- FIVE -
Two sixteen in the morning was the right time for dreams. For most normal people around the world, from the German countryside to right here in New York, it was a widely accepted time for rest. The ideal time for dark and quiet and covers and beds and, most of all, sleep.
"So, here's what I'm thinking."
It wasn't a time for him to be in the security room with a lukewarm cup of coffee that wouldn't really do anything to keep him up unless he used it to splash his face.
"The Professor left us kind of on our own, right? No Ororo or Hank or Logan. Not even Scott."
Not a time to be sitting in the task chair slowly losing all feeling in his butt, legs, and feet.
"No 'fense or anything, you know? 'Cause you're doing okay."
Contemplating the half-eaten donut that was slowly growing stale, wondering if he was getting the hang of the coffee-and-donut-waiting game, and if that meant he could consider a future career as a policeman.
"With some help—and that's just my point. The Professor would've left someone else back with you, unless he knew you wouldn't really need it, right? He knew you already did have help, get what I'm saying?"
Tuning out Bobby's endless monologue on—what was he saying, anyway?
"And I don't mean Rogue. Sure, if she weren't sick, then there'd be two of you in charge and things would be hunky-dory. At least, if you're talking to each other again."
Kurt blinked at the donut, the coffee, the monitors, Bobby's blurry-looking face.
"But she is sick, so there isn't really anyone else to help—except me. And the Professor knew that. He knew you and me could hold down the fort."
Still blurry.
"I mean, look at us now—working side by side, totally focused on finding a possible intruder. And even if there really is nothing, still—we're handling it, right? We're ready. We're in the zone."
Still blurry.
"So what do you think, man?"
Still blurry, but what the heck. "Sure." Kurt nodded slowly, his head feeling bowling ball heavy. "Sounds…ja."
"Yeah?"
"Ja."
Bobby looked pleased, so that was probably the right thing to say. "That's what I thought." He stood. "I'm gonna go grab some reinforcements. What do you want?"
"Coffee. More."
So he was gone. And Kurt let the bowling ball on his neck rest on the desk, just for a few short moments. Very short. Not even a minute, really, because he was counting it…
And…
There.
Not even a minute. The bowling ball lifted, looked to the monitors. Still clear. Bowling ball rested again.
And…
There.
Lifted, saw Bobby on the kitchen monitor. He was sitting on the counter, eating—no, finishing a hoagie. That was quick.
Kurt decided not to rest his head again.
When the hoagie was gone, Bobby turned to the plate with the cheesecake slice that was supposed to be saved for Hank. Halfway through it, a blond man Kurt had never seen before suddenly walked into the kitchen.
"Was?" he said, rubbing his eyes.
Still there.
Kurt groaned. This was not the time at all for this.
Prowling for hours around the entire estate looking for trouble, and nothing—but the minute he tried a cigarette break?
Remy hadn't even taken a drag yet before the sound of alarms reached his ears. He was near enough to the mansion to hear because after coming up empty on his long search, he'd given up as a lost cause his preemptive strike plan against whatever was coming, and figured he might as well wait close to the mansion for things to play out there.
He hadn't been waiting long.
Sprinting now towards the noisy building, his eyes fell on the front doors that were wide open—and surprisingly still attached to their hinges. A polite intruder? Remy ran inside, found the answer to that question in the foyer that was trashed enough to put the Brotherhood hall to shame. The security cam there was crumpled, and he spent a brief moment wondering if that had been destroyed manually or by concussive force. Manual meant super strength, concussive meant a number of things. And while it'd be a bitch to take on super strength, someone with concussive powers had the advantage of distance fighting, a headache all on its own.
So the X-pups were probably screwed either way.
The alarms quieted suddenly and as they did, Remy bounded up the stairs. He would've headed left if movement to his right hadn't caught his eyes. He ran towards it, stopping at the corner of the hall. Peeking around, he took in the sight of a man walking casually towards the other end of the corridor. Halfway through, the man paused, tipping his head.
"Ah, what have we here?" he said, and Remy realized he'd been made.
He cursed his lack of foresight in the second it took to slip out his bo staff and cards. Telepaths normally couldn't detect him unless he let them, so the man must've had some kind of heightened awareness on the sensory level. Like Sabretooth and Wolverine—and damn, this would be a long night.
On the verge of stepping out for the confrontation, Remy took another second to charge the cards between his fingers. At the same moment, a group of kids suddenly turned the corner at the other end.
Five—no—two kids: Berserker and the Multiple boy, with three of his copies dragging Berserker along. They all stopped short when they saw the man, whose stance remained indifferent even when another seven Multiples appeared out of thin air and Berserker started juicing up on voltage.
"Been expecting you lads," said the man, and Remy realized his mistake. He was still unnoticed.
The pups were another story.
"Get outta here, Jamie," Berserker said, and when none of the Multiples moved, he yelled, "Go!"
"No way!"
"We're not leaving you!"
"Yeah!"
"We can help, Ray!"
"Let's cream him!"
Remy crouched and moved forward, keeping his eyes on the currents spreading out from Berserker's body as the boy stepped towards the man. "Get back, then!"
"A fine show, really," said their attacker. "Pity it's all pointless, though."
Electricity shot out. The room went bright as the currents converged and landed, sparking against the man—who stood unfazed. Remy looked closer, saw the layer surrounding him. Some kind of force shield. Plasma, probably TK.
Remy's tranq gun would be useless, then, but that was fine. His powers would serve.
Crouching, he placed a hand to the rug lining the hall, pouring a charge that stopped just past where the man stood. Pups weren't standing on the charged parts, but they'd get hurt just the same if they didn't scram. Remy held it, watching, waiting until he saw Berserker's eyes fall on the glowing rug. Confusion for a moment, then vague understanding. Keeping the currents flowing, Berserker backed up, herding the Multiples behind him.
"Run!" the boy shouted.
Remy let go.
BOOM!
Typical thing to expect after an explosion sent someone crashing against the wall—hard enough to crack it, even—was to see him get knocked out.
Remy almost gaped now, seeing his expectations ruined. The man on the floor was dazed on his knees, from the kind of charge that usually sent a person to la-la-land for a good while at least.. But this bastard was awake enough, probably not even scratched thanks to that shield. And stretching a hand in the direction of the kids—dumb move, they were long gone. He was more disoriented than he looked, then, and Remy felt a moment's placation.
That dissipated when he saw Berserker and a handful of Multiples reappear around the corner, careening through the air.
"Nice trick," the man told them, gesturing again. "Now for mine."
The kids landed in a toppled heap on the floor. Before they could struggle to sit up on their own, an invisible force separated them, had them hovering in a small ring in the middle of the hall. The man flexed his fingers in a small gesture—and the ring of kids collided brutally against each other.
They fell to the floor, where all the Multiples lying prone faded away, one by one, until only Berserker was left, completely unmoving.
The man didn't spare him a second glance as he took to the air and flew off.
Remy made his way towards the boy to check for injuries. Steady pulse, breathing regular, nothing seriously broken. Probably a few sprains and a mild concussion, but Remy could do nothing for him or anyone else by just sitting here, so he stood and backtracked to the second floor stairs, passing it to head down the other side of the hall.
Still quiet and neat on this end, and the girls' wing probably always was compared to where the boys stayed, but maybe now it wasn't just because girls in general were quieter and neater. Maybe the putain hadn't gotten here yet.
Remy picked up his pace at the thought. The alarms or the other pups would've woken Rogue by now. He was about as sure of that as he was of having ten fingers. Then again, he was nothing if not familiar with the improbables in life. So if there was a slim chance—well, he'd just double check now. Because if they hadn't woken her, Remy would.
It was a hawk that would've been like any other hawk except for the look in its cruel golden eyes. Rogue sat in her bed, waiting. When it swooped down again for another peck, she sprang, grabbing its legs. Without really thinking, her hands twisted.
The bird screamed.
Horrified, Rogue dropped it. As it fumbled on the floor, pathetic and broken, the mangled legs started to crumble away. The screams intensified.
"I'm sorry," Rogue whispered.
Up to its wings in crumbled pieces. More screaming.
"I'm sorry!"
To its neck. The screams filled Rogue's ears, brain, entire body.
"Please stop!"
Total shambles, and as she stared at the bits of its faces that lay in small crumbs, the screaming continued from Rogue's own throat.
"NOOOO!"
Hands grabbed her.
"Rogue, wake up!"
She opened her eyes. In the dark blur of her room, two faces peered at her. Amara and 'Berto? Was she still dreaming, then, because what the hell were they doing in her room?—and the screaming was still blasting through her ears—
Then she realized what the screaming actually was, and awareness hit her like an anvil, had her kicking off her covers, standing—
She almost keeled over before 'Berto grabbed hold of her arms.
"Whoa," she mumbled, then added, "Comm. badge." Because training was kicking in something fierce despite the nausea.
Amara took it from the dresser, looked at Rogue again.
"Door," she mumbled again, and since moving furtive and quick was a little beyond her means just then, Rogue aimed for just trying not to stumble and slow 'Berto down—sadly, not the best of efforts, given her pounding head and shaky feet.
Rogue tried to think past the clamor of the alarms and her own mind. The other two were looking anxious and she didn't blame them. They needed help, they needed cover, they needed to get the hell out of this room—and if they happened to stumble into the intruder, they needed a better plan than contaminating him with with her germs.
The alarms died down. Rogue tensed, took a breath, told herself to calm the hell down as the door opened. If anything was behind it, her fingers were ready to grab and latch.
Clear.
Another breath, and they were creeping down the hall, 'Berto still helping her along.
"Remember the drill," she whispered.
"Sub-basement?" he said, looking even more unsure. Amara seemed even more nervous. Again, Rogue couldn't blame them, but she was starting to get pissed. If she weren't sick—
But she was so thoroughly not in any condition to take anyone down right then, especially with two junior recruits to protect. And that was almost a bad joke, since one of those junior recruits was the only thing keeping her footing steady just now.
Rogue pressed on the badge. "Nightcrawler." Only silence. "Come in, Nightcrawler." Silence. "Kurt?"
God, where was he?
"Sub-basement still?" said Amara.
Rogue kept her eyes on the corner of the hall. Left turn there would lead them to the end of the corridor where the elevators waited to take them three floors down. She could at least wait to look for Kurt until after she got Amara and 'Berto on the damn thing, to relative safety.
"For you two, yeah."
Amara frowned. "What abou—no!"
"You can't even walk straight!" 'Berto was digging his heels in a little, and she had to push to move them along.
"Quit talkin' so loud."
"This is stupid," he muttered, stopping completely now, but that was okay since they'd reached the T-section. She'd push him to the elevators if she had to. Or try to push him, at least.
She attempted the Scott voice-of-reason. "'Look, you guys—"
"I'm not going."
"Me, neither."
She attempted the Logan glower. "Listen up—"
"They're my friends and teammates too, Rogue."
"They need all of our help. So do you."
Her face fell. Dammit. This was stupid. "Aw, screw it," she said. "C'mon."
With the two of them on either side of her now helping to drag her, they zoomed past three halls in the amount of time it took them to cover that first one. When it was starting to feel like a roller coaster ride, making her stomach turn and her head spin, they heard steps approaching on a fast run. Left to stand on her own again, Rogue shook the added dizziness away as she went into battle stance.
No hiding now, so strategy time.
Amara was fired up, 'Berto looked ready to punch a hole in the wall, and she—well, the only action she was probably capable of at this point was puking, but element of surprise was a peachy thing, wasn't that one of the Professor's favorite sayings? And vomit would definitely be unexpected.
Rogue was giving the plan serious thought when a sudden explosion rocked their feet.
"Came from the boys' wing," 'Berto said, taking off—
Only to collide around the corner with a small form that fell backwards. "Oof!"
"Jamie!" said Amara, powering down.
"A dupe," 'Berto said, helping him up. "He didn't multiply when we hit."
"Who's with you?" Rogue said.
"Bobby and Kurt," Jamie replied, as they followed him.
"Where's Jamie-O?" 'Berto asked.
"Original Jamie went to get Ray."
"How 'bout Sam?"
"We can't find him."
Rogue saw the simultaneous sag in all three shoulders. "We'll find him, guys," she wanted to say, but that was bullcrap. So instead, in the quiet that followed, she asked Jamie, "Kurt figure out who's behind all this?"
"No. Bobby said he was in the kitchen when the guy came out of nowhere and Kurt saved him just in time and then they ported to my room so I could get everyone together." Jamie took a breath. "We're all supposed to go to the sub-basement."
From the corner of her eye, Rogue saw 'Berto and Amara wincing a little at the comment. She squelched the urge to give them a look. The call had been hers to make, after all, and she'd make the same choice given another chance. Although Scott would probably give a mini-lecture when he got the briefing, call her judgment lame again, like that time when she and Kitty had skipped class to track down the Brotherhood.
But she'd shaken off his remark then, and she could do it again. Just thinking this gave her something to look forward to, boosted her energy, and she—
Blinked when Jamie suddenly vanished in front of her. Great, she was hallucinating now?
"Jamie!" cried Amara.
Okay, the others had seen it. No hallucination, so he really had gone poof and that meant—
"No!" 'Berto looked about ready to go on a tear when they heard someone else shouting in the distance.
Bobby. And he sounded even more pissed than 'Berto.
They followed the noise on a run, Rogue falling back a bit. She saw Amara and 'Berto stop completely, staring at something down the hall. When she caught up, she found Bobby, Kurt, and an unconscious Jamie rapidly approaching them on an ice slide.
Behind them in the distance was a massive wall of ice coating the east wing elevators. A hole was starting to show in the middle of that wall, a hole that grew larger and larger as Rogue watched.
"Hurry!" Bobby shouted.
'Berto used one hand to grab Rogue and another to clutch Amara by the waist, then made a jump that landed all three of them on the slide. Soon as they were on, he set them both down. Rogue went to stand by Kurt as he stood clutching the side of his chest. "What happened?"
"He threw me against the ceiling."
"Anything broken?"
"Nein, just bruised ribs." He grimaced. "I think."
Amara and 'Berto knelt by Jamie. "Where's Ray?" asked Amara.
"Caught," Bobby said. "Jamie came running up a minute ago to tell us that, and then he just—passed out."
"Psychic blast," Kurt said. "Intruder was right on his heels."
"He almost got me, too, but Kurt ported him into the elevator. And then I did that." Bobby turned his head in the direction of the icewall. "But it won't last long—the guy melts ice," he added, his face sour.
Bobby's slide whooshed past the mansion doors.
"Takin' the fun outside?" Rogue said.
"We can't stay in there," Kurt replied. "The sub-basement's out—we'll just be like sitting geese waiting for him to catch us."
"Ducks," Bobby corrected, and went on, "He was flying when he found us, and he messed up the elevator circuits when we tried to leave. We figure he's a telepathic teke, like Jean."
"Only stronger," Kurt said. "Like Jean times ten."
"Plus he can melt ice," Bobby said again.
"Wait," Amara said. "That sounds…I know this."
Rogue frowned, struggling to think with her achy head. "Me, too."
"Where have I heard…?" Amara said, looking at Rogue, and they stared at each other intently as Bobby's ice slide came to stop on the edge of the estate woods. In her peripheral vision, Rogue saw the three boys watching them and shrugging at each other, before 'Berto slung Jamie over his shoulder and stepped near Kurt, who ported out with the three boys.
Reappearing alone a moment later, he sighed. "Still with the staring contest?" he said, then put a hand on each of their shoulders.
Rogue found herself standing on the banks of the lake that was well on the other side of the estate from where they'd left the ice slide. The decoy was obvious, but it would buy them a little time to think, at least. And she needed to think, because the others had triggered something that was important to remember.
The moon reflected on the lake was wavy and mesmerizing. Frowning at it, Rogue was able to push aside the pounding in her forehead and focus.
"Are you guys on something?" Kurt said. She would've rolled her eyes if she weren't so busy using her energy to scratch the itch in her brain. Dammit, just think.
And then Amara gasped just as Rogue's face cleared, and they looked at each other again, voicing one word in a single breath. "Kitty!"
"She swore me to secrecy because Jean didn't want her telling anyone," Amara said. "But it's okay to tell now, right? Since we're under attack and all."
Rogue nodded tiredly. With the adrenaline rush gone and the important brain itch scratched, her body was again free to feel the joys of a virus. "If you don't," she said blearily, "I'm gonna have to."
"Then I will," Amara said, turning eagerly to the others. "So, this guy. He's telepathic, telekinetic—"
"And can melt ice," Bobby said.
Amara glared. "So can I," she said. "He's not so special."
"You didn't see him fighting," he muttered.
"Aw, let her finish, Bobby," cut in 'Berto. "Else she won't tell us at all."
The throbbing in Rogue's head ended in an abrupt rush of double vision. "Intruder's a blond kid?" she asked Kurt, staving off dizziness by rolling her head back. Felt so heaaaaavy.
"Ja, how'd you know?"
"Because the Professor's son's a blond!" Amara cried, triumphant as her statement earned three pairs of popped-out eyeballs.
Rogue snorted a little at that, then slowly opened and closed her own eyeballs to work out their fever burn. When her head rolled back again, she grimaced at finding her vision spotty. Well, just one spot, really, but it was irritating. Wouldn't stop moving.
"And he's telepathic, telekinetic, and pyrokinetic."
Then Rogue froze—it wasn't a spot in her eyes. It was in the sky.
"And he hates the Professor, which is probably why he's here. To get revenge through us."
The boys stared slack-jawed at Amara, while Rogue pointed to the figure in the sky that was hurtling directly towards them. "Uh, guys?" she said, squinting with strained eyes. "Think I found Sam."
They all watched as he closed the distance pretty damn fast, probably enough to make a crater. What the hell was the boy playing at? Rogue turned her gaze away, looked with blurry eyes for some cover for them—and saw the forest shake. No, wait. Not the forest. Something in the forest, moving closer—and as she squinted again, she realized they had human forms. Human forms that she knew and had shared a house with once for a few short weeks.
Crap.
"Uh, guys?"