A/N: I gave birth to this chapter.
DISCLAIMER: Not mine…
BLAZING GLORY:
CHAPTER THREE: NOT THE WORST THING:
Conspicuously, she hid the butterfly back into a coat pocket and turned off the forgotten flashlight.
"Deal," she answered, before hauling herself up into the passenger's seat.
Laughlin City was a dump. There was no other word for it. The entire town could be summed up in the four corners of the crossroads she found herself standing on.
One had Lyle Blue's Gas Station; the tacky name made Rogue roll her eyes. The second corner had Malachi's Grocery and Drug Store, est. 1958; she grimaced on that one. The third corner had the Laughlin City Police Department; now she felt a bit green. And lo and behold, on the fourth corner, a sad-looking lodge proclaimed to be Sammy's Bar. Her eye twitched.
It took her over fourteen hours of slow truck driving in the snow to get there, and it was going to take a grand total of sixty minutes to run the hell out. The only reason it would take so long was because she was going to drink herself a healthy dose of whiskey from Sammy's Bar beforehand.
She trudged silently over to the wooden lodge, careful to not step on any ice or snow that might make her slip. Her boots had good traction, but frozen water had always been a bitch. She shifted her bag and let out a yawn. She was dead tired.
The entrance was made up of a heavy wooden door that Rogue had to throw her weight into, in order to get it to swing open. She quickly moved inside, letting the door swing closed by itself, and pulled down her hood. The place wasn't very well lit, or full for that matter.
'Still too early,' Rogue thought as she casually made her way to take a seat on the sorry-looking bar.
Once seated, she let her bag fall to the floor with a thud loud enough to attract the bartender who had been watching some old hockey game in an ancient TV box. The old, worn man looked at her sideways for a moment, trying to get some kind of read on her. She ignored him while she fumbled with her left boot, producing a beat up cigarette box. Rogue grimaced when she noticed there was only one stick left, the annoyance building higher as she had to coax a tiny flame from her dying lighter.
"Get'cha anything, little girl?" the old man had moved in front of her as she was lighting her cigarette. Very perceptive, that bartender was, looking at her with suspicion.
She looked up slowly as she took a drag. A breathy laugh came from her throat, expelling swirls of smoke around the cigarette hanging from her lips as she fumbled for something in her coat pocket.
"Thanks," she mumbled, furrowing her eyebrows and looking amused at the same time; trying to push away the teenage appearance from her face. Rogue slapped the counter with the contents from her pocket and quickly transferred the smoke to her gloved hand. "Shot o'whiskey." The words came out in a rush of smoke from the mouth and nostrils.
The bartender looked at the American note on the counter and then at her face, trying to decide whether or not to take the order. They held a staring contest for a few seconds before the old man relented and took the money.
Rogue downed the drink just a beat after he placed it in front of her.
The first time she had ever tasted whiskey was back when she was eleven years old. She'd hated it, puked it everywhere. But the Caldecott ghouls were drinking it like it were water, and at the time little Marie had felt like there was something she had to prove. So out of sheer stubbornness she kept swallowing it, until the whiskey stopped registering as something awful in her brain. Now, the sight of it reminded her of that pleasant burn in the back of her throat, that delicious numbness after one too many shots.
A second glass had somehow found its way to her hand a couple of minutes later, and she downed it just like the first one. Numbness, indeed…
Cody had been the hard drinker of the pack, though. More often than not he found himself in the most ridiculous situations because of his drunkenness. Half of the time she spent with him, he'd been intoxicated. What about that had attracted her?
It was getting dark in the tiny town, and she had yet to even remove her scarf. In any other given situation, this would have the barman looking at her sideways. But really, the inside of this place was only a few degrees warmer than outside, so there was no reason for anyone to give her wrapped-up self a second glance. More patrons began walking through the heavy doors. She looked at them curiously, head resting on her right hand, the bulk of her coat hiding nearly half her face. After a couple of minutes, Marie began to get bored of people watching, and just as she was to turn away from the door, he entered.
There was something different about that man, and it wasn't the strange hairstyle. He wasn't the tallest male in the world, but obviously bigger than her. He was handsome, in a rugged sort of way. She could notice even through the thickness of his warm clothes that he was lean. The way he moved towards the bar gave her the impression of some kind of animal, and the thought of it somehow made Rogue feel like prey.
"So, what's a girl like you doin' in a town like this?" the old bartender's voice made her jump slightly, and she turned to find the man staring at her with curious eyes.
'Curiosity's deadly, grampa,' she thought at him while she took one last drag of her cigarette, and threw the butt into her empty shot glass. Rogue managed a smile she didn't feel, "Because I can." Her tone was sarcastic, and she noticed just how young she made herself to be by taking on attitude. She amended it by looking at the bartender's eyes and answering him again, seriously, this time. "Just a pit stop, sir. Got my eyes set on Alaska." Sometimes, a little truth didn't hurt.
He looked at her curiously for a few moments, before shaking his head and moving over to the wilderness-man who had caught her eye. The man ordered a beer, some Canadian brand she didn't recognize, and managed to drink half of it in one go.
"Heard you got a cage." The man's voice was rough, a growl more than anything. He stared at the bartender, and Rogue could see how the old man was unsettled by the younger one.
"I do," the bartender answered guardedly.
Rogue's eyebrows rows slightly. A cage? What was so interesting about that? Maybe it had something to do with hunting.
"How much to get in?" he growled again.
Just like he had done her, the bartender stared at the bearded man for a good few seconds before telling him the rate was going at fifty, non-refundable. Who would pay fifty dollars to get into a cage? Nonetheless, the growling man produced the spoken amount, and the bartender took it with none of the hesitation he had presented before.
"It starts in two hours, so be ready by then," the bartender told him. The old man's voice managed to make it sound like a warning, rather than a statement. The newcomer smiled slightly, before drinking the rest of his beer and ordering another one.
What time was it? The world around her seemed to have paused and yet speed up. A yawn broke its way through, and Marie felt her jaw crack as her eyes watered. She shook her head from side to side and rubbed roughly at her eyes.
Falling asleep in this half-frozen town in the middle of Nowhere, Canada was not an option.
The sound of a thud in front of her made her jump, and belatedly Marie realized she had fallen asleep, despite her internal declaration just seconds ago. When was the last time she had slept? There were some vague memories of staring up at the water-spots on the ceiling of that motel back in Bellingham.
Her heavy eyes landed on the small glass on the counter that hadn't been there before. Almost lethargically, the sixteen-year-old raised her head to look at the barman. There was concern in his eyes.
'Fuck you,' she thought with absolutely no bravado whatsoever. She chose to raise one single eyebrow in question.
"Got forty dollars, girlie?" he asked as he pulled a whiskey bottle from under the bar.
Her other eyebrow joined the first one in surprise, and then suspicion rose and her eyes narrowed. She watched as he filled the shot glass with what would be the third drink of her night. "And what do a barman want with a girl's forty dollars?"
"Got a couple rooms I rent out to people. You know, like a motel place? No offence girlie but you look half-past dead." The whiskey bottle disappeared to its place under the counter again, the bartender's suddenly fatherly eyes never leaving hers.
A grimace marred her face. She didn't want to stay any longer in the town. But, when was the last time she had slept? What was out there, farther out than Laughlin City, anyways? She would need her wits about her, to survive a drive in those frozen roads. She would need food and water, too. Not to mention that she needed to find a car to drive, in the first place. There was no way she was going to be ready in the next fifteen minutes.
Rogue circled the rim of her shot glass with her middle finger. Her musings were a harsh reminder of the situation she had made herself to be in. She stopped stroking the glass and held it up to her lips. She was too young for this.
After downing her last drink of the night, Rogue reached for her bag to search for two twenty-dollar bills; she only kept ones, fives, and tens in her pockets. Once she found them, Marie placed them on the counter, weighted them down by the now empty shot glass, and slid it all towards the old man.
"Where's the keys?"
The bartender—who Rogue had learned was Sammy, the owner—led her towards the other side of the building. The walk helped her understand the earlier conversation between the old man and the wild one as they crossed by an empty fighting cage surrounded with benches.
She'd never seen a real-life cage fight before. Sammy had said the action was going to start in two hours. 'Maybe I can check it out,' she mused as another jaw-cracking yawn escaped from her.
The rooms where in a hall way in the back, the entrance semi-hidden by the tackiest stuffed animal she had ever seen. The bear was so skinny it looked anorexic, as it stood up, paws stretched and making it look more like a sad teddy asking for a hug than anything menacing. Its jaw was hanging open, showing to the world its missing canines.
Sammy barely glanced at it as they entered the hall, so Rogue decided not to make any comments. The doors to the rooms were painted the same color as the walls, a dark brown nearly black, making it nearly impossible to distinguish when one began and the other ended in the horrible light. Only the stained brass numbers hanging from the doors shone bright enough to be really seen.
She hadn't taken off the hunting knife from her belt yet. As they walked further and further into the dark hall, Rogue's hand drifted to the blade, fingers resting lightly on the handle. It wasn't until they reached door number 14, and the bartender handed her the keys with a small smile, promptly leaving her alone afterwards, that she let go. Marie watched the old man slightly hobble his way back out the hall, until the sound of his footsteps faded completely away. Only after looking into every visible nook and cranny to make sure that she was, indeed, alone, did Rogue look down at the keys in her hand.
They were an identical brass-colored pair, looped together by a small piece of bent metal wire. The wire also held a little piece of bright red plastic with the number "14" scratched on the broad side. Those were the sorriest looking pair of keys she'd ever laid eyes on. It matched the bar, the owner, the cage, and that ugly ass stuffed bear over by the entrance.
The lock to the room opened easily, but the door swung inwards as noisily and slowly as possible, making Rogue wince. She stood there for a couple of seconds, trying to see into the room, but it was so dark, it was impossible. Slowly, she set her duffel bag on the floor. She took one tentative step into the pitch black room and began to move sideways, free arm swiping the wall carefully for a light switch. It was only three feet away from the door, and once Rogue turned it on, she took a good look.
The room was as bare as could be imagined, with only an old full bed, and a small bedside table resting against the middle of the left wall. The corners of the room though were decorated by spider webs, and the floor had a layer of dust on it. A faint odor that only the dampness could bring about permeated the air.
Rogue closed and locked the door to the room and walked over to another entrance, this one without a door, and flipped the switch next to it. The lights turned on inside, revealing a small bathroom. The sink was being held precariously in its place by four shaky metal poles, its faucet nearly rusted over entirely. A mirror hanging over the sink was stained with big yellowish blotches. The toilet looked clean enough; that is to say, actually flushed and no visual evidence of pee anywhere. Its lid was cracked in two, though. But the toilet/sink combo was not really what drew Rogue's eyes. It was the shower.
There was no curtain, and some of the bone-white tiles were missing. Upon closer inspection, Marie noticed there was hardly any mildew growing on the surfaces. The prospect of actually taking a shower began to appeal to her brain.
She checked her wrist watch: 8:34. She figured she could shower and take an hour nap, catch some of that cage-fighting, then go back to sleep for a little while longer. With a mind made up, Rogue walked back over to her duffel bag and brought it over to the bed. Silently, she took off her coat and scarf before moving to open her bag and take out a change of clothes almost identical to the ones she was wearing. Additionally, she took out a small bar of soap, similar to the ones they give in hotels. Sitting down next to them, she proceeded to take off her gloves and Marie noticed the room felt chillier than any other she had been in. Those thoughts were set aside, though, as the sixteen-year-old reminded herself that a cold, damp room was better than nothing. Then, she bent and began to untie the laces to her boots; the process lasting longer than it would've had she been completely alert. The rest of her clothes followed easily.
Crossing the room to the bathroom was a mini-adventure in itself as she discovered that the floor wasn't only dusty but also absolutely freezing; Marie cursed under her breath as she hopped on her tip toes as fast as possible to her destination. Before getting in the shower, she turned on the pipes, nearly jumping at the powerful jet of water that flowed out. With only the barest of hopes, Marie moved the knob over to the side labeled "hot" and waited for any changes in the temperature of the water. She extended her hand to the shower and felt only cold pinpricks, until the water began to turn warm. After a couple of minutes, the shower was not very hot, but it wasn't cold either. Deciding that things weren't going to get any better than that, Rogue removed the rest of her clothes and finally got inside.
She made quick work of the shower, just in case the warm water only lasted briefly. Her dirty shirt served as a towel, then she bundled all her dirty clothes and practically ran back to the bed. As fast as she could, Rogue dressed in clean clothes before the cold got to her. The bag was jammed with the dirty clothes and then zipped closed and placed at the side of the bed, along with her boots.
For a few seconds afterwards, Rogue just stared at the bed. Slowly, the sixteen-year-old lifted the sheets, and peered under them, just to make sure there weren't any unwanted critters living there. Finding none, Rogue slipped inside and let her head rest on the damp-smelling pillow, her wet hair fanning out around her. Just as she was about to close her eyes, Marie remembered her hunting knife, and she reached out for it where she had left it at the foot of the bed. Once she had caught the comforting weight in her hand, she brought it back next to her, and let it rest right beside her head within easy reach of her right hand.
Then, and only then, did Rogue allow herself to close her eyes, shushing any whispers that threatened to break the calm.
Rogue's eyes opened suddenly, her mind immediately snapping to attention. The yellow light blinded her for a few seconds as she sat up quickly. Semi-dry curls went flying everywhere, but were hastily ignored as she tried to read the time off her wrist watch.
'Short hand's for the hours…' Marie grumbled mentally, before the time actually sunk in. When it did, curses immediately flew out of the Southerner's mouth.
It was 3:30 in the morning.
She somehow managed to stuff her feet into her boots and lace them up in record time. Then, she dug around her duffel bag for a hair band, her toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste. Her brown locks were tied back without even a glance at the mirror.
The bathroom sink's faucet groaned as it was opened, but otherwise spewed out clean-looking water. Rogue quickly brushed her teeth, and then splashed her face to chase away any sleepiness that had been left behind. The sleeve of her sweater served as a face towel as the sixteen-year-old crossed the room back to the bed. There, she picked up her green long coat from the foot of the bed, wrapped her scarf snug around her neck, and fit her gloves over her pale hands. Anything that had been taken out of the bag the night before and left out, was quickly put back in it before it was zipped closed.
Rogue hefted her duffel bag over her shoulder and grabbed the room keys from where she had tossed them on the night stand before going to sleep. She took one more glance over the room to make sure nothing had been left, and then walked away.
The bar was as silent as it was when she had arrived the day before.
'God dammit! I missed it! I missed the cage fight!' Rogue fumed internally as she took in the sight of the empty cage. The place was full of evidence that the fight had happened, though; the cage floor was slick and shiny by what could only be assumed to be water or sweat, and even from where she was standing, she could see the splatters of blood here and there. All around the cage, the ground was littered with beer bottles and pieces of food, and many of the chairs were either askew or knocked over. There were still some patrons sitting around, talking in low voices and sipping at their beer.
Rogue crossed the place with a grimace on her face and reached the bar. Immediately, she noticed the wilderness man. He was sitting in the same spot as before, empty beer bottles in front of him, sipping at one that was still halfway full. Not a single mark marred any part of his visible skin, and Marie found herself wondering if the man had chickened out of the cage fight.
Sammy was busy with something or other, his back turned from her. So she just settled with placing the keys with the bright red plastic on the counter, next to the tipping jar, and left without a word to anyone.
It was slightly light outside.
Marie marveled at how bright the snow looked so late into the night—or, well, early in the morning—as she walked around the bar towards the parking lot. There were very few cars parked out, but she found what she wanted right next to a beat up camper. A smile lit up her face and she practically squealed at the sight.
She crossed the small parking lot as fast as she dared with her boots, until she reached the car. Just by standing in front of it, the teenager could tell it was a 1969 Camaro. It was a little beat up, and the black paint looked scratched around the hood, but it was still beautiful to her. And the tires even had chains!
A furtive look thrown back at the bar made Rogue realize there was a window overlooking the parking lot. But one had to stand beside the wall inside to see her, and the very few patrons were too busy with their drinks to be wandering around. Once she decided no one was going to come and bother her, Rogue walked over to the driver's side and placed her bag on the floor. She ruffled through it until she found what she was looking: a long piece of flat metal with a hook at the end.
With an ease that could only come from practice, the girl unlocked the Camaro and got inside.
It smelled like old leather and cigarettes. She really didn't have a problem with that.
The owner of this car was obviously a big person, as the seat was pushed all the way to the back, and the steering wheel and mirrors were all at impossible angles for her. A quick adjustment to everything made Rogue that much more comfortable. A few seconds passed while she enjoyed sitting in a classic, before her mind caught up with the fact she was stealing it. And she hadn't even stocked up in supplies yet!
A growl of annoyance escaped her lips as she got out of the Camaro and closed the door softly shut. Purposefully, Rogue marched right back across the parking lot, away from Sammy's Bar, crossed the deserted road, and reached Lyle Blue's Gas Station. There, she made a beeline for the mini-mart. She studiously ignored the desolate-looking Police Department on the other side.
The entrance door jingled as she pushed it open, causing a blonde young man with big, clear blue eyes to look up from a magazine. Said magazine disappeared under the counter in a flurry of rushed movements, as the pale boy's face slowly turned pinkish. For a moment, Rogue just stood there, then something snapped her out and she gave the man a lovely wide smile before grabbing a plastic basket and moving away to the little aisles.
She watched him from the corner of her eye, saw him pretend to be busy while stealing looks towards her. Every so often their gazes would "cross," and Rogue would smirk rather playfully his way before continuing to grab food. Most of the things in the basket were too big to hide easily inside her coat, but other things, like protein bars and sweets went directly to the deep pockets.
It only took a couple of minutes to get everything she needed for the road, so she quickly found herself standing at the cash register, allowing to be checked out by the rapidly flushing man. She smiled as brightly as she could.
"Y-you just arrived in town?" the blonde man stuttered. Rogue let her eyes widen in innocence.
"Yeah! How'd you know?" she asked as sweetly as she could, trying to hide her accent along the way.
He let out a nervous little laugh. "Well, Laughlin City is pretty small, and I can tell you're not from around here. Besides, it's nearly four in the morning. Not a lot of people passing through at this hour."
"Well, you caught me," Rogue answered with a giggle of her own. She suddenly remembered she had seen a sign announcing vacancies in some cabins near the entrance of town when she had arrived via 18-wheeler. "Actually, I'm staying over at the cabins, right before the entrance of town?" her voice trailed off in question, as if wondering if the guy knew what she was talking about.
"Oh yeah, I know the place!" the man answered, smiling, and Rogue decided he was cute. Stupid, but cute.
"Yeah, I think it's just such a cute place, you know?" The man nodded vigorously. "Oh! My bad, I haven't introduced myself, now have I?" The man began to stutter again. "I'm Helen, and it's very nice to meet you!" One gloved hand stretched out towards him, and out of instinct, he took it and shook it.
"I-I Luke. I mean, my name; it's Luke," he stuttered out while still shaking her hand. And even afterwards, when there was silence, he kept holding on to it.
"Ah, Luke, honey? I'm gonna need my hand back…"
"Huh? Oh! Right…" All appendages were returned to their rightful owners, then, in a rather awkward moment of silence.
"So I'm new in town," Rogue began again with a breathy laugh that was quickly copied by Luke, "and out of all things to forget in a trip like mine, guess what I forgot? Food! Can you believe it?"
"Oh, wow, ye—"
"So I came into town hoping against all hope, something was open at this time of night, and I'm just so lucky to have found you!" she gestured excitedly at him with a big grin on her face.
Luke smiled and began to stutter again, but Rogue just plowed on.
"But we gotta be honest here," she said frowning, "for a stay like mine, I'm gonna need more than a loaf of Wonder Bread and some peanut butter." She gestured at her groceries of choice. "So, I'm wondering, maybe you can point me to the right direction of the grocery store? For you know, later on in the day…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. It's right down this road…" Luke began to signal somewhere off through the window behind him towards his left. Rogue took the opportunity to lean into the counter, dangerously close to the blonde man.
"So you go down that road…" Rogue's voice turned throaty, as she raised her right arm to follow Luke's left. Luke began to nod rapidly again, cheeks as red as a tomato, as he continued stuttering out the directions to Creakey's Grocery Business.
Creakey's Grocery Business. Marie fought the urge to smack herself on the forehead.
Distraction securely in place, the teenager's left hand moved deftly towards the little shelves holding all the cigarettes against the wall. A quick peek allowed her to identify which ones she wanted. In a moment's breath, the cigarettes were nestled right beside the Slim Jims somewhere inside her coat.
Once all directions, and all the "thank you's" and "you're welcome's" were handed about, Luke finally rang up her purchases. Everything managed to fit into just two bags.
"Well Luke, it was really nice to meet you. I guess I'll see you around," Rogue's sweet tone remained in place as she said her goodbyes. But just as she was about to reach the door, Luke called to her.
"Hey, Helen? Where's your car?"
It was a good question to ask. After all, the gas station was deserted. Rogue grimaced, before slowly turning back around.
"Uh, well…" Rogue fished around for a second, before settling on using one of those never-ending half-truths. "Actually, I went to the bar a bit earlier. I just wanted something to drink." The teenager's eyes roamed all over the place. "Place was so dead, though."
"Oh, yeah. That usually happens after the cage fights…" the man's voice trailed off at the look of semi-horror marring her face. "I-it's a Canadian thing," he tried to reassure her with a wave of his hand, trying to play off the fact that cage fights were brutal.
"Oh." She was silent for a moment, and then an idea popped into her head and she really couldn't stop herself. "Um, hey Luke? I was wondering…if you were free later today, in the afternoon. Maybe you could come to my place and have, like, a late lunch/early dinner kind of thing?"
Luke's eyes widened comically, before he struggled for composure. "Sure, I don't think I have anything planned for later…today." He lent against the counter, trying to seem casual while his face looked like he had been too near to an oven.
"Great! So, at three?"
The blonde stared at Rogue for a couple of seconds, before her words seemed to sink in. He quickly agreed, asking if he should bring anything.
How adorable.
"No, it's alright," she replied breezily. "I guess I'll see you later, then." She pretended to turn back to the door, but at the last moment looked back at Luke. "By the way, it's the last cabin on the left. Wouldn't want you to get lost, right?" There was shared laughter for a second, before Rogue decided to end the conversation.
The door jingled as the brunette let herself out, groceries swinging softly beside her. A smirk slowly formed on her face as she replayed the conversation in her head.
"God, some people are just so easy," she muttered with a shake of her head.
The Camaro was only half-hidden in the shadows of the Sammy's building. From Rogue's vantage point, she could see clearly that the parking lot was devoid of all people. She trudged on as fast as she could back to the car, glad to know that the owner hadn't suddenly appeared. Rogue would've had to touch him, otherwise.
Her bag was already inside the car. Besides, she really wanted to get out of there. Preferably in a classic.
The plastic bags by her side rustled slightly as she switched them from her right hand to her left. Once she positioned herself beside the driver's door, Marie made sure to look around before moving to open the door. Just as her hand reached the handle, the sound of scuffling and a loud grunt pierced the silence.
The sixteen-year-old dropped her bags, eyes wide and eyebrows high in surprise, before her vision swerved towards the direction of the sound. For a few breathless moments, Rogue swore she could hear her own heart beating in her ears.
The man, the wilderness man that had been drinking beer at the bar before and after she used the room, had shoved another patron right across the bar window's view and slammed him against the wall. But that hadn't been really what had frozen her in place, no. It was that when the other patron had tried to fight back, the wilderness man unsheathed blades right from his knuckles. Three, long, shiny metal blades out of nowhere and very, very close to the scared patron's neck.
And then the muzzle of a shotgun came into view, followed by the rest of the weapon being held by Sammy himself. Rogue's breath caught again as the old man pointed directly at the back of the wild man.
"Get out of my bar, freak!" Sammy nearly shouted, and the girl's eyebrows slammed down into a frown. So much for being a fatherly figure. But then her thoughts switched directions as the man with the blades moved so fast and raised his empty fist towards the shotgun. And right in front of Rogue's eyes, a new batch of blades appeared, slicing the weapon in half.
'A mutant…' she heard herself whisper in her own mind.
The mutant growled something she couldn't make out, and just like that, the claws had disappeared. Rogue watched as he fixed his jacket rather roughly, before walking out of view.
After a spectacle like that, the girl mused then, the only place that man was going was to his car to get the hell out of dodge. It only took a split second to understand just what that might mean to her if the mutant was the owner of the Camaro she was in the process of taking away.
Quick as she could, Rogue wrenched the car door open, and hauled her bag out of the passenger's seat. The wilderness mutant man rounded the towards the parking lot just half a breath after she locked and closed the door.
He hesitated a moment when he saw her, but kept walking in her direction anyways. Rogue's breath caught in her throat for the umpteenth time in horrible anticipation. There were only two vehicles where she was at: the Camaro and the camper. The man's dark eyes shined rather eerily in the low light as he stared straight into her own green eyes. The urge to look away rose inside her all of a sudden, but out of a habit of stubbornness, she forced herself to stare back unflinchingly. Oh, but how she wanted to flinch when he glowered back at her. Rogue set her jaw tight, and raised her chin in a subconscious behavior of defiance.
With each step that drew him closer to her, she found her heart beating a little more rapidly. And just when he was less than five feet away from her, Marie really thought that she'd have to deal with a man who could sprout friggin' metal claws out of his hands. Out of the dark recesses of her mind, soft whispers began to rise, and Rogue suppressed a shiver. All of a sudden, the man broke eye contact, and directed his gaze towards the driver's side of the camper.
Oh. The sixteen-year-old let out all the air in her rush out suddenly, and while in the act of breathing back in a new batch of fresh oxygen, came up with an idea. An idea that hadn't even been completely half-formed before deciding to unleash it upon the unsuspecting man.
"Are you going to the next town over?" Rogue's voice was rushed and higher than normal. The man stopped his movements all of a sudden, staring back at the girl in guarded confusion from his position next to the front wheel of driver's side.
"Why?" he practically growled out, a frown covering his features.
"Cuz I'm going to the next town over?" Someone, somewhere was calling her stupid. "I'm just new to these parts and don't know jack shit about anything…" The man's eyebrows rows slightly. Inside, Rogue was dying of shame, and the hollow echoes of the asshole men she had absorbed before began a distant sniggering.
They always began acting up when she let her guard down.
A grimace marred her face as she mentally vanished the voices elsewhere. Eyes narrowed in resolve. "Look," her voice took a biting edge to it as she bent down to pick up one of the grocery bags, "I got food." She raised the bag high, nearly all the way next to her pale face.
An incredulous look took over his features at her pronouncement. Silence reigned between them for a very long moment, and then the man took a breath before speaking. "Look, kid—"
"Just until the next town over..." Marie's voice cut through what he was going to say, trying to convince him without letting him give any excuses. At that moment, a breeze swept through the parking lot, and the biting wind caused the sixteen-year-old to unexpectedly shiver. The girl didn't take notice of her body's reaction, eyes resolutely staring back at the wilderness man's. She did notice something change in his expression, and she saw his decision long before he gave it out loud.
"Get in," he growled whilst frowning quite severely.
Rogue ignored the look entirely and just reached for all her bags, before leaping the few feet over to the camper's passenger's door. Inside, she was smiling like a little kid who got away with mischief.
His name was Logan, and he had an alias, too. Wolverine. It sounded wilderness-y.
She'd given up her own name, the one she hadn't said out loud since Mississippi.
After that exchange, Rogue had produced a variety of snacks to munch on and a couple of slightly warm beers. Following that, silence had ensued.
Nearly half an hour had passed by, and now Rogue had become sick and tired of watching the endless road of nothing but snow and pine trees. Her eyes had already taken in everything they possibly could about the man driving back at the bar, but she would take him any day over her other choice of view. Her gaze directed itself to Logan, and began to stare shamelessly.
It only took a few seconds before he started fidgeting under her scrutiny.
"What?" Logan growled defensively.
Rogue tried to unsuccessfully smother an amused smirk. As the seconds dragged on and he kept glaring at her, Marie searched her mind for a good enough excuse to explain her staring; one that didn't begin with, "'Cuz I'm creepy as hell," preferably.
It came to her all of a sudden then. "Do they hurt?" her eyes moved over to the hand resting on the steering wheel, "You know, when they come out?" She was actually genuinely curious.
Logan's eyes had moved with Rogue's and he too stared at his hand, before moving it away to the bottom of wheel. "Every time." The tone in his answer told her he didn't want to speak about it anymore.
As the silence ensued once again, Rogue transferred her gaze to her own hands. They were ungloved, having taken them off earlier to munch on a candy bar much more comfortably and not putting them back since. The pale skin had a variety of small, but still interesting, scars, and the edges of her hands were slightly callused. Her nails were filed short; she hadn't painted them since Caldecott.
"I'm different too, you know." The words were out of her mouth before she'd even realize it. In nearly an entire year of running and lying and hurting people before they hurt her, she had never said what she was out loud. And now, now, "I'm a mutant, too."
Something inside of her changed at her pronouncement, and she could say she almost felt normal again. She was confiding her secrets in someone with similar secrets, the first mutant she knowingly met.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Logan staring straight ahead, no emotion in his face. And just like that, Rogue's hopeful face fell flat.
Of course the guy wouldn't react. Who was she to move some man named the Wolverine who sprouted honest-to-god metal claws out of his hands, and went from bar to bar searching for cage fights?
She was so stupid. The whispers suddenly rushed forwards in a hazy cacophony which she steam-rolled over before they reached an actually bothersome level.
With jerky movements, Rogue grabbed the balled up gloves resting in her hand and began unfolding them.
"Look," Logan began and moved towards her still bare hands, "if you're cold just—"
Marie nearly jumped away from him then, and Logan froze in place with surprise etched into his face. They stared at each other, wide-eyed, for a few moments before he moved back to his seat and stared straight at the road ahead.
He searched for something in his jacket pocket, and produced a half-smoked cigar and a box of matches. As he was lighting it, his mumbled voice broke through the forced silence.
"Wasn't going to hurt you."
Marie kept staring at the man, taking in his demeanor. He looked sorry he had surprised her, and began to fidget in the long silence that followed his words.
"Look, I ain't good with people, alright? And—"
"It's my mutation," Marie announced, interrupting the beginning of an awkward apology with her own word vomit. Logan raised an eyebrow. "It's in my skin. People touch me, they get hurt. Badly. I just didn't want to hurt the first mutant I've ever met, alright? S'not your fault." Her eyes shifted towards the dash.
Logan's reaction to her words after a whole minute was asking how old she was. After a moment's consideration, she answered truthfully. When she fired the same question back at him, he also answered truthfully.
"Amnesia? Come on, seriously?"At the sight of another one of Logan's raised eyebrows, Rogue began to laugh. "What the hell have our lives become? Fucking daytime soap operas? Geez!"
Conversation flowed easily between them after that, until Rogue pointed out that Logan should be wearing a seatbelt. And that really was how the conversation came to a close, because if she hadn't said anything, maybe, just maybe, an enormous tree wouldn't have come swinging from out of nowhere, effectively colliding with the camper. And the Wolverine wouldn't have gone flying out the windshield. And that fire on the back of the camper wouldn't have started.
Rogue cursed the air blue as she struggled to get her seatbelt off. It wasn't working.
"Kid, you alright?" Logan's voice rose from ahead and Rogue froze before raising her head to stare numbly at the man. He was standing, not a scratch on his body, except for the rapidly closing wound on his forehead. "Kid!" he repeated, this time louder, making the sixteen-year-old jump, but also answer immediately.
"The seatbelt's stuck!" she nearly screeched in frustration as she returned her attention to the offending object. She gave up pulling at it, and raised her right leg to pull her butterfly knife out the boot.
A roar made her drop the blade into the side of her seat in surprise. She looked up again, only to find not just Logan, but also a giant of a hairy man with very sharp-looking nails. Both men were trading punches and scratches, roaring and growling as they attacked each other wildly.
Another curse left Rogue's lips as she forced herself to concentrate on getting out of the now blazing vehicle. She fished for her knife once more and after finding it, began cutting away at the seatbelt. It took what seemed to her forever to get free but once she did she wasted no time in grabbing her duffel bag and opening the door to get out. Or at least, she tried to open the door. For some reason it was stuck, too.
"God damn, cock sucking, fucking door!" Each growled out word was accentuated with a shove at the door. At the sixth attempt, the door sprung open, causing Rogue spill out of the car ungracefully, the bag landing heavily on her stomach.
The first thing she registered after regaining her breath, was the freezing temperature of the snow, stabbing pins into her exposed skin and soaking into her clothes. The next thing she realized was that the Wolverine and that strange man were still fighting. She sat up just in time to watch how the giant scary man grabbed Logan like a rag doll and threw him aside, somewhere towards the trees.
Rogue began moving.
The hairy man turned towards her, eyes glowing eerily yellow in the morning light. She practically ripped out the zipper from her bag before digging her arms inside. The beastly man growled out a terrifying laugh. Her right hand found the hunting knife, and without a second thought pulled it out. In one fluid movement, she was standing up, her weight centered, every muscle tensed for action. The man she came to realize was the second mutant she had ever met moved towards her. The teenager bolted.
She ran as fast as she could, praying to whatever deity was still listening to her that she didn't slip in her boots. Behind her, the feral's thudding steps came in unison with another bout of his horrible laughing. The girl tried to ignore him, focusing solely on the white field ahead of her. But that sight was so disheartening; there was no one around for miles. If she screamed, no one would come to her aid. A sob threatened to rip out of her throat as she came to a very bitter conclusion. This monster was going to get her, and there was nothing she could do about it.
The sob turned into her very own growl. She wasn't going down without a fight. Not Marie, not Rogue, not her. Rogue ripped the sheath away from the knife, and then practically skated to a stop, turning around in one quick motion to see her attacker.
He was running towards her with his arms and legs, like an animal. Her whole body tensed in preparation. An animalistic fanged smile split his face as she raised her knife into a fighting stance. The distance between them disappeared in two seconds, and then the mutant leapt into the air, barreling towards her, bloody claws fully extended.
A shriek as wild as the monster's roar rose from within her. The young girl's heart felt like it would burst as her mind went completely silent for the first time in nearly a year.
The monster got so close to her his claws actually scratched her arms. But then a crimson light filled her vision and the animal gave out a wounded roar as the light threw him backwards, farther than the now engulfed camper, farther than where the fight with Logan had happened, until he disappeared into the snow.
A rushing sound filled her ears as she expelled a breath. Then everything went black.
A/N: Kudos to Mr. Stark for reminding Ms. Potts that trying to get out of a battered and bullet-riddled, gold-titanium alloy suit was not the worst thing she'd caught him doing.
A/N: I didn't put in Rogue's reaction to Logan's camper cuz I think my Rogue's personality, paired off with her slow journey north-wards, has made her not really care about a person's living situation. And pleeaaassssseeee reviewwwwwwwwww! xD