A/N These characters were created by talented and amazing professionals, and all I'm doing is trying to honor them with this work.
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Marion rolled over and shut off her alarm clock. She ran her hands through her deep auburn hair, and then stretched and she rose from her feathery bed. There was no time for the idleness that comes from much rest, and she dressed quickly. Today was her high school graduation. She was leaving school in the top of her class. After cleaning up, grabbing a quick bite to eat, she kissed her mom goodbye and was out the door to catch a ride to the practice ceremony with her best friends, Jean and Kitty. The sun was bright in the sky, the clouds white and fluffy, and the birds were at their most tweatingist. Jean was driving her red Pontiac mustang – top down, with the music blasting. Marion exchanged hugs with both of them and then jumped in the backseat.
The radio was playing one of Marion's favorites; "Another Brink in the Wall (pt. 2)" by the legendary The Doors. "You think you're just another brink in the wall, but I can see right through you," crooned Paul Morrison. Marion had a slight crush on Morrison, but this was complicated by the fact that he had blown his head off at the tender age of 27 with a shotgun after overdosing on heroin. The police had originally believed it to have been a robbery attempt gone wrong given that there was no suicide note – but eyewitness testimony by his then girlfriend Courtney Love (they have since broken up) and that Morrison was holding the shotgun, which records indicated he had bought the day before, and to which the store clerk said "Aye, 'e was agonna keel 'imself what with that gun 'e done bought" (he spoke like that because Morrison had done this in England where he lived, unlike America, England has, or had, since it is destroyed, very loose gun laws) convinced them otherwise.
Marion was happy. Singing along with the other girls to the song's floaty chorus and catchy syth-pop beat, she remembered all the wonderful memories she had had during her eighteen years of growing up. She would be moving on to her pick of colleges on fantastic scholarships such as the Polish Student Achievement award, and the Transitory Success Recognition Grant. The girls gossiped about the hunky boys at school. Jean was caught in a love triangle between Scott Summers and James Logan. Scott was the stud lead quarterback, moving on to play at Notre Damm, and Logan was a rebel in his black leather and 'whatever' attitude. Kitty and Marion were both 'in lurve' as the internet geeks called it, with Bobby Drake. He was quiet and reclusive, and often quoted Nietche, in his infinite wisdom. Bobby knew exactly how to talk to women and could feel a deep empathy for the suffering of others that few boys at that age could manage. He also dressed sharp and had looks that could cut.
Everything was as perfect as could be for Marion. Until now.
Though scientists are unsure of the reasons, every teenager eventually experiences a mutation that gives them strange and amazing powers. Usually this happens around puberty. Doctors were able to develop a vaccine that stops this from happening. Marion's parents were strict Catholics who didn't believe in evolution, so they refused to have their daughter vaccinated. Up until now nothing had happened. Unfortunately, Marion was a late bloomer. At a stoplight, Marion leaned forward to tell Jean something, touching her shoulder, and her mutant power activated. Marion's particular power was the drain the life force from another person by the touch of exposed skin. Jean had a seizure, slumped forward and hit the gas pedal and sped into traffic. The two-way traffic running perpendicular meant that the Mustang was sandwiched between two cars. Kitty and Jean were both killed instantly. More cars, in turn, smashed into the initial ones and a multi-car pile up ensued. Marion was strapped in her seat, upside down in a metal cave. She whimpered. Marion would have been killed as well, but the drained life force from Jean gave her enough hit points to survive.
"Come on, snap out of it," she said to herself. It took all of her mental fortitude to break out of the crushing fear that was now falling on her with leathery wings from the shadows of hell. She reached up and unclipped her seatbelt, toppling to the ground. Surprisingly she found herself unhurt, other than a few bruises. She was covered in oil and dirt, her clothes tattered. With all her strength she managed to squeeze through a crack toward a vestige of sunlight.
Ambulances and a crowd of people were already on hand, horrified by the accident. Marion managed to stand and immediately drew a number of gasps. A paramedic ran over to check on her. "Miss, miss, hold still," he reached out with an arm to check on her. His bare hand grasped her arm, and it happened again. Marion was flooded with energy and more – memories, feelings – His name was Howard, 35, married, two children, both girls, his hobbies included scuba diving and basketball. He crumpled to the ground. Marion, wide-eyed with terror and confusion, shrieked and pulled at her hair. Two policemen on the scene recognized what was happening and went for their phones. "We have a rogue mutant on hand. Request back-up."
The other officer began to approach Marion cautiously, one hand on his gun and the other outstretched. "Miss, please lay down and remain calm."
Marion would have none of it. "Mutant? I'm a mutant? A rogue mutant?" Finally it came to pass that the realization that she was the one that had caused Jean's collapse, and the paramedic's demise, struck her. She turned and ran behind her. Howard, having been an expert basketball player enabled Marion to leap the wreckage with ease and sprint away. The crowd on the other side paid her no mind and she fled deeper into the town, unencumbered. She turned down an alley a few blocks away and curled into a ball on the ground. "I'm rogue, I'm rogue…" she whimpered as she shook softly. Howard was starting to fade from her mind.
A homeless man, tall, African American, approached her. "Hey honey, what're you doin'?" When she didn't answer he sat down next to her and watched her shake. She didn't even realize he was there.
He thought her beautiful with her nice hair, pretty eyes and pale, white skin. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her face. Her eyes went wide, and she grabbed his hand in a vice-like grip and yelled, "Don't touch me!" He wouldn't ever again, as Marion had grabbed him, and the life force was drained from him. Her grip was too much, and her panic was so great that she could not break the hold. All of the man's energy passed into her, and he died. Forever.
Marion was mentally blown over by the consciousness of the man. His name was Antwahn, 37, a former basketball star for the L.A. Clippers, currently addicted to crack cocaine, and The Marijuana. Weed is a dangerous, mind-altering drug that cannot become unaddicted once it has chosen a victim. Marion gasped. He had been married, but was now wandering the streets, looking for the next fix, and the chance that he could break the spell he was under. But it was too late for him. He was dead.
Marion began to tremble again. Not only was she a mutant, but she had killed a man, and now, having absorbed him, she too was a drug addict. Antwahn began to bubble up inside her.
"Damn girl, why'd you have to do that shit? I didn't want to die."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said out loud to no one.
"Sorry ain't going to do shit now. I was just trying to help you, didn't need to go and kill me and all that. And now I'm inside your head? What's up with that? You're pretty hot though, I mean, if I have to be dead and all, at least it ain't so bad to be inside a nice looking girl like you."
"No, no, no, get out!" She screamed.
"Bitch, calm down. Don't yell and carry on and all that. Look, just talk to me inside your head, that's where I'm at, right?"
Marion calmed down. She began to think instead of talk. "Please get out, I don't want you in me."
"There's nothing I can do about that. Not unless you think you can unabsorb me back into my body."
Marion tried that, putting her hand on the body of Antwahn. Nothing happened. He was cold as ice.
"Hmm. Well looks like I'm stuck here until we can find some other way. How'd you do that, by the way?"
"I'm…I'm a mutant." She couldn't even really believe it herself. Her parents had told her there was no such thing.
"Wow, I didn't ever think I was going to see one. I'll tell you what, rifle through my pockets. I've got twenty bucks and a bag of dime in there. Why don't we go get high and think some more on this predicament?"
"Oh no!" She said with much enthusiasm. "Look, we're in my body now, and I'm not having any of it! I'm in charge, and that means no drugs!" Antwahn had always been weak by nature, and the force of Marion's will was too strong for him. His desire to do drugs was destroyed.
"Arrrgh!" He thought as a part of his personality was disintegrated. After a moment, the pain passed. "Oh man…that's it! I'm not a crack addict anymore! Hell yeah! You saved me! Thank you, oh thank you…wait, hell I don't even know your name."
Marion thought about it. "My name is Rogue," she said hesitantly.
"Rogue, huh? Well alright. I'll call you whatever you want. Now that I'm clean, we need to go talk to my wife, maybe she'll take me back, and I can see my kids again."
"Antwahn, that won't work. You're in the body of a woman, now. She won't recognize you."
"Hell, you're right. We'll have to convince her that I'm me. Maybe you could touch her and we could all be in here together. It'd be like a mind party or something."
"NO!" Rogue mentally screamed at him. "No more, besides, that would kill her."
"You're right," Antwahn felt sad for a moment. "She may have divorced me and thrown me out, but I don't want to kill her. And then no one would be able to take care of my girls. Alright then, we have to figure this out. First get the money and the weed. We can sell it to someone else. Then get my sweater. It'll cover you up so no one will be all touching you and dying and shit. After that … I dunno. Maybe you could go to the clinic."
"I hadn't thought of that," thought Rogue. She pulled on Antwan's old sweater and took his drugs and money. Then she moved the body and hid it in a dumpster. Since he was homeless, no one would care that he was dead. And now that she had absorbed the powers of a pro basketball player, Rogue had no trouble moving the 6'4" 300 pound corpse.
Pulling the hood over her head, she started down the street. Her old life destroyed, Marion had become someone new. Someone who hadn't even graduated high school.
