A/N: Rogue works out the email code completely in this chapter. But, even though I played with the format, a lot of the format I used to illustrate her working out the code was still lost in transferring to HTML, so please follow it as best as you can. ~_~ooooooo

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Seether

Chapter Thirteen - Raze

By Randirogue

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"Here, here, now, don't cry, you raised your hand for the assignment. Tuck those ribbons under your helmet, be a good soldier. First my left foot then my right behind the other..." (Mother –by Tori Amos)

Venice, Italy... A city of romance, if approached with that frame of mind. An intimate gondola gliding along the canals. Amber light from two or three lanterns, illuminating the sweet couple with a honeyed glow. Stars reflecting like liquid diamonds on the surface of the water wink at the couple with every willow of the water. The comfort of an aroused embrace slipping the couple into a golden trance of reverie and joy. One lover nuzzled closer for a kiss. And the other almost gave in. But she hesitated... and she knew why, and it was no secret she was scared. And then she decided to indulge, to savor the opportunity. But fireworks ignited overhead and she laughed because she flinched when the shots rang out... But, his wet lips on her neck interrupted her laughter and she melted, 'cause he's trailing the wet kisses, suckling just a little, down to her collar and lower and... and...

And he's touching mah bare skin! Rogue thought and jerked away. The man's body fell limp. He had been shot in the head. The Gondolier had been shot as well.

...and the kisses were still trailing lower...

Rogue wiped her hand on her neck. It's blood. It was his blood trickling down her neck to her collar and lower... and she'd thought it was kisses. She almost cried with the revelation of it. But, Rogue didn't cry very often. No, she got mad instead. Later... later she could cry. But, now, now was the time for anger.

Thump!

Rogue was jolted as the gondola bumped into the canal side. A shadow plunged the lover into darkness. Rogue looked up to the shadow's source. Rogue's daggers were already in her hands and she hadn't even realized she'd pulled them. She saw the man's murderer.

"Mama!"

"What did you think you were doing, Rogue?" Mystique said, tucking away her pistol, and offering a hand to yank Rogue up to the bank. "You're on an assignment, not the Love Boat!"

"The what? Love Boat?" Rogue said, grimacing as she returned her daggers to their hiding places. Rogue ignored the proud smile Mystique donned when she saw that Rogue had unconsciously drawn the daggers. She took Mystique's offered hand and climbed to the bank.

"I shouldn't have to come out and drag you back to the rendezvous point," Mystique snapped as she yanked Rogue along the darkened storefronts. The shops had long ago closed up in this part of Venice and most everyone had gone off to the Giudecca Island for Festa del Redentore, a religious festivity that celebrated the end of a terrible plague that had devoured the city's inhabitants in 1576 [1]. Hundreds of boats decorated with multicolored balloons and branches traveled the canals to the Basilica del Redentore, a temple honoring Christ the Redeemer on the Giudecca Island. The boats congregated in the Giudecca canal and in St. Mark's Basin and people gathered in throngs along the twinkling palace balconies and banks to dine and watch the spectacle of sound and lights that were to build and build into an evocative climatic fireworks display.

The pinnacle was not far off now.

"Ya didn't have ta come an' get meh," Rogue groused, "Ah knew the time, ah didn't have ta meet up with ya'll foah anothah half hour at least!"

The crowds cheered, "Hooray! Eccellente! Yaaay! Bello!" Though, their cheers were getting fainter and fainter the further away Mystique led Rogue away from Basilica del Redentore. With every step that she accompanied Mystique, Rogue felt she was slipping further and further away from not only the festival, but from her chance at redemption. Even the fireworks were falling behind the heights of the buildings that lined the canals.

"You hear that?" Mystique asked as she spun them around a corner, and jerked Rogue to a stop. Another faint wave of cheers rolled through the canals, echoing off the emptied buildings. "Do you?"

"Ah hear 'em!"

"Shh," Mystique snarled, "We're striking at the peak of the fireworks, Rogue. Does that sound like their far off?"

Rogue listened again, begrudging Mystique as indeed another wave of cheers rolled through Venice to reach them. Still, she wasn't giving into Mystique that easily. Rogue had been on so many missions similar to this one they were like breathing to her at this point. "Ah had it under control," Rogue snapped as she yanked free of Mystique's grasp.

Mystique frowned cynically at Rogue, then checked her watch. "Fifteen minutes left, come on," she said as she continued along the banks and across a bridge. This time she allowed Rogue to walk on her own instead of being dragged like a misbehaving five-year-old. Soon, The shadowed figures of Irene, Pyro, Blob, and Avalanche swam into their July-humid view ahead of them.

"Cutting it close," Irene said. She gave Rogue a knowing turn of expression as Mystique and Rogue joined them.

"Rogue had to indulge her romantic fantasies with her target before I took him out for her," Mystique answered.

"Romantic fantasies?!" Rogue screeched. She couldn't believe this was happening.

"We don't have time for this, Mystique," Irene said, placating, "The child can be punished later, but if we do not finish this before—"

"I know!" It came out harsher than Mystique had meant it to, but she couldn't let Irene announce that possibility in front of Rogue. "Blob, Pyro, Avalanche, go to your positions in St. Mark's square. Irene, skip the Doge's Palace and go ahead to San Giorgio Maggiore. Rogue will accompany me to the meeting outside the Palace."

"Raven," Irene began, "I must insist—"

"No, we will do it this way!"

Irene merely nodded in a sorrowful defeat. She looked to Rogue and said, "Fare well, child, and bide your time," then left.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Lily behaved as expected... sort of. She stood in the greeting line, beside her father, while mourners, one by one, gave their condolences as they passed out of her father's church before they headed to the church's banquet room.

Flaccid expression. Dim and damp eyes. Hand in hand. A gracious nod to acknowledge appreciation of the guest's attendance.

Next person.

Flaccid expression. Dim and damp eyes. Hand in hand. A gracious nod to acknowledge appreciation of the guest's attendance.

Next person. And another. And another. And another...

There were a lot of mourners attending. Mrs. Beauregard was well liked in the local community, by the congregation, by the politicians, with whom Father Beauregard mingled, and their wives, and their security officers.

Next person. And another. And another...

Lily spoke not one word through the entire procession, funeral services, or mourning line, and wasn't likely to speak during the after gathering in the banquet hall either.

Next person. And another. And another. Flaccid, dim, damp, touch, nod, flaccid, dim, damp, touch, nod, flaccid, dim, damp, touch, nod, flaccid, dim... until the last.

Lily made for the banquet hall entrance, but her father halted her. His arm snaked down to her prepubescent waist, under her arm, which she'd held so tightly against her side to prevent just that type of caress.

"We will enter together, Lilly," Her father said. His fingers gently massaged her waist, sliding up the few inches just under her more secret area. All went unnoticed by anyone who may have peaked in and saw them. He had perfected his performance of his secret gesture. After all, he'd been doing it for a long time.

Then he swept open the hall doors, ushering her in with another gentle squeeze so near her secret place round her side, keeping her at his side all the while. They made their way to the head of the room together in that manner. Then he gave his speech, thanking all for attending, and inviting them to partake in the catered food, and to mingle with their fellow mourners.

Leave it to Father Beauregard to make even his wife's funeral into an opportunity to strike up new connections and solidify straining ones. The entire time, Lily kept silent, only speaking when asked questions, repeating her flaccid—dim—damp—touch—nod as she watched her father repeat his teary—head bow—handshake—sigh to every influential individual in the hall. Yes, he was very opportunistic.

...And wasn't it convenient that he had reached the River just after Lily's mother had been dragged too far out into the flooded, raging waters...

Lily was trying to figure so much out. She didn't understand what she was feeling. With her mother's death, something died in her... and something else was born. Something small and weak, and specific had been born. Was it just her raw and amplified emotions that were letting her see her father as though he was encased in a clear glass cast? Was it just her raw and amplified emotions that were letting her see that glass cast take the form of her father's teary—head bow—handshake—sigh? Was it just her raw and amplified emotions that were letting her see underneath the glass cast, see the energetic alacrity shivering impatiently for its chance to shatter through that glass cast and burst free?

If so, Lily's emotions were raw and amplified for years and years to follow.

~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the contact showed up, Rogue and Mystique had both simmered down a bit, though Mystique was still a bit on edge. It was starting to unnerve Rogue. Mystique was always confident, if not content, while on a mission. Mystique's currently strange behavior was really unsettling Rogue, especially when a lone figure crossed the square, hobbling towards them, Mystique repeatedly flicked her attention between the man and Rogue. It was as though she were watching for Rogue's reaction.

"What is yoah deal, ma—"

"Shh!" Mystique snapped.

Rogue scoffed, crossed her arms, and looked away. She couldn't wait till this mission was over. Maybe then she'd actually get to enjoy Venice a little bit. It's not like it's a big thing, anyway. It's just some meeting. Don't even know why Ah even had ta target that guy. This is such a waste...

Rogue's thoughts were interrupted. The man had reached them. Training took over and she stood at the ready. She appeared calm and relaxed, leaning back against the column with her arms crossed over her chest, but she was tuned, she was alert, and her weapons were no more than a fraction of a blink's length from use.

The man said nothing at first. He didn't even look to Mystique for the first thirty seconds or so while he stared at the young teenager that accompanied her. Rogue tried to ignore the scrutiny, avoiding direct eye contact to keep from squirming from the strange attention. And just before Rogue decided just to take him out for comfort's sake, he turned to Mystique and spoke.

The man asked, "This is her?"

Huh? That really got Rogue's attention. What the heck does this guy want with me?

Mystique scowled. "Do you have to even ask?"

"She could be a shapeshifter, like you," the man countered.

"She's not."

"How can I trust tha—"

"I don't have to prove anything. You KNOW it's her, Mar—"

A hand raised. "I know... I just..."

"It doesn't matter," Mystique said, her eyes darting around the square. She shifted from one foot to the other. She refused to look at Rogue. Rogue knew these as telltale signs of nervousness, of weakness in a target. Rogue knew them because Mystique had taught them to her. She'd never seen Mystique display them before... ever... especially on a mission and it was upsetting Rogue. Rogue fingered her garrote, which was easily accessible with her arms crossed as they were.

"And Leandro?" The man asked.

"Just as you said," Mystique answered.

The man nodded.

Cheers reverberated through the square from across St. Mark's Basin. "Ripetizione. Horray! Più! Yaaay! Ancora! Woohoo! Bello! Eccellente!" It was the finale of the fireworks. Some of the highest flare-bursts could easily be seen topping the Doge's Palace and St. Mark's. It clamored on and on as Rogue focused on the man, trying to get a bead on him, but his oversized coat disguised his size and shape and his hat shadowed his face entirely. The man before her was basically featureless and it made Rogue paranoid. There was nothing she could see to identify him. She didn't like blind meetings like this, and she really didn't like how Mystique was reacting to the guy, but before Rogue could say anything, Mystique spoke again.

"I've paid your price, you've seen her," Mystique said, grabbing hold of Rogue's arm and attempting to leave.

"Wait," the man said, grabbing hold of Rogue's other arm to stop them from going. Desperation made his oversized coat shiver.

Rogue threw a venomous look to him, but he ignored it. She didn't like being in this prone position between the two of them. Not only did it prevent quick access to any of her weapons but it also made her a prize between the two of them and she didn't even know why. No, she didn't like this situation at all. Mystique was too nervous. Rogue had no line of sight to Blob, Pyro, or Avalanche. Irene had warned against handling the meeting like this. And this man was touching her. He was TOUCHING her.

"Let go o' meh!" Rogue said as she yanked her arms from both of them. The motion threw both Mystique and the man off balance. Rogue ignored Mystique for the moment, choosing to handle the man herself. She kicked his shin. He bent forward. She grabbed his head shoving it down as she raised her knee to meet his face. Crack! His nose broke.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Rogue didn't even look to verify the sounds of the guns being drawn. Just in hearing them she knew where they were aimed. Instead, she continued her actions on the man. She twisted her hold on him. A blade appeared like magic in her right hand, poised at his throat, and her left hand tilted his head back by a handful of his hair. She arched him to the side and back, her bent leg planted securely behind his knees, ready to kick and take him to the ground. The man was now subdued and at her mercy. Now, she could allow herself to address the situation of the six guns being drawn. She looked to where six soldiers aimed guns on Mystique. "Let her go or he's dead."

"Hahahahahaha!" It was the man.

Rogue jerked back on his head, distorting his laughter, but not stifling it. "What's so funny?"

"You, holding me hostage—heh heh—I'm just not that important."

Rogue looked at the soldiers aiming at Mystique. Not one of them even glanced at Rogue and the man. They had no interest in them at all. Their only target was Mystique.

Rogue didn't know what to do, but she suddenly wished she had left seven months ago... left with her backpack stuffed full with three pairs of jeans, eight long sleeved tees, bras, socks, underwear, gloves, and life savings, and with two stuffed animals tied to it. She looked to Mystique, the only mother she ever knew, and she didn't know how to save her.

~~~~~~~~~~~

ALT. END. KILBURN08.

VOILA!

KNRNEUXUMZLETXMEXAXTTXLKNIIXMNRIXTIEOXAEAKNRNXEUXUATDXIEBESSBUUUENRXNK OIEATNEXETARXEANTIRXFOVNRPETXXHERLSXSRXCOIEXAXTNETIXNXESSEXREVOENTXAEIO DCXICWORXIFIVNSRDXNEEDXIIEREEXNTAXEEECXCXDCICXWOXRTREEXIGENEHXEROWCXICD IHRHISCNXIHAOIEIXEENXIECRXXERNEEUXNRCOXIIXHRHISCXLFXEXNTOIMEMXECSXIXHXRXHI ETEXIREOGXGRTNNVXXESITERXHAIKAXNEXSTEHMAEXTEXIREOMXEINGESCHUTOXXERIETXE RWNHXARMELEXEOSEBSGORVTSRL!XCTTFXUZXOPLXRWNHARMZTXFIGLXIADEXLMRAHNWR EIXENUEPSIXRRXSTSXEXEXEIEOXWXEEAHOWXINPUXIIEIEXXNUEPLA!XIHRERMXUTTPEUNEIE NREEXSXZICAXMSERXSSXRNMKNIXIXMNRIXTIEXOAXEAXNREXEXSZIXEXRATERSPESIZSEERN VERNFPAHDUPNSOSEEEEXOWEEAHXOWXINPUIXIVXERNFPAXXTENOXNOSXEXNIGAPFXNREV IRKTIXAXCUETXEIXXLXLXBXVHMRVXTSRLCTXTFXUZOPLIXRXKTIACMXA!XSINSTRSLICAITKRI EALOESCTLTSGIDUXOEEERHAIKAXNESTEHMAXXEALOESCXXENREVXXEXSSOLXXDCSEOLAE RXSAXTLEIMXZLXETMEXXATXTLXXIECXRERNEXEXUNRCXOIRXSATLEIATDIEBESSBUIELTASR VEREECAETAREAXXNTIRFXX!DIIEXREENTAEXEXECCVEREEXCXATINEXXSSEREVOXACEEREV OMTXTXNHLIFIVXNSXRDNEEOXVNXRPETHERXXLSSRXCOMT!TNHLTRXEEIGENEXHELHNTTMO IPXEETXOINIHXAOIXEIEENKNXXIIMNXRITIXEXOAEAXIPEEXXTOILXFX!ENTOXIMEMEIXOTEEPXI

XXXX"The 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

The initial glance at the coded page was intimidating, but Rogue let her eyes look at the whole of it, then slowly, slowly, narrowed in on its parts. In a matter of seconds she knew the first few filters she needed to use. First, the top half was duplicated, upside down, in the bottom half. So, she removed the bottom half and was left with...

KNRNEUXUMZLETXMEXAXTTXLKNIIXMNRIXTIEOXAEAKNRNXEUXUATDXIEBESSBUUUENRXNK OIEATNEXETARXEANTIRXFOVNRPETXXHERLSXSRXCOIEXAXTNETIXNXESSEXREVOENTXAEIO DCXICWORXIFIVNSRDXNEEDXIIEREEXNTAXEEECXCXDCICXWOXRTREEXIGENEHXEROWCXICD IHRHISCNXIHAOIEIXEENXIECRXXERNEEUXNRCOXIIXHRHISCXLFXEXNTOIMEMXECSXIXHXRXHI ETEXIREOGXGRTNNVXXESITERXHAIKAXNEXSTEHMAEXTEXIREOMXEINGESCHUTOXXERIETXE RWNHXARMELEXEOSEBSGORVTSRL!XCTTFXUZXOPLXRWNHARMZTXFIGLXIADEXLMRAHNWR EIXENUEPSIXRRXSTSXEXEXEIEOXWXEEAHOWXINPUXIIEIEXXNUEPLA!XIHRERMXUTTPEUNEIE NREEXSXZICAXMSERXSSXRNMKNIXIXMNRIXTIEXOAXEAXNREXEXSZIXEXRATERSPESIZSEERN VERNFPAHDUPNSOSEEEEXOWEEAHXOWXINPUIXIVXERNFPAXXTENOXNOSXEXNIGAPFXNREV IRKTIXAXCUETXEIXXLXLXBXVHMRVXTSRLCTXTFXUZOPLIXRXKTIACMXA!XSINSTRSLICAITKRI EALOESCTLTSGIDUXOEEERHAIKAXNESTEHMAXXEALOESCXXENREVXXEXSSOLXXDCSEOLAE RXSAXTLEIMXZLXETMEXXATXTLXXIECXRERNEXEXUNRCXOIRXSATLEIATDIEBESSBUIELTASR VEREECAETAREAXXNTIRFXX!DIIEXREENTAEXEXECCVEREEXCXATINEXXSSEREVOXACEEREV OMTXTXNHLIFIVXNSXRDNEEOXVNXRPETHERXXLSSRXCOMT!TNHLTRXEEIGENEXHELHNTTMO IPXEETXOINIHXAOIXEIEENKNXXIIMNXRITIXEXOAEAXIPEEXXTOILXFX!ENTOXIMEMEIXOTEEPXI

XXXX"The code was always meant for you. Use it like I taught you to. Make me and Irene proud."XXXX

Second, Rogue looked at the original message line. The X's on either side were filler. That clued into all X's used in the entire message. All the X's were filler. They usually were. Mystique despised all things X after Rogue had joined up with the X-Men. With that realized, Rogue scanned the rest of the coded text and noted the abundance of X's and the few desultory exclamation points. That sparked a rule of Mystique's coding in her... 'no punctuation is used.' Thus, Rogue removed all the X's and all the exclamation points... oh, and the originally visible message line. That left her with...

KNRNEUUMZLETMEATTLKNIIMNRITIEOAEAKNRNEUUATDIEBESSBUUUENRNK OIEATNEETAREANTIRFOVNRPETHERLSSRCOIEATNETINESSEREVOENTAEIO DCICWORIFIVNSRDNEEDIIEREENTAEEECCDCICWORTREEIGENEHEROWCICD IHRHISCNIHAOIEIEENIECRERNEEUNRCOIIHRHISCLFENTOIMEMECSIHRHI ETEIREOGGRTNNVESITERHAIKANESTEHMAETEIREOMEINGESCHUTOERIETE RWNHARMELEEOSEBSGORVTSRLCTTFUZOPLRWNHARMZTFIGLIADELMRAHNWR EIENUEPSIRRSTSEEEIEOWEEAHOWINPUIIEIENUEPLAIHRERMUTTPEUNEIE NREESZICAMSERSSRNMKNIIMNRITIEOAEANREESZIERVATERSPESIZSEERN VERNFPAHDUPNSOSEEEEOWEEAHOWINPUIIVERNFPATENONOSENIGAPFNREV IRKTIACUETEILLBVHMRVTSRLCTTFUZOPLIRKTIACMASINSTRSLICAITKRI EALOESCTLTSGIDUOEEERHAIKANESTEHMAEALOESCENREVESSOLDCSEOLAE RSATLEIMZLETMEATTLIECRERNEEUNRCOIRSATLEIATDIEBESSBUIELTASR VEREECAETAREANTIRFDIIEREENTAEEECCVEREECATINESSEREVOACEEREV OMTTNHLIFIVNSRDNEEOVNRPETHERLSSRCOMTTNHLTREEIGENEHELHNTTMO IPEETOINIHAOIEIEENKNIIMNRITIEOAEAIPEETOILFENTOIMEMEIOTEEPI

Third, Rogue... well, Rogue was stumped again. Over and over again she scanned it and couldn't find a pattern. She needed to find the pattern in order to decipher the actual key to the code.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"And you don't seem to understand. A shame, you seemed an honest man. And all those fears you hold so dear will turn to whisper in your ear. And you know what they say may hurt you. And you know that it means so much. And you don't even feel a thing." (Duvet –by Boa)

Foot steps. Muffled. Shuffled. Tap-step-swish. Tap-step-swish.

"What part of stay away didn't you understand!" Gyrich yelled. He was at his wit's end. His latest project was destroyed.

Tap-step-swish.

The machine was destroyed. But that could be rebuilt.

Tap-step-swish.

All the research was gone. But that could be redone as well.

Tap-step-swish.

The diaries were gone. The diaries were stolen, stolen by HER. Everything had been all for HER and because of HER. It was all HER fault.

Gyrich didn't realize how poignant those thoughts were. If he only knew.

Tap-step-swish.

Gyrich smacked his hands on the metal floor along with his angry words, "I said—"

Tap-tap… the cane bumped against the crushed metal that Gyrich was leaning against. The crushed metal used to be the Seether machine… but now it resembled half-molten crushed cars. Gyrich's eyes followed the length of the cane, from its cracked foam/plastic tip, up the slender dark wood, to the knotted handle gripped by the ancient hand. Gyrich focused on the paper-thin skin stretched taut over the hand's thick knuckles. As though having read Gyrich's mind, the old man said, "They can be hunted."

Knock… knock… Gyrich bumped his head against the remains of the Seether machine that he sat against. Hunted. That was this old man's proposal from the first… well from the moment that he had re-entered Gyrich's life after about a fourteen year hiatus. This old man was the bane of Gyrich's existence. If Gyrich had never met this old man, he would not be in the mess he was in right then. He would not be filled with such hatred. He would not have such a burning desire to destroy an entire species of life. He would not be in such pain. He would not have met Lilly…

Gyrich sighed. Sadness oozed from his lungs with that weary loose of breath, but there was so much more remaining. I would never have met Lilly.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"Here, here, now, don't cry, you raised your hand for the assignment. Tuck those ribbons under your helmet, be a good soldier. First my left foot then my right behind the other..." (Mother –by Tori Amos)

Rogue watched, helpless, tears brimming her eyes like the coffee had been brimming her cup while she faced Mystique's inquiry in the tearoom only seven months before. The soldiers shackled Mystique and carted her away. Rogue followed them as they loaded Mystique into a prisoner van. Somewhere, somehow, Rogue was aware of the man she was dragging along with her, knife at his throat, hand clutching his hair, his feeble knees struggling to keep up with her speed. Still, Rogue watched as the soldiers piled in around Mystique, shut the van up, and pulled away. Vaguely, Rogue registered the slight tremor to the ground, the fiery mass that swirled by her, the knife she pressed to a throat, and a hand full of hair. She watched, as Blob stomped past her, out of breath, futile in his attempts to catch a van that was now out of sight.

"—him go, Rogue?"

Rogue didn't quite register Avalanche talking to her.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and her eyes snapped up to see it had been Pyro who tested that risky gesture.

"It's over, Rogue. Ya can let the bloke loose... We'll handle him."

Confused. Rogue was confused. She looked to Pyro, to Blob, and to Avalanche; all of them had obviously run full speed from their positions up in the buildings surrounding St. Mark's square. Even with their view of the area they hadn't spotted the soldiers until it was too late.

Rogue looked in the direction the van drove, then back to Pyro. "They took Raven, St. John..."

"She'll be apples, Rogue," Pyro said, using his native slang Rogue always liked for 'it'll be okay.' "We'll have her home in no time. Promise." He tried to get a hold of the man Rogue still had at her mercy. The man's knees were scraped; his oversized jacket was dusty and torn from being dragged across the square. He bore the physical signs of Rogue's rough and uncaring handling of him. However, peculiarly, he was completely at ease as he stared up at Rogue. The man wasn't fighting her hold at all.

"Let me take the bloke, k?" Pyro asked again. He was disturbed by the man's strange attention on Rogue. The man was watching Rogue like he was looking at an angel... a real angel, not just some pretty girl. It was creepy.

"They took Raven," Rogue repeated, then looked down at the man in her hands. Even in the dimly lit square, her emerald orbs reflected in his glassy eyes. "Mama—"

She shifted, uncomfortably. Most of her reflected in his glassy eyes now. She almost remembered him... almost. Emerald orbs sucked in, rolled over, covered up, and threw away the key. Rogue was hollowed out. Rogue gaped.

"I escape into your escape into our very favorite fearscape. It's across the sky and across my heart and I cross my legs. Oh my God." (Mother –by Tori Amos)

"Yes, it's me," the man said, mistaking and twisting Rogue's hollow gape as elated recognition. "I forgive you." He seemed so relieved. "You can come with me."

Rogue swallowed. She was swallowed. A hateful, vengeful snarl replaced her hollow gape. She dropped him—splat! And then she spat in his face like she'd spat on the couple in the gondola who were kissing as they passed under the 'Ponte dei Sospiri'—the Bridge of Sighs—while Rogue was crossing it before the meeting. The bridge had linked the Doge's Palace to the old prison sections across the canal. A romantic notion had grown around it—lovers who kissed as they passed under the Bridge of Sighs would share a love that lasted forever. But Rogue's kiss meant death, not love. Rogue's own skin was her own prison. The man before her was the bridge linking her prison and her palace. Too bad her bridge crumbled into the canal when her gape became a snarl.

"Leave him," Rogue said. Ignoring the nagging feeling telling her she had left something behind, Rogue stalked away. Unbeknown to her consciously, Rogue was actually missing something. Just not the way she would've thought. She hadn't physically lost anything. She'd tucked a piece of her self inside her own mind. She'd sealed it over with sticky webbing. Perhaps, never to be seen again.

"Oh my God. First my left foot then my right behind the other. Bread crumbs lost under the snow." (Mother –by Tori Amos)

The fireworks had reached and passed its peak. The cheering crowds broke apart into more intimate collections to play and sing and dance and converse, only to regroup at the Lido to embrace the coming sunrise. However, Rogue and the brotherhood didn't participate in the same games. They broke into a military prison. They freed Mystique. They escaped Venice, Italy and headed for the states. The sunrise chased them home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"I am falling. I am fading. I have lost it all." (Duvet –by Boa)

Gyrich hung his head in shame. Maybe this was just what he needed. Maybe this last failure would defeat him, would send him to rest, and would end a career that had been honed by hate. A misplaced hate; misdirected painful vengeance. He knew that, somewhere faintly muffled in his thoughts. It wasn't like a mutant had murdered his wife and child, murdered his perfect life just as it was starting. Truthfully, from all the doctor had spoken of and from what the death certificates had said... his wife and child had died of natural causes. He hated to be reminded of it, reminded of the occasional admission that sometimes people just die.

"You are pathetic, Henry!" The old man boomed. He had a voice that commanded. It was charismatic and entrancing. It was strong and hearing it inspired fellowship. It was mind control at its most subtle. It was the voice of a skillful and talented salesman. It was the voice of a preacher. It condemned punishment and promised rewards in every syllable. The quality of his voice mocked the harshness of the words. And yet, Gyrich couldn't help but listen to him. He couldn't help but believe him.

And yet… Gyrich had heard the man more than a thousand times. Was it possible that the voice had lost its affect on him? Was it possible that Gyrich had heard the tired tirade just too many times for it to effectively push his buttons?

"Look at you, sniveling there," the old man continued. "I don't know what I was thinking when I met you. You are pathetic." Thunk! Another jab of the cane against the crumpled metal Gyrich leaned back on resounded in time with the hurtful repetition of, "Pathetic!"

Gyrich had had it. He leapt up, shoved his face into the old man's face, forcing his withering, fire-scarred body to recoil, and yelled, "That's it, Marshall!" He slammed his fist back against the crumpled remains of the Seether machine. A small jagged edge bit into his hand, but Gyrich was too angry to feel it. "Look at it! LOOK AT IT! It's over! Don't you get it! This is over!"

A proud grin broke across the old man's sour veneer and lit his cloudy, jaded eyes. "That's the spirit, boy! Get angry! Fight back!" The old man tap-step-swished, dragging his scarred and near-useless right leg, as he moved around Gyrich to the side of the crumpled Seether machine remains, and all along continuing to crouse. "Don't let the situation control you. Don't let someone else lead you by your brass. YOU make the situation suit your whims. YOU make the people follow you!"

"And exactly how do you expect me to do that, Marshall?" Gyrich asked, gesturing to the remains of the Seether machine. "That's what this was for, wasn't it? Contain the mutant, tap and harness her power, use it to create and control mutant hunters, the Hounds... that was the plan, was it not?"

"It's still the plan, Henry. Not everything is lost."

Exasperated, Gyrich sighed. "It was next to impossible to convince congress to give us the money to build this one. We won't be able to get another one made, Marshall."

The old man's proud grin turned sly, and he said, "We don't have to. We already have another one."

He paused a moment, letting the revelation sink into Gyrich.

Then the old man continued explaining. "In fact, this wasn't even the full Seether machine. This was just a containment unit. The full machine... well, that's safely stashed away. The real one won't be risked by being in her presence or the presence of any other mutant until after she has been contained and subdued to us."

"You mean—" Gyrich cut himself off as he worked it all out in his head. Then, when not understanding how construction of more than one machine could have escaped him, he asked, "What about Gary and Janey? They can't be—"

"They're taken care of. Two shots. Clean."

"Ahhhhh..." A long pause. Then Gyrich addressed the real issue. "But... A second machine? I mean, how?"

"I have my ways, Henry," the old man crowed, "I can be very persuasive when I want to be." He rounded on him, grinding his hand on the head of the cane. The action made the scarred skin on his hand appear as bubbling melted wax. His eyes twinkled, and he boasted, "I am the direct descendent of two of the south's greatest military leaders, including General Lee, himself. I am Marshall Le—"

That's when Gyrich tuned out again. This part of the old man's tirades, at least, had grown tired enough for him to actually be able to ignore. Unlike usually, when the man's roaring fire and brimstone voice bore right into Gyrich's core. To everyone's core. Gyrich had rarely seen a person not mesmerized when the old man spoke.

"And you don't seem the lying kind. A shame that I can read your mind. And all those things that I read there… candle-lit smile that we both share. And you know I don't mean to hurt you. But you know that it means so much. And you don't even feel a thing." (Duvet –by Boa)

~~~~~~~~~~~

Rogue remembered. Another layer had been shed. Another piece of her self had been revealed, anew... No, that wasn't accurate. She'd been razed. A layer had been shaved off, scraped off, torn down. Another persona was released, and suddenly it all seemed so clear. Well, not everything... But as she looked at the coded text, where she first saw only...

KNRNEUUMZLETMEATTLKNIIMNRITIEOAEAKNRNEUUATDIEBESSBUUUENRNK OIEATNEETAREANTIRFOVNRPETHERLSSRCOIEATNETINESSEREVOENTAEIO DCICWORIFIVNSRDNEEDIIEREENTAEEECCDCICWORTREEIGENEHEROWCICD IHRHISCNIHAOIEIEENIECRERNEEUNRCOIIHRHISCLFENTOIMEMECSIHRHI ETEIREOGGRTNNVESITERHAIKANESTEHMAETEIREOMEINGESCHUTOERIETE RWNHARMELEEOSEBSGORVTSRLCTTFUZOPLRWNHARMZTFIGLIADELMRAHNWR EIENUEPSIRRSTSEEEIEOWEEAHOWINPUIIEIENUEPLAIHRERMUTTPEUNEIE NREESZICAMSERSSRNMKNIIMNRITIEOAEANREESZIERVATERSPESIZSEERN VERNFPAHDUPNSOSEEEEOWEEAHOWINPUIIVERNFPATENONOSENIGAPFNREV IRKTIACUETEILLBVHMRVTSRLCTTFUZOPLIRKTIACMASINSTRSLICAITKRI EALOESCTLTSGIDUOEEERHAIKANESTEHMAEALOESCENREVESSOLDCSEOLAE RSATLEIMZLETMEATTLIECRERNEEUNRCOIRSATLEIATDIEBESSBUIELTASR VEREECAETAREANTIRFDIIEREENTAEEECCVEREECATINESSEREVOACEEREV OMTTNHLIFIVNSRDNEEOVNRPETHERLSSRCOMTTNHLTREEIGENEHELHNTTMO IPEETOINIHAOIEIEENKNIIMNRITIEOAEAIPEETOILFENTOIMEMEIOTEEPI

She now saw this...

KNRNEUUMZLETMEATTLKNIIMNRITIEOAEAKNRNEUUATDIEBESSBUUUENRNK OIEATNEETAREANTIRFOVNRPETHERLSSRCOIEATNETINESSEREVOENTAEIO DCICWORIFIVNSRDNEEDIIEREENTAEEECCDCICWORTREEIGENEHEROWCICD IHRHISCNIHAOIEIEENIECRERNEEUNRCOIIHRHISCLFENTOIMEMECSIHRHI ETEIREOGGRTNNVESITERHAIKANESTEHMAETEIREOMEINGESCHUTOERIETE RWNHARMELEEOSEBSGORVTSRLCTTFUZOPLRWNHARMZTFIGLIADELMRAHNWR EIENUEPSIRRSTSEEEIEOWEEAHOWINPUIIEIENUEPLAIHRERMUTTPEUNEIE NREESZICAMSERSSRNMKNIIMNRITIEOAEANREESZIERVATERSPESIZSEERN

VERNFPAHDUPNSOSEEE EOWEEAHOWINPUIIVERNFPATENONOSENIGAPFNREV IRKTIACUETEILLBVHMRVTSRLCTTFUZOPLIRKTIACMASINSTRSLICAITKRI EALOESCTLTSGIDUOEEERHAIKANESTEHMAEALOESCENREVESSOLDCSEOLAE RSATLEIMZLETMEATTLIECRERNEEUNRCOIRSATLEIATDIEBESSBUIELTASR

VEREECAETAREANTIRFDIIEREENTAEEECCVEREECATINESSEREVOACEEREV OMTTNHLIFIVNSRDNEEOVNRPETHERLSSRCOMTTNHLTREEIGENEHELHNTTMO IPEETOINIHAOIEIEENKNIIMNRITIEOAEAIPEETOILFENTOIMEMEIOTEEPI

The letters going down the edge on both sides of the text said KODIEREN VIER VOI. It was a rephrasing of the originally visible text of the email. Well, the first line of it, anyway. But it was in German and Italian. Kodieren = Code. Vier = Four. Voi = You. Code four you.

"Four." The voice was new. It was salt and vinegar.

"Hmmmmmm."

"Four." Tart and bitter.

Another glance and the text transformed again, not physically on the screen, but just through her view. Columns formed right before her eyes. It was now...

KNRNEUU ~MZLETMEATTL~ KNIIMNRITIEOAEA~ KNRNEUU ~ATDIEBESSBU~ UUENRNK

OIEATNE ~ETAREANTIRF~ OVNRPETHERLSSRC~ OIEATNE ~TINESSEREVO~ ENTAEIO

DCICWOR ~IFIVNSRDNEE~ DIIEREENTAEEECC~ DCICWOR ~TREEIGENEHE~ ROWCICD

IHRHISC ~NIHAOIEIEEN~ IECRERNEEUNRCOI~ IHRHISC ~LFENTOIMEME~ CSIHRHI

ETEIREO ~GGRTNNVESIT~ ERHAIKANESTEHMA~ ETEIREO ~MEINGESCHUT~ OERIETE

RWNHARM ~ELEEOSEBSGO~ RVTSRLCTTFUZOPL~ RWNHARM ~ZTFIGLIADEL~ MRAHNWR

EIENUEP ~SIRRSTSEEEI~ EOWEEAHOWINPUII~ EIENUEP ~LAIHRERMUTT~ PEUNEIE

NREESZI ~CAMSERSSRNM~ KNIIMNRITIEOAEA~ NREESZI ~ERVATERSPES~ IZSEERN

VERNFPA ~HDUPNSOSEEE~ EOWEEAHOWINPUII~ VERNFPA ~TENONOSENIG~ APFNREV

IRKTIAC ~UETEILLBVHM~ RVTSRLCTTFUZOPL~ IRKTIAC ~MASINSTRSLI~ CAITKRI

EALOESC ~TLTSGIDUOEE~ ERHAIKANESTEHMA~ EALOESC ~ENREVESSOLD~ CSEOLAE

RSATLEI ~MZLETMEATTL~ IECRERNEEUNRCOI~ RSATLEI ~ATDIEBESSBU~ IELTASR

VEREECA ~ETAREANTIRF~ DIIEREENTAEEECC~ VEREECA ~TINESSEREVO~ ACEEREV

OMTTNHL ~IFIVNSRDNEE~ OVNRPETHERLSSRC~ OMTTNHL ~TREEIGENEHE~ LHNTTMO

IPEETOI ~NIHAOIEIEEN~ KNIIMNRITIEOAEA~ IPEETOI ~LFENTOIMEME~ IOTEEPI

KODIEREN VIER VOI. Code four you. Four. That first line was repeated four times. And with that revelation, the other patterns were beginning show, the code to unravel. The sequence with that first recognized phrase was repeated four times, in some manner. That left two more columns. Logic alone told her two was half of four, and half of two was one. So, more than likely she figured there was only one more patterned sequence that was repeated. Since, to be repeated... it had to be there more than once. But to be safe, she retained the two columns that didn't include 'Kodieren Vier Voi' until she broke them down. Thus, Rogue cut away all unnecessary columns, leaving her with the following.

KNRNEUU ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~MZLETMEATTL~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ATDIEBESSBU~

OIEATNE ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ETAREANTIRF~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~TINESSEREVO~

DCICWOR ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~IFIVNSRDNEE~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~TREEIGENEHE~

IHRHISC ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~NIHAOIEIEEN~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~LFENTOIMEME~

ETEIREO ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~GGRTNNVESIT~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~MEINGESCHUT~

RWNHARM ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ELEEOSEBSGO~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ZTFIGLIADEL~

EIENUEP ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~SIRRSTSEEEI~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~LAIHRERMUTT~

NREESZI ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~CAMSERSSRNM~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ERVATERSPES~

VERNFPA ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~HDUPNSOSEEE~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~TENONOSENIG~

IRKTIAC ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~UETEILLBVHM~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~MASINSTRSLI~

EALOESC ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~TLTSGIDUOEE~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ENREVESSOLD~

RSATLEI ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~MZLETMEATTL~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ATDIEBESSBU~

VEREECA ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ETAREANTIRF~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~TINESSEREVO~

OMTTNHL ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~IFIVNSRDNEE~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~TREEIGENEHE~

IPEETOI ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~NIHAOIEIEEN~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~LFENTOIMEME~

Now, she had to break down each of the sequences. She took the first column, and followed the cue that was simplest to see. The first three words went straight down. Perhaps, all the words went down in that fashion. So, she separated the letters and lined them up to see them better. The first group quickly became...

K N R N E U U

O I E A T N E

D C I C W O R

I H R H I S C

E T E I R E O

R W N H A R M

E I E N U E P

N R E E S Z I

V E R N F P A

I R K T I A C

E A L O E S C

R S A T L E I

V E R E E C A

O M T T N H L

I P E E T O I

"Huh, seven across and fifteen down... fifteen ...Fifteen," Rogue thought.

"Yeah, Sug, it's meh," Fifteen said. Hearing her talk was like hearing and tasting the flavor and texture of munching on salt and vinegar chips.

Rogue grinned. "Ya know languages."

"Yes, Ah know languages." Salt and vinegar.

"And codes."

"And codes." Tart and bitter.

Together they examined the first group. Going down the lines, up, down, left, right, Rogue got, 'KODIE RENVIERVOINICHTWIRERASEMPTREIRENEERKLARTENACHIHNENTOTETEETWIRAUSFIELEN TUNOSEREZPASECHOUERCOMPIACCIALI.' A glance was all it took and the words popped out at her.

Kodieren vier voi. Nicht wir. Era Sempre. Irene erklarte. Nach ihnen totete et wir ausfielen. Tu n'os erez pas echouer. Compiacciali. It's a combination of German, Italian, and French. It translated as...

"Code four you. Not us. It always was. Irene explained. After you killed and we failed. You will not dare fail. Satisfy us," Rogue said, reading the translation. "Just a little demanding aren't ya, Mystique."

"This ain't the code she means," Fifteen said, "She ain't talkin' 'bout the email, sug." Salt and Vinegar.

"No, she's not," Thirteen added in her edgy, yet sad voice.

"Zero Beta Niner Beta Alpha Zero Niner Omega," Rogue said and grimaced. "But what for?"

"Foah ya, Ah guess," Thirteen's sad, edgy voice said, "Kodieren vier voi... The code is foah ya... She says it twice."

"No." It was Fifteen. For all her rebelliousness, it was sure, it was serious, and it was dour. "It's foah us, sug. Foah four of us." Tart and bitter.

"But which ones?"

"Don't know," Thirteen said, edgy, sad.

Fifteen said nothing. Rather, Rogue felt Fifteen's shrug as she crossed her arms across her chest in irritation and defiance of her not knowing. She was a teenager. She hated not knowing the answers. Fifteen was so alike and yet so different from Thirteen. Fifteen was edgy like Thirteen, only more so. Her demeanor, the bottled up effect, and the tension, was the same... only more so. But that was just the flavor on the chip... it wasn't even close to breaching the depths of her acerbic constitution. Fifteen lacked Thirteen's compassion, Thirteen's sadness, Thirteen's insecurities, or Thirteen's order. Fifteen was chaos, only restrained by her sour bitterness and conceit. And she was worthy of her conceit. She was dangerously intelligent, talented, and skillful. This was the Rogue that invented the siphoning kiss of hers as an attack on an adversary.

And right now, her adversary was the remains of the coded text of the email. Little more than a brief study of the two remaining columns, and BLINK, the pattern emerged like a magic eye picture.

~MZLETMEATTL~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ATDIEBESSBU~

~ETAREANTIRF~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~TINESSEREVO~

~IFIVNSRDNEE~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~TREEIGENEHE~

~NIHAOIEIEEN~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~LFENTOIMEME~

~GGRTNNVESIT~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~MEINGESCHUT~

~ELEEOSEBSGO~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ZTFIGLIADEL~

~SIRRSTSEEEI~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~LAIHRERMUTT~

~CAMSERSSRNM~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ERVATERSPES~

~HDUPNSOSEEE~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~TENONOSENIG~

~UETEILLBVHM~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~MASINSTRSLI~

~TLTSGIDUOEE~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ENREVESSOLD~

~MZLETMEATTL ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ATDIEBESSBU~

~ETAREANTIRF~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~TINESSEREVO~

~IFIVNSRDNEE~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~TREEIGENEHE~

~NIHAOIEIEEN~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~LFENTOIMEME~

...became...

M Z L E T M E A T T L ~~~~~~~~~~~ A T D I E B E S S B U

E T A R E A N T I R F ~~~~~~~~~~~ T I N E S S E R E V O

I F I V N S R D N E E ~~~~~~~~~~~ T R E E I G E N E H E

N I H A O I E I E E N ~~~~~~~~~~~ L F E N T O I M E M E

G G R T N N V E S I T ~~~~~~~~~~~ M E I N G E S C H U T

E L E E O S E B S G O ~~~~~~~~~~~ Z T F I G L I A D E L

S I R R S T S E E E I ~~~~~~~~~~~ L A I H R E R M U T T

C A M S E R S S R N M ~~~~~~~~~~~ E R V A T E R S P E S

H D U P N S O S E E E ~~~~~~~~~~~ T E N O N O S E N I G

U E T E I L L B V H M ~~~~~~~~~~~ M A S I N S T R S L I

T L T S G I D U O E E ~~~~~~~~~~~ E N R E V E S S O L D

M Z L E T M E A T T L ~~~~~~~~~~~ A T D I E B E S S B U

E T A R E A N T I R F ~~~~~~~~~~~ T I N E S S E R E V O

I F I V N S R D N E E ~~~~~~~~~~~ T R E E I G E N E H E

N I H A O I E I E E N ~~~~~~~~~~~ L F E N T O I M E M E

Words popped out at her... MEIN—German, My; IHRER—German, Your; NONOS—Italian, Grandfather's; DIEBESS—French, Thief's; TOI-MEME—French, Yourself... and their counterparts popped out in the other grouping as well... And the pattern emerged. It emerged. It was duplicated. It was eleven by eleven... That shouldn't have been an obvious pattern option, but it hadn't occurred to Rogue to look for it.

The remains were now merely...

M Z L E T M E A T T L

E T A R E A N T I R F

I F I V N S R D N E E

N I H A O I E I E E N

G G R T N N V E S I T

E L E E O S E B S G O

S I R R S T S E E E I

C A M S E R S S R N M

H D U P N S O S E E E

U E T E I L L B V H M

T L T S G I D U O E E

...and like the first deciphering grouping, this was down the column, moving from right to left. It was so obvious...

MEINGESCHUTZTFIGLIADELLAIHRERMUTTERVATERSPESTENONOSENIGMASINSTRSLIENREVS SOLDATDIEBESSBUTiNESSEREVOTREEIGENEHELFENTOIMEME—another combination of German, French, German, and abbreviated English as well became...

Mein geschutzt, Figlia della ihrer mutter, Vater's peste, Nono's enigma, Sinistr's lien, Reve's soldat, Diebes's butin. Essere votre eigene. Helfen toi-meme. Translated, that was... My protégé, Daughter of your nut/mother, Father's plague, Grandfather's riddle, Sinister's bond, Dream's soldier, Thief's spoils. Be your own person. Help yourself.

Silence commented. Taught and straining.

"I am falling. I am fading. I am drowning. Help me to breathe. I am hurting. I have lost it all. I am losing. Help me to breathe." (Duvet –by Boa)

Rogue broke the silence. "Well, either one of ya'll got a clue as to what Mystique's getting at here?"

Thirteen's answer was poignant. Thirteen simply slipped sadly, edgily back into her sanctum of penance.

"Well, ain't that neighborly of ya, Thirteen." Rogue sighed, brushing against the essence of the remaining persona, Fifteen, and asked, "You're gonna split too, aren't ya?"

Rogue's answer was no more than an abrasive scuttling off, to wherever domain Fifteen called her own, if she did indeed call anything her own.

Oh... and one more thing.

Salt and Vinegar. "Marshall." Tart and bitter.

It was the name of the man in Venice, Italy.

"I am falling. I am fading. I am drowning. Help me to breathe. I am hurting. I have lost it all. I am losing. Help me to breathe." (Duvet –by Boa)

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FOOTNOTES:

[1] Festa del Redentore was researched at VeniceWord.com (). Other research on Venice came from more than a dozen sources, all combined.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Okay, thanks for putting up with the decoding stuff. I'm sure some of you skipped by a lot of it and just read the final messages. It's okay; I probably would have done the same thing. Still, I had to include it. This was a tangible representation of the intelligence Rogue had to have possessed while training under Mystique. Just by having it there, even if skipped, readers were able to get a sense of the complicated procedure that was involved in actually decoding the message. UGH! It was hard to design and actually write that code, too. It took me a couple weeks!

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