"One shot, one kill," Rogue murmured from her perch that overlooked the seedy bar where some Irish ruffians, who called themselves the Red Branch, were hanging out. They were dealing in arms and helped smuggle in some heroin, of course. The Red Branch remained small potatoes, really, but they were considered a nuisance by law enforcement. And they recruited mostly men with at least fifty percent Irish blood—as long as they had no Italian in them.

She asked him what he thought the Red Branch meant, and he replied, "The Red Branch was one of the royal Celtic houses of the king of Ulster. Supposedly. The truth of it has been buried by myth." The man did his research, Rogue granted him that.

She brought herself back to the present and with her scope, watched Frank slide through the shadows and put claymores at the exits. Before he had her set up on her roost, Frank performed his mandatory exploration to determine if civilians, or victims, were inside. There were none, thankfully, which would make this mission easier.

Her job, naturally, was to be a sniper. She likened her task to being similar to a bird of prey. One swoop, one kill. And she excelled at it. She kept her blue eye on Frank, who signaled to her that it was clear to shoot when she could obtain a clean shot.

She focused on a rough man with irritating red hair. A gentle pull of her trigger sent him to the great beyond. She found another man with a beer gut. The .50 caliber bullet tore him in half like a gory piñata spilling its horrific secrets. Rogue spied another gentleman and her next metal kiss left a hole in his chest. The cartridges clattered to the ground.

Two loud booms told her that the idiots tried to leave through the exits. She heard the quick rat a tat tat of his SMG and yelps of pain. She picked off another one who thought now that the mine was cleared, he could leave. The bullet went through his neck, spraying the bricks behind him with blood. He who doesn't punish evil commands it to be done. Quiet filled her after those men fell, satisfied that they would not harm another.

Mystique, bored with hanging out in the penthouse, requested Fisk's leave to go entertain herself. It pained her to have to ask, but it was more of a polite inquiry. He smiled his Cheshire cat's smile at her and waved her off. I guess I have to put up with some shit to live like a queen. Mystique hoped she'd be able to tolerate being smothered.

It was in her mind to snoop around the Red Branch bar, gather some intel, see what they had in terms of numbers and profits. They were a small organization, but ambitious. Those Irish bastards have a good work ethic when it comes to stirring shit up. Then she saw the barrel flash of an SMG. She drew closer to see the broad back of the Punisher administering his brand of permanent justice.

She smiled and withdrew a finely honed knife she always kept on her. She shimmered from a plain person who blended in quite easily on the street to her true self. I may not kill him. Just hurt him a little. Humble the sexy bastard. She snuck on cat's feet toward her goal.

It was a good thing that Rogue kept an eagle eye on Frank, as he told her to, or Mystique's knife would have sunk into his back. She noticed the woman shift into Mystique and Rogue blanched, extremely nervous. Oh god, Frank. She saw the glint of silver and knew if she didn't do anything, Raven would kill her reluctant mentor.

She detached the magazine and put a fresh one in, hands still steady. Surprisingly so. What's wrong with me that Ah can stay so calm? Cause Ah need to. It just ain't me that's in trouble. Ol' Frank is too, if Ah can't help him. She raised the Barrett rifle and fired. The bullet went to where Mystique was, alright, but she wrapped—there was no other word to describe it—her body around the .50 caliber missile.

That, at least, warned Frank, and he turned to see a blue streak kick him in the chest and sent him flying. He landed against the wall and Raven followed through with a series of vicious punches and scratches. She obscenely tried to grab at his crotch, but by then he got his wind back and he decked her across the mouth.

"Aww, Frank. I just wanted to see what kind of 'pistol' you had." She pouted. She picked up some broken glass and threw it at him, glittery shards cutting his upheld arm. Lines of red appeared on his forearm. The cuts were not serious; he had worse injuries when he defended his fellow kids from bullies in the schoolyard at recess.

"My pistol is none of your business." He snarled. He tried to fire his SMG, but it jammed. Just my god damned luck. Instead, he opted for his Ka-Bar, slashing at her with his painted black blade.

"I bet your pistol hasn't been used since Maria-" She taunted, but saw the movement. Not in time, but the slash could have been worse.

It grazed her skin, a thin road of red melting with her skin to become a deep purple. She grinned, then launched into slick gestures that got her close to him, both fighters swiping and moving in a terrible yet beautiful rhythm. Both of them knew how to knife fight. His experience came from the military and hers came from the street. Frank had a good reach, but Mystique was quick on her feet.

Rogue maintained her steady watch. Most of the men were dead, but from her vantage point, a few clung to life. She altered her position to better snipe them. Three more meetings with God arranged. She couldn't see what Frank and Mystique were up to, they had gone out of her sight, so she nimbly used the fire escape to make contact with the street again. She slung the rifle over her shoulder. Her combat boots hit the cement with a substantial thud and she went in search of them.

She hesitated, however, when she heard the piercing sounds of sirens. The police were on their way. Ah better break up that fight. We don't have time for this shit. The young woman pulled out her Beretta and jogged toward the direction she believed they were.

She observed them fighting, locked in a deadly struggle, and she aimed the Beretta at Raven. One, twice, three times she fired. All three found their target in Mystique. The bullets didn't cause too much damage. Ah think we need special acid ammo to bring this bitch down. Something that'll damage her cells so she can't just warp around bullets. She wasn't able to do this before the Hand got to her.

"Frank, we gotta get out of here. The cops are on their way." She told him. The sirens got louder.

Frank looked at the woman on the street, her gunshot wounds closing at a rapid pace. "You need to learn to shut up." He removed his sidearm from his holster and shot her in the head. The hole closed like the others and Raven smiled up at him. She jumped up on her feet and backed away, knife in hand. She heard the alarms also and wanted to get out of there.

"This isn't finished," He rumbled at her, Rogue looked anxious to be out of there. If he had the time, he would have cut Mystique up and cremated her.

"I know this isn't finished. Especially since you have my daughter." Raven said. "You've certainly become more interesting." Rogue had changed, more muscle on her and had a serious gleam in her blue eyes. Blue? Rogue had green eyes, Raven knew that to be true. So why were they blue? And why was she with the Punisher? He'd always worked alone. Was he fucking her? Rogue DID have daddy issues. Oh wait, she can't.

"Ah ain't your daughter. Ah don't want to be your daughter. So fuck off." Rogue muttered before spinning to follow Frank. It was then Rogue felt a sharp pain in her leg. She put a hand down there and it came away wet with blood. She searched for Raven then gave up. That blue rat probably slunk off to go fester in the sewers. "Fuck it. That's what Ah get for presenting my back like a glorified target to her."

She jumped in the van and told Frank what happened. "It's my mistake for doing that, Ah didn't want her to be under the presumption that Ah was afraid of that slutty Smurfette. But Ah don't think the slash is too bad." Bad enough, though, that she kept pressure on it. The upholstery is vinyl, so at least there shouldn't be permanent blood stains.

"I'll examine it when we get to the safe house. Other than the injury to your leg, you did well. Remember to never turn your back on your enemy. In the field, you might not end up so lucky. Most people end up dead." Frank wasn't normally one for compliments, but her shooting had been exceptional, and he tempered that with a solid warning. Rogue was nearly ready and it was time to contact Fury.

They pulled up on the docks, put the van in a garage, then went to a serviceable and plain boat. Large enough for the both of them and their guns, but not much more. This safe house also had the distinct advantage of being able to be moored somewhere else if the need arose. Seagulls screaming in the night as Rogue limped her way on board.

"Sit on the table." He ordered. She kicked off her boots and dropped her pants, she figured this was no time for false modesty, and planted her posterior on the proffered surface. He scrutinized the wound, long but not deep. It did not cut into the femoral artery; otherwise Rogue would have been a goner. She needed about ten stitches and some rest but that was it.

She asked, "How is it, Doc?"

"You need stitches, but it doesn't appear all that serious. Just take it easy for a few days. He retrieved a first aid kit from a cupboard and snapped on rubber gloves. He washed the wound out with saline, got the curved needle ready and put in the stitches.

She winced but refused to flinch. Frank did not keep anesthetic, even local anesthetic, in his medical kit, so she had to go without it. It stung and felt weird to have sterilized thread weaving in and out of her flesh. Ah deserve the discomfort, for one thing. For another, Ah don't want to risk that needle going anywhere else. Frank was quick, practiced from having done this to himself. He put antibiotic on then the bandage. She slid off the table and went to clean up. He disinfected the table and put away the medical kit and disposed of the needle.

Rogue came back out with jeans and a tank top on.

"Mystique's a problem. She's on my radar now and I need everything you have on her." Frank poured them a cup of coffee. They both liked it black and strong. He realized that it wasn't going to be a comfortable conversation for her but the problem that Raven presented took precedence over her ease of mind.

"You're right. She's a nuisance, but Ah'm not sure what Ah can say to help. Ah know she was killed and resurrected by the Hand. It…changed her, super enhanced her abilities to be able to do what she did. Also made her meaner. She wasn't the same person when she came back to me. She can conceal herself from people who have an excellent sense of smell and can turn her limbs to bladed weapons. She is resistant to telepathic intrusion. She'll be damn hard to track. "She told Frank more personal things, things that should never have happened to her and Frank lowered his gaze so she couldn't see his eyes. He had his jacket on and she hugged him. Hard. Then she disengaged before he could yell at her.

"That's all Ah'm gonna say about Mystique, Frank. For real. Ah have no more information to share." Rogue said. It'd been three hours since she'd started talking and she splashed more coffee in her cup. She gave him some as well when he asked. Neither one of them wanted to sleep.

"We'll need to be cautious when we're out. Fewer trips by ourselves. Maybe have a password for when we do have to separate." Frank said. He'd have to really sit and think about what to do with Mystique. Anyone could be killed, given the proper tools. Sometimes that was ammo, sometimes that was ordnance. Problem was, she was going to require a high tech solution. And perhaps a specialized kind of gear. Maybe use a variation on a hollow point bullet? Have someone create a bullet full of a substance that ate DNA? He wondered how she would react to an acid.

Rogue wanted to talk, as if to get the taste of Raven out of her mouth and mind. "Did you know my eyes were originally brown? Then Ah accidentally touched someone and then they turned green. Now, they're blue. Permanently, Ah believe." She took a swig of her coffee, heat lingering in that dark nectar. "Ah feel like Ah'm getting harder. Ah'm me, but less tolerant of assholes and those who do wrong to others. It feels like Ah can see people with such clarity. Some people are good, some are not." She wondered where she would end up in twenty years, who she would be.

Frank listened to her speech and pondered where it was going.

"You had me bring up an uncomfortable conversation, so now it's my turn. You've been given a gift finding out about David. Ah ain't gonna tell you to be all fatherly, but Ah know how important it is to have a father since Ah lack one. Ah just want you to know this one thing: Try to make peace with David. If not for your sake, then his because he is a decent man. That's all Ah need to say." Any more than that wouldn't be her place.

"I'll keep that in mind, Rogue. Go try and get some sleep. I'll go on watch." Frank said. In other words, I need to some thinking and I'd prefer to do it alone.

She rose up from the chair, shrugged, then went to her bunk, pulling the curtain shut for privacy. Maybe Ah can get some shut eye now. Maybe. The gentle lapping of the water lulled her first into drowsiness, then into a deep slumber.

I'll think about settling with David—she's right about that, the little meddler-but right now I have more important things to worry about. Like Mystique. And getting Rogue out of my hair, Frank thought with a pang he would never admit to. Is sending Rogue to Fury the best thing for her? He had qualms over that. He knew what Fury was like; a soldier with a thirst for battle. Nicholas Joseph Fury wouldn't hesitate about sending Rogue into situations as dangerous—if not more—than the ones she already experienced with him. The pay's better. More of a future for her if she makes it past her four years then re-ups.

A calm snore informed Frank that Rogue slept and he pulled out a prepaid cellphone. He dialed the number and was greeted by voicemail. "This is Fury. If you have this number, that must mean I like you. Or can tolerate you. Leave your name and I might think about calling you back."

Frank cleared his throat, "FC. Need to talk to you about a few …"

Nick Fury picked up the phone. "Frank? How the hell can I help you, soldier?" Surprise hung in his voice, though he also sounded rather tired.

"Would you be willing to meet with me and someone else for lunch?" Frank told Nick about Rogue and the old man's interest was palpable even through the phone.

"Trained by you? Hell yeah. Good soldiers are hard to come by and I'm creating a black ops group that she might be good for. How's…" Fury looked at the clock. It said 5 am. "about noon today work for you?"

"Works fine. See you at Santino's Deli. 15th and Cedar Street." Frank hung up the phone and sat in the solitude.