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Seether
Chapter Eleven – Subtle
By Randirogue
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"Dim the lantern. Kill the lights. Let's keep tonight to hide away, to take comfort in the dark and to leave our hearts behind to wait, to tear away these dreadful skins that we must shed to start again. The evil things that we can do are easy if we think them through… are easy if we can't return…" (Here Come the Snakes –by Crooked Fingers)
Gyrich's thumb quivered over the green button on the remote.
"Push the button, and I die," Kitty said. It was flat, a statement, nothing more. "But so do you."
Gyrich held his breath. He didn't blink. He didn't move a muscle. Just in case. There were three bone claws protruding from his chest and he didn't want to die.
Kitty was phased, her head and shoulders protruding from the floor. Her hand on Rogue's wrist was the only thing keeping Gyrich alive. If she let go…
Rogue held her bare hand beside Kitty's face.
"You can't touch me, Rogue, I'm phasing."
"I didn't have to touch Emma, Kitty. Wanna test this theory?"
Dang it! This is exactly why I didn't want to do this anymore, Professor. Sticky sits like this. Out loud, she said, "You can't do this Rogue. You'll regret it."
"Why? 'Cause the X-Men don't kill? 'Cause Ah don't kill? Haven't you been paying attention at all tonight?"
I knew this was a bad idea. Rogue on this mission, too many complications. I can't believe I let it get this far.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"So shut your windows. Lock your doors. Here come the snakes, you best be best be sure, to keep your conscience bolted tight 'cause they'll be lying waiting…" (Here Come the Snakes –by Crooked Fingers)
"Rogue, no! Don't!"
It was too late. The fire was burning, her rage and the flames fierce as one. She did not forgive. Nobody won. As much as she cried, it wasn't enough to stop the pain, to stop the flames, to undo what was done. Regrets were like fingers. You couldn't cut them off and still write your epitaph. It wasn't her first regret. It wouldn't be her last. Though, sometimes regret was pleasure and pain. Somehow, she still had all ten fingers. She was slippery like that.
"But ya (cough) told meh ta, (cough) Mama!" She couldn't breathe. The smoke was thick and black. She couldn't breathe… but she didn't mind. It was finally over. Finally over.
Wasn't it?
Jean raked the pillow off her face. She choked for breath. She looked to Scott, sleeping beside her. He hadn't stirred. She leaned on the pillow now on her lap. Her own hands cradled her face. Scott was asleep.
"Ahem."
Emma was sitting Indian style between Jean and Scott's feet. Jean clutched the pillow and accused Emma with a look.
"Don't blame me," Emma said. She was peaceful, eye's closed, as though meditating or concentrating deeply. "I didn't have to do anything. You tried to smother yourself with the pillow all by yourself."
Jean sighed and calmed herself. It had been one heck of a dream, if it could even be called a dream. Jean looked to Scott once more. She held her gaze there when she said, "Your doing, I assume."
"We need to talk… alone," Emma said, but continued concentrating.
"Then it's true." It was more breath than voice.
"Eleven isn't Eleven," Emma said.
"I think I know," Jean said.
Emma nodded. "I thought you might."
Once upon a time, a girl forgot. She cut off more than a finger or two. She cut off eight years.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Balled up in the corner, the devil never dies. Vending venom, sickly sweet, to help you through the night. Well, you say you're an angel, but I say you're a liar 'cause you were burning long before you crept into this fire…" (Here come the Snakes –by Crooked Fingers)
She hung by her legs as she lifted the ceiling tile and slid it to one side. Her targets were near. She had heard the two men's conversation before they rounded the corner, before she uncoiled. Now she just hung there upside down, ignoring the pressure of the blood rushing to her head, waiting for them to pass under her. Her favorite weapon, her garrote, was held ready in her hands.
They passed. She dropped.
No thought of landing creased her brow. All she KNEW was the two men in white and black suits. One was chosen, as though not of her free will since she had made no thought to choose him, and then all she KNEW was him, the man in black and white on the left. She narrowed her focus again and all she KNEW was the set of his shoulders below his head and the few inches of flesh of his neck in between. And she was falling through the ceiling hole, though she wasn't even conscious of it anymore. All she KNEW was that few sparse inches of flesh between head and shoulders.
Her arms snapped out, twisted, jerked, and snapped to her sides as far as they could stretch. His hands gasped at his throat as he stumbled and gawked. Using the garrote grips as a fulcrum, she whipped her legs around and under her. Her knees slammed into his back, sending them both tumbling to the ground. His arms went out to catch himself. His knee hit the tile, then his hands, then his chest, and she was waiting for his head to snap forward and crack against the tiled floor, knocking him out. But it didn't.
A kick to her side knocked her off of him. It slammed her into the hallway wall and bounced her back on top of the man she'd attacked. The kick had surprised her enough from her one-track attack that she hadn't released the garrote grips. To her horror, the wire had sliced the entire circumference of his neck. She gulped. She didn't have time for much else. There was the second man to contend with still. She shoved her hands forward, twisted, jerked, and swung the wire out from under her first target's chin, catching his chin enough to delay the slap of his face on the tile by a split-second. She looked up to see the second man's eyes widen at the site of her. Garrote pulled taut before her, she crouched on top of his companion who was dying from the wound she'd inflicted on him. The killing wound that she'd inflicted with the garrote. It had been an accident.
"Oh my God," he said when he saw her youthful face.
She ignored his surprised response as she sprung to a crouched position and swung one garrote grip to land squarely in his crotch. He doubled over and she yanked the grip back, catching it carefully, a split second before she back-flipped. Her hands planted expertly on the tile floor between the dying man's knees and as her legs whipped back over her head, she kicked the second man's head, snapping him back upright… sort of. He fell back against the wall and slipped to the floor, all the while clutching the family jewels and his now bloodied and broken nose. He blinked several times to clear his sight since he did not truly believe who his vision told him was his attacker. He watched her legs finish their back-flip motion over her head and land, left, right, catlike between his companion's feet.
"You're just a kid," he stammered as she stalked toward him. His hand was on his gun, but he couldn't bring himself to draw and shoot this little girl coming towards him. He had a daughter of his own.
One step.
"I'm thirteen."
Two steps.
"And apparently," three steps, "old enough."
Four steps.
She dropped the garrote, slapped her hands to her thighs, and leapt. She grinned as he raised his hands up as though to ward off a blow. It was just as she expected. It played right to her movements. Both hands left her thighs one dagger heavier. She folded and crisscrossed her arms and pulled back across to snag a hand on each blade. One blade passed through his right hand and then embedded into the wall, pinning him there. She released that blade—sure of its hold in the wall—and sidestepped to pull the man's arms taut with her hold on the other blade that had struck through his left hand. She never once made notice of the sounds of his pains. She was living, breathing, acting on her training now. She was doing her foster mother proud.
"The code," she said. His eyes were on his hand that was pinned to the wall. She jerked his other hand and the pain of that whipped his attention to her.
"The code," she repeated. His face went cold and his gray eyes met her emerald green eyes as though he saw her for the first time. She wasn't a little girl like his daughter. She was a trained spy and killer. Her eyes were as cold and stony as his were now. The scrawny, budding body and cherubim face were no more than an elaborate disguise. At least, that's what he realized now.
"I can't," he stated firmly.
She twisted the blade in his hand. He responded with a tightening of muscle and a stubborn intake of breath.
"Last chance," she said.
He yanked his hand back out of her grip. She had no superhuman strength, after all, and he was a full-grown man. It threw her off balance. The blade sliced though her glove to nick her finger, distracting her further. He swung his blade pierced hand at her face. She jerked back, but she was too close and wasn't quick enough to evade the blow completely. The blade sliced through her tight leggings and caught in the meat of her calf as she fell back on her butt.
He grinned at her wince of pain and said, "I won't tell you. You'll have to kill me too."
She ignored him. She eyed the wound, specifically the skin bared by her sliced legging. There was a minimal amount of space that separated that small amount of her bare leg from his bare hand. It was just enough to see a sliver of light between them. She marveled at it a moment before she grasped his hand. He expected her to pull his hand away from her leg, or to at least pull the blade out. He didn't expect what she did do. She shoved his hand against her leg. She pressed and ground it against her.
Bare skin met bare skin.
The pain subsided for his confusion. She flicked her eyes to him in time to see the confusion replaced by an altogether different pain. She watched him intently as she felt his thoughts leave his mind and enter hers. And then she couldn't see at all. She couldn't feel the blade. She couldn't smell her sweat, her blood, or his blood. She couldn't hear their breaths. Everything in her was diverted to the transfer of him into her.
Mark is my companion's name. We are not close friends. We barely like each other. But we had often been assigned together. I had four scrambled eggs, slightly runny with lots of cheese, pepper, and butter, for breakfast…
She continued to press his hand to her leg, trying to use it as a focus, as though she could filter what she got from him. But she couldn't. She'd been trying to, but she had no success so far. Mystique had instructed her to practice on every assignment. This was her first assignment. It wasn't working. It never worked. It was all a rush, all at once, practically indistinguishable, except for a bit here and there. And it was getting more jumbled the longer she held on. It was too much, too much.
I had sex with the waitress from the bar the night before… and three days before that… and two weeks ago… and three weeks ago… and my mother died last winter… she had cancer. I love her. I miss her. She was a wonderful mother. She was a better mother than my ex-wife was to our daughter. My daughter is ten and I have custody of her.
Her eyes snapped open to find that he was slumped unconscious against the wall and floor. Tears ran down her cheeks as she jerked his hand—and the blade—away from her leg in a panicked rush. But the thoughts wouldn't stop. They wouldn't stop.
My father is still alive. But we find it hard to speak since my mother died. Every time we get together, we each remind the other of her and our grief resurfaces. We loved her so much. We'd felt so loved by her. And my daughter misses her grandparents. She has the same eyes as my mother. My father always mentions that when we do visit.
Rogue smacked her hands to her temples. Again, again, again she smacked, in time with crying, "Shut up, shut up, shut up. No, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."
She didn't care if she were caught. She didn't care if anyone heard. She didn't care until a cold barrel of a gun pierced the fever when it bumped against her crown.
She froze.
"You missed one, little girl," a male voice said as he bumped the gun against Rogue's crown again. The motion of the gun and the direction of the voice told Rogue that the man was standing, was probably about 5' 10" tall, and was no more than two feet behind her. The barrel bumped against her crown once more, followed by, "Get up."
Rogue grinned.
She rolled to the side, sweeping her legs in a windmill fashion so that her injured leg knocked the gun out of this third man's hand a moment before her stronger, uninjured leg caught his knee enough to knock him off balance. As he fell, she rolled her body up to a crouch—careful to keep her weight off the injured leg—and tugged one of her gloves off. This third man started to rise, but Rogue made no move to jump on him to hold him down. Instead she jerked his pant leg up and positioned her bared hand over his bared calf.
The man's eyes widened in horror. He understood the threat that her bare skin posed. He knew what she could do. Only a few people knew about her power and he shouldn't have been one of them. He hadn't been there to see what she'd done to the second man.
Rogue huffed. "You've had your fun, Mama," she said. She nodded to the hand Mystique was slipping inside the coat, then continued, "Don't give me a reason to hurt you."
The hand remained in place under the cover of the jacket. The jacket, however, melted away, as did the figure of the man. The features rippled into that of Rogue's foster mother, Mystique. As soon as Rogue saw Mystique's cool yellow eyes meet her own emerald eyes, Rogue fought to keep from leaping into her foster mother's arms. After the assault of using her powers, more than anything she wanted the comfort of a loving mother's embrace. But she had the absolute knowledge that she wouldn't get it. They were on a job. And the job was not complete.
Rogue steeled herself.
Mystique looked to the second man as she stood. She immediately saw the rise and fall of his chest. He was breathing. "He's still alive," Mystique said accusingly.
Rogue nodded and Mystique scowled.
"Did you get the code?"
"He wouldn't say. Ah had ta… ta touch him."
"Did you get the code?" Mystique asked again, her anger rising. She didn't care about the details. She just wanted the answer to her question.
Rogue wouldn't face Mystique as she said, "I don't know. Maybe. I have to sort through his memories."
"Damn it, girl. When are you going to control it?" Mystique asked, not expecting an answer. She yanked the knife out of his hand and jabbed it into his throat. "No witnesses," she grunted out as she yanked out the other knife, the one stuck into the wall, and jabbed it through his eye, into his brain, and twisted. She checked the other downed man, smiling satisfactorily at Rogue when she found him dead by a garrote wound.
"Let's go," she said. Mystique got up, turned on her heels, and headed down the hall in the opposite direction of Rogue. She never once looked back to see if Rogue followed.
Then again, why would she? Where else would Rogue go?
Impostor Eleven knows.
"Lumina, come and wrap around me. Lumina, take me through the snow. Eve took a train. Eve took a train. Went to see her man. Melting inside, Melting away Like butter in the pan…" (Lumina –by Joan Osborne)
Rogue never did recall those codes… or the kill.
Once upon another time, she forgot… again.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"So keep your shadow out of sight. The time is right to hide away, to keep your conscience frozen numb. The time has come. Don't be afraid…" (Here Come the Snakes –by Crooked Fingers)
This was how the mission started.
They were separate, moving on their own. It upped the chances that one of them would get past the security and reach the destination. Kitty knew it would be deadly if she got caught by one of those pesky dampening fields while phasing through a wall or floor.
Half-in, half-out… Jeeze, can't think like that.
Did she have to wait to find out, just try it and see?
No. Her mission partner was monitoring ahead for her.
"All clear."
Kitty phased through the wall and into a conference room. Just like all the other rooms she'd passed through in the last ten minutes this one was so dark so she couldn't make out any of the furnishings. When, again, there were lights on in the rooms, she'd know she was inside the most protected barrier, the area of the building that never shut down because it was too secret and too valuable to be left alone overnight. That's where she wanted to reach. However, she didn't know when that would be. The building plans she didn't match the actual room layout anymore. Now she was blindly phasing through floors and walls, seeking her rendezvous point by blindly roaming the governmental maze of the building. Well, almost blindly.
"Concentrate, Kitty… Your thoughts are distracting me, okay, Sugar?"
"Sure, Rogue."
Who needed communicators when there was telepathy? Rogue and Kitty had the communicators nonetheless, just in case they were trapped in a dampening field. Still, the telepathy was making it a less risky trek through the building since Rogue was scanning every mind she came across for information on the building's layout, security systems, and personnel locations. It wasn't a quick process, though. There was a major interference ring deep in the bowels of the installation. It was their destination and it was producing significant noise to keep even Rogue's use of Xavier's telepathy from reaching through it. Kitty and Rogue had to pause before phasing through every wall or floor so Rogue could check it out first. Even then, there were walls and floors that Rogue could not glean information on. But, so far they had been lucky.
Kitty paused in the room, waiting for Rogue's directions.
"Stop!" Rogue yelled, "Unphase, now!"
Too late.
"Ahhh!" Kitty yelped. A dampening wave had swept over her. She was now a vulnerable unconscious heap on the floor of the conference room. She hadn't been fast enough.
"Kitty! Kitty! Shit! Kit!" Rogue called out before the dampening wave swept over her as well.
Rogue evaded the dampening wave. As soon as she saw it pass through the wall she shut down all her powers. She'd been flying, so she immediately fell to the floor, but just as the wave encompassed her, a horrible realization impacted her. "It's not just a dampening wave. It's a sensor wave. It's a tracking wave. It would let them all know I am here and I am a mutant." She couldn't let that happen. They already had Kitty.
So, she flew as fast and as hard as she could, straight up. She didn't look back. She didn't see the wave slip just a hair's breadth below her pointed toes. She flew/phased up through the ceiling, through the next room and into the one above that before she stopped. She never looked down. She never knew how close she came.
"So tear away these dreadful skins that we must shed to start again. The sickest thing they did to you they did because you let them through, they did because you let them in…" (Here Come the Snakes –by Crooked Fingers)
Fifteen minutes later, Rogue was back on track of her mission, heading towards the interference ring. It was, ironically, the same direction that Kitty had been taken by several guards. Her initial instinct was to rescue Kitty, call it quits, and bolt. But, Mystique had taught her better than that. The mission was most important. Still, Rogue kept a telepathic eye on Kitty. As long as Kitty was uninjured and in no immediate danger, Rogue would continue their mission. Kitty was merely unconscious and in the care of guards, and it was not enough of a threat for her to dissemble. That would have been Mystique's orders, at least.
She knew it was too easy when she reached the edge of the interference ring without once seeing a security officer or other personnel. It was too easy when she touched the guard at the only door that lead inside the interference ring and used his key code to pass inside it. So easy, she didn't even try to phase through the wall which the guard's memory had told her didn't have any active dampening fields within it. Active, being the operative word. How dumb would it be for her to phase through and SNAP, the field's activated, and she's snagged in a web reminiscent of her own spastic mindscape? It was too easy, too easy. She even found the decipher rooms on her first try.
Taptaptaptaptaptap… Brennan's fingers danced over the keys. He called out, "Hey Janey, could you send me a transgress file overlay?"
Taptaptaptaptaptap… He waited for a response. Taptaptaptaptap…
"Janey!"
Taptaptaptap… Janey couldn't answer. Rogue had already taken care of her.
"I need an overlay!"
Taptaptaptaptap… Thunk. He slumped onto the keyboard.
Rogue pushed the man off his terminal and to the floor before she began searching the terminal. She got hung up a couple of times. The technology was two years beyond her knowledge. She'd stopped keeping up with securities sometime after she'd joined the X-Men. Actually, it was more like the programming technology on the screen before her was in between her own knowledge. Rogue was familiar with the Shiar technology, which was far more advanced than even this, more than twenty or thirty generations above the U.S. government's technology. Rogue was familiar enough with Shiar programming that she could even design a few danger room or security programs in Shiar if she had to. But technology could go in a lot of directions in twenty or thirty generations, and Rogue had purposely let herself slip in keeping up with those directions. She'd hoped that her lack of knowledge would keep the X-Men from not trusting her, when she first joined, and later, would keep Xavier from involving her on any more of these Mystique-esque missions. That didn't go as planned though. Instead, Xavier teamed Kitty up with Rogue.
Kitty was to handle the computer stuff. Rogue, well, she was to handle everything else. Rogue didn't even know that Xavier had Kitty doing covert ops like this. Just as the other X-Men likely had no idea that Rogue performed these missions for Xavier.
Wonder how many of us he got doing stuff like this behind the other's backs, Rogue wondered to herself. Wolvie? Gambit? Storm, maybe? How many of us he got dragging up our dirty pasts to help him with the cause?
Taptaptaptaptaptap… Rogue searched through the terminal faster and faster as she became more and more familiar with it. She had a quick mind, an adaptive mind. Part of that was from her mutant ability to assimilate thoughts and abilities of others into herself. Another part of it came from Mystique's training. A little of it came from fending for herself after she was forced to leave home before Mystique took her in. But the majority of it, she had to admit, came from the intellect's she'd absorbed over the years. She got their talents and skills along with memories and powers after all. But, the telepathy she had access to was also an aid at the moment. When she got stuck, she just peeked into one of the minds of the two terminal operators she'd just disposed of for the knowledge she needed to continue. She hadn't absorbed them to get the knowledge she needed to access the computers. She didn't want to do that unless she had no other choice.
In the back of Rogue's mind, she acknowledged that she never did need Kitty's help. Rogue could pull any information she needed from someone in the know that was at the installation. And in places like this, there was always someone in the know nearby. The purposes in this place were too secret, too dangerous, and too vital not to be, even in the wee hours of the night. Only, there were scarce few people inside the interference ring. She couldn't let her paranoia over that distract her, especially since other not so friendly thoughts were already distracting her. Somewhere in that part of Rogue's mind that kept track of things that Rogue tired to ignore, that place that allowed her to lie to herself, Rogue realized that Xavier had used Kitty's involvement as a bribe to get Rogue take this assignment.
"I would like you to accompany Kitty on a mission, Rogue," Xavier had said to her. Rogue didn't need telepathy or even Gambit's empathy to know the true statement. What'd he'd really meant was, 'I want you to do this Rogue. But if you don't agree, I'll send Kitty by herself into the dangers of this mission. Kitty, who's out living her own normal life right now.'
"How do you rate it?" She had asked him in return. Really, what she had said was, 'How dangerous is this for her?' That made Rogue recall the thing that was making her seventh sense sing. Since Kitty's capture, Rogue had been making progress way, way too easily.
Can't let myself get distracted. If there's a trap here, I'll deal with it when it comes up. Might as well take advantage of the easiness of it. Rogue shook her head to clear it, and refocused on her task.
Janey and the hyper young man that Rogue had subdued were both code experts and were trying to solve messages in two of the diaries. Janey was assigned one diary and this man, Rogue pulled his name from his unconscious brain, Gary, was assigned the other.
So Xavier's information was accurate on that aspect at least. Gyrich had two diaries in his possession… Okay, so he's got me drawing on my training with Mystique to further our cause, not just his cause. It'd been a long time since anything she did with or for the X-Men was for his cause. She doesn't remember exactly when, but at some point it became her cause as well… Just like it had for Gambit… Just like it had for so many of us.
Suddenly, Xavier's encouragement for them to use trades of their pasts, the things they had sworn never to return to doing, didn't seem so seedy. In truth, he was trying to help them heal themselves. In embracing his dream, in making it their own and becoming better people for it, Xavier returned their favor by trying to accept that their own tainted pasts were what made them who they were today. And he was proud of who they were. Not proud that they had sided with him, but proud of the people they were in entirety. He wanted them to embrace their pasts as they embraced his dream for the future.
Including me, she realized with a start.
He'd been subtle about it with Rogue. He requested her involvement of these missions that so resembled the missions she had performed under Mystique. On Xavier's missions, she used the same skills, intellect and physical, as the spy/terrorist missions for Mystique. Only, they had a few small differences. Rogue wasn't expected to kill. The purpose of the mission supported a goal that Rogue preferred; one she questioned less because it felt more right with her. And finally, and perhaps the most significant difference, for Rogue at least, was that Xavier didn't treat her as coldly as Mystique did about them.
With realization came something else. A warmth spread throughout her, like she'd shed an icy skin that was no longer needed for protection because a more durable and pliable one had formed in the shedding. Rogue had disrobed a layer of pain and insecurity. She'd revealed more of herself… no, not revealed, but regained.
"Zero Beta Niner Beta Alpha Zero Niner Omega," Rogue said and smiled. That had been the code she'd never recalled. That was the code she absorbed from that man so long ago when she was just a budding teenager, the man that Mystique had put the knife through his eye.
Sad and edgy. "Hi, there," Thirteen said. She'd been released from the Core.
"Lumina, see me in the dark. Eve had to ask. Eve had to ask, What is wrong with this? Here is the place, now is the time. Let's invent the kiss. Lumina, come and wrap around me…" (Lumina –by Joan Osborne)
Sometimes, stories begin with 'Once upon a time' and end with 'Happily ever after.'
Sometimes.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"So shut your windows, lock your doors. Here come the snakes, you best be sure, to keep your conscience bolted tight 'cause they'll be lying waiting…" (Here Come the Snakes –by Crooked Fingers)
The waiter led Gambit's contact through the restaurant. Every person looked up at him. None dared meet his eyes. They averted their attention to his simple, yet tailored, navy blue business suit. They envied his sure steps and solid stature. He was over six feet tall and had a broad chest. They feared the strength muscle that was so obviously in waiting beneath the suit and the strength of mind inside his head. They looked no higher than the grim set of his jaw. Not even Gambit met his eyes as he crossed the room. But, then, Gambit had other reasons.
A hand tugged on the man's sleeve. The man turned those eyes that nobody would meet onto the owner of that hand.
The owner said, "Mr. Pullot, Chancellor, meet my wife… my kids." It was cheery and excited.
His kind brown eyes alit with glee and he said, "Call me Cael, Simon, please." He loved meeting members of fellow clans. He so hated it when they felt intimidated by him. He let Simon lead him to his family. After meeting them and kissing the kiddies' cheeks, he made his way to Gambit.
Gambit chuckled, thankful that Cael's entrance had distracted him from his thoughts of Rogue and Impostor Eleven. Cael frowned. He really hated how people feared him so easily. His rank in the New York Thieves Guild was the primary culprit for that. Everyone in the Guilds took it too much to heart, he thought. He was no more than any of them were. He was just a man.
He sat and nodded at the waiter. Neither Gambit nor Cael spoke until the waiter put privacy screens in place surrounding them. The screens had a nifty way of muting their words from the other restaurant patrons. It also interfered with any recording devices that may have been hidden on or around their person or table and such.
"I got a disc, Cael," Gambit said with a flick of his risk that produced the disc into Cael's sight, but not his reach. "A bit o' interesting information on it, n'est-ce pas?"
"So I was right about Janey?"
"Oui." A pang of guilt struck him. He was careful not to show it outwardly. Went too far wit' dat femme, he thought as he remembered that pinch two nights ago. It had been the night he returned to the mansion drunk. The night he found Bobby asleep with Rogue on her bed.
Cael held his hand out for the disc. Gambit didn't give it.
"What's y' interest in de Libri Veritatum?"
Cael did not pull back his hand. His eyebrow quirked. "You've seen the disc. You know."
"Why de Guild involvement? Unless it's personal?"
Cael relented and lowered his hand. Gambit placed the disc on the table in front of Cael. "My boy's a mutant, you know. He's known Janey since college."
"Martin? Why send me, den. Why not send him? Dis didn't need my expertise. And if it's personal—"
"Gyrich, Remy," Cael said, cutting Gambit off. "This is Henry Peter Gyrich's personal project. And this isn't as simple as the sentinels."
Now, Gambit was really interested. Something had always bothered him about that man. It was something that Sinister had said to him once, something Gambit had thought inconsequential at the time. Gambit wished he hadn't blown off so many of Sinister's lectures in those days.
Cael ran both hands through his salt and pepper hair, then with his head still tilted down, said, "Janey came to Martin with the basics. She knew he was a mutant. It scared her, but she never held it against him. She's strong like that. She took the job with Mutant Affairs hoping she would learn more about mutants. She had no idea what she was getting involved in."
Gambit was getting antsy. He wanted to hear about Gyrich, not about Janey, but he couldn't push Cael. It would have been against Guild protocol, not that Gambit was always one to follow it, but more importantly, it would have been rude. Cael had covered for Gambit on several occasions and not once had Cael questioned Gambit's reasons for needing to be covered. If Gambit was rude enough to question Cael's intentions with the diaries, then the least he could do was to let Cael answer in his own way.
"Janey was hired only a few weeks after Bastion's OZT had been canned. She had interviewed with Gyrich personally, although she didn't know who he was at the time. She's done her research since then." Cael lifted his eyes to Gambit then. There was real fear there. "If it's true, Gambit. If he can build this thing she's working on… this Seether project? It'll make OZT seem like child's play."
Gambit flicked his eyes to the disc then back to Cael. "Dere's not'ing about any kind o' machine on dat disc, Cael. It only deals wit' somet'ing called Days of Future Past. Barely even mentions de Seether project."
"It's only half of it. She has a partner, some kid, Gary something. Logics whiz like her. They worked together, but separate you know. I need his—"
Gambit raised his hand. "Don't bot'er asking, Cael."
Cael sunk. Gambit was his only hope. He couldn't bring what he had so far to the Guild. Without tangible proof of the machine itself, the Guild won't get involved. They don't involve themselves with politics outside the Guilds themselves. They behave like a country all to themselves… like organized nomads spread all across the world. They would only act against a government itself if the politics affected the Guilds as a whole, down to the clans on a widespread scale. And that's what the machine would do. The ratio of mutant to human births was so high now that Cael believed that hardly a clan member would be effected in some way or other. He had been sure Gambit would help him. Not just because he was a mutant, but since he had settled in New York, Gambit had been increasingly interested in mutant related assignments. Over the last year or so, Gambit had only accepted two or three assignments that didn't relate to advancing mutant acceptance. That was how Cael new Gambit. Cael was Chancellor of Mutant Affairs; a committee started eight years ago by Jean-Luc LeBeau, Remy's adoptive father, and the man whom recommended Remy to Cael a little over a year ago.
Gambit smirked. It was a peak of the Remy that the X-Men knew and loved. It was a break in his Guild regalia. "It's already being handled." Cael's sigh of relief followed. Gambit stood and said, "I'll contact y' when I get it."
Cael grabbed his arm, leading him back to the chair, and said, "One more thing." Gambit didn't sit back down. Cael released him, and said, "A third book."
"Where?"
"Cairo."
Gambit knocked on the screen, it was removed just as Cael pocketed the disk, and Gambit left.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Balled up in the corner, the Devil never dies. Vending venom, sickly sweet to help you through the night…" (Here Come the Snakes –by Crooked Fingers)
The first directive of their mission was to all copy the files of the Seether project. Rogue was already on the fourth disc. Gotta love this high speed tech. While waiting for the fourth disc to finish copying, Rogue performed the first half of the second directive of their mission, one that only Rogue could do. She touched her bare hand to Gary's face. And held on.
Images seeped into her. Flip, flip, flip—dinner in the cafeteria—lunch in the cafeteria—breakfast in the cafeteria---flip, flip, flip. They got faster and faster the longer she held, and now they were filled with a sense of understanding, an appreciation of chaos and logics. She'd gained the skill he'd been hired for. But she didn't have what she really needed.
Flip-flip-flip-flip-flip—diary page—diary page—meeting with Janey and Gyrich—
"Gyrich!" That was Impostor Eleven, of course, who Rogue still didn't know was an impostor. With the recognition of Gyrich's name, Impostor Eleven stopped what she'd been doing and rifled through the memories Rogue was absorbing.
The images flipped exponentially faster with her assistance. Rogue found it harder to view the memories for herself. Flipflipflipflipflipflipflip—blur—blur—blur—blur—blur—Gyrich holding two diaries—blur—blur—blur—
Rogue prayed she'd get what she needed soon in the transfer, because she really didn't want to kill him any more than she wanted another persona in her head. She absorbed him rather than psi-scan him. This way she couldn't forget. And it was quicker… if only she could control it. But, now Impostor Eleven was in on it.
BlurBlurBlurBlurBlur—Lily's smile—BlurBlur—
Enough!* Rogue ripped her hand away. The transfer stopped; the memories slowed. Blur-Blur-Blur-flip-flip-flip,flip.Flip.Flip… Rogue caught her breath and replaced her glove on her hand.
Beep. Copy Complete.
"If ya ever do that again," Rogue told Impostor Eleven as she ejected the completed disc and injected the next one.
"An' ya'll do what? Hmmm…"
Enter. Beep. Copying.
"I'll think of something," Rogue said. She looked to Gary. He was still breathing. She checked his pulse with her gloved hand. It was steady. Like that means anything. Just 'cause the body lives don't mean it's any more than an empty husk.
"He's not empty," Thirteen said. Sad and edgy.
"How do ya know?" It was skeptical. She felt Thirteen pull a blade of grass from her mindscape and chew on it. Thirteen was sitting, propped up against a simple gravestone. The name Mark Sumpter was engraved on it. A mirrored void surrounded her.
"I was in there for almost ten years, Sugah. Like SHE said, it gets real boring. SHE learned control. Ah learned how to sort. Ah can't filter the thoughts. But Ah can find what's there real quick." She tugged at the grass and leaned her head back on top of the gravestone. A sad nostalgia filled her. "Ya didn't get it all." Sad and edgy.
Rogue bit her lip. She didn't want to ask this, didn't want to make Thirteen do this for her. She hated having to ask for help. But she needed to know if she was successful. "Did Ah get—"
"Ah'll check," Thirteen said. She spat out the grass and stood. She walked to the mirror void, which really was a wall. It was like that Vietnam Memorial Wall. Black. Reflective. Close up there were names, titles, and dates embedded into every available space reaching impossibly high, and completely encircling her. There were no seems, no breaks in the mirrored surface. It was a prison of her own making; she had to look at herself forever.
Thirteen closed her eyes and rested her bare palms on the wall, feather light. The wall spun under her palms. She read the names and titles and dates like Braille. The spinning stopped and the wall scrolled down to place Gary Brazer's memories under her touch. She pressed one engraving after another, the memory playing on the wall with each touch. Despite the images on the wall, Thirteen's reflection always faced her.
"Ya got it." She removed her hands from the wall and the images disappeared. Still, her reflection remained. Sad and edgy.
"Thank you."
Thirteen shrugged, returned to sitting against the gravestone, and chewed on another blade of grass.
Beep. Copy Complete.
Rogue ejected the disc, replaced it, and commenced copying. She checked what remained to be copied, compared it to the space on the disc. Last one. She turned away from the computer and headed around the divider to the other workstation. Her eyes flicked to Gary as she passed him. Your turn, Janey. She removed her glove…
Wait, Irene's web-shrouded figure said.
Rogue froze. She didn't know why. Something in her felt wrong. It wasn't the seventh sense she'd gotten from Carol. Though, that was still singing for a reason she was still unaware of. It was something different. A warning she could hear… almost. She shook it off and took another step.
Wait, repeated Irene's web-shrouded figure.
Again, Rogue froze. She looked at her bared hand, then to Janey. Perhaps, she should wait for the last disc to finish, for the hard drive to be erased for good, before she absorbed Janey. Just in case. She put the glove back on and returned to the mainframe. And she waited.
And waited.
Beep. Copy complete.
Rogue removed the disc. She packed her discs and every other disc in the room, on both Gary and Janey's sides, into her bag. She had the urge to just smash the monitors and mainframe to bits, but didn't. That would've been loud, and even though she was sure a trap lie ahead of her, she didn't see the point of calling attention to herself just yet. She went to the mainframe and unplugged it. If she wasn't going to be loud, then she wasn't going to risk knocking out all the electricity on accident either. She enveloped the main frame in a magnetic field. Moments later, everything was erased. There was nothing left on it. A cursor wouldn't even show up when it was turned on. She disabled all the monitors in Gary and Janey's work stations by magnetic fields as well. With all of that completed, she swung the bag onto her back, and approached Janey with her bare hand. Before making contact, she reached out to Kitty telepathically to check on her. Kitty was unconscious still, but she was physically and emotionally fine.
Flesh touched flesh. Only a graze, though. Her head reeled from just that little bit, and she hated having to touch Janey again, but she had an idea to maybe make this absorption easier, more productive.
"Thirteen?"
Sad. "Ah'll try, but Ah ain't promising anything." Edgy.
"It's better than nothing," Rogue said. She felt Thirteen work her palms against the wall, feather light, and close her eyes. The wall began spinning and scrolling, and one last time, Rogue made skin to skin contact with Janey.
This time Rogue saw the memories play over the wall. They overlaid each other, the wall spinning, scrolling underneath. The wall would jerk to a stop for an instant of an instant as a memory was embedded into the wall underneath a newly added name, title, date. Then it would again spin, scroll, then stop, embed, and repeat.
Rogue watched it all with new eyes. It was so organized. Not like usual. It was true that she couldn't control it, that she couldn't filter what memories transferred into her. But, the chaos was significantly diminished. It felt like the first, albeit it baby, step towards controlling her absorption powers. It was wonderful. It was liberating. It was another puzzle piece towards Union.
Smack! Kitty snapped awake with the impact of a hand on her cheek.
Rogue jolted, but didn't stop the transfer. She felt for Thirteen, saw her still engrossed in categorizing the memories, and decided not to interrupt her. Kitty wasn't in danger from what her telepathy, Emma's telepathy, had detected. She kept the touch contact, but kept the telepathic contact with Kitty as well.
Telepathic view.
"Gyrich," Kitty spat.
"Yes, X-Man," he said while holding her communicator for her to see. It's an X with a circle around it. "Shouldn't advertise so much. It'd be easier to keep from being identified when you're caught."
"Catch me, sure, but not hold me," she said before phasing.
Gyrich laughed at the expression on her face. She hadn't phased. She was stuck in handcuffs, on the floor. The floor was cold. A question creased her brow, but before she could ask it, Gyrich answered, "Collars are an archaic technology, X-Man." He motioned to the room they were in and adds, "This is the future."
Kitty examined the room. It greatly resembled the new Cerebro unit that Xavier had built. Kitty had only seen it once, in Xavier's thoughts when he had used it to contact her about this mission. Kitty had asked where he was, since he'd never been able to reach that far with his telepathy before. That's when he sent her an image of Cerebro. She knew the reason for it, really. He had been using it to entice Kitty back to the mansion. Showing her the more powerful telepathic enhancing module was like saying, 'Look at all these new goodies we have. Wouldn't you just love to come and play with them? Technology like this doesn't exist where you are.' She'd succumbed to the temptation, and now she was here. If she didn't make it out of this mission alive, she'd never get to see Cerebro in person.
It was a weird sensation, Rogue's attention being split between the absorption view and the telepathic view. It was like swimming in a migraine. An undertow of nausea pulled her down while the surface current—the head pain—yanked her back up. Up, down, up, down. The sensation itself was nauseating. She knew she had to find a way to focus on one or the other, just for a moment.
Absorption view.
Remy's face, contorted in sexual release, was enough to focus Rogue's attention on the memories playing over the wall. A new image replaced it. Janey, post-coital and pretending to sleep, opens her eyes to see Gambit slip a disc in his duster pocket as easily as he slipped out of her room.
It hurt enough to shove her attention onto the telepathic link with Kitty.
Telepathic view.
The room Kitty and Gyrich were in was round like Cerebro, though many times larger. It was metal… all metal.
'Hope you didn't want to hide it from Magneto,' Kitty thought, 'but then, everyone thinks he's dead, don't they?'
Instead of a chair and a helmet that lowered onto the user's head, the center of the room held a contraption that looked like an iron maiden without all the spikes. It was open, like an ancient Egyptian sarcophagus. The two halves held apart by four hydraulic rods, top left and right, and bottom left and right. The halves were rectangular, like oversized cereal boxes. On the interior of both halves there were human shaped hollows that looked like it could hold a small man or a woman on the tall side. The metal surrounding the hollow, forming the rectangular cereal box shape, was at least a foot thick at its thinnest point, where the hollow was deepest. Flexible ribbed metal chords stretched from the solid sides of both halves.
An image played through Kitty's head. The halves closing, liquid plastic pouring in through those chords and filling the hollow. When the hydraulics again sounded, the halves would again separate, revealing a life size doll. Kitty shuddered, she knew that this wasn't an extravagant toy manufacturing device. Knowing Gyrich, it was a way to destroy mutants. Her initial association with the medieval torture device, an iron maiden, was likely much more accurate.
Kitty didn't bother asking if he was going to put her in it. 'What would be the point of that?'
Gyrich saw where she was looking. He saw her fear and her stubborn determination fighting that fear. He grinned, wide as he could. This sight before him, this vision of a mutant's doom, was what he had been working towards for the majority of his professional life. If every last mutant suffered Kitty's fear, then it would almost make up for the loss he suffered when he wife and daughter died. Since their death, he'd lived only for his profession.
Switched again. Absorption view.
Playing out on the wall was Gary pointing out and explaining a page in the diary to Gyrich and Janey. On the page is Kitty, handcuffed, her eyes x-ed out; Gyrich pointing a gun with smoke trails coming off it; Rogue, flying towards a break in a circle wrapping around Gyrich and Kitty; and Rogue again, crumpled in a heap just inside the break in the circle.
Rogue yanked her hand away from Janey, breaking the transfer. She felt Thirteen thrown back from the wall because of the abrupt break. Thirteen was stunned, and like with Gary, there were trails of the memories swooning through Rogue. The chaos returned with Thirteen's disconnection from the wall. Images blurred through her, but Rogue swore she saw a page of the diary with Rachel, in her Hound attire, and Kitty on it.
Was that a leash linking Rachel to a box? Rogue shook her head, trying to clear her mind of the memories. Focus, girl. Focus on Kitty. Kitty.
The telepathic connection bobbed to the surface.
Telepathic view.
"To make the future happen," Gyrich said, pulling out a gun, "I only need you to scream." He shot her.
Rogue was already flying down the hall. The round exterior wall came into view.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Well, you say you're an angel, but I say you're a liar 'cause you were burning long before you crept into this fire…" (Here Come the Snakes –by Crooked Fingers)
Jean and Emma sat in the unoccupied bedroom. They were on the floor, facing each other, not a speck of furniture around them. Both had their eyes closed. Both were concentrating their telepathic powers intently. Jean was linked into Emma, seeing what Emma saw. Emma clung to a web that tugged on her chest and ended in a particular location on the astral plane. It ended in a private residence within a private residence there. It was the hardest task Emma had ever performed with her telepathy. The strain showed in the sweat beading on her brow and soaking her blouse.
But, it was worth it. Her and Jean had retraced the catch into Rogue and were maintaining a view through Emma's ghost.
"Why should I help you?" Emma's ghost asked.
The six web-shrouded figures responded, speaking in tandem, one following the other as though they had rehearsed their answers. Or as though their answers were being fed to them by someone or something else. Of course, Psylocke's web-shrouded figure could not speak, but the others did.
"To prevent the worst case scenario, of course."
"To prevent Union from going wrong."
"To prevent the end."
"Of Rogue."
"Of Everything."
Psylocke's web-shrouded figure peaked behind her, then looked back at the group.
"To save the world?" Emma's ghost asked with incredulity. "If Rogue dies the world could end, something like that?"
"Not exactly, no."
"The world does not exist because of her, no."
"She is not that important."
"We weren't."
"Nobody is."
Psylocke's web-shrouded figure again looked behind her.
"Look!" Emma's ghost snapped, yanking Psylocke's web-shrouded figure's attention back with it. "I'm going to need more information than this," Emma's ghost said, "Stop talking in circles and give it to me straight."
"We do the best we can."
"We are dead after all."
"We exist because IT knows of us."
"And Rogue doesn't."
"And IT is sentimental."
"Okay, then. Good luck. See you around." Emma's ghost said as she turned around and started walking off.
"Wait-ait-ait-ait-ait!"
Emma paused
"There-ere-ere-ere-ere are-re-re-re-re risks-sks-sks-sks-sks."
Emma's ghost stopped, but did not turn to face them. She needed more than that.
"Union could be dangerous."
"IT must be precise."
"Steps must be followed."
"IT cannot be distracted."
"Or Union could cause death."
Emma's ghost turned around and smiled. She knew there was more to this Union thing. Nothing is ever all good, and the fact that Impostor Eleven made it seem like Union would solve all of Rogue's problems only made Emma more skeptical. Now, with this admission, they were finally getting somewhere. She faced them squarely and said plainly, "Now tell me what Union is."
Once more, Psylocke's web-shrouded figure looked behind her.
"Union is—"
"Hold on a second," Emma's ghost said. She stomped up to Psylocke's web-shrouded figure. "What's so important, huh? Are we not interesting enough for you?"
Psylocke's web-shrouded figure touched her gag with one hand and lifted up the catch for Emma's ghost to see.
"Yes, you're gagged and bound, it can't be a new experience for you," Emma's ghost said. "You were an experimental girl, so I've heard."
Psylocke's web-shrouded figure scowled at Emma's ghost then gave a nod to the other web-shrouded figures.
"It's-ts-ts-ts-ts HER-ER-ER-ER-ER, Emma-ma-ma-ma-ma."
They dropped through the ground, then emerged back through the ground. They were in a different location.
Hundreds of catches carpeted the ground like a woven rug. In the center swirled the shimmering cloud. One catch shimmered like she did. It was Kitty's catch that shimmered. She'd abandoned toying with Magneto's catch as soon as she'd realized that Kitty and Rogue were on the mission for Xavier. Then she focused all her attention on Kitty's catch. She'd observed them making their way through the installation, progressing on the interference ring. She'd gotten excited when the wave had knocked Kitty out and sent Rogue fleeing.
Finally, some action, she'd exclaimed to herself. She was even happier when Thirteen was released. She'd gotten bored, though, after that, while Kitty was unconscious and Rogue was copying the files. Rogue was just starting on the fourth disc, so she was glad for the company, even if not glad for who that company was. She was also a bit testy.
"It's-ts-ts-ts-ts HER-ER-ER-ER-ER!" She mocked. "Gawd! Do ya'll always have ta be so dramatic!" She swirled nearer them, though never broke the hold on Kitty's catch. "Ah have an identity, ya know. Ya'll agreed on it." The last part was directed to Emma's ghost.
Emma said nothing. But she did smirk as she stepped aside. The child Rogue, the real Eleven, stepped forward. Cody's child ghost followed along behind her.
"Oh. Ah guess ya know then," Impostor Eleven said. She tried for it to sound inconsequential, like she'd been caught with her hands in the cookie jar by a younger sibling who she knew she could intimidate. She did move back rather suddenly, though. She backed up as far from Eleven as she could and still maintain her hold on Kitty's catch. It did not go unnoticed.
Emma's ghost moved closer to Impostor Eleven. The others followed Emma's ghost's lead, keeping Eleven ahead of them to intimidate Impostor Eleven. It was working. Impostor Eleven swirled and shimmered crazily. Cody's web-clothed figure halted them with a raised arm. Then he motioned them back a few steps. Slowly, Impostor Eleven calmed down.
Emma's ghost was about to speak but Eleven jumped in.
"Why Eleven?"
Impostor Eleven shifted from right to left. "Mah mama died when Ah was eleven." She advanced up on Eleven and said, "But then ya wouldn't remembah that, would ya?"
Cody's web-clothed figure placed a gentle hand on Eleven's shoulder and pulled her back a little. Impostor Eleven watched. It wasn't an exact description, since Impostor Eleven had no formal body shape and therefore she had no eyes. It was as accurate way to describe the way she waited as anything else that could describe it. After a few moments, Impostor Eleven floated back a bit as well. Emma's ghost thought there was something a little sad about how she did that. It didn't keep her from interrogating further, though.
"Who ARE you?" Emma's ghost asked.
"Once upon a time, I fantasized being called, 'mother,'" was her answer.
Emma's ghost was about to give a sarcastic quip, but, again, someone spoke first, beat her to it.
"That's a scary thought." It was Cody's child ghost. Emma's ghost had to agree.
"Cody!"
Impostor Eleven was shocked. She had always favored Cody. Thought him worthy of Rogue. She didn't have a chance to indulge in her shock though. It was then that Rogue absorbed Gary during the mission. Both Eleven and her Impostor felt it too.
Cody's ghost and all of the remains of the dead catches tended to Eleven, who had collapsed in what looked like pain… or maybe vertigo? It was hard to say. Emma's ghost, though, she watched Impostor Eleven disperse into nothing again. Kitty's catch had stopped shimmering, too.
"Gyrich!" Impostor Eleven's voice came from the nothingness she'd become. As usual, when she was in this state, her voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.
After a while, Eleven stopped shaking and she climbed up to stand, using Cody's web-clothed figure like a handrail. Impostor Eleven, as well, returned to her previous state. She coalesced into the shimmering cloud form, although, her attention wasn't on those gathered before her.
"If ya ever do that again," Rogue said.
"An' ya'll do what? Hmmm…" Impostor Eleven said.
"I'll think of something," Rogue said.
Eleven whispered to Cody's child ghost, "Thirteen is cool."
Cody's child ghost, having never been good with a secret, even before the kiss, exclaimed, "Thirteen's free? Why didn't ya tell meh?"
That got everyone's attention, especially Emma and Jean, sitting in the unoccupied bedroom. Emma almost lost the contact, but Jean helped her bolster it, and again they bore witness.
"Thirteen?" Emma's ghost asked, pushing her way through the remains of the dead catches to reach Eleven. "Who is she?"
"Don't worry, Emma, she's cool," Cody's child ghost said. "Eleven's told meh all about her."
Eleven elbowed Cody's child ghost. She met Emma's ghost's impatient glare and matched it. "Thirteen is strong… like Her," Eleven, pointing to the shimmering cloud, said.
"But not as strong as meh" Impostor Eleven said. "None of ya'll are as strong as meh." It was triumphant. It was proud.
Eleven scowled at Impostor Eleven. She tugged on Emma's ghost's collar, pulling her down to eye level. "Thirteen is one of the ones that can do stuff. She can sort the absorbed memories bettah than everyone."
Emma's ghost began. "Is that—"
"Wait," Irene's web-shrouded figure said.
Emma's ghost glared at her. Interrupting me is a great way to get me to help you. She was really getting tired of not being able to speak. It was like she wasn't Queen here or something.
"What's-ts-ts-ts going-ing-ing-ing on-n-n-n, Irene-ene-ene-ene?"
"Just wait till Union," Eleven said to Impostor Eleven. She was oblivious to Irene's web-shrouded figure. "Ya'll be just like all of us."
"Wait," repeated Irene's web-shrouded figure.
"Oh-oh-oh-oh, now-ow-ow-ow we-e-e-e see-ee-ee-ee."
Impostor Eleven, having regained her nerve with her anger at Eleven, swirled around the entire group, engulfing them. She focused her words on Eleven, saying. "Not if Ah handle things just right, twirp! Then Ah'll control everything. And won't ya be sorry then."
With everybody talking and with being suffocated by the shimmering cloud, Emma's ghost had had enough.
"SHUT UP!"
Silence.
The shimmering cloud swirled away.
"Okay. One. At. A. Time."
Then Eleven collapsed again and Impostor Eleven shimmered into nothingness again. Rogue had just absorbed Janey. But, this time something different happened. Rogue's mindscape was floating in a thought ocean with contradicting currents. Eleven was pulled under while Impostor Eleven coalesced and dispersed over and over again just at the sea level. The others were caught up in it too. Emma's ghost and the remains of Piotr, Irene, and Cody's dead catches were all dragged down by the undertow caused by the absorption of Janey. Emma and Jean, sitting in the unoccupied bedroom, saw through Emma's ghost's eyes, saw what Eleven saw. The rest were swept along on the surface.
Then it just stopped.
Everyone except for Impostor Eleven were strewn on the ground, even Jean and Emma, sitting in the unoccupied bedroom. Together, Emma and Jean barely managed to hold onto the connection. Impostor Eleven couldn't hold cohesion anymore and dispersed. They didn't see her again that night.
Slowly, they all got up.
"Uhhh… If Ah could throw up, Ah would," Cody's child ghost said.
"Felt like a roller coaster," Eleven said. She was the only one enthused about it.
"Exactly," Cody's child ghost said.
"What was that?" Emma's ghost demanded.
"Ah don't know, but ya think we could get her ta do it again."
"I would prefer that she didn't," Joseph's web-shrouded figure said.
"I second that," Emma's ghost said.
Eleven grasped Cody's child ghost and Cody's web-clothed figure. "No, Rogue, don't!" She ran to Emma and begged her, "Make them stop her, Emma. She'll get caught. Tell Jean. She'll help."
In the unoccupied bedroom, Jean heard Eleven. She understood. She broke off from Emma. She was so focused on contacting Rogue telepathically through the interference ring that she didn't notice that Emma's tentative hold on the connection was also lost when Jean broke off. There had just been too much trauma to the connection for Emma to hold it alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~
"But I know you've been burning. We both know there's no light. So, dim the lantern so we don't see the darkness of this night." (Here Come the Snakes –by Crooked Fingers)
Rogue was about to bust down the door at full flight speed to rescue Kitty, when one word made it past the interference ring.
"Don't," Xavier said. Bolstered by Cerebro, he passed the telepathic message to her from Jean, from Eleven. And she had stopped.
Don't? Don't what? Don't rescue Kitty? Don't fly? Don't--
That's when she remembered the image of the page from the diary. She had been flying in the picture. Then she was collapsed on the floor.
Rogue lowered to her feet and walked up to the door. On the right side, there was a keypad and an eye scanner. Above it was a large, lit, depressed, green button. Directly above that was a large, unlit, red button. She took a chance and pressed the red button. It lit up. The green button popped out and its light went out. She heard machinery power down. When it finished, she punched the keypad for good measure. It sparked and fizzled.
Hope this is right.
She tore the door off. She looked inside. She saw Gyrich, pointing his gun at her, but Kitty was nowhere in sight. She ran inside. Gyrich just grinned at her and reached in his pocket.
Dang fool, already got your gun in your…
He pulled out a remote. It had a red and a green button. Rogue almost laughed at his expression when it flew out of his hand.
Telekinesis… it's the latest rage! …So is telepathy.
...
"Ya gonna talk," Rogue said as she dangled him near the ceiling.
He looked at her. He looked at the hand that used to hold the gun. He looked at her. He looked to the floor. He saw the gun on the floor. He looked to her once more.
"Funny what telepathy can make ya forget."
"You…erased…what just happened?"
"Yeah, Ah did," she said, leaning in close to his face. He backed away as far as his neck would let him. Still, she was close, so close. "So are ya gonna spill?" She traced a bone claw along his jaw. "Where's Kitty?"
He was confused again. "The ghost girl? She went through the floor."
"Good." She retracted the claw. "Next question. What's this?" She flew him over to the two hollowed halves. She gave him a real good look at them.
"Why don't you get inside and find out?"
Rogue wasn't expecting that. *Low down, dirty, son of a-- "Ah got a better idea. Why don't Ah put ya in it? What do ya think of that?"
Gyrich smiled. "It wouldn't do anything. It requires your powers to power it."
She really wasn't expecting that. His grin broadened. "How's it feel to find out you're the key to the destruction of mutant kind?"
She threw him. "Not in this lifetime." He hit the wall, hit the floor. He was between the remote and his gun.
Kitty's surfaced near the remote. She carried two diaries.
"You'll make a good hound," he told Kitty just before he dove for the remote.
Kitty dunked under the floor. Gyrich got the remote, but Rogue yanked him up before he could use it. The jolt almost made him drop it.
SNIKT!
Gyrich's thumb quivered over the green button on the remote.
"Push the button and I die," Kitty said. It was flat, a statement, nothing more. "But so do you."
Gyrich held his breath. He didn't blink. He didn't move a muscle. Just in case. There were three bone claws protruding from his chest and he didn't want to die.
Kitty was phased, her head and shoulders protruding from the floor. Her hand on Rogue's wrist was the only thing keeping Gyrich alive. If she let go…
Rogue held her bare hand beside Kitty's face.
"You can't touch me, Rogue, I'm phasing."
"I didn't have to touch Emma, Kitty. Wanna test this theory?"
Dang it! This is exactly why I didn't want to do this anymore, Professor. Sticky sits like this. Out loud, she said, "You can't do this Rogue. You'll regret it."
"Why? 'Cause the X-Men don't kill? 'Cause Ah don't kill? Haven't you been paying attention at all tonight?"
It was an old fashioned Mexican stand off… sort of.
Rogue did the only thing she could do. Well, two things. She held him still with telekinesis as she tore into his mind with telepathy. She saw it all. It wasn't the way it was when she absorbed someone. It didn't drain him dry. She only saw. It was so simple.
"Take out the batteries," she told him. He complied. Clank. Clank. They hit the floor and rolled. Game over.
"I'm sorry," Kitty said as Rogue was flying them away after it was all said and done.
"Don't worry about it. So it was made of adamantium. Big deal, Ah couldn't pound it to death, had to do it Erik's way."
Kitty laughed. Then laughed some more. "That was funny. You really wanted to use your fists."
"Yeah, Ah did." She laughed too. It was whimsical.
"But that's not what I meant."
"About what, then?"
"Well, you read his mind, right?"
"Yeah."
"And you're okay with it and all?"
"Don't have much choice, do Ah?"
"Sure?"
"Yeah."
"Okay… If you ever want to talk about it…"
"I'll call ya."
"Good."
"Rogue?"
"Yeah?"
"It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."
"Yeah. Me too."
Rogue dropped Kitty off at her apartment and headed back to the mansion. She was glad to be alone with her thoughts. Was she okay with it? Not really. It was another reason her powers were a curse. Sure, she'd destroyed the machine and the files, but Gyrich was still alive. He still knew what it could do. He could have backups on the files in another installation. He could…
It went on and on and on.
But Rogue had been mistaken. Kitty hadn't been asking about the machine. She'd been asking about something else, something she thought that Gyrich knew, but, of course, he didn't. And therein lie his tragic flaw.
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Special thanks go out to Post, if you ever read this one, for naming Gambit's contact at the restaurant.
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