Hey everyone! I'm soooo sorry about the delay! First I had a two week camp at my church, and than ff.net refused to work (which drove me CRAZY) BUT, here's the next chapter! YAY, Angst time!! Woo hoo!
Oh! And I won't be doing individual reviewer responses as much anymore, because some people complained.
Here you go!
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"It was just an idea!" Brown eyes met red in a clash of interests.
"It was a bad one." The seventeen-year old didn't bother to hide the scorn in his heavily accented voice. "I can't believe you would t'ink dat I would-"
"Is it really dat bad Remy?" His adoptive father ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. "Maybe it be a good idea for you to go dere, dey say dey can help you with your . . . abilities."
"Say mutation pere, dat's what it is." He spat.
For a second they held each other's gaze, before the older looked away. "Merde boy, I just t'ought maybe you'd want to have some control. What you gonna do if you blow up de goods one of dese days?"
"I haven't yet." The expression in his eyes was unreadable.
"Dat don't mean anything! I'm not trying to set you up! Dis is a legitimate school!"
The young man's laugh was bitter. "Right, like dey make dose for mutants."
"I looked into dis Remy, what kind of father do you t'ink I am?"
"At this second, you don't want to hear de answer to dat one."
"Dis is real boy. De name of de school is--" He was cut off abruptly.
"I don't want to hear about dis fancy school and it's fancy name. Didn't you study your history? Auschwitz had a fancy name too." He turned and walked away, his face harder than most full-grown men can manage.
His father watched him go, knowing that if he called out to him he would only be ignored. "Merde boy. If you could only learn to trust someone maybe your life wouldn't be so hard." Sighing, he picked up the phone to inform Professor Xavier that his son would not be one of his students.
His hand shook as he dialed the number. Monsieur Lebeau was a man who liked to be in control, especially of his own body. But at that moment he was powerless to stop the compulsory twitching of his fingers. He couldn't help but wonder if suggesting the school had broken the fragile bond he had formed with his adopted son.
Only time would tell.
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Rogue groaned as the effects of the tranquilizer wore off on her. She could feel bruises forming underneath her layers. She bit her lip as she opened her eyes to hide her surprise. After being chased down by those creeps, she half expected to wake up in a cell, or something equally morbid. Instead, she was in what appeared to be an office, propped up in a chair. A second glance told her that both her feet and her hands were handcuffed to the arms and legs of her seat. So much for waking up without needless dramatics.
She lifted her head, taking in the rest of her surroundings. There was a single light above a paper covered desk, like something from a sixties spy movie. Behind the desk sat a man in his mid thirties. He pointed his pen at her.
"Rogue?" He made it a question, but he obviously knew the answer. She growled in a very Logan like way as a response. "I'll take that as a yes." He paused, swinging his pen back and forth between his fingers. "I suppose you wonder why you're here?"
She only glared. If he was going to ask dumb questions than let him. She wasn't going to take the bait. After a few moments of silence he continued.
"Myself and my associates, the men who brought you here, are part of an organization called-" He broke off, as if afraid of saying too much. "The name doesn't really matter. We were formed to help deal with a menace, a plague of humanity, or as you might prefer, mutants."
"So y'all are gonna commit genocide in the name of humanity?" She asked with scorn. "How original."
He flashed her a cold smile. "Quite the contrary, my dear." The way he addressed her sent shivers down her spine. "Our founder was one of the first to realize that a mutant massacre wouldn't solve anything. They just keep popping up, don't they? Like weeds." His eyes were chilling. "If we can't destroy them, than we must control them. They have uses, I assure you.?" He got up from the desk and walked across the room with the use of his cane, positioning himself right in front of her and leaning his utility against the small table.
Rogue kept silent, knowing that if she answered 'no' she'd look foolish. Desperately she began wiggling her hands inside her gloves, hoping he'd move closer once she freed them.
"What is more powerful, and less traceable than a mutant?" He continued, not waiting for an answer. "It's extremely difficult to find agents though. Those that are skilled enough to kill with ease, don't like to work for others. So we tried other means, to find recruits. Blackmail worked pretty well, but it was only a temporary solution. Same with bribes. Eventually we discovered a new method. If they do not see things from our perspective, we will MAKE them."
She must have looked confused because his face took on a pleased expression as he continued. "You'd be surprised how quickly a thing can change it's tune once it's been subjected to our er . . . methods of persuasion. But first off," His voice turned brisk. "We give you the choice. Do you wish to become an agent?" His tone was mocking.
Her gloves still hadn't come off, so she did the first thing that came to mind.
She spat in his face.
Their eyes met, and she shivered at the burning rage she saw in his. Without a word he grabbed his cane from the side of the desk and, brandishing it like a sword, struck her across the face with fearful intensity. She gasped as it made contact with her skull a second time. By the fifth time she couldn't make anymore sounds come out of her mouth.
She passed out before he reached ten.
When he finally finished, he motioned to the two guards stationed on either side behind her chair. "Take her to the other mutant, and see that she borrows his abilities. Hurry, we don't want any of the damage to be permanent. We have plans for this one. Big plans." He smiled that cold smile, and rested his cane against his desk as the guards dragged the motionless girl away.
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Wolverine was mad. He was beyond mad. He was pissed.
He had woken up hours ago to a dark dank cell, with no Rogue in sight. There were solid cement walls on all sides of him but one, and that one was with titanium bars that even his claws couldn't cut. Whoever had brought them here knew who they were dealing with.
The sound of approaching footsteps caused him to stop pacing and tense up, positioning himself for an attack. He turned slowly, baring his teeth.
But froze at the sight of Rogue's still body. One guard kept a gun trained on him at all times as the other unlocked to cell and threw the girl in before locking it up again. They both left without another word, knowing that unless their files had been wrong, Wolverine wouldn't need any prodding to heal her.
For a second he couldn't move, couldn't breath. Her face was already swelling and discolored, blood covering most of it. Her nose was obviously broken and maybe even her cheekbones. And the voice in his head wouldn't shut up, muttering over and over *She's only fifteen. She's fifteen years old. She's just a fifteen-year-old girl. *
And than his limbs worked. Faster than he knew he could move, he was at her side, pressing a shaking hand against her bloodied forehead.
It worked, like he knew it would. The swelling went down almost immediately, and her bones began to straighten out and fix themselves. But it was a full fifteen seconds before she regained consciousness.
"Wha-" She looked confused for a second, before feeling the pressure of his skin on hers. "Logan, no!" She pulled away quickly, blinking back tears as he slumped over.
Glancing around at her surroundings, she saw the setting she had imagined earlier. Hugging herself tight, she crawled into a corner to wait for him to wake up. His memories were still in her, but instead of terrifying her and trying to control her, they were comforting her. She could almost hear him telling her that things were going to be okay, and that they were going to take out these 'geeks' one by one.
She held on to his voice as long as she dared, knowing it was dangerous for her to keep a personality longer than was absolutely necessary.
She just didn't want to be alone.
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Remy Lebeau made his way down the streets of New Orleans with no specific destination in mind. He just wanted to get away from the man he had called father for the last seven years. He felt betrayed. Mutants were being met with more and more hatred every day, but he never expected his father to turn against him . . . to try to send him to one of those camps! All of them posed as schools, but he knew better, and so did the elder Lebeau.
He should have left when his father first showed signs of being uncomfortable with his mutation. But he'd held on to the hope that this time, he'd have a real family.
He should have known better.
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SHORT! I know ! I'm sorry! And there's like NO angst either, I'm sooooo sorry! More angst next chapter I promise! Let me know what u think! ;o) And don't be afraid to correct me on accents, I suck!