DISCLAIMER: I do not own any part of Marvel. If I did, do you really
think that I would be siting here typing this frickin' story?
Read and enjoy.
"Here they come . . . . . again!" Jean says, less enthused.
Kitty and Marie both make their entrance.
"Wow . . . who is that!" Evan gapes. "Oh let me help you with your seat
ma'am," He says while preparing to pull out mah chair.
"Why, I thank ya kindly, sir," I gracially wait while he drapes my jacket
over my seat before pulling it out.
"You're welcome," He sits down and winks at me.
"Marie," It's Ms. Ororo. "You really look beautiful."
I blush at the comment. It's really something to have someone beautiful
and exotic like Ms. Munroe complimenting you. "Well, thank ya Ms. Munroe,"
After that, the silence at the dinner table was extinguished with the
chatter of inquiring voices.
"So, Marie," Bobby starts. "Did it hurt?" I can already tell this little
conversation is going to be stupid.
"Did what hurt?" I say returning his question. I know I shouldn't
encourage or entertain him, but it's a reflex. I've only known Bobby for a
year, but I already know how low he'll stoop to say sumthang stupid.
He smiles at me and raises his beverage. "Did it hurt when they peeled off
that horrible white mask of yours?" See I was right. I give him a warning
glare right before he tilts his head back to gulp down his drink.
The rest of the dinner patrons didn't seem to notice our little exchange,
but Kitty doesn't miss a beat. "Oh Bobby," Kitty moans, rolling her eyes.
She looks him over and sees that he still has a smirk on his face, even
though he is in the middle of drinking his soda. His actions seem to make
her even more irritated because she immediately hits him on the back of his
head causing him to spit his drink all ova Remy's shirt.
"Remy, don' like bein' spit on," he wipes his shirt with one of his
napkins. "Dis shirt new, too."
I haven't noticed it before, but his shirt is new. It's a blue Abracrambie
and Fitch turtleneck that fits his chest perfectly. It outlines his long
strong arms an' emphasizes his nice lean chest. He is so hot. I thank Ima
have to let Scott down 'cause it looks like Remy has got'im beat. But then
I look at'im again, Abracrambie and Fitch? Eww . . . . what a of crap
brand of clothing!!!
I am suddenly knocked out of my daze when someone whispers in my right ear
. . . . . "Don't mind him Marie," It's Evan. "You are straight with me.
Now more than ever because now I know that you have a ghetto booty."
I blush, a common reflex for me. To cover my ruby coloring, I pick up my
menu and sort through it
"Oh Shet-up Evan," I murmur while flipping through the gigantic menu,
hopefully it seems like no one heard'im because no smart-aleck quip was
made to follow his remark. So I casually lower the bulky menu and quickly
glance around the table.
Can you guess who is eyeing me with a smirk the size of half a watermelon?
Yep it's Logan and he is currently wearing the biggest expression I've ever
seen him with. I roll my eyes dramatically to my left and find the new guy
staring right in my grill. He speaks first.
"Hello, my name is Warren," He extends his hand, but instead of taking it,
I refuse. Reasons? ONE: I don't have my gloves on. TWO: If I do shake
his hand than everyone here will know that I can control my powers and I
will be forced into their 'little' society. So instead of taking the hand
offered to my, Ah just look at it. Look back up to his face and give him a
nice smile and say.
"My names Rogue. Nice to meet ya Warren," I turn back to my menu and
start sorting through all the different items.
"Haven't decided what you wanted?" It's the new guy again. "If nothing
catches your eye, you can always go for the chicken fingers."
"Well then, I guess that is what Ima have to order," With that I put my
menu down. I look around and spot Camille steadily talking to the
Professor. Well, it's been a while since I've seen her. I wonder what
she's saying to the professor, he's obviously uncomfortable.
"Um Camille," I shout across the table. "Could ya be a doll an' take my
orda, please?" Hopefully Mr. X will have enough time to get his mind in
order before she goes back to finish her conversation with him. Don't get
me wrong now, I like Camille an' all, but there's just sumthang about her
that whenever she's around for a long period time . . . I don't know how to
describe it, but she is really weird and can make a fella really paranoid.
Maybe it's the way she looks at'cha, it's kind of like she's seeing right
through you and she knows all of your deep and dark secrets. . .
But she's cool.
"What would you like Marie?" She's by my side in a flash.
"Um . . . it's so hard to decide, exactly." I pause then say. "That's
kinda why I asked ya ova here, suga." She looks at me sideways and nods.
"Okay," Camille says while politely taking my menu and flipping through
the pages. "We have many selections to choose from and if you don't care
for a certain dish . . . . . than I'll be more than happy to exchange it
to something more appealing to you." She smiles at me and I do the same.
She maybe creepy, but her smiles are very contagious. "Now Marie, I know
you love chicken, so I'd advise you to order the 'Lotta Honey & BBQ
Chicken'. It's not like your ordinary barbeque-" she stops in mid-
sentence. "Do you want me to elaborate on how we make it?"
"Why . . . knock ya'self out, suga." I smile, then sidewise glance at the
professor. He has a slight look of relief on his face. I wonder what they
were taking about..
"After marinating the chicken in our special sauce, we then triple dip the
chicken and fry it," I look up at her face and notice the subtle changes
in it while she is taking. Man, she must really love this restaurant.
"When the chicken is nice and crispy, we then coat it in our specially made
honey-bbq sauce. Now the sauce is a very unique thing all in itself, you
see, instead of making it mainly composed of bbq sauce, it is actually 75%
honey and the rest bbq sauce and other flavorings."
"Yum Camille," I rub my stomach to emphasize my craving "Well . .
.what'cha waitin' fo?! Go get me sum 'Lotta Honey & BBQ Chicken." Camille
laughs while I motion her to get to the kitchen.
(Third person. Man I tell ya typing that southern accent aint no joke. I
think I'll just make Rogue's thoughts be in italtics from now on.)
"Chere, Remy t'ink you need sum table mannas," The devil-eyed Cajun boy
says putting his arm around a fellow southerner. It was obvious, but the
chicken stains on her new dress that his statement is somewhat true
"Oooh . . . Remy, ya know just tha right thangs ta make a gal feel
special." Rogue sarcastically retorts while proving her point in rejecting
his arm. "Ya know cajun, you can be so sweet most of the time, but today .
. . . you're actin' like a 3-inch dick." With that she hurriedly walks out
the crowded restaurant, not caring who she pushes to get to the door. It's
been a whole four hours since she arrived for dinner and Remy hasn't said
anything (good or bad) about her new appearance. She knows it shouldn't
bother her because they are not really a couple, but hey . . . . .didn't he
kiss her two days ago? Surely that has to mean something to him . . . . .
it meant something to me.
Rogues is still fuming when she collides with a thick indigo blazer. She
mumbles a low sorry and moves on, but a strong gloved hand reaches out to
grab her arm.
"What?" The hand turns her around and is bombarded with a friendly face.
"Who are you?" Rogues asks and calmly waits for an answer. There's
something about this person that seems oddly familiar. She takes in his
clothing; nicely polished loafers followed by a perfectly tailored
trouser. This man has got to be a neat freak. The stranger is wearing a
very unusual smirk on his face. She then looks in his eyes and the two
stay still; focusing on each other, until Rogue notices an odd yellow gleam
in the man's left eye. She gasps . No it can't be. "Mystique."
(Random thoughts)
Sorry for the delay folks. You know there's that one little thing called
'life' that keeps me from finishing this story. I hope you enjoyed this
story more than I enjoyed typing it.
My muse left me for summer vacation, it's back now, (thank God) Mr.
Poopface (BEWARE: Although my muse has a name, he enjoys me talking dirty
about him . . . . .it just started when he came back from his vacation.
Why he likes the dirty talk, I will never know) has given me new
inspiration.
When I first started writing this story I was thinking . . . . . This story
is going to be nothing but a tale of Rogue growing up in the image I've
always hoped her to be. BUT then I started getting ideas of a darker
version where I can make her getting raped or being a slut or even worse,
joining with the dark forces of the X-men evolution universe and destroying
everything in her path. Mwahhahahahahahaha, But then my muse said to me,
"get real" so I heeded it's command and told myself to "get real" and blah
blah blah . . . . .
Anyway . . . . so how'd you like this chapter? Express your thoughts and
opinions by reviewing.
My muse wants to say something. Oh what's that Harryballs??
Harry says that he will sing you a nice ditty if you review. So what'cha
waitin on!!??
