Hey folks sorry this took a while but please be patient, writing is hard, so please review.
If ya'll are wonderin' this is a Rogue/Scott maybe Remy, and Pietro/Kitty fic.
Southern accent: i,o and e,=ah
bahfer=before
Chapter Two: Bikers and Drifters
A young man traced his finger over the deep grooves of the mahogany table. Twirling a large silver ring absently with his thumb. Making passing smiles at the attractive girls, his smiles were unconsciously seductive, always had been. With hair of burnished silver, eyes like the tossing winter ocean, and the body of a beach hottie, Pietro Maximoff carefully swirled his glass. He attuned his ears to the mumbling voices around the bar. A man, hat pulled low over his eyes, muttered. "Colony punk." Sending a shooting glare his way. The man was old, wrinkles apparent beneath the brim. Finding it hard to see in the flickering lights, Pietro felt a wash of pity. But he didn't have time for pity. "Take everything, leavin' us poor earth folk nothing. Bastard muties, bastard humans! Nothin's right 'bout this place anymore." Pietro met the man's eyes; they burned with irrepressible hatred causing shivers to run up and down Pietro's spine. A young girl reached out to comfort her grandfather, a little ratty brown teddy hanging from one hand. Soft white stuffing was popping out from the seams, busting from the ears, and the bear had only one eye. It appeared to be winking, almost condescendingly, a little smile on its face. Dirt clung to its fur and little dust balls tickled its nose. The little girl clung to grandfather's hand, squeezing it reassuringly, fear hung about her as a rotten stench to a bag of garbage. Pietro sniffed disdainfully, but his heart ached. These people hurt with a pain incomprehensible to him. But, then they lived in a hell inescapable.
"Yeah bucko, I'm a Colony punk! You want to make something of it!" Pietro growled shaking his fist. Conscious of the stares many young blondes were sending his way, he threw down a few bills. He stalked out. Grabbing his blue and silver motorcycle from the drive, he swung aboard. Pulling on his motorcycle jacket of blue leather, the silver lettering of Quicksilver burned onto the back. He revved the engine. "Another dead end!" He snarled. Reaching into his pocket, he jerked out a picture of a girl. The picture was wrinkled and had long since lost its sheen over the many years of caresses. The girl was a slim brunette, her hair pulled back into a characteristic ponytail, sitting cross-legged, wearing her characteristic cashmere sweater, white tank top, and blue hip hugger capris. A bubbly airhead, valley girl smile on her face. She looked so happy; it always caused a wistful smile to touch his lips. Remembering how he took this snapshot sent him laughing. He'd caught her on a small hill, before the death of her Professor, before that aura of sadness began following her everywhere. Her smile wasn't for him though; it'd always been for Lance. Or for Kurt, the fuzzy imbecile! She'd never liked him. Pietro the creep, the egotistical jerk, he'd always had a scorecard, that scorecard had gotten him into so many problematic situations. It made him the playboy of Bayville, defined him as a bad boy. Most girls liked bad boys, Kitty had, just not his type. "I wonder what happened to her." He knew she'd vanished during the War, left Bayville with Rogue, before the destruction of the Xavier Mansion; it wasn't as if he couldn't get on without her. She just haunted his dreams. Every girl he'd been with was a shadow of her. A bubbly airhead bimbo. Smacking himself in the forehead, saying a few choice words, he sped off into falling night.
A simple kiss plaguing his darkness encrusted memories.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------'
'You're mine Kitten, you'll always be mine.'
'Shove off! You are like so not the one!'
He leaned in gently taking her in his arms, eyes of silver blue searching her face, memorizing every feature. 'You know you want it Kitten.' Her heart thudding like a locomotive in her chest, heat rising to her cheeks. Leaning forward he let his lips brush hers.
Kat jerked awake, massaging her temples, her bed was wet and so was she. Soaked to the bone. Slippery brown hair dripping over burning red cheeks. "Damn!" She muttered. "Why am I like dreaming about Pietro." She sighed, glancing across the room to where Ty lay tossing and turning in her sleep. Snuggling back against the makeshift pillow, Kat waited for sleep. His face hung in her mind, those blue arrogant irresistible eyes grinning at her. Like he knew something she didn't. 'Argh! This is like so disgusting! I don't like want to be thinking about Pietro!' He consumed her thoughts and dreams late at night. He'd infected her conscious thought in the Compounds two years ago. And had been unable to get rid of him since. 'Grrr!' she growled under her breath. It was so disgusting. Her thinking of Pietro, 'dreaming' of Pietro, it was almost as if...she would not say it! With a frustrated scream she buried her head into the pillow. "I HATE Pietro!" Pietro, Pietro, Pietro, everything led back to Pietro. Well, Kat comforted herself; it was only thoughts from a disorganized mind late at night. Only thoughts of a disorganized mind...
Loud shrieks slammed into her sensitive ears. "Get away! Get away from me!" Time to wake Ty. Kat leapt from the bed with a panther's grace. Her eyes glittering in the soft light, as she knelt next to her best friend. Moonlight seemed to stroke their forms, alighting them in an unnatural light. Making Ty seem the porcelain doll. Kat sighed.
Outside, little lights like baby stars flickered and burned in the Sleepless City. Folks wandered the streets below, as bikes thundered by. An occasional car brushed past a lonely soul. The artificial stars stroked the darkness, as disgruntled rumblings of motorbike engines complained to the sympathetic lyrics of the humming generators. While clocks with condescending smiles on their faces leered at the winking dim glow of the street lights.
Kat grimaced as she reached for Ty's shoulders. The girl tossed striking out in her sleep. Her rogue abilities were unchecked when she slept. Taking both shoulder blades in her vice-like grip, she shook her violently. Ty's shoulders crunched under her grip. The girl stirred. "Like wake up! Ty! Wake up! You're like having another nightmare."
"What happened? What tahme ahs it?" Ty asked glancing about, beads of sweat dangling from her hair and dribbling down her face. She was soaked much like Kat was. Her pillow was drenched from the many nightmares of the past and present. "Ah must'iv been havin' another nahghtmare." She laughed. "But yah look lah shit!"
Kat sighed, "You don't like look much better girl. Whatcha liked dreamin' about?"
"Ah was dreamin' 'bout thah Compound 'gain. Can't shake thahse mem'ries." Deep black circles ran beneath her eyes, and she squeezed them shut small tears running down her face. "Aht just won't go 'way." She sighed. "Yah know, when thahy were puttin' in the admantahum, all ah could thahk 'bout was thah others. Through the paahn ah just saw thahy're faces. Floatin' bahfer mah eyes." Ty sighed again. It was a wistful sigh, a sigh of unfulfillment. "But he's prob'ly tahgether with Jean. Ah dunno."
"Well do you like want to know what gave me like a nightmare?" Kat asked, her blue gaze locked with Ty's. Ty's eyes for all their harshness lit up.
"Yah had a nahghtmare too. Ah thahght Ah'd woken yah." Her lips pulled back into sympathetic smile, the sadness that locked in them was directed at Kat. Her face was so drawn and worn from the endless nightmares she endured when every her eyelids shut. They often were about the Compound, but sometimes they reminded her of memories long lost. Ty had "forcibly inherited" her healing factor from Lia, it was much like Wolverine's except the youth regeneration didn't seem to occur. The nightmares were horrible causing her to toss and strike out with her claws many a time in the night. But those claws and Kat's gun had won them their home. Ty hated being called Rogue, the name forced her to remember better days. Days of what could only seem like bliss compared to the hellhole they lived in now. Spent in school learning how to control their powers with their beloved mentor Charles Xavier. The memories of his death plagued them through the day and through the night. Nightmares called up on some sickly jester's whim.
Kat sighed, her sniping abilities had come at a price. But everything came at a price. "It was like so gross! I like dreamt about Pietro!"
Ty wondered for a second if Kat had ever said a complete sentence without saying "like". "But yah don even lah Pietro. Do yah?"
"Of course not! That's like completely gross!" Kat returned to her bed. Staring at the peeling paint of the ceiling.
Ty flopped onto her back. "Whaht tahme is aht?"
"Three o'clock."
"Ah can't belaheve you lah Pietro! Of all thah egotahstical guys yah could fahnd. Aht had tah be Pietro."
"Well you like Scott!" Kat growled back.
"Ah do not!"
"You like so do!"
"Whaht does aht mattah? S'not lah wah're evah gonna see eahtha of 'em again."
"And we like probably wouldn't like those two jerks if we like ever saw them again! So there!" The two girls laughed, in the darkness of the artificial lights of the Sleepless City. Sounding again like young teenage girls sharing girl talk. They shared laughter they'd been unable to find for many years.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"So you're plagued by memories of Rogue." Wolverine said, turning the bottle of whisky in his hands. He'd listened to Scott's forlorn ramblings for many hours as the young man had drowned his sorrows in beer. Logan had kept the boy from getting to tipsy, encouraging him to only have one bottle and go slowly. Scott still had to get back to his room in the Military Quarters. "I still worry about her from time to time too."
Scott sighed, his red shades flashing in the light. "It's just that I've been haunted for the past few weeks. It wasn't so bad a few years ago. I'm just worried."
Logan bit into his cheek. "You've also never forgiven yourself for deciding to come to the Colonies instead of looking for the girls. I know Jean was a major pusher for the Colonies. But you made it. It was tough. I would have preferred to look for Kitty and Rogue. Risk being left behind." Logan took a long swig of whisky. His rugged features hadn't changed over the past five years, still as stoic and feral as ever. The Wolverine and his team were the current Champions of the Tournament. They'd earned their place in history. Wolverine, Storm, and Iceman had, insuring remembrance of their names. Logan had married Ororo a few years back before the first Tournament. To Scott's knowledge they'd be expecting their first born sometime in May.
"I few of my contacts on Earth told me that two girls of their description were seen in old New York. He sent me photos. Apparently Kitty has gotten good with a gun." Scott tossed the package across the table to Logan. Who flipped through the images. One of Kitty in her leather jacket shouldering her sniper, another of Kitty on her bike, then one of Rogue in a black trench holding a handgun, and several more of Rogue and Kitty, until his eyes rested on Rogue with her claws extended. "And Rogue has gone through a few changes."
Logan held the image with trembling fingers. "How..." He whispered. Rogue's face captured the essence of a female version of him. Her gray eyes glittered ferociously as she stared down some approaching enemy.
"My contact wasn't sure, but those claws are adamantium." Holding up a picture of solid steel doors with long x marks, he said. "Look, I know you've endured a lot having to listen to my sop stories. But I need your help to find the girls." Scott's eyes behind his unreadable shades bored into Logan's. 'I need your help to make sure she's all right.'
Hope ya'll enjoyed the chapter. I'm sorry for making the coupling so obvious for those of you who like suspense, but you never know. The next chapter should be coming soon. So don't be too impatient. See ya!
If ya'll are wonderin' this is a Rogue/Scott maybe Remy, and Pietro/Kitty fic.
Southern accent: i,o and e,=ah
bahfer=before
Chapter Two: Bikers and Drifters
A young man traced his finger over the deep grooves of the mahogany table. Twirling a large silver ring absently with his thumb. Making passing smiles at the attractive girls, his smiles were unconsciously seductive, always had been. With hair of burnished silver, eyes like the tossing winter ocean, and the body of a beach hottie, Pietro Maximoff carefully swirled his glass. He attuned his ears to the mumbling voices around the bar. A man, hat pulled low over his eyes, muttered. "Colony punk." Sending a shooting glare his way. The man was old, wrinkles apparent beneath the brim. Finding it hard to see in the flickering lights, Pietro felt a wash of pity. But he didn't have time for pity. "Take everything, leavin' us poor earth folk nothing. Bastard muties, bastard humans! Nothin's right 'bout this place anymore." Pietro met the man's eyes; they burned with irrepressible hatred causing shivers to run up and down Pietro's spine. A young girl reached out to comfort her grandfather, a little ratty brown teddy hanging from one hand. Soft white stuffing was popping out from the seams, busting from the ears, and the bear had only one eye. It appeared to be winking, almost condescendingly, a little smile on its face. Dirt clung to its fur and little dust balls tickled its nose. The little girl clung to grandfather's hand, squeezing it reassuringly, fear hung about her as a rotten stench to a bag of garbage. Pietro sniffed disdainfully, but his heart ached. These people hurt with a pain incomprehensible to him. But, then they lived in a hell inescapable.
"Yeah bucko, I'm a Colony punk! You want to make something of it!" Pietro growled shaking his fist. Conscious of the stares many young blondes were sending his way, he threw down a few bills. He stalked out. Grabbing his blue and silver motorcycle from the drive, he swung aboard. Pulling on his motorcycle jacket of blue leather, the silver lettering of Quicksilver burned onto the back. He revved the engine. "Another dead end!" He snarled. Reaching into his pocket, he jerked out a picture of a girl. The picture was wrinkled and had long since lost its sheen over the many years of caresses. The girl was a slim brunette, her hair pulled back into a characteristic ponytail, sitting cross-legged, wearing her characteristic cashmere sweater, white tank top, and blue hip hugger capris. A bubbly airhead, valley girl smile on her face. She looked so happy; it always caused a wistful smile to touch his lips. Remembering how he took this snapshot sent him laughing. He'd caught her on a small hill, before the death of her Professor, before that aura of sadness began following her everywhere. Her smile wasn't for him though; it'd always been for Lance. Or for Kurt, the fuzzy imbecile! She'd never liked him. Pietro the creep, the egotistical jerk, he'd always had a scorecard, that scorecard had gotten him into so many problematic situations. It made him the playboy of Bayville, defined him as a bad boy. Most girls liked bad boys, Kitty had, just not his type. "I wonder what happened to her." He knew she'd vanished during the War, left Bayville with Rogue, before the destruction of the Xavier Mansion; it wasn't as if he couldn't get on without her. She just haunted his dreams. Every girl he'd been with was a shadow of her. A bubbly airhead bimbo. Smacking himself in the forehead, saying a few choice words, he sped off into falling night.
A simple kiss plaguing his darkness encrusted memories.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------'
'You're mine Kitten, you'll always be mine.'
'Shove off! You are like so not the one!'
He leaned in gently taking her in his arms, eyes of silver blue searching her face, memorizing every feature. 'You know you want it Kitten.' Her heart thudding like a locomotive in her chest, heat rising to her cheeks. Leaning forward he let his lips brush hers.
Kat jerked awake, massaging her temples, her bed was wet and so was she. Soaked to the bone. Slippery brown hair dripping over burning red cheeks. "Damn!" She muttered. "Why am I like dreaming about Pietro." She sighed, glancing across the room to where Ty lay tossing and turning in her sleep. Snuggling back against the makeshift pillow, Kat waited for sleep. His face hung in her mind, those blue arrogant irresistible eyes grinning at her. Like he knew something she didn't. 'Argh! This is like so disgusting! I don't like want to be thinking about Pietro!' He consumed her thoughts and dreams late at night. He'd infected her conscious thought in the Compounds two years ago. And had been unable to get rid of him since. 'Grrr!' she growled under her breath. It was so disgusting. Her thinking of Pietro, 'dreaming' of Pietro, it was almost as if...she would not say it! With a frustrated scream she buried her head into the pillow. "I HATE Pietro!" Pietro, Pietro, Pietro, everything led back to Pietro. Well, Kat comforted herself; it was only thoughts from a disorganized mind late at night. Only thoughts of a disorganized mind...
Loud shrieks slammed into her sensitive ears. "Get away! Get away from me!" Time to wake Ty. Kat leapt from the bed with a panther's grace. Her eyes glittering in the soft light, as she knelt next to her best friend. Moonlight seemed to stroke their forms, alighting them in an unnatural light. Making Ty seem the porcelain doll. Kat sighed.
Outside, little lights like baby stars flickered and burned in the Sleepless City. Folks wandered the streets below, as bikes thundered by. An occasional car brushed past a lonely soul. The artificial stars stroked the darkness, as disgruntled rumblings of motorbike engines complained to the sympathetic lyrics of the humming generators. While clocks with condescending smiles on their faces leered at the winking dim glow of the street lights.
Kat grimaced as she reached for Ty's shoulders. The girl tossed striking out in her sleep. Her rogue abilities were unchecked when she slept. Taking both shoulder blades in her vice-like grip, she shook her violently. Ty's shoulders crunched under her grip. The girl stirred. "Like wake up! Ty! Wake up! You're like having another nightmare."
"What happened? What tahme ahs it?" Ty asked glancing about, beads of sweat dangling from her hair and dribbling down her face. She was soaked much like Kat was. Her pillow was drenched from the many nightmares of the past and present. "Ah must'iv been havin' another nahghtmare." She laughed. "But yah look lah shit!"
Kat sighed, "You don't like look much better girl. Whatcha liked dreamin' about?"
"Ah was dreamin' 'bout thah Compound 'gain. Can't shake thahse mem'ries." Deep black circles ran beneath her eyes, and she squeezed them shut small tears running down her face. "Aht just won't go 'way." She sighed. "Yah know, when thahy were puttin' in the admantahum, all ah could thahk 'bout was thah others. Through the paahn ah just saw thahy're faces. Floatin' bahfer mah eyes." Ty sighed again. It was a wistful sigh, a sigh of unfulfillment. "But he's prob'ly tahgether with Jean. Ah dunno."
"Well do you like want to know what gave me like a nightmare?" Kat asked, her blue gaze locked with Ty's. Ty's eyes for all their harshness lit up.
"Yah had a nahghtmare too. Ah thahght Ah'd woken yah." Her lips pulled back into sympathetic smile, the sadness that locked in them was directed at Kat. Her face was so drawn and worn from the endless nightmares she endured when every her eyelids shut. They often were about the Compound, but sometimes they reminded her of memories long lost. Ty had "forcibly inherited" her healing factor from Lia, it was much like Wolverine's except the youth regeneration didn't seem to occur. The nightmares were horrible causing her to toss and strike out with her claws many a time in the night. But those claws and Kat's gun had won them their home. Ty hated being called Rogue, the name forced her to remember better days. Days of what could only seem like bliss compared to the hellhole they lived in now. Spent in school learning how to control their powers with their beloved mentor Charles Xavier. The memories of his death plagued them through the day and through the night. Nightmares called up on some sickly jester's whim.
Kat sighed, her sniping abilities had come at a price. But everything came at a price. "It was like so gross! I like dreamt about Pietro!"
Ty wondered for a second if Kat had ever said a complete sentence without saying "like". "But yah don even lah Pietro. Do yah?"
"Of course not! That's like completely gross!" Kat returned to her bed. Staring at the peeling paint of the ceiling.
Ty flopped onto her back. "Whaht tahme is aht?"
"Three o'clock."
"Ah can't belaheve you lah Pietro! Of all thah egotahstical guys yah could fahnd. Aht had tah be Pietro."
"Well you like Scott!" Kat growled back.
"Ah do not!"
"You like so do!"
"Whaht does aht mattah? S'not lah wah're evah gonna see eahtha of 'em again."
"And we like probably wouldn't like those two jerks if we like ever saw them again! So there!" The two girls laughed, in the darkness of the artificial lights of the Sleepless City. Sounding again like young teenage girls sharing girl talk. They shared laughter they'd been unable to find for many years.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"So you're plagued by memories of Rogue." Wolverine said, turning the bottle of whisky in his hands. He'd listened to Scott's forlorn ramblings for many hours as the young man had drowned his sorrows in beer. Logan had kept the boy from getting to tipsy, encouraging him to only have one bottle and go slowly. Scott still had to get back to his room in the Military Quarters. "I still worry about her from time to time too."
Scott sighed, his red shades flashing in the light. "It's just that I've been haunted for the past few weeks. It wasn't so bad a few years ago. I'm just worried."
Logan bit into his cheek. "You've also never forgiven yourself for deciding to come to the Colonies instead of looking for the girls. I know Jean was a major pusher for the Colonies. But you made it. It was tough. I would have preferred to look for Kitty and Rogue. Risk being left behind." Logan took a long swig of whisky. His rugged features hadn't changed over the past five years, still as stoic and feral as ever. The Wolverine and his team were the current Champions of the Tournament. They'd earned their place in history. Wolverine, Storm, and Iceman had, insuring remembrance of their names. Logan had married Ororo a few years back before the first Tournament. To Scott's knowledge they'd be expecting their first born sometime in May.
"I few of my contacts on Earth told me that two girls of their description were seen in old New York. He sent me photos. Apparently Kitty has gotten good with a gun." Scott tossed the package across the table to Logan. Who flipped through the images. One of Kitty in her leather jacket shouldering her sniper, another of Kitty on her bike, then one of Rogue in a black trench holding a handgun, and several more of Rogue and Kitty, until his eyes rested on Rogue with her claws extended. "And Rogue has gone through a few changes."
Logan held the image with trembling fingers. "How..." He whispered. Rogue's face captured the essence of a female version of him. Her gray eyes glittered ferociously as she stared down some approaching enemy.
"My contact wasn't sure, but those claws are adamantium." Holding up a picture of solid steel doors with long x marks, he said. "Look, I know you've endured a lot having to listen to my sop stories. But I need your help to find the girls." Scott's eyes behind his unreadable shades bored into Logan's. 'I need your help to make sure she's all right.'
Hope ya'll enjoyed the chapter. I'm sorry for making the coupling so obvious for those of you who like suspense, but you never know. The next chapter should be coming soon. So don't be too impatient. See ya!