"Yes, Mastermind, I know the risks. Just do it. She can't remember what happened tonight. She can't remember it, or me. It's better if I just leave. She'll be safer that way . . ."
Chapter Eleven: Shadowed Lives, Part Two
"Hey Rogue, vant to valk home vith me?" A voice called, strongly accented in German.
Rogue sighed and turned around, spotting a teenage boy running up to her. He had an average height and build, along with somewhat long, black hair that was often tinted with blue. He smiled widely at her as he came to a halt next to her, panting somewhat from running all the way across the lawn of the school and the street.
"Vell, can I valk vith you?" The boy asked again, looking up at her.
Rogue looked about ready to say 'no', but sighed and nodded. "Sure, Kurt."
Kurt grinned. "Awesome!"
They walked in silence for a few minutes, down side streets and past park cars, before Kurt had to break the silence.
"So . . . that whole baby incident a couple veeks ago vas interesting, nein?" He asked, kicking at a stone on the ground and then looking up at her, tilting his head slightly.
"Oh . . . um, yeah, it was," Rogue agreed. It actually was very interesting . . . even if some of the stories that the New Mutants told were quite embarrassing. Jubilee, Danielle, and Shan had simply adored them as babies, and kept on saying how they should have all stayed that way.
Kurt looked at her with a concerned expression. "Are you okay, Rogue?"
Rogue looked at him, somewhat bewildered before smiling lightly. "Yeah . . . Ah'm -"
But she was cut off by the loud screech of car wheels coming from the end of the block. Rogue, as well as Kurt, whirled around, and saw a large black jeep barreling toward the light that they were standing at, waiting to cross the street. As it came closer and closer, loud music blared from the speakers inside the car, and Rogue's nose scrunched in disgust, and she almost covered her ears to try and force the music out of her head. The jeep got closer and, just as Kurt and Rogue were crossing the street, it made a sharp turn and nearly ran them over at the cross walk.
Kurt grabbed one of Rogue's gloved hands and pulled her out of the way. They both tumbled forwards and landed hard on the concrete. A numb pain broke out onto Rogue's left shoulder and she groaned, sitting up slowly and cradling it with her right arm. Kurt sat up, wincing a little at a pain in one of his wrists. The driver and passengers of the jeep laughed meanly as they drove away. The two teenage boys in the back stood up and threw some well aimed water balloons at Rogue and Kurt, and then all four of the boys laughed some more as they disappeared around the corner of a street a block ahead.
Rogue stood up, glaring around at the few adults and kids that had been watching. Some of them looked bewildered, but most were smirking openly or behind their hands. Rogue growled at them and stalked off, Kurt tripping to catch up to her.
"Hey Rogue!" He said loudly, finally catching up to her as she entered an alleyway. "Are you alright?"
Rogue turned and glared at him. "No, Kurt, Ah am not alraght."
Kurt looked down at the ground, and then back up to his 'sister'. "Vell . . . vhat's vrong? Bezides zose boys."
"Nothin', Kurt, Ah'm just havin' a bad day!" Rogue said, her bottom lip trembling somewhat.
Kurt nodded slowly. "Ja . . . me too. Zey, ze mutant haters, zey were bad today, no?"
Rogue looked up at him, briefly seeing the boy behind the image inducer that he wore on his wrist. Blue and fuzzy, with a demon's tail, yellow eyes, pointy ears, two toed feet, and three fingered hands. His face still look elfish, but that was the only part of him that looked somewhat similar to his true form. Even the shape of his body was different, being slimmer and more hunched over when he wasn't wearing his image inducer.
Slowly, Rogue nodded, showing a weakness that she rarely showed to anyone. The fact that she was sensitive. That she sometimes wanted a boyfriend, to hold her as Scott held Jean, to tell her that everything would be alright. But she couldn't have that. The closest thing that she had to family right now was Kurt. He was technically her adopted brother, thanks to Mystique, her adopted 'mother', and as of late, they had seemed to be getting closer and closer.
They started to walk down the alley slowly, before Kurt sighed. "I hate zem. I can't say zat around ze Professor, because he will lecture me about the need of coexistence between mutants and humans . . . but I hate zem."
Rogue paused and looked at him. "Yeah, sometimes Ah -"
But she was cut off my a swish of wind in front of her. The force made her close her eyes, and when she opened them again, Kurt had fallen to the ground, unconscious, a large bruise starting to form on the side of his head.
Rogue's eyes widened and she took one of the gloves off of her hands, looking around the alleyway skeptically, knowing that the person – or people – that had attacked Kurt would try and attack her, too.
She felt another swoosh of wind, and then was being pushed back. Rogue reached out her un-gloved hand and groped around for the person that was pushing her, her bare hand finally making contact with the person's skin. Soon, he was slumped on the ground, and Rogue was looking down upon the unconscious figure of Pietro Maximoff.
Rogue smirked and started to back up slowly. She attempted to look around, but was grabbed from behind and felt a meaty hand place it's self over her mouth and nose. She wriggled around in the large person's arms and was soon gasping for breath that was not coming. Rogue looked over to the side and saw a short, unattractive teenage boy snickering at her. He was standing beside a young man with bright, orange hair. Toad . . . and Pyro? Why was Pyro there, with Toad? With the Brotherhood? She knew that Avalanche could only be closer by, as Blob was holding her and Pietro was knocked out on the ground. The Brotherhood was there . . . attacking her and Nightcrawler. Not that that was out of the ordinary, but most of the time, the the Brotherhood attacked when the X-Men had done something to them, stupid or not. Otherwise . . . otherwise, they had higher orders.
Rogue's eyes widened and she struggled harder. Whoever they were working for, nothing good was going to come out of it. In her panic, she only lost more oxygen, and soon her vision started to get fuzzy. She could hear the faint laughs as they faded away with her vision and the buzz in her ears. Rogue fell into unconscious, still being held by Blob, who laughed cruelly at her loss.
Kurt opened his eyes slowly, and just laid on the ground for a moment. His eyes were glazed over and the pain on the side of his head was immense. After a few minutes, he sat up, blinking, and looked around the space in which he was in. It was dark. And damp. The floor below him was cold and made of wood, but the wood was unsteady and creaked when Kurt simply sat up.
He examined the room for a few more seconds before his eyes landed on Rogue, passed out on the ground a few feet away from him. Kurt crawled over to her and shook her shoulder to wake the goth girl up. The thundering pain on the side of his head had calmed down somewhat, but he could still hear and feel it pounding lightly against his head.
Rogue groggily woke up, blinking to get used to the absence of light. She sat up almost immediately and looked around, then cursed.
"Ah can't believe this!" Rogue exclaimed, taking several careful breaths to make sure that he lungs were working properly. "Why did they want us?"
Kurt shrugged. "I do not know . . . but Rogue, ve should leave! No one's here, so I can teleport us out of here!"
"Yeah, good idea," Rogue muttered, though her tone implied that what he said was completely obvious.
Kurt nodded and grabbed her sleeved covered arm, but nothing happened. He scrunched his eyebrows together and concentrated harder, but still to no avail. Yet again, the blue mutant tried to 'poof' himself and Rogue out of the room, but nothing happened.
Sighing exasperatingly, he dropped her arm and crossed his arms over his chest. Rogue watched, smirking slightly.
"Yah look lahke a little kid."
Kurt sent her a glare. "If ve can't get out, zen vhat are ve supposed to do! Zey're going to come back, a who knows vhat zey are going to do to us?"
"I don't know." Rogue sighed. "But . . . they took your image inducer, too."
Kurt cursed and looked down at himself, and sure enough, his 'human' form had been replaced by his natural one. Blue, short fur and yellow eyes, with pointed ears, a devil's tail, and oddly numbered fingers and toes.
"Ve can't get out of here, and zey took my image inducer! Vhy - ?"
But a chilling, feminine laugh cut him off, and both Rogue and Nightcrawler turned to see a blue woman standing in the doorway. She was leaning on the door jam, smiling maliciously at them, her yellow eyes alight with an odd sense of bliss. Standing behind her was the Brotherhood; Quicksilver, the smart-mouthed speedster. His twin sister Wanda, looking positively bored and uninterested with her surroundings. Toad, a short, ugly teenage boy. Blob, a tall, very obese boy that was just as unappetizing as Toad. Avalanche, a tall teenager with long brown hair and a bad-boy smirk. However, there was also another person, a young man, probably only nineteen or twenty years old. He had wild orange hair and an overzealous smile, and both Rogue and Nightcrawler recognized him immediately; Pyro, former Acolyte of Magneto.
"Vhat are you doing here? Vhat happened to our powers?" Kurt demanded, taking a step forward, but shrinking back slightly as Pyro started to play with a fire ball in his hands.
The blue lady, Mystique, ignored him and moved into the room, the gaggle of boys following behind her.
"You deserted me after Apocalypse," Mystique said scornfully, stepping closer and closer to them.
"We deserted you?" Rogue asked in close to outrage. "Ye're the one that abandoned us!"
Mystique smiled a cold, heartless smile. "Oh, you think that?"
"Ja, ve do!" Kurt shouted, anger bubbling up inside him.
Mystique looked from Rogue to Kurt, studying them impassively.
"I did not abandon you by choice, my son . . ." Mystique said, her expression unreadable.
"Ja, you did!" Kurt said, crossing his arms and glaring at her. "I saw! Vhy did you let Magneto do zat?"
Mystique laughed sharply. "Magneto? Oh, I forgot . . . you really think that that is your true past?"
Kurt blinked, confused, and looked from Mystique to Rogue. The latter knit her eyebrows and shook her head, showing signs that she did not want her 'brother' to believe Mystique. But Kurt was curious . . . very curious. He looked back and forth between them before Mystique gave another cold laugh.
"It is not, Kurt Wagner," Mystique said, stepping closer to him, so that their face's were inches apart. It was really remarkable how much they looked alike, how much the son resembled his mother. Kurt swallowed, but didn't look away. Their identical yellow eyes stared at each other for quite the time, until Mystique sighed and stepped back again.
"Your past . . . Mastermind was very good at masking it . . ." Mystique said.
"Vhat . . . vhat do you mean?" Kurt asked, tilting his head to the side, his eyes widening.
"Well . . . you will find out soon enough," Mystique said stoically. "But until I'm ready . . ." She looked back at Blob, whose smile was a cross between something stupid and something cruel. He lumbered over to Kurt, and before Kurt or Rogue could do a thing about it, Blob hit Kurt over the head with his large fist. Kurt fell to the ground, yet again unconscious, and Rogue gasped. She tried to go over to him, but Mystique and Avalanche stopped her.
"No, Rogue . . . right now it's your turn," Mystique said quietly. "Your past isn't all that clear either . . . so let me help clear it up for you." She looked back toward the door in which she and the Brotherhood had entered. "Mastermind!"
Back at the X-Mansion, all of the kids were busying themselves in looking for Rogue and Kurt. It was a Thursday, and it was getting quite late. Neither Rogue nor Nightcrawler had said that they would be out that night, and they had both missed dinner (which was extremely rare, if even possible, for Kurt).
Monet St. Croix walked in through the front door. She tilted her head slightly in defiance when she saw Jubilee and Rahne walking through the foyer. Monet hated Jubilee. She was so spunky, hard headed, hot headed. Thought she was just about the best thing in the world. Always liked to be in charge, young as she was.
"Find anythin'?" Rahne asked Monet politely, smiling at the older girl. Rahne didn't like Monet that much either . . . but she thought it only best to try and be polite.
"No, they are not outside, as far as I can tell," Monet said, her 'perfect' accent and grammar rivaling Rahne's.
"Well, where else are they gonna be?" Jubilee asked indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Monet with some distaste.
Monet rolled her eyes and sent Jubilee a glare so cold that it made both Jubilee and Rahne feel uneasy. "Maybe they are not at the mansion, Jubilation."
"DO NOT call me that!" Jubilee said forcefully, glaring at Monet even deeper than before.
Monet shrugged and started to float off of the ground. "I do not understand why you do not like real your name."
Jubilee scoffed. "It's too preppy. Sounds stuck up. I really don't need that. And besides, at least Jubilee is a nickname for it . . . and a good codename." She smirked, looking up at the floating mutant before her, who scowled a stuck-up scowl of her own, thrusting her chin into the air slightly.
"Jubilation, if you must know, I did not choose my codename." M informed her fellow teammate.
Jubilee raised an eyebrow, and asked in mock disbelief, "Then who did?"
Monet rolled her eyes, and without a word, flew off down the corridor toward the kitchen, were a few other residents of the mansion could be heard talking.
Jubilee sighed and crossed her arms. "Honestly, I don't know why I put up with that infuriating priss."
Rahne smirked, and started to walk down the hallway to the kitchen, trailing Monet. "I don't see how either of yeh can put up wit' each other."
Jubilee rolled her eyes and walked after her friend.
When they entered the kitchen, they found a Storm, Magma, Wither, Monet, and a few Jamies talking with each other strenuously in the setting sun. Storm looked purely agitated, Wither as guarded as ever, Magma fearful, Monet impassive, and the Jamies all wore different expression, one with a confused face, one with a scared one, and one with an anxious one. All together, all of their conflicting emotions in such tiny of a space was quite comical, but of course, this was no time for anything to be said as funny.
Storm noticed Jubilee and Rahne after a few seconds, and turned to them, her bright blue eyes pleading that they found something. Jubilee simply shook her head, and Storm's face fell slightly. Jubilee tugged Rahne over to the counter, and the two sat down on the high stools next to Kevin.
"Hey!" Rahne said brightly, smiling at him. It was enough to try and get him to talk . . . or even acknowledge one's presence. And most of them wanted to change that . . . at least the girls of the New Mutants did.
Kevin simply nodded at her greeting, his eyes briefly skidding over her before he looked back his hands, which were folded on the table inside his non-organic black gloves.
Rahne sighed. He looked so . . . sad. And lonely. Like a male version of Rogue. Only a little worse. He had absolutely no friends, and, even more so, didn't seem to want any. He was like Rogue in so many ways, thinking that if he got near a person, he would kill them, even with all of the heavy, protective clothes that he wore. At least Rogue had somewhat of an aptitude to make friends.
Suddenly, the door to the kitchen behind them slammed open, making all of them, even apathetic Monet and quiet Kevin, jump. They all spun around to face the door, Jubilee nearly falling off of her stool. Roberto was standing in the door, nearly breathless. He took in a few more deep breaths before speaking.
"The Brotherhood's causing trouble in Bayville. We have to go stop them.
Rogue was peeking into one of her worst nightmares: her own past. No wonder everything about it had seemed so distorted, so wrong. Because it had been wrong. Everything that she had remembered . . . it was wrong. Irene, her home back in Mississippi, her few friends, her school, even her favorite band . . . wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
Off in the distance, Rogue could hear Mystique's voice over her head, sometimes taunting, sometimes leering. But she couldn't hear a word the blue woman was saying, just the tone of her voice. As if she was in a dream – no, a nightmare – that was impossible to come out of.
The first vision that she had had, right when Mastermind had entered the room and started to walk to her, raising his hands . . . it was a vision of her mother and father. Her real mother and father. Not foster parents. This she knew was true. She could feel it. This felt right. Completely and utterly right.
This glimpse of her shadowed life was a memory from when she was only five-years-old. The memory was set in a train station. Gleaming, polished, light brown wood, white floors looking as if they were made of marble, busy travelers . . . a nice enough place. But when her mother bent down and kissed a five-year-old version of herself on the cheek, Rogue felt dread. Her father was sending her a most distasteful look, as if she was a fly that he wanted to swat. Finally, the soft hand entwined with Rogue's let go, and her mother walked to her father, who grabbed Rogue's mother's hand gruffly and pulled her away into the crowd.
Little Rogue stood there for a few minutes, looking blankly and in confusion to where her parents had been standing. Suddenly, she looked around frantically. Rogue gripped the straps of her purple backpack tighter, spinning around in place. She started to run around the train station in panic, tears streaming down her cheeks and off her chin.
Without sense of her surroundings, Rogue bumped into someone. She looked up, her eyes glassy and red from crying, her pale cheeks wet and also red. A woman was standing there, a woman with hazy blue eyes and a walking stick. Her large sunglasses had fallen with a hollow clank to the floor.
Another woman stepped up to her, the problem of the child unknown until she looked down. Her dark eyes widened slightly, and she daintily tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear.
Rogue whimpered and pulled back, but the woman grabbed her arm gently, smiling tenderly down at her.
And that was when Rogue was pulled out of the first vision. She looked incredulously. "You … my parents . . . my name is . . . Anna Marie D'Ancanto?"
Mystique smiled somewhat coldly, though there was a little bit if affection in her eyes. "Yes, Rogue. That is your real name."
"I knew it was Anna Marie, but . . . but . . ." Rogue stuttered, unable to find words.
Mystique gave a harsh, short laugh and looked at Mastermind. "Continue."
The next vision was one of a house, small and worn looking on the outside, but warm and inviting on the inside. There were white walls in the hallways with a few pictures and shelves with nicknacks on them, but otherwise, the walls were bare.
Rogue could practically smell the cinnamon and cocoa scent coming from the kitchen, and after the hallway, that was where her vision had taken her.
The same five-year-old Rogue was sitting at the table, the purple backpack still strapped to her back. Her previous tears had made her eyes crusty and bloodshot. She sniffled every minute of so, sipping the warm cocoa a few times, but not very much.
Irene sat across from her, along with the other woman: Mystique. Yes, that was definitely Mystique. Shape-shifted into a younger form of the Principal Darkholme that Rogue knew and hated. Irene gazed at Rogue with unseeing eyes, frowning while she did so, a small crease of concentration appearing between her brows. She was young, too, by twelve years, and much prettier. Despite being blind even back then, Destiny was a beautiful woman of probably 30 or so years old. Mystique was equally pretty, much more so than the older version of Darkholme.
"So don't worry child, you are going to stay here, with us," Irene said serenely, smiling softly at Rogue. Her gaze was in the right direction, but was a little off from the young girl.
The little Rogue simply looked at the woman, swallowing and nodding, as if saying something would get her in trouble. Rogue could practically feel the emotions of the young memory of herself coursing through her. In a little kid's mind, she was thinking that Irene didn't look very happy . . . and whenever her parents didn't look happy, it was never good, so another adult looking unhappy positively couldn't be good, either.
"Please don't worry," Irene said softly, reaching out a hand and putting it on top of Rogue's small one. "We will take care of you, there is nothing to be scared of."
Rogue nodded and after swallowing another sip of hot chocolate, finally had the courage to speak again, "Are my parents coming back."
Irene smiled sadly, her hands still atop Rogue's. "No, child. It's not safe with them anymore."
There was another memory immediately after.
Rogue was now eleven, with shoulder length auburn hair tied in two low pigtails. She bounded through the hallway that had been seen before, now with more pictures on it. They were all of Rogue, Irene, and Mystique, through all the stages of Rogue's life from ages five to eleven.
At the end of the hall, Irene was removing a picture from the wall. It was one that had been there before Rogue had even arrived, one of the oldest pictures on the wall. It was one of Mystique and Destiny, looking like they were just a mere twenty years old, maybe even still teenagers. Irene carefully placed the picture in a moving box with Rogue's help.
Rogue sighed as she started to help take down her first school picture. "Why do we have to move? I like it here. I like my school, and my friends, and . . . leaving Sarah will be absolutely awful." Sarah, the Rogue watching the memory noted with a start, being her best friend.
"I know, child, I know . . ." Irene said, placing the picture of smiling but sad-eyed young Rogue into the moving box. Rogue got a vague feeling that it irritated her younger self to be called 'child'.
"Then why are we moving? It's not even for a job or anything."
Irene sighed, straightening up and gazing towards where the girl's voice was coming from. "Because . . . it's not safe here anymore."
"Not safe here?" Rogue asked indignantly. "How can it not be safe?"
"Because . . . it is just not," Irene said quietly, taking down another school picture of Rogue in first grade without her two top front teeth. "Raven is gone, so it's not safe and we need to get young out of here."
"So what if Raven's gone?" Rogue said, looking slightly upset, as if she thought that she could have won the argument. "She'll be back, she's done this before."
Irene sighed again, placing Rogue's picture into the box. "I wish that were true, child."
And yet again, right after this came yet another vision.
Rogue was now thirteen, her hair cut shorter and to her chin.
She was in the kitchen, making herself peanut butter a sandwich on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Truthfully, she and Irene had only moved more into South Mississippi, so not horribly far from their old home. But far enough that Sara wasn't her best friend anymore. Or really even her friend at all. Older Rogue did have a feeling, however, that Mystique had come back . . . at least once, probably more. But she was gone again.
Rogue poured herself a glass of red Kool-Aid and shouted, "Irene, want a sandwich? Some Kool-Aid?"
After about ten seconds of no answer, she called out Irene's name, but no reply, and so tried again. Finally, Rogue pursed her lips in annoyance and put the Kool-Aid back in the fridge. She set her glass and the plate with her sandwich on it down on the counter, and went to venture the house in search of her adopted mother.
"Irene? Irene?" Rogue called. "Honestly, where are you?" She muttered as she walked around the house, finally stopping at a door that Rogue immediately associated to be Irene's 'office'. This house she knew . . . it was much more familiar. It was actually the house that she remembered living in with Irene.
Rogue almost knocked before she entered, but decided not to, and simply opened the door silently. When she opened it, she realize that it was open just a crack.
When Rogue entered the room, and noticed Irene sitting in the chair before her desk, turned away from her. Rogue almost said something, but then hesitated. There was something . . . wrong. Irene was bent over, looking at something. But she couldn't see. Of course.
As Rogue padded quietly over behind her, she heard Irene muttering something. "Yes, yes . . . oh my . . . oh no . . ."
As Rogue peered above Irene's shoulder, she saw the blind woman gripping a picture and a letter written carefully in brail in her hands. The thirteen-year-old Rogue managed to see a few faces, and some of them somewhat startled the older Rogue. Storm was in it, looking beautiful and even younger, smiling . So was Wolverine. He was standing next to Storm in the picture, actually smiling, and it was a genuine smile, not a Logan-like smirk. The rest of the people she didn't know; a boy, maybe a year or so younger than her memory self, was smiling broadly at the camera, and there was a teenaged male next to him with one arm around the boy, making him lean somewhat sideways. The other arm was ruffling the boy's red hair. The last person that Rogue could see was a very young woman with long, wavy blonde hair and elfish features. And, the older Rogue could have sworn, Charles Xavier was hidden beneath Irene's thumb.
Suddenly, Irene turned around, dropping the picture and the brail letter to the ground. She grabbed thirteen-year-old Rogue's arms and spoke in a monotonous, scratchy voice, "They'll come for you. They'll come for you."
Irene's eyes were white. She was using her powers, seeing the future, quite unexpectedly. It scared the younger Rogue, and even startled the older one.
Thirteen-year-old Rogue struggled to free herself from Irene's grip, but the woman was strong and held onto her arms tightly. A few moments later, the white faded from Destiny's eyes and she was finally released from her vision. She thrust Rogue backwards as if she hadn't know that she had been holding onto the girl, and was startled by the fact.
Rogue tripped and landed hard on her bottom on the carpet, staring up at her adopted mother with a sense of fear and shock in her eyes.
The mist that clouded the Rogue of the present's own eyes faded, and she blinked, yet again finding herself in the dark basement of the Brotherhood's mansion. Avalanche, Toad, and the rest of the Brotherhood weren't there anymore. The only people in the room were Mystique, Rogue, Mastermind, and an unconscious Kurt, in his true form, blue and furry.
Rogue looked up at Mystique, swallowing a lump in her throat before asking, "So that's . . . my past? You and Irene raised me . . and my parents . . . they . . ." She felt tears coming to her eyes and shut them tightly to keep her sobs in. "They abandoned me. Why?" She opened her eyes and gazed up at Mystique, as the watery pressure from her tears was gone for the moment.
Mystique shrugged. "Because . . . well . . . I assume you'll find that out on your own. Mastermind has one more thing to show you, Rogue."
In this lost memory, Rogue saw herself very similar to what she looked like now. She still had hair similar to what she had had when she was thirteen, short and auburn. The white streaks weren't there, so this must have been over a year before. She was wearing her trademark green and black gothic clothes, complete with the boots and thick bracelets. Her make-up was dark and her skin was pale, even more so than it had been in previous memories.
Rogue was walking down a street in her old town in Mississippi. The Rogue watching the memory couldn't help feel the foreshadowing that something was about to happen as her memory-self turned suddenly and began to walk down an alleyway, apparently a shortcut to her home that the Rogue watching the memory couldn't remember.
The alleyway was leering, dark, and dirty. It would have smelled of unpleasant things like trash and rats, but Rogue's memory-self didn't seem to be affected by it. Her pace, however, was quick, because the alley did make her uneasy.
Rogue saw the man step out of the shadows before her memory-self even knew what was coming. The Rogue watching the memory gasped and in vain tried to scream out, though of course, nothing happened. The man in the skin tight black shirt and loose black camo pants slunk toward the younger Rogue's back, and finally tried to hit her over the head.
The move didn't work out so well, because he only hit her hard on the shoulder, and sent the memory-Rogue into a state of panic. She kicked and punched around behind her, successfully hitting him with some good punches to the arms. The man stepped back a few paces, but tried to hit her again, to which Rogue put her hands out in front of her to try and defend herself, closing her eyes tight.
She opened them when she heard a strangled gasp coming from the man whose arms she had grasped. Not even realizing that she had done so, Rogue was stunned, and watched him convulse slightly with her mouth agape. The older Rogue could feel her memory-self's thoughts flowing through her own mind, thoughts like, 'what is he doing . . . or what am I doing?'. As Rogue held onto the man, her bangs started to turn their infamous white.
Suddenly, the man slumped against her, his eyes glazed over, staring, unblinking, downward, to where they had been trained on the girl. Rogue gasped and let go of him, fresh tears beginning to spring from her eyes, and fall down her cheeks.
A white mist tapped its self into the vision, and it turned into another memory of the same night, only a little amount of time later.
Rogue was sitting in the kitchen of her old home, looking much like she had when she had been brought home to Irene and Mystique's old home, just older. Her eyes were bloodshot and somewhat glassy from tears, and her cheeks were stained red. There was a cup of cold cocoa sitting beside her, untouched. Rogue's memory-self looked so helpless and scared, that Rogue began to feel sorry for herself.
Irene was sitting across from her, glancing between Rogue and the kitchen door. Rogue, however, didn't seem to notice, and was blankly staring down at the table while rubbing the left fingers of her hand absentmindedly across the table, and repeating the action several times.
Finally, after too much tense silence, a car was heard rolling up the driveway of the house. Irene quickly left the room, and when she came back, Rogue's memory-self looked up to see her standing with Mystique, and a man that the Rogue watching the vision knew.
Mastermind.
He looked her over and turned to Mystique. "Are you sure you want to try this, Mystique?"
The woman, who looked exactly like Principal Darkholme, nodded. "Yes . . . I'm sure."
"You know the risks?" Mastermind asked, scanning the faces of Mystique, Irene, and Rogue. "What might happen? She -"
"Yes, Mastermind, I know the risks," Mystique said coldly. "Just do it. She can't remember what happened tonight. She can't remember it, or me. It's better if I just leave. She'll be safer that way, because they don't know about Destiny."
Younger Rogue's expression turned to confusion as Mastermind stepped toward her, and before she could protest or even cry out, he had already raised his hands and his eyes had already turned white.
Yes, well, there. ^_^ I had to change her past up a little bit, because I HATE how that didn't explain her past in the cartoon very well. Some of it is made up, mind you. And some of it fits with the plot of the 'season'. :) Notice the picture and how Mystique and Destiny kept saying stuff about 'they, they, they'? Yep. Plot. :) Anyone have ANY guesses on who the other people are in the picture, the young woman, man, and boy? I'm really curious, please tell me in a review! XD
Now off to the next chapter to find out about Kurt's past! :D!
