Disclaimer: "One of the things Ford Prefect had always found hardest to understand about humans was their habit of continuously stating and repeating the very very obvious, as in It's a nice day, or You're very tall, or Oh dear you seem to have fallen down a thirty-foot well, are you all right?" - Hitchhiker's Guide
Just to be in running with the habits of humans – No. I do not own X-Men. Nor have I ever. And for the record – I'm not very tall.
A/N – Merci to my bus driving beta reader Shroom. You rock, dude. Everyone else – reviews are much appreciated. *poke* Anything in italics is a flashback. Except the title. (I know, I know – 'Duh.')
Chapter 1: Sell Out
She'd flown off the rails again. Not sure the others deserved her temper, but then, not sure she cared any more.
Rogue skulked down the sidewalk, head bopping to the music blasting from her headphones, and gloved hands thrust in her pockets. An old man passing looked briefly in her direction, with a raised eyebrow. She resisted barely the urge to flip him a finger, and walked on. It wasn't fair to take her frustration out on one innocent guy who happened not to like rock music.
But then, nothing was fair. Scott being with Jean wasn't fair. Her unrequited crush on Scott wasn't fair. Everyone dating someone else wasn't fair. Rogue's mutation most of all wasn't fair.
The reasons she'd stormed out of the mansion came rushing back, in a whirlwind of angry emotions and tears that threatened to cascade down her face.
They made such a cute couple. Everyone said so. No-one could understand what had taken Scott and Jean so long to hook up. And no-one minded rubbing Rogue's nose in it, even if it wasn't on purpose.
She'd walked into the rec room. They'd been sitting on the sofa, kissing. Scott had seen her and stopped, apologising with a sheepish smile. She'd waved a hand and told him it was okay, it was cool. She'd left them to it, and gone in search of some peace and quiet, where she didn't have to be reminded of everything. Outside, she'd decided. Kurt waved happily to her and bamfed over from where he had been sitting on the steps, eager to tell her all about his date with Amanda. Rogue had listened with half-closed ears and a synthetic smile, before excusing herself and leaving her excitable blue stepbrother to his reverie. Upstairs. Rahne and Roberto flirting on the landing. Exasperated, she'd ended up in her room. Kitty was sitting on her bed. She'd asked what was going on. Rogue had thoughtlessly mentioned walking in on Scott and Jean. Bad move. Kitty had launched into a one-sided conversation about how cute they were.
Rogue wondered with a vague sense of guilt how long it had taken Kitty to realise she had left the room while she was talking about the mansion's favourite couple. The feeling was quickly overwhelmed by everything else she had on her mind. She could apologise later. If Kitty had in fact noticed at all. Maybe she was still talking. The thought brought a slight quirked smile to Rogue's face briefly, which brought the guilt back as she caught sight of herself in a darkened shop window as she walked past.
Alerted by the shops, she suddenly realised how far she had walked, dead to the world as she brooded in her bad mood. It was late; almost pitch dark in the spaces between the streetlights. She would be wanted back at the mansion soon. Despite his pretended indifference, Logan would be concerned if she didn't turn up, she knew.
She turned into a back alley, a shortcut she knew would get her back faster. Any mind she would have paid to looking out for strangers in dark streets had gone out the proverbial window with the coming of her powers. If any guy tried to touch her, it wasn't her who was going to come out worse for wear. She almost wished there would be some man lurking in the alley for her to take out her frustration on.
As a sharp pain hit her in the back of the head and she hit the concrete face-first, she vaguely heard Hank's voice in her head, with his supply of proverbs ever at hand, telling her to be careful what she wished for.
~
"So do we have an accord?"
"Indeed, Essex. You may have the boy, in return for your promised assistance in gathering more mutants to rally for my cause."
The two men shook hands across the table, and any bystander would have been amused by this seeming gesture of goodwill from such characters. Amused that is, if they were not running scared.
It was hard to say which was the more intimidating - Magneto sitting at one end of the table, his red metal helmet discarded beside his chair and his cape draped over the back; Sinister at the other end, red eyes glowing in a chalk white face; or the fact that both men were sitting at the same table.
Piotr stood silently by the wall, awaiting any orders that may fall to him, and trying not to think about what was happening. He was not betraying a comrade. He was just standing by. He had nothing to with this. But no matter how many times he told himself these facts, the overwhelming feeling of guilt insisted otherwise, and the subdued anguish in the eyes of his friend didn't help either. Nor did the fact that the man was being held to the wall by straps of metal while their master bargained Remy's life away for the mutant cause. No, this whole ordeal didn't sit well with Piotr at all.
Essex and Lensherr acknowledged one another and swiftly moved into Magneto's quarters, to seemingly private important discussion. There were no pleasantries exchanged, no small talk. None was needed or expected.
Piotr read on the sofa. John bounced around by the door, blatantly eavesdropping on the conversation next door. The rest of the Acolytes had always maintained the man's insanity – his risking severe punishment to entertain his curiosity was simply more proof. And yet Piotr had an irresistible urge to join the Australian in listening to this particular discussion. He left his novel lying on the arm of the sofa, moving unconsciously to stand next to John.
Neither of them could make out much of what was being said. Words drifted through at random, leaving the eavesdroppers to contemplate their ominous implications. "Experiment…mutations…" came one end of the muted conversation. John leaned a little too hard on the door, and it creaked. The voices ceased. The door was wrenched open, and Magneto stood before them.
"Ah. I was going to have to call you both later anyway. You will stay now, since you're clearly interested in what's going on anyway." The look flashed at both John and Piotr clearly said they would not get away with this. He turned abruptly and returned to the table where Sinister was waiting, with lackeys flanking him at his shoulders. Piotr and John followed him silently into the room. John immediately took up a leaning stance in the corner, looking like a young boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Piotr closed the door, and stood by the wall, trying to avoid too much notice.
The two powerhouses continued their discussion as if there had been no interruption, ignoring the two Acolytes with no visible effort.
"We have a history, you see, and he will make an excellent test subject." The glimmer in those eerie red eyes was one of pure anticipation and enjoyment, rather than any sort of neutral scientific interest, and it made Piotr feel uneasy.
"And I should have no qualms about giving him up?"
"If my machine works, you will no longer need to fight against humanity. All will be mutants. All I need are mutants to test its capabilities with. Consider it a promise. As long as I have him, mutants will be the dominant species. The only species."
Magneto nodded. A sinking feeling hit Piotr with the strength of an oncoming stampede. Then there was a noise in the hallway. The front door. The sinking feeling of seconds earlier suddenly became the strong urge to run, yell, fight, do anything that would stop what he knew with a sense of impending doom was about to happen. And yet, he remained by the wall, hoping that he had been the only one to hear the front door open.
No such luck. If Sinister had not guessed from the sound of the door, he could have read it on John's face. The Australian had not quite mastered the poker face that both Piotr and Remy could use to hide their emotions. His face was a picture of desperation and dread.
"Call him." Essex instructed.
Piotr watched in dismayed silence as the door was pulled open by its metal handle. Magneto turned to him and with the flick of a hand, signalled him to fetch Remy. Anxiety hit Piotr like a ton of bricks. How could he possibly warn his friend of what was coming, when the door was open and Magneto and Essex listened intently to what happening? The sinking feeling returned in force as he surmised with defeat that there was no way.
He hadn't had to say anything. He wasn't sure that made him feel better or worse. He hadn't had to lie, but then, nor had he warned Remy of what was coming. Piotr had stepped reluctantly into the corridor and Remy had nearly walked into him. He saw Sinister for himself over Piotr's shoulder. Piotr had never known such a lack of control in the Cajun. His expression was one of mixed disbelief, dismay and apprehension, and he unconsciously stepped back against the wall, like a rabbit caught in headlights.
Piotr shook his head, blocking out the memories of his team mate being captured by Magneto and pinned against the wall, while he had stood by in shock and helplessness. His attention snapped back to the two men seated in the middle of the room, as they stood.
"A pleasure to do business with you." Magneto told Essex, with an eloquent hand gesture.
"The pleasure was all mine." The devious look on the man's face, as he snapped his fingers at his idle lackeys, all the while still watching Magneto, was too much for Piotr to bear and he looked away. Sinister's henchmen grabbed Remy, as Magneto allowed the metal bars holding him to fall to the floor. Magneto and Sinister walked sedately into the corridor, and Essex indicated for his men to follow.
I'm sorry. Piotr mouthed to Remy as he was dragged out. A silent apology seemed a poor consolation, and didn't do anything to ease Piotr's conscience, which screamed at him and was only amplified by the now silent room. John remained in the corner, more subdued and sane-looking than he had ever been while in the Acolytes. The look in the Australian's eyes made Piotr unsure as to whether or not he liked the improvement.