The sentinels came in the middle of the day. Rogue had taken a break from her latest hiding spot, and was breathing in the cold, sharp air around her, expecting she was safe for a while yet. They found her faster than she could have ever predicted.
The robots weren't sadistic. The pain she felt wasn't prolonged, like she would have imagined coming from some of her more human enemies. But it still hurt like hell, and her poison skin useless against these very lifeforce-less things. Still, she was the Rogue, and so she thrashed wildly-can't give up that easily you son-of-a-, causing herself more pain when she connected. She was used to pain, and hardly ever complained of it. After all, when you've had the Wolverine's claws through your chest, not much can phase ya. But when the first sharp wave radiated through her body (she thought it was a stab through her leg, but everything had started to blend together by then), she felt completely helpless, defenseless for the first time against an enemy.
That's when the others started clamboring about her skull. Her mental shackles on each of those locked up personas broke loose, and suddenly her mind was a helluva lot noisier. Mortal danger must do that to me… Who knew? She thought wryly. At least, it felt like she was the one doing the thinking. It was hard to tell. Wolverine was at the front, practically howling at his inability to protect her. She could practically sense him pacing around her mind, even though his thoughts consisted more of feelings than of actual words. The animal was at the forefront, but she could feel the man and his deep sorrow somewhere in there too. Erik also had no words, but he opened himself up completely to her, offering his powers. She tapped into them easily, although when she tried this with the Professor, she had struggled so hard she about passed out.
She choked back a sob when she realized the damn things didn't have even the slightest bit of metal on them. Magneto-proof. That one didn't feel like her, but it was impossible to differentiate between her own voice and the cacophony rising within her. Other voices had joined-Bobby whimpered wordlessly, John lashed out angrily, that boy she kissed whispered in the back of her mind something about forgiveness- but none of it mattered. The sentinel tore into her flesh-she could smell it, like it was burning- and her blood-I never liked the taste of blood- splattered all around, like fresh paint on a canvas. Her throat was raw, so she must have been screaming-water? no; blood, always blood. Had she been calling for someone? Everything felt so hazy, and her pointless struggling stopped. Marie tried to draw up something happy to make her last few moments easier, but there was nothing. She coughed up blood-so much blood how do I have so much blood?- and looked around desperately. She didn't want to die, especially like this. But the blood-red and bright and me and them and all of us are spilling-was surrounding her. It was all she could find. It was everything. Suddenly everything was nothing and nobody was left with her. She couldn't even find herself.