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Seether
Chapter Twelve – Lyrical
By Randirogue
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There was no theme song lilting in the background to tell her and everyone else how to feel or what was to happen next. But, there was an announcer.
"You've got mail!" Her laptop speakers happily pronounced as she signed online. She almost didn't open it.
Timing. It always came down to timing. And her mother was the best at manipulating her. She always knew how to twist the knife the hardest, and when to bring her good news.
Rogue had two emails. One was over a day old. The other one was sent that day. The second one was blatantly an advertisement and she deleted it immediately as a means of stalling her reading of the first email. This first email shone like a beacon. A beacon she hadn't wanted to read.
To riverrat, Re: protégé, From: kilburn08@parendage.edu.
Reluctantly, she double-clicked on it.
Most of the page was blank. Centered was a short message: "The code was always meant for you. Use it like I taught you to. Make me and Irene proud."
It was direct and to the point. Three sentences. Just like she expected from Mystique. Nineteen words." No fooling around. Nineteen. Nothing Mystique ever did was a coincidence. Nineteen. A hidden message? Nineteen. A warning? Nineteen. The revealing of something concealed. Nineteen. Concealing was a form of deception. Nineteen. A deception at face value was a lie. Nineteen. It was so simple, once realized.
"Nineteen!"
"Yesssssss?" Her voice was hesitant, and it lacked it's chickory flavor.
"Ya lied ta me, sugah… Didn't ya?"
"............."
"Lemme guess... Eleven, right?"
"Not Eleven," her voice was chickory again, haunting, taunting, like her following laughter.
"Not Eleven?" It was all skepticism.
"Not Eleven."
"Explain."
"Not my placcccccccce to tell." Laughter, haunting, taunting.
"Not your place?! Ah'm the one--" FLASH! The email was filled with black. "What the?"
Rogue had bumped the mouse, causing the pointer to move over the blank space on the email surrounding the three simple sentences contained on the otherwise huge blank space. She moved the mouse over it again... FLASH! There it was again. This time, looking for it, she saw that the flash of black was actually text. The entire email was filled with bold letters, without spaces, forming what looked like garbled gibberish. She did it again and again, but couldn't get the text to do more than just flash briefly. It didn't stay visible. There was no way she was going to figure out what it said doing it that way. She was going to have to dig deeper.
Laughter. Haunting, taunting.
"Shut up!" She snapped at Nineteen. To herself though, aloud, she said, "Thanks, Mystique. Leave it to ya'll to make something as simple as a hello to your daughter into a test of decoding skills."
She pulled out a pad of paper and three colored pens, red, black, and blue. She was sure she wouldn't decode the message correctly the first try.
"Should've known at the get go that the Nineteen thing was a hint at more layers in this thing."
It had been years since she'd traded coded messages with Mystique.
"Dang it! Like this was how Ah wanted to spend my Sunday."
She set to work.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Vargas confirmed his flight schedule and his hotel arrangements. He double-checked his luggage, waiting till last to pack the diaries into his carry-on. He wasn't about to leave the safekeeping of the diaries to uncaring baggage handlers. They were precious treasures. He would use them to stop Rogue once and for all.
He slipped the diaries into his carry-on, zipped it closed, picked it up and left. Sure of his intended destiny, he never looked back.
He had two choices in searching out the last two diaries that weren't in the government's nor the X-Men's possession. Well, there was the one that his research said Magneto had, but that was one he would contend with later. First, he had to get the two other diaries before the X-Men got them, hoarded them, or even worse, in their infinite wisdom of not wanting certain people to use them for purposes against the X-Men's ideals, destroying them. So, two places were indicated in his research. One was Caldecott County, Mississippi, Rogue's hometown. He figured that of the two locations, that one could wait, since Rogue would not head there right away since Cody had died, since she'd lost all personal ties there. Rogue didn't deal well with her early past, especially with anything before Cody, Mystique, and Irene. She didn't even use the name she'd answered to from that time in her life, if she even remembered it anymore. He had a suspicion that much of what Rogue kept a mystery about her past were things she didn't actually remember, and she didn't want to admit to them that she didn't remember. So, according to his analysis, she'd avoid that place for as long as she could. And keeping that in mind, he figured the X-Men would be heading not to Caldecott, but to the other location first. Therefore, to beat them to both books, he would have to beat them there as well.
He met the twins out by the curb. The three of them loaded their luggage in, climbed into the awaiting car, and left for the airport. Once boarded on the plane, they settled back. They had a long flight to Cairo ahead of them.
~~~~~~~~~~~
First thing about Mystique's coded messages, they never followed the same coding twice. Each code was unique in itself. They were simple. But most codes were, once the key was found. Problem with Mystique's was that the key had to be deciphered as well. The key was within the message itself, somewhere somehow the key was there. Rogue just had to find it.
And she wasn't doing very well.
Kaboom! Rogue had crumpled up another sheet of her notes, charged it up, and thrown it out the window to explode. She was surprised none of the other X-Men had come to her door to check up on her with all the exploding paper she'd tossed out her window in the last three hours.
Rogue stood up, stretched, and took a deep breath. She was half tempted to walk away from it—and never look back—and come back later. But, she knew she couldn't do that. The email would itch in her skull all the time until she solved it. Besides, she was stubborn. She'd stick it out until she got it... like always.
"The code was always meant for you. Use it like I taught you to. Make me and Irene proud. The code was always meant for you. Use it like I taught you to. Make me and Irene proud. The code was always meant for you. Use it like I taught you to. Make me and Irene proud. The code was always meant for you. Use it like I taught you to. Make me and Irene proud."
Over and over again she ran it through her head. Ran it through every combination of letters trying to find some mix match to solve the puzzle piece that would at least make all the hidden FLASH text stay on the screen long enough to work that out.
"Can Ah offer a suggestion?" Sad and edgy.
Rogue blinked. She wasn't in her room anymore. She was in her mindscape. Specifically, she was in Thirteen's domain. The etched reflective wall, the memorial, rose forever up and encircled the grassy patch, the headstone, and Rogue and Thirteen.
"Ya brought me here?"
Thirteen nodded.
"How?"
"The more of us that are here... the stronger we are," Thirteen said, gesturing to her reflection on the memorial.
Rogue looked to Thirteen's reflection. Sure enough, it was clearer, it was brighter, it was more there. Then it struck her, what Thirteen had really said. "The more that are freed?"
Thirteen nodded.
"Is there another one—"
"No." Thirteen shook her head. "One's probably about ta get out, though." Sad, edgy.
"Can ya tell—"
"No, Ah don't know who. No more than ya do."
Rogue nodded her assent and cringed inwardly, not easy since she was inside herself already. Then another dread struck her. "What about Elev—"
"Eleven? Her?" Thirteen cocked her head to the side in consideration. "Good question. It's hard ta answer. She's not exa—"
"Exactly bound by the same rules," Rogue said, her eyes widening, "Some increase her strength, others weaken her, and why do we—"
"—keep finishing each othah's sentences? Why do ya suddenly know so much?"
Rogue nodded.
"Ya know the answer. They're all—"
"All mine. Ya shared all of them. Your memories."
"YOAH memories," Thirteen said with a laugh. It was edgy. Her laughter spoke volumes of who and what she was. Her laughter revealed that even in glee she was waiting, no, expecting something horrible to strike at any moment, ending the reason for her laughter.
Rogue knew the feeling well. She remembered feeling like that when she was thirteen. At thirteen, she had been nearly five years with Mystique and Irene and she still couldn't relax. Every moment of every day she was ready to bolt if she had to, to run, to hide, to be left on her own because she hadn't done well enough for Mystique and Irene. Or worse, if... if... if Someone found her. She couldn't remember who that Someone was, just that she feared that Someone. As a result, she was nervous all the time, edgy, and damn near obsessive-compulsive. Everything had to be ordered, organized, so she could run at a moment's notice. Everything had to be done perfectly, so she would know she earned her place with Mystique and Irene, her place in their home. Not her home, their home. Their home. Mystique and Irene had become a little sad that Rogue didn't feel it was her home too. She took it as their disappointment in her. So she worked harder and harder, far beyond what Mystique and Irene had asked of her. She'd spent hours practicing fighting techniques, hours learning security systems, hours memorizing and cataloguing files for upcoming missions as well as files from their past mission—which made Thirteen's role as a librarian of the absorbed memories fitting. And every time Mystique or Irene questioned her for it, every time they softened towards her for it, she worked that much harder for their approval. In her twisted rationalization, their softening was pity, and she knew Mystique and Irene believed pity was reserved for those who were weak, lazy, and unworthy, and thus, she would never gain their approval. They pitied her and they didn't even know the truth. They didn't know what she'd done to end up living alone in the woods, fending for herself, at the tiny age of eight. They didn't know her dirty little secret. If they pitied her now, what would they think if they ever found out the secret? How could a vile creature such as herself ever earn their approval? She had so much to make up for. She couldn't remember what she had to make up for, but she knew it was horrible and she knew she had to make up for it. It would likely take forever. But she had to do it. She had to do it.
Thirteen never got the chance. She was swallowed up by the Core before she could ever realize that Mystique and Irene were very tough, very strict, and very harsh on her partly because they were compensating for the contingencies that Rogue herself had placed on them with her reactions to their softening towards her. She never got to know that in doing so, Rogue had further endeared her self to them. She was swallowed up by the Core before she really had become part of their home, their family. It wasn't just Mystique and Irene. It became Mystique and Rogue and Irene. The Brotherhood became separate from them as a family. And they were a family—a dysfunctional family, by all standard accounts of what a family should typically be, but they were a family nonetheless.
But now Thirteen knew. Now she knew. The sharing had been both ways.
"My memories," Rogue said. She knew the bravery it had taken for Thirteen to share as she did, she knew because it was a bravery she almost couldn't return, but, surprisingly, had. "Your memories are mine, and mine are yours," she added, wanting to pull Thirteen into a hug, but knowing Thirteen couldn't accept it and she couldn't do it. Instead they stood side by side, looking at their reflections—yes, THEIR reflections—in the memorial. Rogue and Thirteen were truly part of one another now. And as a result, Rogue had gained a reflection there as strong as Thirteen's reflection.
Neither of them realized it, but they had not just completed another step towards Union. Rather, they had accomplished something much grander, much more precious. They had a Union all of their own.
But Impostor Eleven knew. Of course, Impostor Eleven was watching and knew. Only, she wasn't sure how she felt about it.
Rogue jolted. A revelation hit her. She met the eyes of Thirteen in the reflection.
Thirteen nodded, sadly, her assent, and said, "Nineteen wasn't the only one who lied."
"So that's what Nineteen meant. SHE's not Eleven."
Sad. "She's not Eleven." Edgy.
Impostor Eleven, eavesdropping like always, had a clearer idea of her feelings on Thirteen and Rogue's bonding. She didn't like it.
Rogue turned to face Thirteen's eyes for real, not just in the reflection, and said, "And ya can't solve the code. Ah hadn't learned it yet before ya were swallowed. So, what's this help ya can offer me?"
Thirteen jabbed her toes into the ground and gestured to the memorial. "It's just a suggestion. Ah don't know how much it'll help." She walked up to the memorial, touched an entry title and its file opened beneath it, extending from it. "A title has a purpose. It isn't just a heading. It isn't just a summary. It's part of the entry. The entry extends from it. The entry expands on it." She pulled her hand away and the entry was swallowed back into its title. Sad, edgy, "Don't just—"
"—ignore it," Rogue said, finishing for Thirteen. A blink later Rogue was sitting at her desk looking at the email.
To riverrat, Re: protégé, From: kilburn08@parendage.edu. "The code was always meant for you. Use it like I taught you to. Make me and Irene proud."
"Don't just ignore it."
~~~~~~~~~~~
"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Lily screamed.
Corrin, the day maid, ran full speed into the child's room. Only, she never made it there, Lily was scrambling out of the room, her skinny prepubescent legs racing like she was crossing a plain of hot coals, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks, and slammed into Corrin.
"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Lily screamed again. Well, not again, really. It was non-stop. It stopped with the end of her breath just to start again with her next intake.
Like clockwork, Corrin dropped to her knees to see Lily at eye level. Corrin wrapped her arms around Lily, holding her tight and patting her back reassuringly.
"It's okay doll, it's okay," Corrin murmured, hushing her. "Ol' Corrin's heah, doll. No more bad dreams, doll, yer Corrin's heah now."
"Maaaaamaaaa! Maaaaaamaaaa!" Lily yelled. Corrin had only managed to lower the volume, but not to calm her. Lily was fighting Corrin's hold on her. She was pushing and shoving and pulling with all her might against the hefty maid.
"Ohhhh, stop it now, Lily-doll," Corrin said, struggling to keep hold of Lily with one hand as she dabbed at Lily's tear streaked cheeks with the edge of her apron, "What kind a dream be this bad, Lily-doll. Shh now, yer ol' Corrin's gonna make it all better."
"Maaaa—" Lily stopped mid yell. She was still. Dead still. No movement. No breath. No blinking. Just wide eyes that seemed to look through Corrin. No, not there, but inside, they seemed to look inside Lily herself while positioned straight ahead.
Corrin started shaking Lily, fearing—she didn't know what—but fearing the worst, nonetheless.
Then Lily blinked. She focused her eyes dead on Corrin's and with a small intake of breath that sounded much like a sob, Lily whispered, "Mama's gone, Cor. She's gone..." Then she flung herself into Corrin's embrace.
"Oh, Lily-doll," Corrin continued murmuring as Lily sobbed as only a child could. "Yer mama's fine. She's just out walking by the river, doll. That's all. Ya just had a bad dream, that's all, Lily-doll, just a bad dream."
"Mama's gone, mama's gone, mama's gone," Lily kept whimpering over and over as she poured her tears into Corrin's breast as Corrin murmured to her and patted her back.
"Oh, doll, Ah promise yer mama's fine. It's just a bad dream. That's all. Just a silly bad dream. Yer mama's just out on one o' her walks."
Lily wasn't calming down, though. Corrin didn't know what to do. Lily had bad dreams all the time, but usually Corrin could calm her down right quick to keep Lily from disturbing Mr. Beauregard. Couldn't disturb Mr. Beauregard, he was an important preacher. He had all sorts of business with politicians and such. And Mrs. Beauregard was important too. She did all sorts of charity work with the politician's wives. She was always busy, just like her husband, but she always made time for her Lily. Mrs. Beauregard would know how to ease Lily's troubles.
"How's this, Lily-doll," Corrin said, pulling back from Lily just far enough so that she could meet her eyes. "I gots us an ideah, Lily-doll. Why don't we go down and find yer mama? How's that sound?"
"No, no, Papa's theah!" Lily was terrified. "Don' make meh go, Cor, please! Papa's theah!"
~~~~~~~~~~~
"What the heck! Might as well try it," Rogue exclaimed as she typed and hit enter. She'd been staring at the message and it's entire title for twenty minutes, at least, but nothing brilliant connecting them together popped into her brain. She was no closer to finding the key than—
The web page actually pulled up. That surprised Rogue. She was expecting a notice that said 'page not found,' but sure enough there was a page there.
This has to be wrong, Rogue thought as she skimmed over the supposed university website. Ain't no way mama would make up an entire site like this just for a clue to an email.
It seemed like a typical college site, not that Rogue had visited many college sites, nor even heard of Parendage University before. But, it seemed on the up and up. There were listings of current events, majors, admissions, registration, financial aide, research specialties, faculty, awards—the school had just won a grant for chaos theory research—Wait, didn't Ah just see something on that? Rogue scrolled back and found it. Under Research Specialties was a listing for Chaos Theory. Mystique's always been up for makin' a little chaos herself...
Rogue clicked on the link.
The new page highlighted both the Social Sciences department and the Natural Sciences departments, specifically the areas of Genetics and Physics.
Well, there's a link if Ah ever saw one. Wonder if it's a real clue to solving this code or if it's just a wild goose chase. Wouldn't put it past Mystique to do that. She'd have a good laugh at me following lots of dead ends, and a lecture for me for not having kept up with it. Woah, what's that?
About half way down the page was an announcement of a public invited lecture in follow up to the grant the college won. The research project's biggest contributor, a Melissa R. Kilburn, was to be awarded a.... blah, blah blah. Rogue clicked on the link of the contributor's name.
Your starting to show, mama, Rogue thought. Either Ah'm better at this than Ah thought Ah'd be after all this time or you're being easy on me. Missy is short for Melissa. Missy's what Ah called ya when Ah first came to live with ya. Rogue actually smiled with that memory. Mystique nearly had a fit at Rogue calling her that all the time. Eventually, Mystique had given up and just let it go, and that was when Rogue stopped calling her Missy. R's gotta be for Rogue or Raven, one of the two. And Kilburn was on the name on the email. This is just too eas—
Missy's page opened and there was a picture of Irene, big as life and twice as painful, with the name Melissa R. Kilburn written in a dainty cursive font underneath. That was all the affirmation Rogue needed.
"Make me and Irene proud," Rogue said, reading from her notes. "Guilt was always a part of your arsenal, mama. And ya have never once thought twice about using it against me. Heck, Ah think ya go out of your way to use it against me."
Rogue skimmed the biography for Ms. Kilburn. "Born in... blah, blah, blah... when not visiting the progress of the research, she spends all her time with her adopted daughter—more guilt—blah, blah, blah... who inspired and drove her interest in the chaos theory research project—more guilt—blah, blah, blah... dedicated the endowment to the project to her—lots more guilt—blah, blah, blah... Ms. Kilburn's endowment speech was quoted in the project's slogan, 'The key—' There we go!"
Rogue grabbed her notepad and pen and jotted down the slogan, 'The key is in the simplicity of it,' and the completion of the quote, 'Even patterns become random when examined with that intent, and vice versa. When looking at the details, we can't forget to see the picture.'
That can't be all there is. Rogue skimmed through the rest of the page and found nothing else on it other than the picture and the biography and the site's search engine... Search Engine, huh? Might as well try it...
CODE. ENTER. NO MATCHES FOUND.
Hmmm... that's funny. Something should've pulled up with that. The college has a statistics major and other math majors... code should've brought something up there.
Rogue backed out to the main site. She went to the search engine there, noting that it looked different from the one on Melissa R. Kilburn page, and tried the search again.
CODE. ENTER. SEVENTEEN LISTINGS.
What? Wait a minute?!
Rogue returns to the Melissa R. Kilburn page.
CODE. ENTER. NO MATCHES FOUND.
It was a separate search engine. Rogue figured it was placed there for the deciphering the email. She just had to figure out the right words to get the search engine to respond with an actual answer.
KEY. ENTER. NO MATCHES FOUND. MYSTIQUE. NO MATCHES FOUND. ROGUE. NO MATCHES FOUND. IRENE. NO. DESTINY. NO. DIARY. NO. DESTINY'S DIARIES. NO. LIBRI VERITATUM. NO. PROTEGE. ONE MATCH.
Yes!
The link brought up a crossword puzzle. Rogue almost smashed her computer... but she didn't. She took a deep breath and backed out to the search page again. There, she looked over the message again, and thought and thought and thought. "Re: Protégé. That brought up a puzzle for me to solve. Well, Ah get the little joke, mama. This is my puzzle to solve and ya ain't gonna just hand it to me. But, at least 'Protégé' got me somewhere. Seems like Thirteen was on to something."
RIVERRAT. ENTER. EIGHT—MATCHES FOUND.
Woah. That can't be right. She backed out and did it again.
RIVERRAT. ENTER. EIGHT—MATCHES FOUND.
Rogue clicked on the first link. She was hasty. She didn't notice the difference between found messages. But, she would soon enough... she would soon enough.
The page opened. Like her email, the page was mostly blank, with one line in quotes. Before even reading the line, she ran the mouse pointer over the page... just in case. There was no flash of hidden bold text this time and Rogue sighed in relief. She grabbed her notepad and pen and wrote down this quote. 'Dripping with blood and with time and with your...' –Tori Amos.
Rogue did a double take on the page and her notes. Okay, this CAN'T be right. Mystique's never been one for poetry, let alone modern song lyrics. That's when it struck her. It was quoted from Tori Amos' song, 'Mother.' Ha ha, mama, very cute. ...and she backed out to check the other seven remaining links that RIVERRAT had pulled up, only to find that they all led to the same place.
Again, she backed out to the search engine on Melissa R. Kilburn page. To keep from getting too frustrated, and because the quote had put the song in her head, she started singing it to herself. "Dripping with blood and with time and with your advice poison me against the moon... Dripping with blood and..."
She looked over the email titling again, since that seemed to at least get her some sort of response. She already used 'riverrat', 'protege', 'Kilburn', and 'parendage.edu', and that meant she had nothing left from that... "Unless...? Mother... Parendage... Parentage... hmmmm..."
PARENTAGE. ENTER. EIGHT—MATCHES FOUND.
Ugh! Not again." She looked over the sites, and yes, they all went to the same place. This time all it said was, 'You're not paying attention, dear. What did Missy say? You're looking too hard. You're trying to make this into something its not. This word is not part of the message and the key is always in the message. You know better, I know you do, Rogue. I trained you better than this.'
Damn ya, mama. Ah can't do this. It's been too long!" To keep from smashing her computer to bits, she grabbed another wadded up scrap of paper, charged it, and threw it out the window. And again, and again, and again.
Kaboom! Kaboom! Kaboom! Kaboom!
Thump-thump-thump—"Oh Merde!"—THUMP!
Rogue looked out and saw Gambit on the ground beneath her window. He was sprawled on his backside, his trench coat twisted and partially fanned out around him, and looking like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. Apparently, he'd been outside her window, about to knock on it.
"What was dat for, chere?" He asked as she leaned out her window looking down at him. She didn't grin as he'd expected her to.
"Why can't ya use the door?!" She yelled and slammed the window shut. Still, the surprised look on his face as she did so was enough to calm her mood again. She chuckled to herself, Stubborn swamp rat...
She actually felt renewed as she sat back down and looked at the computer screen. Well, she's right about that. It doesn't say anything about parentage. So, lets take another last look at what it does say.
Again, she started singing the Tori Amos song, 'Mother', as she looked over the entire email, "Dripping with blood and with time and with your advice... Advice! That's it!"
ADVICE. ENTER. ONE MATCH. CLICK.
Mystique's message read, "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies. Ask the right questions, and, well... if you don't ask, you'll never know, will you?"
Rogue beamed. Mystique and Irene used to get so angry with her when she wouldn't just ask them when she didn't understand something. She always had to do it herself, usually by taking the long way around to figure it out... just like now. So, why not just ask?
WHAT IS THE KEY? ENTER. NOT FOUND. HOW DO I SOLVE THIS? ENTER. NOT FOUND. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME? ENTER. ONE MATCH. CLICK.
Mystique's message read, "You know this, Rogue. I taught you this for a reason. I know you can figure this out. It's not even a completely knew one. Remember it?"
If I remembered it, would Ah be asking this danged computer these stupid questions? She complained about it, but she followed Mystique's orders. She had no choice but to follow them. Even when she staked her independence from Mystique by joining the X-Men, a part of her still heeded her foster mother. A part of her still always answered when Mystique called for her. A part of her would always belong to the first person to give her a home... a family, even if it had been on accident.
Parentage. Parendage. Par-end-age. Par. End. Age. Par—French—by. End—?. Age—German—Alter.
"Hmmm?" Rogue wondered aloud with amusement, "French and German... always French and German. How did I not see it before?"
And then she remembered.
~~~~~~~~~~~
A gift. No reason. It was just sitting there, mocking her, on her unmade bed when she returned from a mission. Just one more mission in a long line of missions that blurred together. She couldn't even count the number of faceless-nameless people she popped from a far off tree or rooftop with her sniper rifle. She always got an arm or a leg, somewhere to disable, but not kill, not if Mystique wasn't breathing into her ear about it. She told Mystique a million excuses for her lack of kills, but Mystique never believed one of them. Rogue could hit a moving target on a windy, snowing, freezing day with hardly an effort. She couldn't remember the number of men she'd charmed to get into an authorized personnel only entrance... or women, either. Though, with women, it was usually the tearful, 'my asshole boyfriend just blah, blah, blah...' that had won her entrance. The men, though... Well, the men always wanted to have what was out of reach, what they were forbidden to touch. She couldn't even list the number of locks she'd picked, vents she'd climbed through, kicks she'd landed, or punches, or elbows, or choke holds, or kisses—No, those she could count. It had become her trademark, and Mystique hadn't liked it. Rogue hadn't understood why. Mystique had taught Rogue how to exploit her femininity for their missions, and Rogue had seen Mystique sleep with more than six men for the same reason since she'd first come to live with her.
Screw Mystique, she'd thought, If Ah can't kiss for pleasure, Ah'll do it for pain.
Rogue reluctantly opened the gift, slowly and laden with dread. Inside the pink papered box—musta been Irene—she just won't accept that Ah can't stand pink—was a portable CD player and several CD's. She looked at the top one and the one below it, and then stormed out of her room, hollering at the top of her angry lungs, "Mama, what the hell kinda present is this. More French and German. All Ah do is train and go on your missions and now yer are invadin' the only luxury Ah get. Ya don't give me music, no, ya give me more of these damned language CDs. This is such bullshit!"
When she finished her tirade, she was in the tearoom, facing Mystique and Irene, who were sitting intimately close sipping hot tea together. Mystique's face contorted with her rising anger, but Irene, gently, calmly set her cup of tea down and rested a hand on Mystique's arm. Mystique immediately sobered her anger.
"Did you look through all of the CDs, Rogue dear?" Irene asked.
Rogue scrunched up her face. She didn't want to admit that she hadn't. She didn't want Irene to be right. "Not the point. Even if ya gave me real music, the gift's tainted with yer damned training CDs. Ah'm sick o' this. Ah can't wait till Ah'm outta heah!"
"Then why don't you leave?" Mystique said, no longer able to contain her slowly building anger at Rogue's outburst. "We're not stopping you."
"Raven," Irene placated, again trying to soothe her with a gentle hand on her arm. This time it didn't work.
"No, Irene," Raven said, shaking her head gravely. "No more. It's her choice. I'm tired of trying to convince her..." She trailed off and turned her attention to Rogue. "Go if you want to," She told Rogue point blank. "Go fend for yourself in the hick woods of Mississippi. I'll even drop you off where I found you if you want."
Rogue went stone still. She couldn't believe Mystique said it. She always knew it would come to it someday. She always knew Mystique never really wanted her there. She always knew she was nothing more than a tool, a weapon, to them... even before she had her cursed powers. Rogue released a long sigh of relief. Now that the moment had come, she didn't have to worry about it anymore; her years of anticipation had come to an end.
"Fine," Rogue said. It was quiet. It was eerily serene. There was no rebellion in it. There was no anger in it. There was no sadness in it. It was purely relief. "I'll go pack."
Rogue turned to leave, got to the door, then turned back. The sight of Irene comforting Mystique startled her, but as she spoke, they broke from each other and looked at Rogue with harder eyes then they had displayed to each other. "Can Ah take some o' mah clothes and stuff... CDs and all. Ah won't take much. Ah'll only take what Ah can carry."
"You can take anything that is yours, Rogue dear." Irene said, a little confused. Why would Rogue think she couldn't take her clothes?
"Thanks. Ah'll pay ya back fer 'em... soon as Ah can." She started out the door again.
"You don't have to do that Rogue. Those things are your—"
"Don't," Mystique said. It was her turn to rest a hand on Irene's arm. "Just don't." She kept her attention on Irene as she added to Rogue, "Do whatever you want, Rogue... just do it quickly."
"Kay..." She took one last look around the room and at the two who had raised her since she was eight years old and smiled. She smiled. "Thanks fer lettin' meh stay fer a while."
Up in her room, Rogue packed quickly, just as Mystique had instructed her. She didn't take anything frivolous; she'd be walking so she literally could only take what she could carry. It wasn't like she was ever really into the slinky dresses Mystique had gotten her. Those dresses had always been purchased for missions, anyway. She did take two of her stuffed animals, though. However, she couldn't fit both of them in her backpack. She had what she figured as almost a week's worth of clothing in her backpack. She had three pairs of jeans, eight long sleeved tees, bras, socks, underwear, and gloves. She also had her life's savings in it too. So, in order to take the treasured stuffed animals she had to squish one of the stuffed animals inside the backpack and tied the other one to the loop at the top. She also really wanted to take the CD player, but for some reason that just didn't seem right. Just looking at it made her feel guilty for some reason. Besides, even though it was an oversized camping backpack, it was already packed tight.
But, what the heck... she figured it would be a going away gift... almost like someone knew she would be leaving.
She set down her bag on her bed, pulled out the second stuffed animal and tied it like she'd tied the first one. Then she shoved the portable CD player and a few CDs off her dresser in the stuffed gator's place. As she picked up her backpack again, she knocked over the pink papered box, sending it over the edge of the bed, and spilling its contents onto the floor.
Rogue froze at what was there. There had been over a dozen CDs in the box. The top two were 'Advanced Conversational French' and 'Advanced Conversational German.' But those were the only two of those. There was also Cyndi Lauper, The Pixies, The Cure, The Clash, Janis Joplin, Johnny Cash, The Smiths, Morrissey, and others... there were also three other language CDs: 'Italian for beginners,' 'Intermediate Italian,' and 'Conversational Italian.'
Rogue had been begging to go to Venice for almost a year.
Every time Rogue had brought up Italy and Venice, Mystique had responded with some version of "Didn't you get enough of that stuff in Caldecott?" or " Wasn't the Mighty Mississippi enough for ya?" And every time, Rogue had thrown a fit, spouting off how she was sick of studying French and German, and how since they were always traipsing off to France and Germany—granted, on missions—why couldn't they, just once, stop over in Venice for a few days. Mystique and Irene had made Rogue study French and German specifically for the abundance of missions that were taking them to those parts. Mystique and Irene always insisted on being prepared. Language CDs for learning Italian could thus only mean one thing.
Rogue looked at the three CDs and her heart broke. It bloomed and it broke.
Rogue burst into the tearoom again. "We're goin' ta Venice?!" Rogue exclaimed, panting, through tears.
Irene found it hard to suppress her laughter, but she managed it.
Mystique stood, confident, forceful, and direct, and said, "So NOW you're staying?"
A long pause.
Rogue almost choked on her words as she said, "I'll go." Though, she didn't move. She just stood there, exposing the frightened, stubborn, surviving child, who had chortled into the edgy, bottled, perfectionist, raging teenager, who was brimming on becoming the independent, intelligent, skillful, hardened, Mystique protégé of a woman.
In that moment, as Mystique held her gaze, Rogue was a cup so full of scalding coffee that a sprinkle of sugar, a dollop of cream would send her teetering over. Which way she went? Well, that resided completely in Mystique's next few words.
Mystique suddenly felt as fragile as Rogue looked.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Sinister was not a happy person. Things were moving much more quickly than he had anticipated. He hated it when his subjects came to fruition before his calculations had assured him they would. Since he had awoken that morning and did a routine check of the incoming signal from the collars he had altered for Rogue, the discovery that the signal had been cut off had usurped all of his time. There was only one reason for that. The power for the signal was drained. There were only three possible reasons for that. One, the X-Men had figured out that the collars were linked more directly to him and had decided to destroy them. That one had been ruled out because Sinister had destroyed all the rest of the collars on Genosha, which meant the two collars the X-men currently had in their possession were among the last working collars in the world. And knowing their resident doctor, Henry McCoy, he wouldn't chance Rogue's life in his hands without keeping at least one of those collars as a precaution. Second, the X-Men could have figured what the purpose was of the alterations Sinister made in the collars, and, miraculously, found a way to sever the signals. That one was ruled out because Sinister concluded that they had not had sufficient time or technology to accomplish that yet. Though, it was not out of the realm of possibility that it could occur over the next few weeks. Third, Rogue had gone an enormous distance outside the signal's range for a long enough amount of time that the signal drained itself of power. Sinister decided that was the most logical evaluation.
However, knowing that didn't help him solve it. Rogue would have to wear one of the collars, or at the very least hold it for more than fifteen minutes so the self-cycling power supply would charge enough to sustain the signal on a tertiary level. At tertiary level, the collars would send and receive the signals like normal, as long as Rogue was within a mile of the collar for a twenty-four hour period. After that, the collars would sustain themselves in normal operating order. They would continue to send and receive the signal and sustain their own power as long as Rogue was not beyond a fifty-mile radius for more than five hours. Getting Rogue to wear one or even hold it from his location would not be an easy task.
That's where Impostor Eleven would've come in. The collars' were directly linked with her. He had known of her since Rogue had absorbed him all those years ago during the entire Ms. Pryor ordeal and he had not only survived the absorption, but had taken over her incredibly powerful mutant body and returned to his own mind with all memories of the experience intact. The only problem was that he had also lost the connection with Impostor Eleven. He went back over all of his data and concluded that the connection was lost only a few minutes after she had ceased her tormenting of Magneto. Without Impostor Eleven supplying a reason for Rogue needing to come into contact with the collars, he only had two options left. He either had to wait and hope some reason would occur naturally for her to need the collars. And, he wasn't that patient. Or, he had to supply a reason. That meant going to her or bringing her to him.
Sinister flipped through the files he had on the X-Men's search for the diaries. He had no interest in the diaries themselves, why should he, he didn't let the future happen, he made it become what he wanted it to become. No diary would make a difference. Besides, what he had seen of the diaries—he glanced at the video monitor holding Magneto—extended to more political and social realms, and he had never had any interest in those things. No, his sole interests had been in science, in studying and forging the perfect living being... the thing that would help sever his ties to Apocalypse once and for all. And his sole interest in the diaries was in where their locations would cause the X-Men to travel. He couldn't allow his subjects to be gallivanting all over the world without having knowledge of their precise movements, now could he? If he did, what kind of scientist would that make him? A negligent one, and Sinister was not negligent.
Sinister had plans for Rogue. With the onset of Union, Sinister would use Rogue as the ultimate test subject. In one being, and with the right technology, he would be able to study every single mutation in existence on his command. He could then use those results to combine the perfect melding of mutations into his perfect being. Then, with his cloning techniques and through breeding techniques, he could forge hundreds of thousands, millions of these perfect beings. But, he was getting ahead of himself, now. He was foolishly envisioning his endgame before he even completed the first step, the study of Rogue following Union. If he did not have her at the precise moment before Union occurred, well, then, he may not be able to subdue her to his tests. To determine when Union was sufficiently near, he needed Rogue in his possession or in contact with the collars... And he would not accomplish that by envisioning his endgame.
Sinister reviewed his notes and sighed. He had two choices for locations, Cairo and Caldecott. Caldecott was hot this time of the year. He couldn't fathom why Mystique had stayed there for so long after taking in Rogue. His research had told him that she and Irene had done it in order to help Rogue grow comfortable and trusting of them as quickly as possible. They wanted to help her adjust to the new situation. Eventually, they learned the error of their ways and moved on. One should never permit a weapon's emotional welfare to direct the wielder. No, he added, his thoughts drifting to Gambit, No, the wielder should use the emotional welfare to direct the weapon.
Sinister opened a file on Gambit. A few keystrokes and up on the monitor popped Gambit's genetic coding and the estimated results when combined in certain breeding combinations.
"Ahh, Gambit, it has been too long," Sinister said as he reviewed the breeding estimations. A sly and curious grin twisted his demonic features. "I do hope to see you in Caldecott."
~~~~~~~~~~~
She remembered. But, not quite enough. She was close, so close, though.
"Awww, Mama," Rogue said, leaning back in her chair and eyeing a photo of her, Mystique, and Irene, in one of their happier moments. In the picture, Rogue was maybe nine or ten, it was before her powers manifested, and the three of them were laughing and hugging... bare skin to bare skin. Rogue was suddenly very grateful for those few years of embraces before her powers manifested. "Mama, we were so hard on each other. We were just what the other needed."
Rogue allowed herself the pleasure of the moment for a moment. Then, again, she took a deep breath and returned to the coded email.
To riverrat, Re: protégé, From: kilburn08@parendage.edu. "The code was always meant for you. Use it like I taught you to. Make me and Irene proud."
So she had run all of the title through the search engine on the Melissa R. Kilburn page and she'd pretty much exhausted it. She'd even figured out why the use of Parendage. Par—by, in French. End—End, in English. Age—Alter, in German. She figured those to be keystrokes. By typing and holding End and Alt keys, something would happen. She tried it, in several combinations over the text, but nothing had worked, so she was still missing something.
Also, there was one more thing itching in her brain about the titling. Now, the rest of the title made sense, even the use of the name Melissa and the middle initial R. But, one thing did not. Why use Kilburn as a last name in the first place? Rogue still hadn't figured that one out. And even more so, why use Kilburn08 as the screen name. She checked the faculty and both search engines on the college site and there was only one Kilburn and that was Melissa. There was no need for a number to follow the name, let alone one as random as 08.
Rogue scrambled through her notes and reread the Kilburn quote. It said, "The key is in the simplicity of it. Even patterns become random when examined with that intent... and vice versa. When looking at the details, we can't forget to see the picture."
"Random... vice versa... so it's definitely not random. She used Kilburn08 for a reason. But it beats me what that reason is..." Rogue sat down her notes and began typing. "Might as well ask it."
WHY KILBURN08? ENTER. ONE MATCH. CLICK.
"Ahh, Rogue, if we knew that, we wouldn't be doing this at all, now would we? I'm sure we'll know it in the end, though."
"Hmmmm... Well, that was cryptic." Rogue chewed the end of her pen as she thought. "Or maybe it's not."
Looking at the email address with new insight, she removed the @ and factored in the Parendage connection to see... Kilburn08 by End Alt. Perhaps, the cryptic message meant that she would find the answer to why Kilburn08 in solving the coded message. With that in mind, Rogue tried a new tactic with the keystrokes. She highlighted the entire body of the email, even the annoying blank space that flashed when her mouse pointer floated across it. She highlighted it, then, with her right hand, she held down ALT and END, and with her left hand she typed kilburn08.
VOILA!
The flash test was visible and the original visible message was now centered in it... It looked like this.
KNRNEUXUMZLETXMEXAXTTXLKNIIXMNRIXTIEOXAEAKNRNXEUXUATDXIEBESSBUUUENRXNK OIEATNEXETARXEANTIRXFOVNRPETXXHERLSXSRXCOIEXAXTNETIXNXESSEXREVOENTXAEIO DCXICWORXIFIVNSRDXNEEDXIIEREEXNTAXEEECXCXDCICXWOXRTREEXIGENEHXEROWCXICD IHRHISCNXIHAOIEIXEENXIECRXXERNEEUXNRCOXIIXHRHISCXLFXEXNTOIMEMXECSXIXHXRXHI ETEXIREOGXGRTNNVXXESITERXHAIKAXNEXSTEHMAEXTEXIREOMXEINGESCHUTOXXERIETXE RWNHXARMELEXEOSEBSGORVTSRL!XCTTFXUZXOPLXRWNHARMZTXFIGLXIADEXLMRAHNWR EIXENUEPSIXRRXSTSXEXEXEIEOXWXEEAHOWXINPUXIIEIEXXNUEPLA!XIHRERMXUTTPEUNEIE NREEXSXZICAXMSERXSSXRNMKNIXIXMNRIXTIEXOAXEAXNREXEXSZIXEXRATERSPESIZSEERN VERNFPAHDUPNSOSEEEEXOWEEAHXOWXINPUIXIVXERNFPAXXTENOXNOSXEXNIGAPFXNREV IRKTIXAXCUETXEIXXLXLXBXVHMRVXTSRLCTXTFXUZOPLIXRXKTIACMXA!XSINSTRSLICAITKRI EALOESCTLTSGIDUXOEEERHAIKAXNESTEHMAXXEALOESCXXENREVXXEXSSOLXXDCSEOLAE RXSAXTLEIMXZLXETMEXXATXTLXXIECXRERNEXEXUNRCXOIRXSATLEIATDIEBESSBUIELTASR VEREECAETAREAXXNTIRFXX!DIIEXREENTAEXEXECCVEREEXCXATINEXXSSEREVOXACEEREV OMTXTXNHLIFIVXNSXRDNEEOXVNXRPETHERXXLSSRXCOMT!TNHLTRXEEIGENEXHELHNTTMO IPXEETXOINIHXAOIXEIEENKNXXIIMNXRITIXEXOAEAXIPEEXXTOILXFX!ENTOXIMEMEIXOTEEPXI
XXXXThe code was always meant for you. Use it like I taught you to. Make me and Irene proud.XXXX
IPXEETXOINIHXAOIXEIEENKNXXIIMNXRITIXEXOAEAXIPEEXXTOILXFX!ENTOXIMEMEIXOTEEPXI OMTXTXNHLIFIVXNSXRDNEEOXVNXRPETHERXXLSSRXCOMT!TNHLTRXEEIGENEXHELHNTTMO VEREECAETAREAXXNTIRFXX!DIIEXREENTAEXEXECCVEREEXCXATINEXXSSEREVOXACEEREV RXSAXTLEIMXZLXETMEXXATXTLXXIECXRERNEXEXUNRCXOIRXSATLEIATDIEBESSBUIELTASR EALOESCTLTSGIDUXOEEERHAIKAXNESTEHMAXXEALOESCXXENREVXXEXSSOLXXDCSEOLAE IRKTIXAXCUETXEIXXLXLXBXVHMRVXTSRLCTXTFXUZOPLIXRXKTIACMXA!XSINSTRSLICAITKRI VERNFPAHDUPNSOSEEEEXOWEEAHXOWXINPUIXIVXERNFPAXXTENOXNOSXEXNIGAPFXNREV NREEXSXZICAXMSERXSSXRNMKNIXIXMNRIXTIEXOAXEAXNREXEXSZIXEXRATERSPESIZSEERN EIXENUEPSIXRRXSTSXEXEXEIEOXWXEEAHOWXINPUXIIEIEXXNUEPLA!XIHRERMXUTTPEUNEIE RWNHXARMELEXEOSEBSGORVTSRL!XCTTFXUZXOPLXRWNHARMZTXFIGLXIADEXLMRAHNWR ETEXIREOGXGRTNNVXXESITERXHAIKAXNEXSTEHMAEXTEXIREOMXEINGESCHUTOXXERIETXE IHRHISCNXIHAOIEIXEENXIECRXXERNEEUXNRCOXIIXHRHISCXLFXEXNTOIMEMXECSXIXHXRXHI DCXICWORXIFIVNSRDXNEEDXIIEREEXNTAXEEECXCXDCICXWOXRTREEXIGENEHXEROWCXICD OIEATNEXETARXEANTIRXFOVNRPETXXHERLSXSRXCOIEXAXTNETIXNXESSEXREVOENTXAEIO KNRNEUXUMZLETXMEXAXTTXLKNIIXMNRIXTIEOXAEAKNRNXEUXUATDXIEBESSBUUUENRXNK
Now, she just had to decipher the actual text. Fun.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Vargas and the twins were exiting the plane. Vargas had a very cautious and curios look to him. He stopped and pulled out one of the diaries and a magnifying glass. He flipped to the page with the picture of Rogue huddled over the mound of people, including Vargas. He eyed the repetitive wording, the darkened etches, that arched over the figures.
He read, "seethed not dead you but not you total access guard of the guardian ignorant confidence weakness is strength unleashed seething remembered seethed not dead you but not you total access guard of the guardian ignorant confidence weakness is strength unleashed seething seethed not dead... " It continued the repetition several more times before, however, this time, he noticed what he did not notice the first time he had examined it [1]. This time he noticed which word did not repeat, the one word that was stated only a single time in the entire sequence. This time he noticed the significance of that word. 'REMEMBERED.' It was suddenly a beacon.
He replaced the precious diary into his carry-on. He turned to the twins and said, "Continue here, I'm going ahead to Caldecott."
They regarded him with curiosity. Before the entire Khan incident, they never questioned him. But, since then, he'd become a man obsessed with defeating Rogue like she were his personal demon, tenfold. Now, they questioned him.
"Why?" Thais asked.
Vargas almost didn't answer. But, he needed them to perform their duty to him. He needed them to retrieve the diary here in Cairo while he went to Caldecott. So, he answered, "Because if Rogue remembers, it all comes to pass. Caldecott is where she forgot."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
FOOTNOTES:
[1] That was all the way back in Chapter One – Aware. I bet all of you thought I had forgotten little bit about the repetitive sequence. There actually is a purpose to my madness... and complicated plot. It is all planned out. And there is so much more to come.
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