Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men or any of the names associated with Marvel or any of the pop culture references I make herein. This is just for fun and I am getting no monetary gain from this.

Rating: Teen for some violence, maybe some language and death later on.

Author's Note: I'd like to thank RoguefanAM, and 1thescorpion2. Also a shout out to the guys at TWN for reading as well. I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much. If you see any glaring mistakes let me know. Suggestions and reviews are welcome.

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Chapter 4

The Next Evening

Los Angeles County Museum of Art

Lady Mastermind snatched up a glass of champagne as the waiter in the thin tuxedo passed by. She drained the glass in one gulp and dropped it into a large fern. "Regan, we're not here to get sauced," Sam warned.

"Samuel, we're at a party. They expect us to get drunk," she protested.

"This is an art gala, not a frat house kegger," Cannonball shot back. "Ever hear of discretion?"

"Don't worry. No one will ever suspect a thing. My illusion is flawless," she said spying another waiter across the exhibit.

"I still find it hard to believe this guy is straight," Cannonball said.

"He's a metrosexual, so straight is a very loose term," Regan explained. "Besides I wanted to be Branjelina. At least they're trying to save the world one adoption at a time."

Regan grabbed a passing champagne and took a long drink and smacked her lips. "I'm sure we've done charity. We're pretty famous right?" Sam asked.

"Were you the one in the coma?" Regan huffed. "We are masquerading as the most famous couple outside the United States. You might just show America that soccer is the planet's favorite past-time while I am no-talent arm-candy. Just relax sweetness; I've got things under control. I'll try to find you a Bud Light or something."

Sweetness? Sam thought. What was she getting at? "Look, here he comes. Cable and Rogue just want us to feel the guy out and see what he's like. They knew he wouldn't talk to us unless we were celebrities," Sam said quickly.

"Of course not. Every cult needs a figurehead and he thinks he just found his," Regan explained.

A man was striding toward them with a winning smile and his hands outstretched. He clasped Sam's hand in both of his. "David," he said and turned to Regan and kissed her hand. "Victoria. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Edmond de Marque," the man explained.

"We've been looking forward to speaking with you," Sam said smiling as he sized up the man.

Mr. de Marque was in his mid forties. He wore his hair short and sophisticated. His white suit was smart and very fashion-forward. His blue eyes were warm and friendly. Edmond looked like your best friend's dad and carried an air of charisma. Edmond's voice was deep and masculine. Behind him, Sam caught a glimpse of a thin girl, about fifteen years old, in a simple white dress. "Where is my head?" Edmond laughed. "This is my daughter, Lily."

Lily de Marque was a thin wisp of a girl. She was hauntingly beautiful with dark hair contrasting against her ivory skin. Her eyes seemed weary, however. There was a tragedy hiding within those eyes. The X-Men had all been briefed about it.

Six years ago Lily's mother, Sonia, died when she was suddenly stricken with a cancer that had ravaged her entire body. It was after that tragic ordeal that Mr. de Marque founded his new church, the Order of the Highest Light, as a beacon of hope for the weary of the world.

Edmond talked to Sam and Regan while Lily remained stoic by his flank. They talked about "David's" family adjusting to the move to Los Angeles. After all, Mr. de Marque felt strongly that the foundations of a stable life came from a healthy home environment. That segued to an invitation to the church of the Order. "That would be lovely," Regan cooed. "We're trying to make friends here in America. People we can trust and enjoy."

With the word "enjoy", Regan gave a devilish wink. Mr. de Marque cleared his throat and handed a business card to Sam. "It would be wonderful for you to join soon. We are nearing three thousand members. It will be a monumental occasion, but I will look forward to seeing you again. Enjoy the gala," he said and then walked away with his hands on his daughter's shoulders.

"So how does he feel out?" Regan asked.

"He's a wonderful family man. He's so squeaky-clean I can't help but not trust him," Sam explained.

As they made their way across the gallery Regan snatched another drink. She briefly closed her eyes and smiled as she walked. She was beginning to feel…good. "You know, in public this guy isn't going to do anything funny. We could go ahead and get out of here," Cannonball suggested.

"You kidding me? And miss out on the party?" Regan laughed causing her drink to slosh around in the glass.

"We should really get back to the others and see what they've come up with," he said. He didn't know how Regan's illusions would hold up when she was drunk.

Lady Mastermind leaned her head on Cannonball's shoulder and batted her eyes playfully at him. "Spoilsport. You never have any fun. Someone would think you're a Summers brother," she pouted.

"Bit harsh, dont'cha think?" Sam asked with laugh.

"Samuel, I am ever the lady," she replied daintily and in one deft motion she snatched up another flute and drained it of its alcohol.

The Conquistador

Rogue stood over Cable's shoulder as he scanned through the Info-Net for information on Edmond de Marque and his organization. Mystique stood to the side with her arms crossed. "Rogue, really? This man is just a shyster. He tricks people out of their time and money. It's not like he's targeting mutants," Mystique chided.

Rogue looked over to Mystique and relied, "We're a team for the benefit of all man-kind; human and mutant alike. If he's a fraud, and Ah have a good feelin' he is, we'll shut him down."

Mystique sighed and said, "Nathan, you agree with me don't you? We could just call Interpol or the Better Business Bureau to investigate him. If we go after him, it'd be like killing a gnat with a sledge hammer."

"Don't ever assume that you and I share an opinion Mystique," Cable answered gruffly. "Besides, from what Craig said he donated all of his MGH to the Order. According to the information I've come up with, the Order sells all of the donations and tithes for charity. Our original mission was to track down all the dealers and the MGH. Right now, we don't know if the order still has the MGH or not."

"So we follow up to make sure our original mission is complete," Mystique replied.

"Exactly. We ain't goin' to leave any loose ends this time 'round," Rogue confirmed.

They turned their attention back to the monitor that Cable was working on. The church of the Order of the Highest Light was founded in Los Angeles over six years ago. The property where the church stood was once the site of a theater house. The theater was known not for its plays but for the fact that it had caught fire six times. The old theater was torn down and while the church was being constructed, Edmond de Marque held his meetings and services in a recreation center to a slowly growing congregation. The practices and beliefs of the Order were not publicly known. One C-List actor had said that the Order was devoted to self-sacrifice and public service when he was accosted by reporters for donating his property to the Order and move to a minimalist apartment that he began to share with four other Order members.

"There was underground excavation during the construction of the church," Cable said suddenly.

"How extensive was it?" Rogue asked.

"I can't tell. I can only find the complaints levied by nearby apartment complexes. There was no formal investigation into the complaints," he explained.

"If people were complainin' there musta been something wrong," Rogue said. "Ah'm gonna have a word with Justice."

Mystique sighed. She felt a pang of regret for what had happened in Santa Monica those years ago. That whole mess was essentially her fault. Rogue might've had something special if it weren't for her.

Several Years Ago

Santa Barbara, California

Mystique strolled down the avenue with her hands in her pockets. She was in the guise of the middle-aged man who was renting a fabulous house with his family. They were in Santa Barbara under the pretense that they were on vacation. Mystique was actually there because she had been commissioned to steal a set of files from an office in the city. They weren't very important files, something dealing with stocks and business plans; a rival company trying their hand at espionage or something. It didn't exactly fit into her repertoire but the deal seemed almost too good to be true. The job seemed simple enough and she was sure that she could handle it alone. Besides, Rogue needed a little vacation. She was a teenaged girl and needed to experience things normal girls did as much as her powers would allow.

Mystique walked to the door of the office and the doorman swung the door open for her. She walked casually toward the receptionist's desk. "I have an appointment with Herbert Wheeler. I'm David Raven," Mystique said.

The girl behind the desk looked over the schedule and replied, "Yes. Mr. Wheeler is expecting you. Have a seat and I'll let you know when he's ready."

"I was just wondering where your restroom was?" Mystique asked.

"Right through those doors sir," the girl answered.

Mystique gave a nod and headed through the doors and down a hallway. She would find the files and then disappear without a trace. This would be a piece of cake.

After changing her form to that of an elderly cleaning woman she passed in the hallway, Mystique made her way to the office of her target, Glen Hebler. She padded down the hallway stopped in front of the door. Her reconnaissance from the day before told her that Mr. Hebler would be out to lunch. She made it appear as if she were polishing the doorknob and the doorframe when she was really picking the lock to the door. With just a flick of her wrist she was in.

She closed the door behind her and slid into the chair behind the computer. Her fingers flew over the keys. Her hacking skills were in peak condition and all the encryptions crumbled before her. She inserted a disk into the drive and began to copy the appropriate files. With a satisfied click of her tongue she ejected the disk. She retrieved her cleaning cloth and bottle of polish and opened the door. Standing before her was a hallway full of armed guards covered with body armor. "You're ahead of schedule mutant," the lead guard sneered.

Mystique realized she had been set up. The job had been too good to be true. She had been in the game so long she had grown over-confident. She was not going to be taken without a fight.

She flung the bottle of polish at guard in the front. It smacked him in the face and he reeled slightly sending a spray of rubber bullets across the room. Mystique leaped and then rolled over the desk with an agility that the elderly cleaning lady hadn't seen in at least forty years. "Careful! She's to be taken alive! Switch to tazers just in case!" the leader barked.

"Too bad I can't say the same," Mystique whispered softly. She popped up suddenly, as the men were holstering their guns and pulling out the long black cattle prods, brandishing automatic pistols. She shot the front row of guards in the knee caps sending them to the floor.

A wave of guards poured into the office with their cattle prods ready for an attack. Mystique violently flipped the desk over catching some of the men off guard and instantly reverted to her normal form. She surged forward and jumped onto the overturned desk and then leaped into the air. She kicked two men in the neck and shot two others in the chest. They stumbled but they were still in the fight. They're armor was going to take more than what her pistols could dish out.

Mystique landed amongst a flurry of cattle prods. She bent over backwards to avoid one swing only to have to roll to the side to avoid another. She rushed forward and kicked one man in the groin. Apparently, they didn't wear armor there. His knees buckled and she pulled his helmet down over his face. She pushed the doubled over guard aside and tried to make her way toward the door.

One of the rods came down on her left arm. She cried out in pain as her arm went numb, dropping her pistol. She head butted that guard, shattering his goggles. She climbed up on his shoulder and tried to vault over the next guard and make her way to the door. There were just too many guards in the room and there were more in the hall waiting to get in on the action.

Mystique's body seized when she was struck from behind by a prod to her back. She dropped to the floor but refused to give in. She pushed herself up with one good arm. She thought the electric jolt had jarred her senses because she thought Rogue was screaming at the men. She then heard the most soulful harmonica song ever. It was the blues. It was full of heartache and despair. It was enough to make you want to give up.

Mystique was suddenly jarred awake by Rogue. "Mama! We have to get out of here!"

Mystique leaned on Rogue's shoulder. "What are you doing here? What did you do?" she asked her daughter weakly.

"Destiny found me and told me to come here. Ah borrowed Justice's powers and swiped the harmonica from a street performer," Rogue explained.

"Your boy has powers?" Mystique said with a chuckle.

"Ah just found out too, Mama," Rogue said.

They hurried across the lobby of the office building. Mystique saw the receptionist and several other guards lying passed out on the floor. She didn't know how Rogue did that but it didn't matter. They had to get out of there.

They met Destiny back at the rented house. Mystique hobbled quickly to Destiny and embraced her. "Are you hurt?" she demanded.

"I am fine. I've packed all of our things," Destiny announced.

"Good. We have to leave now. I was set up," Mystique explained. "Sorry to cut the vacation short, Rogue. They could be coming here right now."

Rogue bit her lip and looked worried. She desperately wanted to meet with Justice again but knew that was impossible now. "What is it?" Mystique demanded.

"Nothin' that Ah'm gonna cry over," Rogue said after a pause.

"That's my girl," Mystique said rubbing Rogue's head.

The Conquistador

Justice had been in the X-Men's custody for just over a day. He knew they had no reason to hold him. He was not a criminal, he had done nothing wrong. Most of the time he sat alone in the room that he was provided. He was utterly calm. He didn't panic when it was announced that Craig had been taken by the robot woman and the ice man to the police. He overheard the blonde woman call him "emotionally castrated." He didn't even care about that.

Justice hadn't even been interrogated yet. They took him aboard the ship and placed him in a room. They had questions for him; why else would they be keeping him? Rogue would have questions for him.

Rogue entered his room with a tray of food. It was the first time she had come to see him since his internment. Normally, the Southern man brought his food. "Ah thought you would be gettin' hungry 'bout this time," Rogue said.

"Thank you," Justice replied.

Justice took the tray and placed nearby on the table. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked.

"Earlier," Rogue replied.

"I was going to share with you," he said and began to eat.

Rogue sat in a chair across the room. She didn't speak for a few moments. Justice was almost finished with his meal when he said, "You wonder if I really blamed you for my downward spiral? You kept me here mostly because of that reason rather than any information I may know."

"That's about the long an' short of it," Rogue replied.

"Yes. For the longest time I blamed you. I have to admit, you swept me off my feet Rogue. I could have seen myself with you for the rest of my life. The first kiss we shared left me unconscious," he explained.

Not the first time that's happened, Rogue thought grimly. Not the last either.

"Your advice to embrace my powers left me without a family. Your advice to use my powers to take my place in the world left me empty. Everything I did was to try and fill that hole in my heart. So, yes I blame you," he said. "But I also forgive you."

"What?" Rogue asked incredulously.

"That is all in the past. Through the teachings of the Order, I have learned to forgive you. Harboring hatred and blame disrupts the flow of positive energy," he said.

"What else do you do in the Order?" Rogue asked.

"In the Order we believe that the world we see is not actually the way the world is. The world, the universe around us, is really an intricate web of interlocking energies. We only see the physical manifestation of these energies because our minds are too feeble to comprehend the vastness of the energies. We ourselves are not physical beings but rather creatures of pure energy. Our main goal in life is to obtain the purest energy we can. We practice a series of exercises and mediations to raise our energy. By helping others and releasing ourselves of physical possessions raises our energies," Justice explained. "We have other beliefs…"

"That's okay, Ah don't need the whole spiel," Rogue replied.

"I know it is a bit hard to digest at first. Mr. de Marque makes everything clear. You should really speak with him. He will change your life. He is a visionary," Justice suggested.

"Ah'm sure he is," Rogue mumbled but then said louder, "Ah've got to get back to the others. Ah'll be back later Justice."

Rogue stood and began to walk to the door.

"I know how it looks Rogue. We practice something unorthodox and it is not well known what we do. There are rumors. There are people who ridicule us. We do good works. I have given away all but my necessities and what I donated was sold for charity. People have been helped because of that. Even when I was addicted to drugs and women, I have never felt so good, so satisfied. You wonder why I could follow this man, maybe I should wonder why you do not," Justice said.

Rogue turned from the door and looked sadly to Justice. "Ah've come to think, if it sounds too good to be true, then it probably is."

Rogue walked down the corridor and made her way back to the Conquistador's control room. Cable was still at the panel accessing his info-net. "Did you learn anything?" he asked.

"The Order needs to be taken down," she said.

Regan Wyngarde was sitting in her bed watching late night infomercials. She drank a lot of champagne at the gala, but not enough to knock her out. It was just the right amount to make her giddy and keep her awake. One of the great things about living on the Conquistador was that it could monitor virtually any television station. Unfortunately for her, at that hour there was nothing interesting in a language she could understand.

She looked around her room. The living conditions were almost Spartan. Being in a coma for over a year does not breed affluence. Regan was so bored that she almost wished she had a book to read. Just as she reached for her light switch there was a knock on her door. "Come in," she called.

Sam poked his head into the room. "I saw the light under the door," he said.

"Don't worry. I'm not even close to tired," she replied.

Cannonball stepped into the room. He was wearing blue pajama pants and a tank top. Regan unconsciously ran her tongue across her teeth. "I just wanted to say that I had a good time at the gala; even if we were impersonating other people," he said.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," Regan responded with a grin.

"It was nice seein' a different side of you. Ya know, not in a battle or anythin'," he added as he closed the door behind him.

"Why Mr. Guthrie you can see any side of me you'd like," she said coyly.

He looked a little awkward in the moment. He traced his hand across the desk. He looked around. Was he sad that she didn't have anything in her quarters? Was he upset that she didn't seem to have anything in the world. He stepped across the small room and sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.

"This is hard for me to say. I'm not used to expressin' my feelin's. I was raised to be a man. I'm not s'posed to let things get to me," Sam explained.

"Just spit it out," Regan sighed.

"I think I'm fallin' for you," he confessed.

She looked at him for a moment. Her eyes were reading his face. "Saddle up cowboy!" she exclaimed.

Sam lunged forward and grabbed her face, kissing her passionately. She held him tightly as they fell backward. They were together on the bed kissing for a few moments when Regan pulled away from him and sighed.

"Sumthin' wrong lover?" Sam asked.

"It's not the same when I know its fake," she said sadly.

The illusion of Sam Guthrie kissed its fingers and pressed them to her lips. Without another word, it faded away. Once again, Regan Wyngarde was alone in her quarters.

Somewhere Dark

Edmond de Marque sat in utter darkness. He was stripped to the waist and sat cross-legged with his hands resting on his knees. His breath was slow and steady. His mind was clear. He was meditating. Suddenly, a single candle before him flickered to life.

"Everything is almost complete," Edmond said.

"You've done well," said a deep from the edge of the darkness.

"I've done all that you've asked of me, but there is one problem," Edmond replied.

"That problem is of no concern. The blessing you've been given has been beneficial then?" the Voice asked.

"Thank you. Yes. Thank you. I've never seen so clearly," Edmond said quickly. "Should I take care of everything? If something happens at the ceremony, all this work…"

"Yes. Eliminate the problem. If you complete the ceremony properly, then your wife will be returned to you as if nothing had ever happened to her," the Voice instructed.

"Thank you. I will not let anything interfere. I will have my wife back," Edmond de Marque declared.