note was Alaska by the way of the Yukon. She'd been to her share of truck stops, but this was the first one that advertised cage fighting as the Friday night attraction, well, that and a sign telling about fresh moose burgers.

"How about I just buy ya the night's special and a shake to wash it on down with?"

In her time with Jubilee, she'd learned that the girl could be adventurous when it came to eating out. Well, just so long as there were no hard feelings about a spit take if she didn't like it.

"Onion rings if they got them?" asked Jubilee.

"Onion rings if they got 'em."

Shaking on it, that was ten bucks better put towards the dinner she already owed the girl. Truth be told, she could use a bite to eat herself. Right along with something to wash it down with, and just maybe a Jack and Coke for dessert. That would have to wait considering she was on the clock, what with her on again off again benefactor having called in about a job that would see her and Jubilee living it easy for the next few months. All they had to do was track down a couple o' pings from Chuck's big ol' psychic Etch A Sketch as Jubes called it.

"So, it's a dude, like...your age? Early twenties? And a guy that's kinda my age?"

"A couple o' brothers, or that's what the ol' Professor told me at least. Logan's the name o' the younger bro, and he's sixteen from what Chuck told me."

"Cool, just a year older than me. I hope he's cute."

"Jubes, we're here on business," huffed Rogue, damn teens and their hormones.

"What? Business can't be cute?"

"Can it, ya smart ass. Business and cute are the kind o' mess we don't talk about anymore."

"So exnay on any talking about Remy, eh?"

"Brat."

Jubilee did smug right, cheeky without the kind of shit eating grin that begged for a kick to the ol' caboose.

"Whoa..."

Whoa indeed, the Laughlin City truck stop sure as hell was a rowdy joint, that or the night's attraction of cage fighting had spilled out into the crowd. It was dark, crowded, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Jubilee already checking out a few likely marks. There was that damned Swamp Rat's bad influence coming through again in spades...

"No." Rogue snapped, snatching Jubilee by her painfully bright yellow hoodie before she could disappear into the crowd.

"Gosh, I was just looking. Like I'd wanna get caught picking pockets here, I'd probably get shanked or shot. Heck, maybe both at once." Jubilee grumbled as she shirked off Rogue's grip with a dismissive shrug.

"Here, go get somethin' to eat up at the bar, and don't go sneakin' off outta sight without catching my eye first, ya hear?" Giving the girl a twenty, she didn't expect any change.

"Yes, Mom..."

Rolling her eyes, Rogue headed off out into the crowd. Already she felt the eyes on her that bespoke of all the kind of unwanted attention a pretty gal could draw at a joint like this. Of the regulars among the fairer sex, they sported hiked up thongs riding high above tight blue jeans and tiny tees that didn't leave much to the imagination. For herself? Well, let them think she was a might bit on the shy side, having a damn good reason for not showing anywhere near the skin that some of these gals were.

Look, but don't touch. That wasn't her just whistling Dixie either. Heck, it'd become a bit of an inside joke between her and Jubes to the point that the little brat had picked up a bumper sticker that advertised it on the back of their beat up ol' Ford Bronco. Then there was the other one, 'If you're gonna ride my ass at least pull my hair!', something Lee had gone and bought for the back window that had all the rowdy boys honking as they passed by.

All that was forgotten as she saw him, the older brother without a doubt. He'd been just a figment in her mind until she locked eyes with him. The Professor had called alright, albeit telepathically, to give her a heads up about the two he wanted her to vet for him. That meant they were dangerous, not that it scared her none. Checking out the current fella calling himself the King of the Cage, his name was a whisper in her ear, Victor, and damn if he wasn't living up to his namesake.

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Her scent came with a cold blast of arctic air that drew his eyes to the door. Losing her in the crowd, a stubborn bead of sweat blinded him for all of the blink of an eye. Vision cleared, the pain of a cheap shot reminded him where his attention was supposed to be, right on the sorry sack of shit he owed an ass kicking. Seeing the smug little prick smirking, Victor let the imminent promise of violence fill his eyes to wipe away at the punk's shit eating grin.

"My turn."

Searching his every hungry breath for that tantalizing fragrance that still teased him, whoever she was, she drawing ever closer. That meant playtime was over, enjoying the old look he'd seen countless times fill the other man's eyes, a look of fear mixed with the awful realization that he'd never had a chance right from the get go. Like every other challenger before him, he'd been played with just to pad the odds and give the crowd a show. The crack of knuckles hammering bone erupted with a spray of blood and spat teeth. And while the challenger didn't look to have a glass jaw, it sure as hell broke just as easily.

"The winner!" Roared the announcer, his voice electric with the lightning whose thunder came with the cheering of the crowd.

Pounding back a beer in one thirsty guzzle to celebrate his victory, Victor saw her at last, her scent so sweet and near he couldn't keep his lusty growl at bay. She wasn't like any of the ladies he knew that threw themselves at him hoping for a good rutting that would leave them sore, but satisfied come the morning. Hell, she wasn't even checking him out. No, she was damned well sizing him up, and that got him hard as he met her intense scrutiny full on.

What she did next, though, stole away his very breath to leave him raggedly searching for it through his flared nostrils. Like every other challenger before, a wad of cash was thrown down before she stepped into the cage. Yet unlike any before her, Victor saw something dangerous in her, something he wanted to see let loose. For the first time in a long time he felt like he had himself a real fight on his hands.

His smile only grew as she cast off her hooded jacket, stripping right down to just jeans and a sports bra that told no lies, that without a doubt he wasn't the only one looking forward to something more than just the fight to come. Counting out the seconds by the beating of his heart hammering away in his ears, the ringing of the bell waited of in some distant future that made an eternity out of the slow seconds. With an anticipation the likes he'd never known before, his eyes stayed locked on hers.

And somewhere in the routine of the fight being announced he heard her name at last, Rogue. Grinning with a flash of feral fangs, it suited her and she knew it.

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"Twenty bucks on Rogue."

If there was one thing Logan knew, it was the confidence of betting on a sure thing. Wondering just who his brother was up against, long was the line of truckers and loggers looking to blow off some steam in the cage. Damn if he didn't nearly choked on his Coke though, as he saw some dame stripping down to her bra. Modest she sure as hell wasn't, completely ignoring all the eyes on her except for one man, those of his big brother, Vic.

Having a better look at the girlie who'd just handed off her lunch money to the local bookie, she was petite, Asian, and showed a lot more interest in watching the cook sear up her burger than in the fight she'd just bet on. Dressed in black denim cutoffs, a yellow hoodie, and tights that had seen better days, she stood out in the landscape of blue jeans, flannel, and the kind of safety orange sweatshirts a man wore to work where a chainsaw was just another of the tools of his trade.

"If she thinks Vic will go easy on her because she's a woman, then I got news for the both of ya."

Now as much as he was used to having ladies looking interested in him, they usually were the sort of women who took solace in the age of consent in these here parts being the same as it took for a kid to learn to drive. They never had been the least bit shy about it either, so neither was he. But something about the way girlie here was staring at him put all their hungry, lusty looks to shame. It damned near made him blush, and then she started sucking on the straw of her vanilla shake...

"How about this? When Rogue wins, you cover my bill?" Licking her lips, girlie looked at him from overtop of her ugly ass pink truck stop shades.

"Why do I think ya just went and spent yer last twenty bucks on that bet?"

Grinning at him with all the smugness of a dame who knew she'd get her way no matter what, girlie went back to suckling on her straw with the kind of big doe eyes that weren't doin' him no favours. Feeling his jeans getting uncomfortably tight, Logan sure as heck wasn't gonna go losing out in a game o' chicken with some frail, not with his big bro's reputation on the line.

"Looks to me like yer all in and tryin' to bluff yer way through. So I'm gonna call, but I need to know what yer gonna do for me once ya lose?"

Considering his question, girlie checked him out once more as if really noticing, "I got a spare set of keys to a truck with a big back seat. Ya know, somewhere you and me can get to know each other a little better, if ya know what I mean, right?"

Well shit, it wasn't like he wasn't interested in finding out what was hiding behind that hoodie of hers. Between her tights and those cutoffs of hers, though, it was a bet worth the night's special and a vanilla shake to find out.

"Deal."

Him and girlie could have been the only ones in the bar watching the fight at that point, because they both had the only thing they cared about on the line, the reputation o' someone fighting in the cage. That and a chance at little foolin' around.

"What's yer name?"

"Jubilee, you?"

"Name's Logan."

That was an introduction she sure wasn't going to soon go forgetting, being the best at what he did. Just like his big ol' bro taught him.

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Toying with the little Hellcat, damn if she didn't come back stronger and faster every time he left her spitting blood at the mat. Catching an inkling of her trick, Victor found himself wanting to thrown down until one of them came out on top, and fuck if he didn't care who it was at that point.

"Yer a feral."

"Tonight I am, just s'long as I stay in knife fighting range."

The blood that stained her teeth had him longing for a harsh kiss, to yank her hair between his knuckles and feel her hot breath against his bared throat. Her every cut faded before his eyes, her every bruise vanishing even quicker. Fatigue dogged him, but the beast growling deep in his belly lent him a renewed strength to lash out with a punch that bled her with a pained grunt.

"You ain't afraid to get hurt, are ya? I like that."

Spitting crimson, she licked clean her lips to glare up at him with her tempting, emerald eyes. "Hurtin' is something I know a lot about, hun. Can't say I ain't ever met a man yet that wouldn't be damned near dead by now. Yet here you are, still standing tall and suckin' breath."

He could sure as fuck could tell a lie with just a sniff, and lying she wasn't. No, there was just the stink of an old shame she couldn't shake. Beneath it lay an anger he knew too well, a rage that came from never meaning to be born the way he was. Jimmy stuck of it from time to time, mostly when his temper got the better of him to pop claws and go knuckle deep.

Whatever she was, she could have fooled him plenty with her mountain cat eyes that stalked every twitch and flex of his muscles, eyes sharp and keen to find an opening at the tender meat of his belly. No doubt about it, she was just another freak like him and his baby brother.

Lookin' for the boy out in the crowd, he saw another fight of wills taking place. Cracking a grin, it was starting to look like him and Jimmy were getting played, it was right there in the feral emerald eyes that met his as he returned to the fight at hand.

"I ain't gonna take it easy on ya, just so ya know."

"Aw shucks! You say that like yer the one that's gonna be walkin' on outta this here cage under his own power? Sugah, I'm gonna be dragging ya out on that fine ass o' yers by the time I'm done with you."

A flash of something dangerous and hungry in her eyes was the only warning he had for what was coming. Blows he knew intimately peppered him hard and fast, the reason being they were his own damn moves. Letting instinct guide him, it was like scrapping with ol' Jimmy to try and teach the runt how to fight. Ignoring the searing pain that greedily clawed at his strength, he latched onto her throat with his claws digging deep into her sweet meat. Hauling her up close and personal, a seething hiss came through her clenched teeth to warn that she was far from subdued.

Howling in pain at the feel of her teeth biting at his bare chest, she made him regret his height advantage with the last blow, butting her head hard enough against his chin to make him have a good hard chew of his own damn tongue.

Stumbling back a step as the red took him, Victor saw nothing frail or weak in this dame that stood across from him licking clean her lips of the blood she'd made him bleed. Mate, roared the beast beating deep within his breast, tugging and pulling against every inch of the scarce self control he could muster that kept it chained up.

Captivated by her every breath that had her chest heave and swell against the fabric of her sweat drenched sports bra, the fight with his beast was one he was glad to throw in the towel for. Letting it loose of its chain, he lunged for her and wasn't disappointed to see Rogue shadow him once more. The crowd roared as they crashed against another, overtaken by the cries of pain they wailed together as claws slashed at flesh and dug for purchase in meat, muscle, and sinew.

The standing bets didn't matter worth shit anymore, nor did his pride or even reason. Him and this mountain cat were just animals out to assert their dominance over the other, out to drag the loser off for a good fucking once the fight had been knocked outta whoever that might end up being. But damn if that wasn't gonna be a while at the rate their every cut, gash, and wrenched limb healed, nearly faster than they could inflict it.

For the flagging of his strength he'd felt earlier, he found a renewed wind in her rolling growl that was too close to a throaty purr to do him any good. The fight was on and in earnest, everything else before just them pussyfooting around to size the other up.

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"What can you do? I asked you first! Would you just shut up for a minute?!"

Echoing each other for longer than it was fun, Jubilee glared at Logan in the silence that spoke of a momentary truce. Things in the cage were getting outta hand, like, no one bled that much without having a fucking wound to show for it kind of out of hand. They, as in the big brother and Roguey, were made. And if there was one thing Jubilee knew about getting made, straight up lynch mob mentality wasn't gonna be that far behind.

"I can heal, and I got claws." Logan explained, complete with a show of more inches of bone between his knuckles than Jubilee had colour in her face for, finding herself glad she hadn't tried that moose burger yet.

"I'm guessing he can heal too, cuz like, no one gets that handsy with Rogue for that long without having a death wish."

"Whaddya mean?"

Rolling her eyes, if there was one thing she hated it was trying to explain how Rogue's power worked. Mostly because the best she could do on the spot was to throw around words like suck, leech, and occasionally...vampire. Not that Rogue was any of those things, no, it just got the point across pronto, Do Not Touch!

"Wait a minute, back up, how the heck did you figure I could do something?" asked Jubilee.

"Ya both stink o' each other. So, seein' as she's holdin' her own with Vic, I figured ya weren't no frail yerself."

"Okay, first off? You call me a frail again and I'm so gonna Paf you right in your face! Secondly, you're gonna wanna cover your eyes, and maybe your ears if you can, cuz I still need to Paf someone."

"You wanna tell me just what the fuck a Paf is, and just who the fuck yer plannin' on doin' it to?"

"Duh? Roguey and your bro! You think a hose is gonna get those two off of each other? Cha right! By the way, I'm gonna be hiding behind you after I do all this, as I sure as fuck don't heal like you guys!"

"Whatever, babe. Just tell me when I should..."

Paf!

"Ya goddamn crazy frail! I told ya to..."

Paf!

"And I told you not to call me a frail! Whoa, whaddya know? Canadian rednecks look a lot like the ones we got back home. Huh, they even got guns...who knew?"

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Logan could heal alright, just as fast and quick as his big mean ol' brother. Girlie wasn't kidding either, Vic and that Rogue chick were goin' at it something serious in the cage. There also were a might many fellas with a few shotguns between them that didn't look like they were just for show, the bartender included.

"Now you just go and listen here, fellas. Ya got 'till the count o' three to rethink just where yer pointin' those guns. So here goes, one..."

Schlikt!

"...that looked like it fucking hurt." Jubilee croaked from somewhere behind him.

Popping claws always hurt something fierce, feeling them tear through the meat of his forearm right on through his wrist, straight up into his fists until they felt like an itch he'd been meaning to scratch for a dog's age.

"Two..."

Schlikt!

With one left, the men were starting to look like startled prey and for good reason too. Vic and him hadn't made it a secret that they were brothers. Hell, they were pack, and being pack meant they didn't fight alone. That meant these sorry sons of bitches were on the wrong end of a fight with the reigning King of the Cage.

And sure, while buckshot and bullets might hurt, it was nothing compared to what they'd all seen Victor do when he got good and mad. Going all in with a feral grin, Logan popped the last of his claws, all six in total.

Schlikt!

"Fact o' matter is, you think ya got me and this here girlie at a slight disadvantage. What ya forgot to take into consideration is that yer standing there between me and my brother, not to mention the crazy dame he was throwing down with real serious like. So, who wants to tell me the odds of you all walkin' outta this here stand off?"

Catching the stink of fresh piss piddling down the leg of the first to figure it out, Logan didn't need anyone to tell him just who the smart money was on.

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Pinned to the mat with Victor a pleasant and warm weight against her, senses like she'd never known in her life clouded her already shit poor judgement. Knowing what these brothers could do was like telling someone the sky was blue, and that was that. Fact was there were shades and depths that couldn't be explained without seeing it first hand, without experiencing it herself.

But that meant nothing against the only thing that did, Victor healed faster than she could kill him. And while sure, she'd tuckered him out some, every time she thought he was going to be dragged below the pull of her powers, he surged back with a renewed strength that shocked her. Staring into his wild eyes, though, he was just tougher than most. He was getting on towards his limits just as sure as she was.

And then the whole damn bar exploded, erupting in screams and panic as the mass of scared off prey ran for the doors. Feeling in herself an urge to chase after them, that wasn't a thought that was hers, it was Victor's.

"Git off me before I claw out yer fucking eyes."

For a goddamn second she thought he was going to let her as to just piss her off. Then he looked back at the bar with a sniff she found herself copying. Gun oil, aggression, ozone, and something else. Jimmy, baby brother, kin, pack. It all assaulted her with the force of a kick to the ribs. By the time she sorted through these thoughts, Victor was already gone out the cage with a beer to wet his whistle, towering over the fleeing crowd that had gotten scared by something alright.

Left with just the chill of a cold sweat crawling up her back, Rogue found her cast off clothes and chased after him. Because in that mess of stink that made her feel like she had herself a kid brother, she sure as fuck could smell the goddamned gum Jubilee always chomped away at like a cow chewing cud.

Feeling a growl roll from her breast, it was time to high tail it. And if anyone was too dumb to get in her way, well, they were just about to find out how sharp her claws were. Whatever a feral was, it was a fearsome thing and standing three strong now, at least until the high that was Victor Fucking Creed ran its course through her veins.

Growling her frustration, jobs like this were the reason she took the pay full up front. Whoever the hell Victor and his bro were, they weren't made for Xavier's school, and Chuck sure as hell knew it. So that left her wondering what the long con was, because the Professor she knew was far from innocent.

"God dammit, I shoulda known the pay was too damn high for this job. Fucking Chuck's playin' his games like always."

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