Woo hoo! An update! It's been awhile. I had to finish a story, and I
started one, and I have a sequel I have to start and two more fics to just
update, and than this too! Yikes!
And an official apology to my beta reader. Yani C. is the BEST beta reader in the world, but I'm going crazy updating but not being able to post! *sniffle* I hope she forgives me! But I can't do it!
Okay, anyways, here's the chappie! Let me know what you think!
*******************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**********************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~*****
She had seen the man with the red eyes.
She was the best. Nothing escaped her notice. But he hadn't been part of the mission, so she wasn't obligated to kill him. It was like a game she played within her mind. The voices, the ones that actually agreed on anything, insisted that she complete each mission no matter what. She had learned long ago not to ignore the voices. If she tried, she no longer had control over her own body. Every movement, even the beating of her heart, would be agony.
So following orders, but nothing more, was her way of rebelling against the beings that had invaded her mind. As long as she followed orders, they didn't' complain. She wasn't sure they were strong enough to complain. They lashed out in fury if she took any longer than strictly necessary to obey a command, but the rest of the time they settled in the dark recesses of her mind.
There were other voices though, that never agreed on anything. The missions meant nothing to them, they wanted out. They were only shadows of a soul long since dead, but that did nothing to lessen the intensity of their hatred for her. If she let her guard down, even for a moment, they would fight each other, determined to seize control of her body.
A long time ago, there had been a voice that hadn't fought her. She couldn't remember it clearly, whenever she tried the 'mission' voices would scream at her, but occasionally she would dream of that voice, and wake up with a warm feeling that made no sense. It was a man, she knew that much, and he hadn't hated her. That was confusing. She didn't understand whatever emotion he'd had for her. Hatred was the only thing she could really remember . . . and fear. But he didn't fear her either. That was all she knew. Any further attempts to delve into the memories that were actually her own, resulted in such an intense pain she was driven to her knees. It wasn't just the voices. A few months after her 'joining' as they called it, they'd placed an implant in her brain that was supposed to help with the nightmares. Apparently it did more than that, though she knew her body wouldn't let her complain.
It was like being an intruder in her own body. She was there, but only to control what she was allowed to. It might have bothered her if she still felt such commonplace emotions. But she didn't. The only thing she ever felt was hate, and she didn't even what it was directed at. There were moments when the hate was gone, but it wasn't replaced by any emotion. She just felt empty. Every time she was on a mission the hate disappeared, and so did the voices. They didn't want to be around for contact. It was as hard on them as it was on her. So she faced each murder alone, without even her hate to give her strength.
She didn't fear. That was the only other emotion she could recognize, and she knew she didn't feel it. Occasionally, she'd have to deal with weapons or people trying to fight back, but it never fazed her. Nothing could hurt her. No one could touch her . . . unless she made them.
Now, as she finished giving her account of Mr. Ishida's experiments and theories, she watched listlessly as her 'co-workers' parted for her to leave. They were afraid of her. She strode past them, not even pretending to find their fear interesting. The room remained silently still until the door clicked behind her.
It took only a few moments to reach her containment block. Mechanically, she stripped from her street clothes, designed to make her look unapproachable and slid into the black spandex body suite required for all the assassins. She wasn't the only one, but she was the best.
Since she'd had a mission today, she wasn't going to be required to train with the others. She didn't appreciate the sensations that came with working side by side with them. They didn't hate enough. Some were in it for money, as part of a contract. Or maybe they wanted to get out of prison early. She always felt like she was dealing with people more pathetic than her targets. At least her victims had done something worth killing for. The other assassins knew nothing of importance. And if it ever came down to it, she could probably defeat them all without batting an eyelash.
Such incompetence bothered her. It made her hate them almost as much as whatever it was that drove her. It disgusted her, being around people who knew nothing of the training she had undergone, the intense hours and agonizing muscle spasms. She had earned their fear. They had earned nothing.
Once dressed, she lay on her bunk and instantly fell asleep. Her training had included this, being able to sleep at a moment's notice. On long missions, you never knew when the opportunity would arise.
That night, like every other night after a mission, she dreamed. At first it was a dream of Mr. Ishida's life. The people that would miss him, the terror he felt at being robbed of what was left of his life. But than the dream changed to one that came rarely. Maybe it was Ishida's love for his family that triggered it, but she really didn't know. But moments before waking, she felt that same warmth.
She got brief images, snapshots of a man teasing her, and she could feel his arm around her, unafraid of her lethal touch. And than she woke up with a gasp, startled to find her cheeks wet. Roughly, she brushed them away.
It was time to train.
****************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********************~~~~~~~~~~~~* *******
"Logan." Professor Charles Xavier didn't bother with formalities as he wheeled into the poolroom. "You know I've been keeping track for any information on the girl via the Internet."
Wolverine didn't bother to ask what girl. There was only one girl ever referred to as the girl between them. "And?" His body remained calm, the cue resting lightly in his hand. But his eyes were instantly alert, shrinking into suspicious slits.
"And it seems since last nights murder, someone has been trying very hard to locate the killer." Wolverine looked at him sharply, and the professor continued. "I did some research on the man that called himself CardShark, and he covers his trail very well. In the end I had to resort to telepathy, but still only managed to get a name."
Logan nearly growled as he waited for the professor to finish.
"Remy Lebeau." He watched closely to see if the name meant anything to Logan, but his face only seemed to get more unreadable. "I have no idea where he lives, which probably means no where in particular. The thing that makes him different from others is that he actually seems to have found something. I only got a piece of his mind before shields went up, but he is a brilliant hacker. A Master Thief, if you will."
Wolverine didn't say anything, but there was no doubt that behind his expressionless eyes his mind was working quickly. "Can you find anything else out about the guy?"
The professor nodded. "I'm preparing to search with Cerebro in case the young hacker is a mutant. I can't promise anything though."
Wolverine nodded. "I'll come with you." It wasn't a question. Xavier nodded, and they excited the room.
*****************************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**************** *******
Remy Lebeau's red on black eyes flew across the screen, analyzing the data as fast as his mind could register the words. There wasn't much. According to the news reviews, they didn't even know that the assassin was female, and a mutant. As he had been scrolling threw them, however, he noticed that someone else had done the same, even more thoroughly. Like most Internet news databases, the site he was at required a screen name so the owners could track who looked through what, and what articles were most popular. He had hacked into that system easily, and found that the name J9382 had read all the assassin articles, several times over, but nothing else. That was very interesting.
It wasn't as stupid as it sounded. The people who had researched it probably figured no one could hack into the site and get their name, so they didn't bother changing it every time. Each name had a bio, though Gambit knew better than to believe any of the information would be accurate. Instead he put his hacking skills to work and tried to figure out what computer the false information had come from.
He wasn't entirely sure what drove him. His common sense screamed at him to give it up and pray he never met the femme fatale again. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get her out of his mind. He supposed it was because she was an enigma. He could never resist a mystery like this, which was probably why he'd become a thief. He loved the thrill of getting in when no one could, the rush he got whenever he completed his tasks efficiently. But no matter how many successful thefts he managed none of them compared to what he was feeling as he gained access into J9382's computer database.
After a few hours, he came to the conclusion that the computer he had gained access too wasn't the main one. It was part of a larger network, and no where near the top. How far he would have to go, he wasn't sure, but it could take a while.
Slowly, he worked his way up, forgetting to eat at every meal. It wasn't until nearly a week later that he managed to get to what he sincerely hoped was the top. These people were good. He'd never come across a computer harder to hack into.
Slowly, his eyes trained on the screen, he used his mouse to click into files that appeared to be security camera recordings. They were all labeled by dates, and what he guessed were room numbers. Randomly, he clicked one, curious to see what would be in them. The file name was 21505T1. February 15th of that year.
His eyes widened as the screen was filled with various mutants battling against some sort of program. They were all good, he was a skilled enough fighter to recognize their talent. A lot of their moves were choppy though, no grace or finesse, but he supposed all that mattered was that they got the job done.
The video was long, it covered the whole twenty-four hours of that day. He fast-forwarded a little, analyzing each fighter. Eventually his eyes caught a familiar flash of white on brown hair. He leaned forward.
It was her, the girl that had murdered Ishida. It was a girl, not a woman, he realized, now that he could see her more clearly. She couldn't be older than him. Unlike the others, her body moved fluidly, with a type of deadly grace he wasn't sure he could pull off. She moved fast, never missing her target.
He listed off her mutations mentally. Immediately he had seen her strength and invulnerability in action, and it hadn't taken long for her to start flying. The thing that interested him, however, was that one of the stupider mutants had accidentally struck her across the face, a boy that produced and manipulated fire. He fell to the ground, alive, but unmoving, and suddenly her body erupted into flames. She used the mutation to her advantage, not even faltering. He continued watching the video, but the boy never woke up.
So that was what she had done to Ishida. Her touch pulled out abilities and maybe memories? It would make sense. An organization like that could find a lot of uses for the knowledge the scientist had had. Briefly, he wondered how crowded it was getting behind those empty eyes.
He closed the file, and opened another one, this one in a different room. It was from a year or so ago. The screen changed colors, clearing in a room that looked like something from a horror movie. His eyes widened slightly, as he leaned closer.
He watched in horror as the nails were ripped from her fingers. The film was silent, but he could see her biting her lip to keep from screaming as they gouged out her eyes. There were bruises all over her too. He had to look away. He couldn't watch it.
He closed the file and opened another one, at a later date. Sick to his stomach, he watched as they performed other cruelties to her restrained body. She was always healed at the beginning of each day. He assumed they had a healing mutant she could steal from. He closed that and opened yet another, not wanting to see any more of their torture.
She was still strapped to the same chair, but this time they weren't hurting her. He watched in confusion as several mutants were brought forward, but than had to force himself not to look away as he realized their intention. One by one they were forced to touch her. He found himself oddly proud of her for not crying out.
He clicked another file in that room and fast-forwarded a little. There was a blue woman, already down on the ground, but a blonde entered. She wasn't bound in any way, and there wasn't a gun trained on her. Her small hand touched the assassin's pale face and she didn't let go. He couldn't tear his eyes away as he watched all life leave the icy blue eyes of the other girl.
Finally, she collapsed, obviously dead. He felt his heart constrict as the brunette began to choke on her own tears. Eventually she calmed, and lifted her head. The hatred was still there, but it was no longer directed at the men who had chained her. A man in a lab coat approached her, said something, and than she broke her metal bindings as if they were nothing and levitated herself off the chair.
He closed the file and stared at the now blank screen. He understood now, about her powers, and maybe about more. They had completely broken her. No wonder her eyes had been so empty. Willing himself to keep going, he opened another file for a different room.
She was fighting a man that could heal. He must have been the reason she survived her torture. Everyone was watching. It was like some kind of initiation. Maybe he had been important to her. Killing him would be proof she was completely theirs. It didn't take long. A couple punches and his healing factor could never hope to catch up.
He didn't wait to see them dispose of the body. He clicked out of the screen and completely shut off the computer, not willing to see anymore. He couldn't bear to watch it. What had they done to her?
What had become of her?
That night he dreamed of the girl. Her eyes were no longer empty, but filled with a pain that wrenched his heart. She was killing him. He was bleeding in various places and his head was swimming. He was fighting back, but barely, eventually he even stopped struggling. She lifted up his body, and he could see regret and self hatred etched clearly across her lovely features. His heart went out to her. Slowly, she brought his face closer to hers.
He woke up before she had given him the kiss of death.
He didn't sleep the rest of that night.
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Okay! So what do y'all think? This had more Rogue angst, but maybe not enough. Oh well. Trust me, there'll be more. And Remy and Logan are going to meet up . . . it's gonna be interesting, I can tell you that much! Anyways, I'll update as soon as I can!!
Rogue Pryde
And an official apology to my beta reader. Yani C. is the BEST beta reader in the world, but I'm going crazy updating but not being able to post! *sniffle* I hope she forgives me! But I can't do it!
Okay, anyways, here's the chappie! Let me know what you think!
*******************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**********************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~*****
She had seen the man with the red eyes.
She was the best. Nothing escaped her notice. But he hadn't been part of the mission, so she wasn't obligated to kill him. It was like a game she played within her mind. The voices, the ones that actually agreed on anything, insisted that she complete each mission no matter what. She had learned long ago not to ignore the voices. If she tried, she no longer had control over her own body. Every movement, even the beating of her heart, would be agony.
So following orders, but nothing more, was her way of rebelling against the beings that had invaded her mind. As long as she followed orders, they didn't' complain. She wasn't sure they were strong enough to complain. They lashed out in fury if she took any longer than strictly necessary to obey a command, but the rest of the time they settled in the dark recesses of her mind.
There were other voices though, that never agreed on anything. The missions meant nothing to them, they wanted out. They were only shadows of a soul long since dead, but that did nothing to lessen the intensity of their hatred for her. If she let her guard down, even for a moment, they would fight each other, determined to seize control of her body.
A long time ago, there had been a voice that hadn't fought her. She couldn't remember it clearly, whenever she tried the 'mission' voices would scream at her, but occasionally she would dream of that voice, and wake up with a warm feeling that made no sense. It was a man, she knew that much, and he hadn't hated her. That was confusing. She didn't understand whatever emotion he'd had for her. Hatred was the only thing she could really remember . . . and fear. But he didn't fear her either. That was all she knew. Any further attempts to delve into the memories that were actually her own, resulted in such an intense pain she was driven to her knees. It wasn't just the voices. A few months after her 'joining' as they called it, they'd placed an implant in her brain that was supposed to help with the nightmares. Apparently it did more than that, though she knew her body wouldn't let her complain.
It was like being an intruder in her own body. She was there, but only to control what she was allowed to. It might have bothered her if she still felt such commonplace emotions. But she didn't. The only thing she ever felt was hate, and she didn't even what it was directed at. There were moments when the hate was gone, but it wasn't replaced by any emotion. She just felt empty. Every time she was on a mission the hate disappeared, and so did the voices. They didn't want to be around for contact. It was as hard on them as it was on her. So she faced each murder alone, without even her hate to give her strength.
She didn't fear. That was the only other emotion she could recognize, and she knew she didn't feel it. Occasionally, she'd have to deal with weapons or people trying to fight back, but it never fazed her. Nothing could hurt her. No one could touch her . . . unless she made them.
Now, as she finished giving her account of Mr. Ishida's experiments and theories, she watched listlessly as her 'co-workers' parted for her to leave. They were afraid of her. She strode past them, not even pretending to find their fear interesting. The room remained silently still until the door clicked behind her.
It took only a few moments to reach her containment block. Mechanically, she stripped from her street clothes, designed to make her look unapproachable and slid into the black spandex body suite required for all the assassins. She wasn't the only one, but she was the best.
Since she'd had a mission today, she wasn't going to be required to train with the others. She didn't appreciate the sensations that came with working side by side with them. They didn't hate enough. Some were in it for money, as part of a contract. Or maybe they wanted to get out of prison early. She always felt like she was dealing with people more pathetic than her targets. At least her victims had done something worth killing for. The other assassins knew nothing of importance. And if it ever came down to it, she could probably defeat them all without batting an eyelash.
Such incompetence bothered her. It made her hate them almost as much as whatever it was that drove her. It disgusted her, being around people who knew nothing of the training she had undergone, the intense hours and agonizing muscle spasms. She had earned their fear. They had earned nothing.
Once dressed, she lay on her bunk and instantly fell asleep. Her training had included this, being able to sleep at a moment's notice. On long missions, you never knew when the opportunity would arise.
That night, like every other night after a mission, she dreamed. At first it was a dream of Mr. Ishida's life. The people that would miss him, the terror he felt at being robbed of what was left of his life. But than the dream changed to one that came rarely. Maybe it was Ishida's love for his family that triggered it, but she really didn't know. But moments before waking, she felt that same warmth.
She got brief images, snapshots of a man teasing her, and she could feel his arm around her, unafraid of her lethal touch. And than she woke up with a gasp, startled to find her cheeks wet. Roughly, she brushed them away.
It was time to train.
****************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*********************~~~~~~~~~~~~* *******
"Logan." Professor Charles Xavier didn't bother with formalities as he wheeled into the poolroom. "You know I've been keeping track for any information on the girl via the Internet."
Wolverine didn't bother to ask what girl. There was only one girl ever referred to as the girl between them. "And?" His body remained calm, the cue resting lightly in his hand. But his eyes were instantly alert, shrinking into suspicious slits.
"And it seems since last nights murder, someone has been trying very hard to locate the killer." Wolverine looked at him sharply, and the professor continued. "I did some research on the man that called himself CardShark, and he covers his trail very well. In the end I had to resort to telepathy, but still only managed to get a name."
Logan nearly growled as he waited for the professor to finish.
"Remy Lebeau." He watched closely to see if the name meant anything to Logan, but his face only seemed to get more unreadable. "I have no idea where he lives, which probably means no where in particular. The thing that makes him different from others is that he actually seems to have found something. I only got a piece of his mind before shields went up, but he is a brilliant hacker. A Master Thief, if you will."
Wolverine didn't say anything, but there was no doubt that behind his expressionless eyes his mind was working quickly. "Can you find anything else out about the guy?"
The professor nodded. "I'm preparing to search with Cerebro in case the young hacker is a mutant. I can't promise anything though."
Wolverine nodded. "I'll come with you." It wasn't a question. Xavier nodded, and they excited the room.
*****************************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**************** *******
Remy Lebeau's red on black eyes flew across the screen, analyzing the data as fast as his mind could register the words. There wasn't much. According to the news reviews, they didn't even know that the assassin was female, and a mutant. As he had been scrolling threw them, however, he noticed that someone else had done the same, even more thoroughly. Like most Internet news databases, the site he was at required a screen name so the owners could track who looked through what, and what articles were most popular. He had hacked into that system easily, and found that the name J9382 had read all the assassin articles, several times over, but nothing else. That was very interesting.
It wasn't as stupid as it sounded. The people who had researched it probably figured no one could hack into the site and get their name, so they didn't bother changing it every time. Each name had a bio, though Gambit knew better than to believe any of the information would be accurate. Instead he put his hacking skills to work and tried to figure out what computer the false information had come from.
He wasn't entirely sure what drove him. His common sense screamed at him to give it up and pray he never met the femme fatale again. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get her out of his mind. He supposed it was because she was an enigma. He could never resist a mystery like this, which was probably why he'd become a thief. He loved the thrill of getting in when no one could, the rush he got whenever he completed his tasks efficiently. But no matter how many successful thefts he managed none of them compared to what he was feeling as he gained access into J9382's computer database.
After a few hours, he came to the conclusion that the computer he had gained access too wasn't the main one. It was part of a larger network, and no where near the top. How far he would have to go, he wasn't sure, but it could take a while.
Slowly, he worked his way up, forgetting to eat at every meal. It wasn't until nearly a week later that he managed to get to what he sincerely hoped was the top. These people were good. He'd never come across a computer harder to hack into.
Slowly, his eyes trained on the screen, he used his mouse to click into files that appeared to be security camera recordings. They were all labeled by dates, and what he guessed were room numbers. Randomly, he clicked one, curious to see what would be in them. The file name was 21505T1. February 15th of that year.
His eyes widened as the screen was filled with various mutants battling against some sort of program. They were all good, he was a skilled enough fighter to recognize their talent. A lot of their moves were choppy though, no grace or finesse, but he supposed all that mattered was that they got the job done.
The video was long, it covered the whole twenty-four hours of that day. He fast-forwarded a little, analyzing each fighter. Eventually his eyes caught a familiar flash of white on brown hair. He leaned forward.
It was her, the girl that had murdered Ishida. It was a girl, not a woman, he realized, now that he could see her more clearly. She couldn't be older than him. Unlike the others, her body moved fluidly, with a type of deadly grace he wasn't sure he could pull off. She moved fast, never missing her target.
He listed off her mutations mentally. Immediately he had seen her strength and invulnerability in action, and it hadn't taken long for her to start flying. The thing that interested him, however, was that one of the stupider mutants had accidentally struck her across the face, a boy that produced and manipulated fire. He fell to the ground, alive, but unmoving, and suddenly her body erupted into flames. She used the mutation to her advantage, not even faltering. He continued watching the video, but the boy never woke up.
So that was what she had done to Ishida. Her touch pulled out abilities and maybe memories? It would make sense. An organization like that could find a lot of uses for the knowledge the scientist had had. Briefly, he wondered how crowded it was getting behind those empty eyes.
He closed the file, and opened another one, this one in a different room. It was from a year or so ago. The screen changed colors, clearing in a room that looked like something from a horror movie. His eyes widened slightly, as he leaned closer.
He watched in horror as the nails were ripped from her fingers. The film was silent, but he could see her biting her lip to keep from screaming as they gouged out her eyes. There were bruises all over her too. He had to look away. He couldn't watch it.
He closed the file and opened another one, at a later date. Sick to his stomach, he watched as they performed other cruelties to her restrained body. She was always healed at the beginning of each day. He assumed they had a healing mutant she could steal from. He closed that and opened yet another, not wanting to see any more of their torture.
She was still strapped to the same chair, but this time they weren't hurting her. He watched in confusion as several mutants were brought forward, but than had to force himself not to look away as he realized their intention. One by one they were forced to touch her. He found himself oddly proud of her for not crying out.
He clicked another file in that room and fast-forwarded a little. There was a blue woman, already down on the ground, but a blonde entered. She wasn't bound in any way, and there wasn't a gun trained on her. Her small hand touched the assassin's pale face and she didn't let go. He couldn't tear his eyes away as he watched all life leave the icy blue eyes of the other girl.
Finally, she collapsed, obviously dead. He felt his heart constrict as the brunette began to choke on her own tears. Eventually she calmed, and lifted her head. The hatred was still there, but it was no longer directed at the men who had chained her. A man in a lab coat approached her, said something, and than she broke her metal bindings as if they were nothing and levitated herself off the chair.
He closed the file and stared at the now blank screen. He understood now, about her powers, and maybe about more. They had completely broken her. No wonder her eyes had been so empty. Willing himself to keep going, he opened another file for a different room.
She was fighting a man that could heal. He must have been the reason she survived her torture. Everyone was watching. It was like some kind of initiation. Maybe he had been important to her. Killing him would be proof she was completely theirs. It didn't take long. A couple punches and his healing factor could never hope to catch up.
He didn't wait to see them dispose of the body. He clicked out of the screen and completely shut off the computer, not willing to see anymore. He couldn't bear to watch it. What had they done to her?
What had become of her?
That night he dreamed of the girl. Her eyes were no longer empty, but filled with a pain that wrenched his heart. She was killing him. He was bleeding in various places and his head was swimming. He was fighting back, but barely, eventually he even stopped struggling. She lifted up his body, and he could see regret and self hatred etched clearly across her lovely features. His heart went out to her. Slowly, she brought his face closer to hers.
He woke up before she had given him the kiss of death.
He didn't sleep the rest of that night.
****************************~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~********************~~~~~ ~~~~~~~
Okay! So what do y'all think? This had more Rogue angst, but maybe not enough. Oh well. Trust me, there'll be more. And Remy and Logan are going to meet up . . . it's gonna be interesting, I can tell you that much! Anyways, I'll update as soon as I can!!
Rogue Pryde