Desolation
Chapter One: Who Am I?
The land was stark, and bare. The ground underfoot covered in a thick layer of soot and ash. The buildings had long since collapsed many seeming to have been destroyed from something inside them, some kind of an explosion and the debris was scattered some distance. Fires still burned fitfully here and there, and the air was thick with a haze of smoke.
The smell of death, and blood lay thick over the land like a palpable presence. The wars had raged out of control, long and fierce. Near the end, the soldiers killed whatever crossed their path, ally, soldier, enemy and civilian alike. But in the end it didn't really matter how many they killed, because they all fell under a wall of fire that spread across the surface of the globe to consume everything it touched.
Silence was heavy over the destroyed city. Not a sound could be heard save for the crackling of the flames, and here and there another part of a building would fall to the ground amidst a cloud of ash.
I created my own disturbance to this world, one that had been cleansed of the poison that is man. My eyes opened, and I found that I was trapped in a tight cocoon of concrete, and metal. Rocks and bits of metal strewn above me, leaving me half buried.
Those days are hard to remember now, but I do remember that I felt no pain. I felt no joy to be alive, or sorrow to know that no one else I knew was near me. I felt no concern when one question came to mind. Who am I? I couldn't remember my name, or where I was, how I'd gotten there, or what had happened. But I knew that I couldn't remain in my prison for long if I wished to remain alive, and maybe find the answers to my questions.
Somehow I dug myself out from under the rubble and staggered to my feet, brushing my dirty, yet still pale white colored, bangs from my eyes I straightened to my full height and surveyed my surroundings. There was nothing living as far as I could see, in every direction bodies were strewn across the shattered street. Some impaled on spikes, bits of metal and spires of stone or wooden shafts piercing their bodies. Some seemed to have been torn in half by some awful force while others looked to have been burned, their skin black and cracked under the heat. While still others merely looked as if they were sleeping, eyes closed peacefully, a look of innocence pasted on their pale faces.
Later, in my dreams and nightmares, those peaceful, innocent expressions would haunt me more than the mangled and mutilated corpses. Blood was something I knew that I was used to, innocence was something else altogether.
I raised my eyes to the sky above, hoping, but knowing that I wouldn't see the comforting pale blue expanse that should have been there. Smoke filled the air making the sun an indistinct circle of light behind the haze, and the sky itself was an angry red, seeming to pulsate, like veins in a body, blood flowing through them in a steady, rhythmic beat.
I could hear my blood pounding in my ears, blocking out the sound of the fires, blocking out all sound as a pressure built in my skull, pressing in on my brain, crushing my awareness under its unforgiving force.
"Help me." My head snapped up and I realized I was on my hands and knees in the rubble, blood soaking through a tear in my outfit that I hadn't realized was there, from a wound I hadn't known I had received. What was that? Did I actually hear someone else alive out there?
I stood stock still for a few moments, head cocked slightly to one side, listening as if my life depended on it, and who knows? Maybe it did depend on it. I didn't know if I could make it on my own I would need the help of anyone I could find that was still alive if I wanted to survive, if I wanted to find out who I was.
"Help me, please."
There, I heard it again. I leaped to my feet scrambling towards where I thought I'd heard the sound, down the pile of rubble I stood on, tearing a new hole in the skin tight leggings of my uniform, and my thigh as a piece of sharp metal caught me, but I barely registered the pain in my excitement. Someone else was alive. I hadn't survived the end of the world only to end up alone.
I hit the bottom and stumbled over my own feet, sprawling face first in the street. I laid there for a moment, my body trembling with pain as slowly each wound that peppered my skin woke up the nerve endings around it and it swiftly transferred news of my injuries to my mind, bringing with it the stinging sensations of pain.
I could feel sweat trickling down my back, blood sliding across my skin, wet, thick, and sticky under my clothes. At the time I ignored all those signs and pushed myself painfully to my feet, my breath coming in ragged heaving gasps past my raw, burning throat as I scrambled on all fours across the wreckage to a slowly moving pile of debris.
"Hello, is there anybody out there?" the voice came again, and this time I could tell that it was coming from beneath the shifting pile.
"Ah'm here," I called as I reached it, scrabbling through the rocks with my bare hands. For a second my eyes lit on the bare skin of my hands and I somehow knew, that that was wrong. My hands shouldn't be bare. I wasn't sure why but in my gut I knew that I couldn't continue with my hands uncovered. My hand slapped the hip of my skin tight outfit. "Shit, no pockets." Scrambling back to where I'd been buried a few moments ago I found a pair of black leather gloves and I pulled them on as quick as I could before going back to digging. "Keep talkin'," I begged as I lifted rocks and metal, tossing them to the side. "Don' go quiet on meh now."
"Who's there?"
"Don' worry, Ah'll get ya out o' there." It only took five or six minutes of constant talking and digging before I got them out. And it was really a 'them' there were two of them, a man and a woman huddled together.
The woman untangled herself from his arms and slowly climbed to her feet, her back was to me as she bent over to help the man up. His eyes were clenched tightly shut as he slowly climbed to his feet. A cut above his left eye had blood dripping slowly down the side of his face as she helped him climb over bits and pieces of wreckage by directing him in a slightly trembling voice.
I stepped back, giving them some room and took the time to study them, hoping that something would trigger a memory in my mind of who they were, if I'd ever met them before.
He was tall and rather thin, I would have said lanky if it wasn't for the fact that he was very well muscled, as I could see from the tears in his clothes. He looked to be in pretty good physical shape despite his obvious injuries. His brown hair was tousled and he looked disheveled, though I guess that's to be expected considering he'd been buried alive until a few minutes ago. Though looking at his companion I personally don't think he could have complained about the company he'd kept in his tomb.
She was beautiful. Long red hair and bright green eyes I had glimpsed before she'd turned her back on me to help her friend, thin but also well muscled as her friend was, however not so much as to look unattractive.
Nothing. I watched them, studied them, listened to their voices, but there was nothing. Not a spark of recognition or even a glimmer of a memory involving either of these individuals.
After nearly five minutes of careful navigation the duo finally made it to the bottom of the pile and sat down near the rock I was perched on. They were both slightly out of breath and he was holding one hand to his side putting pressure over a nasty cut that I figured was most likely caused by a sharp piece of metal they'd been buried with, and the other was pressed to the cut over his eyes, I noticed that he still had his eyes tightly closed, as if he was afraid to open them and find out that everything was real.
Since I was reasonably sure that I didn't know either of them I ignored them for the most part as I sat on my rock trying to figure out what my next move should be. If I didn't know them maybe I didn't know anybody in this city? Nah, that couldn't be possible, if I'd been in the city for any length of time I was bound to know at least a few people.
For several minutes they sat catching their breath, and for several minutes I sat pondering my dilemma, that was until she spoke.
"Thanks for digging us out of there Rogue."
I heard her speak but wasn't sure who she was talking to so I continued to ignore her.
"Rogue? That was Rogue?" he asked. "I thought she hated us. She's already destroyed everything." I could hear the anger and hatred rising in his voice and I got an itching sensation between my shoulder blades, as if someone was watching me.
"Close your eyes Scott before you hurt her," she said.
"But Jean-"
"Do it Scott," she snapped.
I turned around to snap at them to shut up when I stopped cold. The mans, Scott's eyes were slitted open, and behind his lids I could see red. Not red irises, which would have been odd enough, but his entire eye was glowing red, and thin wisps of red smoke drifted up from the corners of his eyes, right before Jean slapped her hand over them.
"Close them, or you'll blast my hand off."
He grumbled a bit but eventually the thin red glow I could see through her hand blinked out. "You fight dirty you know that Jean?"
"Yes, I know," she said calmly, taking her hand away and blowing gently on it. I guess she'd been burned anyway by whatever was wrong with Scott's eyes.
"Excuse meh," I said. "But who tha hell is Rogue, who'r' you, and what tha hell is with that guys eyes?"
"Huh?" Jean looked up. "Rogue, what are you talking about?"
"Ya know what ah'm talkin' abou'. What tha hell happened here? Who are ya? Do ya know me?"
"Of course we know you, we only went to school together and lived at the Institute for a year and a half."
I leapt off my rock and sprinted over to her, grabbing her by the shoulders I lifted her up to my level and glared directly into her eyes.
"This is very important. Ya know meh, right?" She nodded. "Ya know mah name?" my voice cracked slightly but I didn't care, the stress was starting to get to me. She nodded again. "Will ya please, tell me who ah am?" A tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek, cutting a path in the dirt that covered my face to fall off the end of my chin, landing on her leg with a wet splat.
"Do you mean to say," she whispered, "That you don't know who you are?" It was my turn to nod. "You don't remember us, do you?" I shook my head.
"She doesn't remember us?" I turned my head to look at the boy, what was his name? Oh yeah, Scott.
"Ah don't remember either o' ya. Ah don't know where ah am, how ah got here, or what tha hell's happened since then. Ah don't even know mah own name. If ya know, please tell me."
"Your name is Marie," Jean said turning my head back to her with one hand. I couldn't help but noticed that she was very careful not to touch my skin. "I don't know about a last name, I never heard if you had one. We always just called you Rogue."
"You lived with us at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters in Bayville," Scot said, bringing my attention back to him.
"Why did ah live there?"
"Because you are a mutant. The Institute was really a home for Mutants, we trained to use our powers there so we could control them, and we trained to help protect mankind." He turned his head as if he was looking around, despite the fact that his eyes were still closed. "It sounds like we didn't succeed too well."
"It looks like only mutants may have survived what happened," Jean said looking around as well.
"Um, excuse meh again, but, what's a mutant?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So mutants are basically humans that have different powers?" I asked some minutes later after Scott and Jean had explained the situation to me.
"Basically," Jean said. "Look, my power is telekinesis and some telepathy." She turned and held her hands out towards a pile of rubble, a few moments later the whole 1thing started to move, bits of rock and iron lifting into the air for a few seconds before falling back onto the pile.
"Wow."
Jean grinned. "Wait until you see Scott's power. Scott? You're up."
I turned to him as he stood from his seat on the ground. "Point me in a safe direction," he said.
"How about up? You know there's nothing for you to hit up there."
"Good point." He tilted his head back, but not so far that I couldn't see his eyes. "Okay, here I go."
"Um, Scott?" Jean said as his eyes opened. "Scott stop!" It was too late. The second his eyes opened a huge beam shot from them through the air. to strike the only still standing building in the entire city. It cut through the building and the top half of the twelve story structure began to lean ponderously towards us.
"Shit," I swore as I turned to run.
"Move," she yelled at him, "Get going before that thing lands on us."
"I'm kinda BLIND here," he snapped, his eyes closed once again.
"Why don't ya just turn it off and open yer eyes?" I yelled as I ran back to him and grabbed his hand. "Step high," I directed as we took off down the street, Scott stumbling over small bits of rubble as we went.
"Run now," he gasped, "talk later."
"Sounds good ta meh."
Boy did we run. I don't think I've ever run so fast in my life, course I can't exactly remember when the last time I ran was, but you get the idea. We sprinted down what was left of the street as far from the building as possible. As we just cleared it, it crashed down behind us, bricks and pieces of glass flying out like shrapnel and a huge cloud of dust, soot, and ash washed over us like a tidal wave, the force of the air knocking me from my feet.
It was several minutes before the quiet finally returned and I dared to open my eyes, finding myself lying on my stomach in the street, both arms raised to cover my head, not like they'd do a whole lot of good if the building had actually landed on me.
I gasped a bit in surprise when at the thought an image flashed through my mind, I was standing in a big metal room, arms raised over my head and resting on my upturned palms was a huge block that I remember was very heavy.
Then it was gone, and after a brief mental scramble to grab hold of the fleeting image I finally gave up and staggered to my feet. Looking around as the dust slowly began to settle I was able to make out Scott and Jean lying not too far away.
They were talking when I got to them. "Up is the safest way huh? No chance I'll hit something?"
"I did try to stop you," she said as she dabbed at the cut over his eye.
"Jean?"
"Yeah Rogue?"
"Why are you bothering with that little cut right now?"
"What do you mean? I have to try and clean it before it gets infected," she said.
"Well I understand that, but why worry about that little one right this minute when Scott's hiding a much larger cut in his side under his hand?"
"Scott?" she asked sharply.
"Uh. yeah?"
"Move your hand."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes, unless you want me to ask Rogue to touch you. Without her gloves on."
"That won't be necessary," he said quickly taking his hand away and letting her examine the large cut. What was it about my skin that frightened him so much? Did it have something to do with my mutation? They did say I was a mutant, but what could my skin do that would be so horrible?
I made a mental note to ask them about that later. First I wanted to bandage my own injuries. The good thing was I could do so without having to worry about Scott looking at me since he obviously couldn't do so without killing me from those beams behind his eyelids.
I removed the brown leather jacket that I'd only just realized I was wearing, then I grasped the neck of the elastic body suit in my hands and pulled it down to my waist, not too surprised to find I wasn't wearing a bra underneath it. My stomach was covered with small scrapes and my arms were dirty and scratched as well. Fewer than I'd expect considering a building had fallen on me.
"Rogue what are you doing?" Jean asked when she saw me standing there with the top of my outfit pulled down.
"Ah'm checkin' mah wounds. What's it look lahk ah'm doin'?" So I was a bit temperamental with her, so sue me.
"I see that but why did you take off your shirt, and out here too?"
"I need ta, ta get at tha cuts, it's not lahk there's anybody else around, and Scott here won't open his eyes. So Ah'm pretty safe from anyone looking at me."
Scott just sat where he was, I could tell he was fighting a blush, or maybe the urge to try and take a peek at me. They'd said we'd lived in the same building for a year and a half, I'd be willing to bet in that time he'd seen me in various states of undress. I grinned lightly; poor boy must have been driving himself mad trying not to think of me naked.
He started as Jean smacked the back of his head and his eyes opened for a split second in surprise, launching a thin beam of energy at the ground and tearing a small crater.
"Watch where your thoughts wander Scott," Jean said, "You know I can read you like a book."
"Isn't reading a persons mind against your morals?" he grumbled.
"I didn't read your mind, I read your face. I know you just wanted to open your eyes to sneak a peak at Rogue here, of course you couldn't do that without killing her now could you?"
He winced at the edge of steel anger in her voice, and the amusement with how easily she could read him. I bit back a laugh and just went back to cleaning my own numerous cuts.
After I'd finished with my upper body I pulled the top up and noticed something odd. There was a red X on the outfit over my left breast, and on each shoulder of my leather jacket, a quick glance at Scott and Jean showed similar marks on the shoulders of their clothes as well.
"What's with the X's?" I asked.
"It stands for the X-Men."
"X-Men?"
"Yeah, that's what we were called. All of Professor Xaviers students were known as X-Men, though only a handful were actually on active duty. You, me, Scott, Kitty, Kurt, Evan, Doctor McCoy, Mrs. Munroe, and Logan. The rest were all in training for the most part."
As she'd listed off each name I'd felt a tug of familiarity in my brain, as if I should know who they were. But somehow it didn't seem to fit, as if I was remember them, but it was someone else's memory.
"Okay, we'll get ta that later ah guess. Raght now ah got anotha question. Why doesn't Scott open his eyes?"
"He can't."
"Why not?"
"I was in an accident when I was little," Scott said, turning my attention to him. His head was tilted down but I could still see a painful expression on his face, a mix of anger and frustration. "I hit my head and was hospitalized. I recovered fine but the doctors said there was a small part of my brain that was damaged, the cells just didn't recover after the operation. When my mutation came out, the beams from my eyes, we found out that those dead cells made up the part of my brain that most likely would have allowed me to turn it off."
"So that means."
"Yeah. I can't turn off my power. Unless I wear a special pair of ruby quartz lenses over my eyes I can't open them. I have a visor I normally wear when in uniform, but it was lost, and my shades are back in Bayville at the institute."
"There's a question you haven't asked yet Rogue," Jean said softly. She looked up from her seat on the ground, legs drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. "You haven't asked what your power is."
"You're raght, ah haven't ask."
"Are you going to?"
"Will ya tell meh?"
"Yes."
"Then ah'm askin'."
"Your power is actually very dangerous. Not to you so much as to others. I heard the professor and Mr. McCoy talking about it before. You have the potential for nearly unlimited power."
"Why?"
"Your mutation lets you absorb people. Their memories, their essence and life. In the case of mutants you absorb their powers as well for a short time." She reached out and gently pressed her fingers against my cheek. I felt it start, like a pull, and my brain was suddenly filled with her thoughts, and her memories. Some Jock in a letterman jacket. A group of girls, one I recognized as myself by the white stripes in my hair. The Bayville Sirens.
All this happened in less than a second and she pulled her hand away. And in just that time she looked kinda dizzy. "Jean?" Scott called. "Jean what did you do? Did you touch her?"
"I'm fine Scott." She turned to look at me. "Any contact with your bare skin and you'll absorb whoever touches you."
"How long?" I whispered. "How long until you're out of mah head?"
"I'm not really sure. Probably less than a day, maybe just a few hours since I only touched you for a second."
This was most unexpected, and I wasn't really sure how to handle it. "So ah can' touch anyone?"
"No Rouge, you can't. The longer you touch someone, the longer the effects of your power, and if you hold on long enough, you could kill them."
A flicker of images, a blond woman, flying, lifting things I could never possibly have lifted with just the muscles in my body. A dank cell. Darkness, tests, a lab, the blond woman, my hand on her bare cheek. "It's happened b'fo, hasn't it?" I whispered. "Danvers. Carol Danvers."
"Yes. It happened a few months ago."
"How?"
"I'm not really sure of the specifics," she said. "You wouldn't talk about it. You didn't like talking about what happened."
"Gawd I need a cigarette." I blinked in confusion as soon as the words passed my lips. "Do I even smoke?"
"Um, actually I'm not really sure if you ever did Rogue," Jean said. "I know you absorbed somebody once that smoked. Maybe it's from him."
"Gawd how many people have ah done this too? How many people are swimming around in mah skull?"
"I'm not sure Rogue. I'm sorry I can't be of any more help. We've been in a lot of fights over the last year and a half. You've absorbed a lot of mutants powers, each on a temporary basis. Really in a fight that's all you can do against another mutant. Absorb their abilities, aside from that you're just a normal human." She paused. "At least you used to be. Now after absorbing Miss. Danvers you can fly, are basically invulnerable, and super strong too."
"So mah power is to drain people of their lahfe, and kill them," I spat out.
"That's not entirely-"
"Save it," I growled. "I'm not in the mood." Standing I looked around. Up and down the street there were still cars. Some half buried under rubble, some overturned, upside down or on their sides. Others looked to have been untouched by whatever had happened here. "Whether it's mah memory o' not I'm dying fo' a cigarette. I'm gonna go see if ah can' find anything."
I stomped away from them, angrily pulling my leather jacket on as I realized I was still holding it in my hands. What tha hell kinda monster am ah? To drain a woman's powers and lahfe completely away lahke that. I shook my head ridding myself of the thought. "Whadn't mah fault," I muttered as I came to the first car.
The door was locked.
"Merde," I swore, then stopped again. "Do I speak French?" I thought for a second but couldn't come up with anything in the muddled depths of my mind. "Sonofabitch," I growled. It was all too much. Everything was piling on me, hopelessness anger fear desperation hatred. Wasn't sure what it was I hated but the feeling was there.
Drawing back I slammed my fist against the window of the car in a rage of frustration. I didn't even feel it when I punched right through the glass.
"What tha. Danvers," I said. "She was strong. Super strong." I shrugged my shoulders, wincing slightly at a pull in my back. Well that strength just worked in my favor. Unlocking the car door I opened it, accidentally tearing it off in the process. Dropping it onto the ground I crawled into it, looking for anything that might be of some use to us, but more for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
There was nothing of any help, and no smokes either. I growled again in frustration, something I seemed to be doing a lot lately, and moved on down the street towards another car. Not even bothering with the handle this time I just punched through the window grabbed the door frame and ripped it off the car, taking some of my frustration out in the act of destruction.
Tossing it aside I quickly looked the car over, even popping the trunk and taking a look in there. Found a blanket, a beat up old knapsack and a first aid kit under the spare tire.
Fifteen minutes and ten cars later I had found a variety of useful to possibly semi useful items. The blanket knapsack and first aid kit to start, then several lighters, a couple emergency flares, one car had a trunk full of canned and dehydrated foods. Apparently someone fleeing the city before the attack. And finally I found the most important discovery. A running SUV, keys still in the ignition. It was a big vehicle, plenty of room for the three of us to be able to sleep out of the elements if need be and it offered transportation, until it ran out of gas, but we could deal with that later.
I stood in front of that SUV some minutes later, slightly perturbed. Pissed off would be a better term actually. In ten cars I hadn't found a single cigarette. There'd been a couple empty packs in one overturned car, but not one actual cigarette.
I angrily tossed the knapsack, with all the items I'd found inside it, onto the passenger seat of the car and stood there for a while fuming.
With the door shut I noticed my reflection in the window and took a good look. Dark reddish hair with those two strips of white framing my face, brilliant green eyes, and a body that even I had to admit wasn't too bad. The leather jacket looked good on me, and the skin tight outfit as well. It was in two colors, dark navy blue on the outside and a stripe running down the middle in grey. Looking down I noticed I was wearing knee high grey boots that perfectly matched the inner stripe on the costume. I figured myself to be around seventeen years old, maybe eighteen.
After a couple minutes however I noticed something in the air. Smoke, not burning building smoke, but cigarette smoke. I could smell it.
"Somet'ing wrong chéri?"
I spun around when I heard the voice skidding slightly on the loose gravel on the street before leaping into the air, instinctively hovering five or six feet off the ground. There, sitting on a low wall, as calmly as if he saw the end of the world everyday was a man. Probably about nineteen or so, maybe eighteen. Dark glasses over his eyes, long tan trench coat. One leg drawn up with his foot resting on the wall, the other hanging down.
I took all this in quickly, but what mostly riveted my attention was the lit cigarette in his hand.
"Who tha hell are ya?" I called down to him.
He looked up at me, seemingly puzzled. "What's dis joke chéri? You know Remy. Goin' t' pr'tend dere 'ain't not'in b'tween us now?"
"What are ya talkin' about? Ah ain't neva seen ya b'fo in mah life."
He cocked his head slightly to one side, the puzzled expression looked to be etched into his skin. "Was' happen chéri?" he asked. He lowered his leg and patted the wall next to him. "Come sit next t' Remy and tell him wha' happen'."
I glared down at him for a moment, unsure of what I should do. "Got any more o' those?" I asked pointing to the cigarette in his hand.
He blinked. "Sure. Remy got him a 'ole pack o' dese 'tings. But Remy t'ought ma peu de beauté didn' smoke."
"Flattery'll get ya no where swamp rat," I said as I floated down to sit on the wall next to him. "Now gimme one o' those things." I reached over and quick as a flash slipped my hand into the inside pocket of his coat, coming back with a pack of Newport's. "Got a light?" I asked as I put one between my lips, remembering that I'd left the lighters I'd found in the SUV. "Nevermind." I snatched the lit one out of his hand and lit mine off of it before handing his back. "Thanks." I took a drag on the cigarette, inhaling the smoke with a familiar feeling of pressure in my chest as the smoke hit my lungs and slowly exhaled it with a sigh of complete satisfaction.
"Don' mention it," he said.
I could hear something in his voice and I turned my head to see him wide eyed behind his glasses and staring at me as if I'd suddenly grown an extra head. "What are ya lookin' at swamp rat?"
"Qui êtes-vous et qu'avez-vous fait avec mon Rogue?" he asked, slipping unconsciously into French in his agitation.
"Your Rogue?"
"Oui."
"Ah take it ya know who ah am?"
"Course Remy knows you chéri."
"Then get in the car." I hopped down off the wall and sauntered over to the SUV, much happier now that I had some nicotine in my system.
"Ce qui?"
"I said 'get in the car' do I have to spell it out for you?" I snapped, my patience wearing thin.
"Don' have t' get so hostile wit' Remy," he grumbled as he slid off the wall walking around to the passenger side of the SUV.
I felt a sudden urge to apologize but bit my tongue before I could say anything. No way was I going to say sorry to this Cajun that I'd only just met. Though come to think of it, I'm not so sure I'd only just met him. He apparently knew me, he knew my name at least.
I jumped behind the wheel and put it in drive, stepping on the gas before Remy was all the way in. "Merde," he swore as he half fell into the seat next to me, grabbing onto the underside of the dashboard to keep from sliding out as I spun the wheel hard to the left turning down the street back towards Jean and Scott. "A bit hasty dere don' ye 'tink chéri?" he asked after he'd managed to drag himself into the car and shut the door.
I shrugged noncommittally, taking the cigarette from my mouth, holding it naturally between the first and middle finger of my right hand. It was kinda odd. I was reasonably sure that I'd never smoked before, but here it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Remy looking out the window, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips.
"Hey Remy?" I asked.
"Hmmm?"
"Have ah ever absorbed you?"
"Oui, why you ask?"
"Eh, no reason really. Ah was just wonderin' how many people Ah got swimmin' around in mah skull."
"Quite a few chéri, from what Remy here around de Institute."
"Do you always talk about yourself in the third person?" I growled, slightly annoyed.
He shrugged, "For de most part oui. Remy'll stop if it bod'ers you dat much."
The rest of the short ride was spent in silence as I concentrated on my driving. I almost grinned at the look on Jean's face when we pulled up in the black SUV.
"Where did you find that?" she asked as I stepped out of the vehicle.
"Down the street thataway," I replied, vaguely pointing in the direction I'd found the vehicle. "Unfortunately that's not all I found." I jerked my thumb back over my shoulder as the passenger door opened and Remy stepped out.
"Remy?" Jean asked. "Is that you?"
"Oui, it be Remy."
"Didn' Ah tell ya ta stop talking about yourself in third person swamp rat?" I growled.
"My apologies chéri," he said, bowing slightly in my direction, flashing me a grin that threatened to melt my spine. God he was gorgeous. I'd been well aware of that fact since I'd first seen him but until that point I'd been too annoyed to care.
I growled again, "Save it for someone that cares," I muttered climbing back into the car to grab the knapsack. "Here," I tossed the bag to Jean. "There's a first aid kit in there. I recommend you put something over Scott's eyes so he doesn't accidentally open them and kill someone.
"Dat won't be necessary." Everyone looked up at Remy as he came around the car.
"Why not?"
"I found dis a little while ago, bit after I woke up." He reached into one of his coats pockets and removed a yellow device with a red line of crystal in the middle of it.
"Scott's visor," Jean said as she recognized it. "Where did you find it?"
"Was lying a few feet from me when I woke up," Remy said, tossing the visor to her.
"Here Scott. Put this on." She leaned over Scott and handed the visor to him.
"Thanks Remy," Scott nodded to the Cajun after he had his visor securely in place. "It's nice to be able to see again."
"Well what now?" I asked. "We just gonna sit around here or do ya think we should try an' find any other survivors?"
"If anyone else survived, dere most likely buried under all da rubble."
"Can it swamp rat," I growled. "If we're gonna look for survivors we should look for survivors." I turned and looked towards the west. "But it looks like tha sun's goin' down, so Ah think we should just stay put for now. We can sleep in tha car, there's enough room for tha four of us for a few nights at least."
"Sounds good to me," Jean said. "What did you find that was edible?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~
That first night actually wasn't too bad in retrospect. Despite not knowing who I was, how I'd gotten there or what had happened, the four of us had a nice, if meager dinner, talking quietly as we ate. Jean, Remy, and Scott recounted stories of battles fought, and friends they all knew. I kinda got the impression that they'd at one time or another fought with Remy from opposite sides, fighting against him and his friends.
I sat nearby and listened intently, hoping to spark some kind of memory of my past from their words. Not much was familiar, let me rephrase that, almost everything they said was familiar, I had this feeling in my gut that told me I should know the people they were talking about, but as far as my head was concerned I could have only just been hearing those names for the first time. Not a glimmer of a memory stirred at any of them.
We slept that night in the SUV, and I had been right, it was perfect for the four of us. Remy and Scott, being the largest physically of the four of us had a row of seats to themselves, Remy in the very back, Scott in the second row, and Jean and I slept in the front. Jean on the passenger side, and I slept half curled around the steering wheel. All in all it wasn't too uncomfortable, though I did have a red Chevy logo pressed into my cheek the next morning.
Before the others woke I slipped quietly out of the car. Standing nearby I raised the pack of Newport's I'd stolen from Remy again. Selecting one I put it between my lips and flicked a Zippo lighter. Touching the flame to the tip of the cigarette between my lips I lit it and closed the lighter. That morning my first drag on the cigarette didn't go quite as it should have. I choked. The second the smoke hit my lungs my whole body shook with heaving coughs as I tried to clear the smoke from my lungs.
I stood there, leaning against the side of the car for nearly five minutes before I was finally able to get my breath back. One arm was wrapped around my middle, holding the stinging wounds in my body, the tears in my skin that had been jarred by my violent coughing fit.
Straightening up I noticed someone standing near me and my head whipped around to stare directly into a pair of deep red eyes. Remy was standing not five feet from me, his glasses pushed up on his hair, a glowing card in one hand as he touched it to the cigarette dangling from his lips. The long tan coat hung on his frame outlining his broad shoulders, the dark pants and black shirt underneath blended into the shadows inside the coat.
"What are ya starin' at swamp rat?" I growled as I forced my hands at my side, not wanting to let him know I was hurting.
"I be watching a fille dat dis mornin' can' smoke fo' some reason," he said, letting go of the card once his cigarette was lit. Instead of exploding it turned to ash, breaking apart and being blown away in the light breeze before it touched the ground. "Yesterday she stole Remy's pack and smoked as if she'd been doin' dat fo' years. Dis morning she chokes. Remy jus' wonderin' why."
"Didn't ah tell ya to stop talkin' in third person?" I growled again. I seemed to be growling a lot around him. For some reason he just pissed me off. But at the same time I had an almost uncontrollable urge to launch myself at him and kiss him. I stomped on that urge. "What are ya doin' up?"
"Remy a light sleeper, I heard ma chéri getting up and decided t' join her."
"Yer still talkin' in third person Cajun," I warned him.
"Oui. What's wrong chère? You're different dis mornin'."
"Differen't how?" I drawled. I wasn't sure who I was really. Things kept coming and going, memories, thoughts, images and emotions bubbled to the surface of my mind and then faded away. Without really thinking about it I raised the lit cigarette I'd still been holding in one hand to my lips and took a deep drag as effortlessly as I had the day before, slowly exhaling the poison laden smoke.
Remy arched an eyebrow at me and I suddenly realized what I'd just done. "What?"
"Chéri smokin' again?"
"Apparently. What's it ta ya swamp rat?"
"Not'in', jus ma belle been confuse dis poor Cajun since yesterday. One minute you be smoking, de next you choke, den you fine again." He looked at me quizzically. "For de most part you seem like normal. Like when we first met. Angry wit me, and stubborn, not like a few mont's later, when you kissed me."
"Ah kissed you?"
"Oui. Well," he added, "actually Remy be de one dat started dat kiss."
"Well ah think that explains why Ah'm smoking."
"Why's dat chéri?"
"Ah absorbed ya, ya smoke, yer a thief, and ya speak French," I said, ticking the items off on my fingers. "Yesterday Ah was dyin' fo' a cigarette, Ah picked yer pocket, and Ah was swearing in French when Ah couldn't find any smokes."
He looked thoughtful for a moment, thin wreaths of smoke from the tip of his cigarette swirling around his head, sifting through the strands of his hair as it dangled loosely from his lips. "Remy be t'inkin' de filles mutation be goin' haywire."
"No shit," I retorted, injecting as much sarcasm and venom into my voice as possible as I took another drag on my cigarette, and proceeded to have another coughing fit. "Gawd damnit," I snarled, throwing it on the ground. "What tha fuck is wrong with meh?"
"You've absorbed too many people." I nearly jumped out of my skin at the voice from behind me and spun around, instinctively dropping into a crouch.
I straightened up when I saw who it was though. "Damnit Jean, don' scare meh lahke that," I snarled, one hand going to my chest. I could feel my heart pounding under my fingers.
"Sorry," she said as she rolled the window down a bit more to lean on the frame.
"Don' be sorry, just don' do it again," I said as my heart finally stopped racing and slowed to a more normal beat. "Now what was that you were saying?"
"I said 'You've absorbed too many people.' Your problem is that you've temporarily lost your own memories, and at the same time you have at least a dozen other peoples memories floating around in your head. They're surfacing, and you see them as your own." She looked at Remy. "But they aren't yours. The desire to smoke, the skill at theft, and the French all come from Remy, but they feel as if they were your own memories. Until you have your real memories back, I'm not sure you'll be able to tell who you are. And I doubt anything we could tell you would help."
"So basically Ah've got too many memories in mah head, and Ah just have to sort them out, raght?"
"Sounds about right to me."
Remy and I both spun around at the voice behind us, my hand instinctively dropping towards my non existent pocket for a non existent playing card to charge with the power I no longer had. Remy on the other hand quickly came up with a Queen of Diamonds glowing angrily in one hand.
There, sitting quite calmly on a large piece of rubble was a rather startling sight. A boy, probably about my age, rather handsome if you discounted the fact that he was covered with blue fur, he had fangs, yellow eyes, three fingers on each hand, three toes on each foot, and a spaded tail that was waving rather lazily in the air behind him. Oh, and did I forget to mention the pointy ears?
"Vhy does everyone always vant to attack da fuzzy dude?"
To Be Continued.
merde: Shit
ma peu de beauté: My little beauty
Qui êtes-vous et qu'avez-vous fait avec mon Rogue?: Who are you, and what have you done with my Rogue?
Oui: Yes
Ce qui?: What?
Notes: So the stage has been set. The world has been destroyed, and so far only mutants have survived. What happened? And Why did Scott blame Rogue for the destruction? How will she take meeting her Brother, the resident Fuzzy Elf?
All will be revealed, or at least some of it maybe, in the next installment of Desolation.
I wanted to clear up a couple things. Rogue IS the catalyst behind all the destruction, and I will eventually explain how she did that, and why. But for right now I want to clear up her costume. It's basically the original yellow and green outfit she wore in Uncanny X-Men, I just changed the colors to dark blue and grey, thinking they'd fit the more goth like personality of the Evo Rogue. Her hair is still just like it is on Evolution.
Oh and I don't own X-Men Evolution.
Chapter One: Who Am I?
The land was stark, and bare. The ground underfoot covered in a thick layer of soot and ash. The buildings had long since collapsed many seeming to have been destroyed from something inside them, some kind of an explosion and the debris was scattered some distance. Fires still burned fitfully here and there, and the air was thick with a haze of smoke.
The smell of death, and blood lay thick over the land like a palpable presence. The wars had raged out of control, long and fierce. Near the end, the soldiers killed whatever crossed their path, ally, soldier, enemy and civilian alike. But in the end it didn't really matter how many they killed, because they all fell under a wall of fire that spread across the surface of the globe to consume everything it touched.
Silence was heavy over the destroyed city. Not a sound could be heard save for the crackling of the flames, and here and there another part of a building would fall to the ground amidst a cloud of ash.
I created my own disturbance to this world, one that had been cleansed of the poison that is man. My eyes opened, and I found that I was trapped in a tight cocoon of concrete, and metal. Rocks and bits of metal strewn above me, leaving me half buried.
Those days are hard to remember now, but I do remember that I felt no pain. I felt no joy to be alive, or sorrow to know that no one else I knew was near me. I felt no concern when one question came to mind. Who am I? I couldn't remember my name, or where I was, how I'd gotten there, or what had happened. But I knew that I couldn't remain in my prison for long if I wished to remain alive, and maybe find the answers to my questions.
Somehow I dug myself out from under the rubble and staggered to my feet, brushing my dirty, yet still pale white colored, bangs from my eyes I straightened to my full height and surveyed my surroundings. There was nothing living as far as I could see, in every direction bodies were strewn across the shattered street. Some impaled on spikes, bits of metal and spires of stone or wooden shafts piercing their bodies. Some seemed to have been torn in half by some awful force while others looked to have been burned, their skin black and cracked under the heat. While still others merely looked as if they were sleeping, eyes closed peacefully, a look of innocence pasted on their pale faces.
Later, in my dreams and nightmares, those peaceful, innocent expressions would haunt me more than the mangled and mutilated corpses. Blood was something I knew that I was used to, innocence was something else altogether.
I raised my eyes to the sky above, hoping, but knowing that I wouldn't see the comforting pale blue expanse that should have been there. Smoke filled the air making the sun an indistinct circle of light behind the haze, and the sky itself was an angry red, seeming to pulsate, like veins in a body, blood flowing through them in a steady, rhythmic beat.
I could hear my blood pounding in my ears, blocking out the sound of the fires, blocking out all sound as a pressure built in my skull, pressing in on my brain, crushing my awareness under its unforgiving force.
"Help me." My head snapped up and I realized I was on my hands and knees in the rubble, blood soaking through a tear in my outfit that I hadn't realized was there, from a wound I hadn't known I had received. What was that? Did I actually hear someone else alive out there?
I stood stock still for a few moments, head cocked slightly to one side, listening as if my life depended on it, and who knows? Maybe it did depend on it. I didn't know if I could make it on my own I would need the help of anyone I could find that was still alive if I wanted to survive, if I wanted to find out who I was.
"Help me, please."
There, I heard it again. I leaped to my feet scrambling towards where I thought I'd heard the sound, down the pile of rubble I stood on, tearing a new hole in the skin tight leggings of my uniform, and my thigh as a piece of sharp metal caught me, but I barely registered the pain in my excitement. Someone else was alive. I hadn't survived the end of the world only to end up alone.
I hit the bottom and stumbled over my own feet, sprawling face first in the street. I laid there for a moment, my body trembling with pain as slowly each wound that peppered my skin woke up the nerve endings around it and it swiftly transferred news of my injuries to my mind, bringing with it the stinging sensations of pain.
I could feel sweat trickling down my back, blood sliding across my skin, wet, thick, and sticky under my clothes. At the time I ignored all those signs and pushed myself painfully to my feet, my breath coming in ragged heaving gasps past my raw, burning throat as I scrambled on all fours across the wreckage to a slowly moving pile of debris.
"Hello, is there anybody out there?" the voice came again, and this time I could tell that it was coming from beneath the shifting pile.
"Ah'm here," I called as I reached it, scrabbling through the rocks with my bare hands. For a second my eyes lit on the bare skin of my hands and I somehow knew, that that was wrong. My hands shouldn't be bare. I wasn't sure why but in my gut I knew that I couldn't continue with my hands uncovered. My hand slapped the hip of my skin tight outfit. "Shit, no pockets." Scrambling back to where I'd been buried a few moments ago I found a pair of black leather gloves and I pulled them on as quick as I could before going back to digging. "Keep talkin'," I begged as I lifted rocks and metal, tossing them to the side. "Don' go quiet on meh now."
"Who's there?"
"Don' worry, Ah'll get ya out o' there." It only took five or six minutes of constant talking and digging before I got them out. And it was really a 'them' there were two of them, a man and a woman huddled together.
The woman untangled herself from his arms and slowly climbed to her feet, her back was to me as she bent over to help the man up. His eyes were clenched tightly shut as he slowly climbed to his feet. A cut above his left eye had blood dripping slowly down the side of his face as she helped him climb over bits and pieces of wreckage by directing him in a slightly trembling voice.
I stepped back, giving them some room and took the time to study them, hoping that something would trigger a memory in my mind of who they were, if I'd ever met them before.
He was tall and rather thin, I would have said lanky if it wasn't for the fact that he was very well muscled, as I could see from the tears in his clothes. He looked to be in pretty good physical shape despite his obvious injuries. His brown hair was tousled and he looked disheveled, though I guess that's to be expected considering he'd been buried alive until a few minutes ago. Though looking at his companion I personally don't think he could have complained about the company he'd kept in his tomb.
She was beautiful. Long red hair and bright green eyes I had glimpsed before she'd turned her back on me to help her friend, thin but also well muscled as her friend was, however not so much as to look unattractive.
Nothing. I watched them, studied them, listened to their voices, but there was nothing. Not a spark of recognition or even a glimmer of a memory involving either of these individuals.
After nearly five minutes of careful navigation the duo finally made it to the bottom of the pile and sat down near the rock I was perched on. They were both slightly out of breath and he was holding one hand to his side putting pressure over a nasty cut that I figured was most likely caused by a sharp piece of metal they'd been buried with, and the other was pressed to the cut over his eyes, I noticed that he still had his eyes tightly closed, as if he was afraid to open them and find out that everything was real.
Since I was reasonably sure that I didn't know either of them I ignored them for the most part as I sat on my rock trying to figure out what my next move should be. If I didn't know them maybe I didn't know anybody in this city? Nah, that couldn't be possible, if I'd been in the city for any length of time I was bound to know at least a few people.
For several minutes they sat catching their breath, and for several minutes I sat pondering my dilemma, that was until she spoke.
"Thanks for digging us out of there Rogue."
I heard her speak but wasn't sure who she was talking to so I continued to ignore her.
"Rogue? That was Rogue?" he asked. "I thought she hated us. She's already destroyed everything." I could hear the anger and hatred rising in his voice and I got an itching sensation between my shoulder blades, as if someone was watching me.
"Close your eyes Scott before you hurt her," she said.
"But Jean-"
"Do it Scott," she snapped.
I turned around to snap at them to shut up when I stopped cold. The mans, Scott's eyes were slitted open, and behind his lids I could see red. Not red irises, which would have been odd enough, but his entire eye was glowing red, and thin wisps of red smoke drifted up from the corners of his eyes, right before Jean slapped her hand over them.
"Close them, or you'll blast my hand off."
He grumbled a bit but eventually the thin red glow I could see through her hand blinked out. "You fight dirty you know that Jean?"
"Yes, I know," she said calmly, taking her hand away and blowing gently on it. I guess she'd been burned anyway by whatever was wrong with Scott's eyes.
"Excuse meh," I said. "But who tha hell is Rogue, who'r' you, and what tha hell is with that guys eyes?"
"Huh?" Jean looked up. "Rogue, what are you talking about?"
"Ya know what ah'm talkin' abou'. What tha hell happened here? Who are ya? Do ya know me?"
"Of course we know you, we only went to school together and lived at the Institute for a year and a half."
I leapt off my rock and sprinted over to her, grabbing her by the shoulders I lifted her up to my level and glared directly into her eyes.
"This is very important. Ya know meh, right?" She nodded. "Ya know mah name?" my voice cracked slightly but I didn't care, the stress was starting to get to me. She nodded again. "Will ya please, tell me who ah am?" A tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek, cutting a path in the dirt that covered my face to fall off the end of my chin, landing on her leg with a wet splat.
"Do you mean to say," she whispered, "That you don't know who you are?" It was my turn to nod. "You don't remember us, do you?" I shook my head.
"She doesn't remember us?" I turned my head to look at the boy, what was his name? Oh yeah, Scott.
"Ah don't remember either o' ya. Ah don't know where ah am, how ah got here, or what tha hell's happened since then. Ah don't even know mah own name. If ya know, please tell me."
"Your name is Marie," Jean said turning my head back to her with one hand. I couldn't help but noticed that she was very careful not to touch my skin. "I don't know about a last name, I never heard if you had one. We always just called you Rogue."
"You lived with us at the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters in Bayville," Scot said, bringing my attention back to him.
"Why did ah live there?"
"Because you are a mutant. The Institute was really a home for Mutants, we trained to use our powers there so we could control them, and we trained to help protect mankind." He turned his head as if he was looking around, despite the fact that his eyes were still closed. "It sounds like we didn't succeed too well."
"It looks like only mutants may have survived what happened," Jean said looking around as well.
"Um, excuse meh again, but, what's a mutant?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So mutants are basically humans that have different powers?" I asked some minutes later after Scott and Jean had explained the situation to me.
"Basically," Jean said. "Look, my power is telekinesis and some telepathy." She turned and held her hands out towards a pile of rubble, a few moments later the whole 1thing started to move, bits of rock and iron lifting into the air for a few seconds before falling back onto the pile.
"Wow."
Jean grinned. "Wait until you see Scott's power. Scott? You're up."
I turned to him as he stood from his seat on the ground. "Point me in a safe direction," he said.
"How about up? You know there's nothing for you to hit up there."
"Good point." He tilted his head back, but not so far that I couldn't see his eyes. "Okay, here I go."
"Um, Scott?" Jean said as his eyes opened. "Scott stop!" It was too late. The second his eyes opened a huge beam shot from them through the air. to strike the only still standing building in the entire city. It cut through the building and the top half of the twelve story structure began to lean ponderously towards us.
"Shit," I swore as I turned to run.
"Move," she yelled at him, "Get going before that thing lands on us."
"I'm kinda BLIND here," he snapped, his eyes closed once again.
"Why don't ya just turn it off and open yer eyes?" I yelled as I ran back to him and grabbed his hand. "Step high," I directed as we took off down the street, Scott stumbling over small bits of rubble as we went.
"Run now," he gasped, "talk later."
"Sounds good ta meh."
Boy did we run. I don't think I've ever run so fast in my life, course I can't exactly remember when the last time I ran was, but you get the idea. We sprinted down what was left of the street as far from the building as possible. As we just cleared it, it crashed down behind us, bricks and pieces of glass flying out like shrapnel and a huge cloud of dust, soot, and ash washed over us like a tidal wave, the force of the air knocking me from my feet.
It was several minutes before the quiet finally returned and I dared to open my eyes, finding myself lying on my stomach in the street, both arms raised to cover my head, not like they'd do a whole lot of good if the building had actually landed on me.
I gasped a bit in surprise when at the thought an image flashed through my mind, I was standing in a big metal room, arms raised over my head and resting on my upturned palms was a huge block that I remember was very heavy.
Then it was gone, and after a brief mental scramble to grab hold of the fleeting image I finally gave up and staggered to my feet. Looking around as the dust slowly began to settle I was able to make out Scott and Jean lying not too far away.
They were talking when I got to them. "Up is the safest way huh? No chance I'll hit something?"
"I did try to stop you," she said as she dabbed at the cut over his eye.
"Jean?"
"Yeah Rogue?"
"Why are you bothering with that little cut right now?"
"What do you mean? I have to try and clean it before it gets infected," she said.
"Well I understand that, but why worry about that little one right this minute when Scott's hiding a much larger cut in his side under his hand?"
"Scott?" she asked sharply.
"Uh. yeah?"
"Move your hand."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes, unless you want me to ask Rogue to touch you. Without her gloves on."
"That won't be necessary," he said quickly taking his hand away and letting her examine the large cut. What was it about my skin that frightened him so much? Did it have something to do with my mutation? They did say I was a mutant, but what could my skin do that would be so horrible?
I made a mental note to ask them about that later. First I wanted to bandage my own injuries. The good thing was I could do so without having to worry about Scott looking at me since he obviously couldn't do so without killing me from those beams behind his eyelids.
I removed the brown leather jacket that I'd only just realized I was wearing, then I grasped the neck of the elastic body suit in my hands and pulled it down to my waist, not too surprised to find I wasn't wearing a bra underneath it. My stomach was covered with small scrapes and my arms were dirty and scratched as well. Fewer than I'd expect considering a building had fallen on me.
"Rogue what are you doing?" Jean asked when she saw me standing there with the top of my outfit pulled down.
"Ah'm checkin' mah wounds. What's it look lahk ah'm doin'?" So I was a bit temperamental with her, so sue me.
"I see that but why did you take off your shirt, and out here too?"
"I need ta, ta get at tha cuts, it's not lahk there's anybody else around, and Scott here won't open his eyes. So Ah'm pretty safe from anyone looking at me."
Scott just sat where he was, I could tell he was fighting a blush, or maybe the urge to try and take a peek at me. They'd said we'd lived in the same building for a year and a half, I'd be willing to bet in that time he'd seen me in various states of undress. I grinned lightly; poor boy must have been driving himself mad trying not to think of me naked.
He started as Jean smacked the back of his head and his eyes opened for a split second in surprise, launching a thin beam of energy at the ground and tearing a small crater.
"Watch where your thoughts wander Scott," Jean said, "You know I can read you like a book."
"Isn't reading a persons mind against your morals?" he grumbled.
"I didn't read your mind, I read your face. I know you just wanted to open your eyes to sneak a peak at Rogue here, of course you couldn't do that without killing her now could you?"
He winced at the edge of steel anger in her voice, and the amusement with how easily she could read him. I bit back a laugh and just went back to cleaning my own numerous cuts.
After I'd finished with my upper body I pulled the top up and noticed something odd. There was a red X on the outfit over my left breast, and on each shoulder of my leather jacket, a quick glance at Scott and Jean showed similar marks on the shoulders of their clothes as well.
"What's with the X's?" I asked.
"It stands for the X-Men."
"X-Men?"
"Yeah, that's what we were called. All of Professor Xaviers students were known as X-Men, though only a handful were actually on active duty. You, me, Scott, Kitty, Kurt, Evan, Doctor McCoy, Mrs. Munroe, and Logan. The rest were all in training for the most part."
As she'd listed off each name I'd felt a tug of familiarity in my brain, as if I should know who they were. But somehow it didn't seem to fit, as if I was remember them, but it was someone else's memory.
"Okay, we'll get ta that later ah guess. Raght now ah got anotha question. Why doesn't Scott open his eyes?"
"He can't."
"Why not?"
"I was in an accident when I was little," Scott said, turning my attention to him. His head was tilted down but I could still see a painful expression on his face, a mix of anger and frustration. "I hit my head and was hospitalized. I recovered fine but the doctors said there was a small part of my brain that was damaged, the cells just didn't recover after the operation. When my mutation came out, the beams from my eyes, we found out that those dead cells made up the part of my brain that most likely would have allowed me to turn it off."
"So that means."
"Yeah. I can't turn off my power. Unless I wear a special pair of ruby quartz lenses over my eyes I can't open them. I have a visor I normally wear when in uniform, but it was lost, and my shades are back in Bayville at the institute."
"There's a question you haven't asked yet Rogue," Jean said softly. She looked up from her seat on the ground, legs drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees. "You haven't asked what your power is."
"You're raght, ah haven't ask."
"Are you going to?"
"Will ya tell meh?"
"Yes."
"Then ah'm askin'."
"Your power is actually very dangerous. Not to you so much as to others. I heard the professor and Mr. McCoy talking about it before. You have the potential for nearly unlimited power."
"Why?"
"Your mutation lets you absorb people. Their memories, their essence and life. In the case of mutants you absorb their powers as well for a short time." She reached out and gently pressed her fingers against my cheek. I felt it start, like a pull, and my brain was suddenly filled with her thoughts, and her memories. Some Jock in a letterman jacket. A group of girls, one I recognized as myself by the white stripes in my hair. The Bayville Sirens.
All this happened in less than a second and she pulled her hand away. And in just that time she looked kinda dizzy. "Jean?" Scott called. "Jean what did you do? Did you touch her?"
"I'm fine Scott." She turned to look at me. "Any contact with your bare skin and you'll absorb whoever touches you."
"How long?" I whispered. "How long until you're out of mah head?"
"I'm not really sure. Probably less than a day, maybe just a few hours since I only touched you for a second."
This was most unexpected, and I wasn't really sure how to handle it. "So ah can' touch anyone?"
"No Rouge, you can't. The longer you touch someone, the longer the effects of your power, and if you hold on long enough, you could kill them."
A flicker of images, a blond woman, flying, lifting things I could never possibly have lifted with just the muscles in my body. A dank cell. Darkness, tests, a lab, the blond woman, my hand on her bare cheek. "It's happened b'fo, hasn't it?" I whispered. "Danvers. Carol Danvers."
"Yes. It happened a few months ago."
"How?"
"I'm not really sure of the specifics," she said. "You wouldn't talk about it. You didn't like talking about what happened."
"Gawd I need a cigarette." I blinked in confusion as soon as the words passed my lips. "Do I even smoke?"
"Um, actually I'm not really sure if you ever did Rogue," Jean said. "I know you absorbed somebody once that smoked. Maybe it's from him."
"Gawd how many people have ah done this too? How many people are swimming around in mah skull?"
"I'm not sure Rogue. I'm sorry I can't be of any more help. We've been in a lot of fights over the last year and a half. You've absorbed a lot of mutants powers, each on a temporary basis. Really in a fight that's all you can do against another mutant. Absorb their abilities, aside from that you're just a normal human." She paused. "At least you used to be. Now after absorbing Miss. Danvers you can fly, are basically invulnerable, and super strong too."
"So mah power is to drain people of their lahfe, and kill them," I spat out.
"That's not entirely-"
"Save it," I growled. "I'm not in the mood." Standing I looked around. Up and down the street there were still cars. Some half buried under rubble, some overturned, upside down or on their sides. Others looked to have been untouched by whatever had happened here. "Whether it's mah memory o' not I'm dying fo' a cigarette. I'm gonna go see if ah can' find anything."
I stomped away from them, angrily pulling my leather jacket on as I realized I was still holding it in my hands. What tha hell kinda monster am ah? To drain a woman's powers and lahfe completely away lahke that. I shook my head ridding myself of the thought. "Whadn't mah fault," I muttered as I came to the first car.
The door was locked.
"Merde," I swore, then stopped again. "Do I speak French?" I thought for a second but couldn't come up with anything in the muddled depths of my mind. "Sonofabitch," I growled. It was all too much. Everything was piling on me, hopelessness anger fear desperation hatred. Wasn't sure what it was I hated but the feeling was there.
Drawing back I slammed my fist against the window of the car in a rage of frustration. I didn't even feel it when I punched right through the glass.
"What tha. Danvers," I said. "She was strong. Super strong." I shrugged my shoulders, wincing slightly at a pull in my back. Well that strength just worked in my favor. Unlocking the car door I opened it, accidentally tearing it off in the process. Dropping it onto the ground I crawled into it, looking for anything that might be of some use to us, but more for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
There was nothing of any help, and no smokes either. I growled again in frustration, something I seemed to be doing a lot lately, and moved on down the street towards another car. Not even bothering with the handle this time I just punched through the window grabbed the door frame and ripped it off the car, taking some of my frustration out in the act of destruction.
Tossing it aside I quickly looked the car over, even popping the trunk and taking a look in there. Found a blanket, a beat up old knapsack and a first aid kit under the spare tire.
Fifteen minutes and ten cars later I had found a variety of useful to possibly semi useful items. The blanket knapsack and first aid kit to start, then several lighters, a couple emergency flares, one car had a trunk full of canned and dehydrated foods. Apparently someone fleeing the city before the attack. And finally I found the most important discovery. A running SUV, keys still in the ignition. It was a big vehicle, plenty of room for the three of us to be able to sleep out of the elements if need be and it offered transportation, until it ran out of gas, but we could deal with that later.
I stood in front of that SUV some minutes later, slightly perturbed. Pissed off would be a better term actually. In ten cars I hadn't found a single cigarette. There'd been a couple empty packs in one overturned car, but not one actual cigarette.
I angrily tossed the knapsack, with all the items I'd found inside it, onto the passenger seat of the car and stood there for a while fuming.
With the door shut I noticed my reflection in the window and took a good look. Dark reddish hair with those two strips of white framing my face, brilliant green eyes, and a body that even I had to admit wasn't too bad. The leather jacket looked good on me, and the skin tight outfit as well. It was in two colors, dark navy blue on the outside and a stripe running down the middle in grey. Looking down I noticed I was wearing knee high grey boots that perfectly matched the inner stripe on the costume. I figured myself to be around seventeen years old, maybe eighteen.
After a couple minutes however I noticed something in the air. Smoke, not burning building smoke, but cigarette smoke. I could smell it.
"Somet'ing wrong chéri?"
I spun around when I heard the voice skidding slightly on the loose gravel on the street before leaping into the air, instinctively hovering five or six feet off the ground. There, sitting on a low wall, as calmly as if he saw the end of the world everyday was a man. Probably about nineteen or so, maybe eighteen. Dark glasses over his eyes, long tan trench coat. One leg drawn up with his foot resting on the wall, the other hanging down.
I took all this in quickly, but what mostly riveted my attention was the lit cigarette in his hand.
"Who tha hell are ya?" I called down to him.
He looked up at me, seemingly puzzled. "What's dis joke chéri? You know Remy. Goin' t' pr'tend dere 'ain't not'in b'tween us now?"
"What are ya talkin' about? Ah ain't neva seen ya b'fo in mah life."
He cocked his head slightly to one side, the puzzled expression looked to be etched into his skin. "Was' happen chéri?" he asked. He lowered his leg and patted the wall next to him. "Come sit next t' Remy and tell him wha' happen'."
I glared down at him for a moment, unsure of what I should do. "Got any more o' those?" I asked pointing to the cigarette in his hand.
He blinked. "Sure. Remy got him a 'ole pack o' dese 'tings. But Remy t'ought ma peu de beauté didn' smoke."
"Flattery'll get ya no where swamp rat," I said as I floated down to sit on the wall next to him. "Now gimme one o' those things." I reached over and quick as a flash slipped my hand into the inside pocket of his coat, coming back with a pack of Newport's. "Got a light?" I asked as I put one between my lips, remembering that I'd left the lighters I'd found in the SUV. "Nevermind." I snatched the lit one out of his hand and lit mine off of it before handing his back. "Thanks." I took a drag on the cigarette, inhaling the smoke with a familiar feeling of pressure in my chest as the smoke hit my lungs and slowly exhaled it with a sigh of complete satisfaction.
"Don' mention it," he said.
I could hear something in his voice and I turned my head to see him wide eyed behind his glasses and staring at me as if I'd suddenly grown an extra head. "What are ya lookin' at swamp rat?"
"Qui êtes-vous et qu'avez-vous fait avec mon Rogue?" he asked, slipping unconsciously into French in his agitation.
"Your Rogue?"
"Oui."
"Ah take it ya know who ah am?"
"Course Remy knows you chéri."
"Then get in the car." I hopped down off the wall and sauntered over to the SUV, much happier now that I had some nicotine in my system.
"Ce qui?"
"I said 'get in the car' do I have to spell it out for you?" I snapped, my patience wearing thin.
"Don' have t' get so hostile wit' Remy," he grumbled as he slid off the wall walking around to the passenger side of the SUV.
I felt a sudden urge to apologize but bit my tongue before I could say anything. No way was I going to say sorry to this Cajun that I'd only just met. Though come to think of it, I'm not so sure I'd only just met him. He apparently knew me, he knew my name at least.
I jumped behind the wheel and put it in drive, stepping on the gas before Remy was all the way in. "Merde," he swore as he half fell into the seat next to me, grabbing onto the underside of the dashboard to keep from sliding out as I spun the wheel hard to the left turning down the street back towards Jean and Scott. "A bit hasty dere don' ye 'tink chéri?" he asked after he'd managed to drag himself into the car and shut the door.
I shrugged noncommittally, taking the cigarette from my mouth, holding it naturally between the first and middle finger of my right hand. It was kinda odd. I was reasonably sure that I'd never smoked before, but here it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Remy looking out the window, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips.
"Hey Remy?" I asked.
"Hmmm?"
"Have ah ever absorbed you?"
"Oui, why you ask?"
"Eh, no reason really. Ah was just wonderin' how many people Ah got swimmin' around in mah skull."
"Quite a few chéri, from what Remy here around de Institute."
"Do you always talk about yourself in the third person?" I growled, slightly annoyed.
He shrugged, "For de most part oui. Remy'll stop if it bod'ers you dat much."
The rest of the short ride was spent in silence as I concentrated on my driving. I almost grinned at the look on Jean's face when we pulled up in the black SUV.
"Where did you find that?" she asked as I stepped out of the vehicle.
"Down the street thataway," I replied, vaguely pointing in the direction I'd found the vehicle. "Unfortunately that's not all I found." I jerked my thumb back over my shoulder as the passenger door opened and Remy stepped out.
"Remy?" Jean asked. "Is that you?"
"Oui, it be Remy."
"Didn' Ah tell ya ta stop talking about yourself in third person swamp rat?" I growled.
"My apologies chéri," he said, bowing slightly in my direction, flashing me a grin that threatened to melt my spine. God he was gorgeous. I'd been well aware of that fact since I'd first seen him but until that point I'd been too annoyed to care.
I growled again, "Save it for someone that cares," I muttered climbing back into the car to grab the knapsack. "Here," I tossed the bag to Jean. "There's a first aid kit in there. I recommend you put something over Scott's eyes so he doesn't accidentally open them and kill someone.
"Dat won't be necessary." Everyone looked up at Remy as he came around the car.
"Why not?"
"I found dis a little while ago, bit after I woke up." He reached into one of his coats pockets and removed a yellow device with a red line of crystal in the middle of it.
"Scott's visor," Jean said as she recognized it. "Where did you find it?"
"Was lying a few feet from me when I woke up," Remy said, tossing the visor to her.
"Here Scott. Put this on." She leaned over Scott and handed the visor to him.
"Thanks Remy," Scott nodded to the Cajun after he had his visor securely in place. "It's nice to be able to see again."
"Well what now?" I asked. "We just gonna sit around here or do ya think we should try an' find any other survivors?"
"If anyone else survived, dere most likely buried under all da rubble."
"Can it swamp rat," I growled. "If we're gonna look for survivors we should look for survivors." I turned and looked towards the west. "But it looks like tha sun's goin' down, so Ah think we should just stay put for now. We can sleep in tha car, there's enough room for tha four of us for a few nights at least."
"Sounds good to me," Jean said. "What did you find that was edible?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~
That first night actually wasn't too bad in retrospect. Despite not knowing who I was, how I'd gotten there or what had happened, the four of us had a nice, if meager dinner, talking quietly as we ate. Jean, Remy, and Scott recounted stories of battles fought, and friends they all knew. I kinda got the impression that they'd at one time or another fought with Remy from opposite sides, fighting against him and his friends.
I sat nearby and listened intently, hoping to spark some kind of memory of my past from their words. Not much was familiar, let me rephrase that, almost everything they said was familiar, I had this feeling in my gut that told me I should know the people they were talking about, but as far as my head was concerned I could have only just been hearing those names for the first time. Not a glimmer of a memory stirred at any of them.
We slept that night in the SUV, and I had been right, it was perfect for the four of us. Remy and Scott, being the largest physically of the four of us had a row of seats to themselves, Remy in the very back, Scott in the second row, and Jean and I slept in the front. Jean on the passenger side, and I slept half curled around the steering wheel. All in all it wasn't too uncomfortable, though I did have a red Chevy logo pressed into my cheek the next morning.
Before the others woke I slipped quietly out of the car. Standing nearby I raised the pack of Newport's I'd stolen from Remy again. Selecting one I put it between my lips and flicked a Zippo lighter. Touching the flame to the tip of the cigarette between my lips I lit it and closed the lighter. That morning my first drag on the cigarette didn't go quite as it should have. I choked. The second the smoke hit my lungs my whole body shook with heaving coughs as I tried to clear the smoke from my lungs.
I stood there, leaning against the side of the car for nearly five minutes before I was finally able to get my breath back. One arm was wrapped around my middle, holding the stinging wounds in my body, the tears in my skin that had been jarred by my violent coughing fit.
Straightening up I noticed someone standing near me and my head whipped around to stare directly into a pair of deep red eyes. Remy was standing not five feet from me, his glasses pushed up on his hair, a glowing card in one hand as he touched it to the cigarette dangling from his lips. The long tan coat hung on his frame outlining his broad shoulders, the dark pants and black shirt underneath blended into the shadows inside the coat.
"What are ya starin' at swamp rat?" I growled as I forced my hands at my side, not wanting to let him know I was hurting.
"I be watching a fille dat dis mornin' can' smoke fo' some reason," he said, letting go of the card once his cigarette was lit. Instead of exploding it turned to ash, breaking apart and being blown away in the light breeze before it touched the ground. "Yesterday she stole Remy's pack and smoked as if she'd been doin' dat fo' years. Dis morning she chokes. Remy jus' wonderin' why."
"Didn't ah tell ya to stop talkin' in third person?" I growled again. I seemed to be growling a lot around him. For some reason he just pissed me off. But at the same time I had an almost uncontrollable urge to launch myself at him and kiss him. I stomped on that urge. "What are ya doin' up?"
"Remy a light sleeper, I heard ma chéri getting up and decided t' join her."
"Yer still talkin' in third person Cajun," I warned him.
"Oui. What's wrong chère? You're different dis mornin'."
"Differen't how?" I drawled. I wasn't sure who I was really. Things kept coming and going, memories, thoughts, images and emotions bubbled to the surface of my mind and then faded away. Without really thinking about it I raised the lit cigarette I'd still been holding in one hand to my lips and took a deep drag as effortlessly as I had the day before, slowly exhaling the poison laden smoke.
Remy arched an eyebrow at me and I suddenly realized what I'd just done. "What?"
"Chéri smokin' again?"
"Apparently. What's it ta ya swamp rat?"
"Not'in', jus ma belle been confuse dis poor Cajun since yesterday. One minute you be smoking, de next you choke, den you fine again." He looked at me quizzically. "For de most part you seem like normal. Like when we first met. Angry wit me, and stubborn, not like a few mont's later, when you kissed me."
"Ah kissed you?"
"Oui. Well," he added, "actually Remy be de one dat started dat kiss."
"Well ah think that explains why Ah'm smoking."
"Why's dat chéri?"
"Ah absorbed ya, ya smoke, yer a thief, and ya speak French," I said, ticking the items off on my fingers. "Yesterday Ah was dyin' fo' a cigarette, Ah picked yer pocket, and Ah was swearing in French when Ah couldn't find any smokes."
He looked thoughtful for a moment, thin wreaths of smoke from the tip of his cigarette swirling around his head, sifting through the strands of his hair as it dangled loosely from his lips. "Remy be t'inkin' de filles mutation be goin' haywire."
"No shit," I retorted, injecting as much sarcasm and venom into my voice as possible as I took another drag on my cigarette, and proceeded to have another coughing fit. "Gawd damnit," I snarled, throwing it on the ground. "What tha fuck is wrong with meh?"
"You've absorbed too many people." I nearly jumped out of my skin at the voice from behind me and spun around, instinctively dropping into a crouch.
I straightened up when I saw who it was though. "Damnit Jean, don' scare meh lahke that," I snarled, one hand going to my chest. I could feel my heart pounding under my fingers.
"Sorry," she said as she rolled the window down a bit more to lean on the frame.
"Don' be sorry, just don' do it again," I said as my heart finally stopped racing and slowed to a more normal beat. "Now what was that you were saying?"
"I said 'You've absorbed too many people.' Your problem is that you've temporarily lost your own memories, and at the same time you have at least a dozen other peoples memories floating around in your head. They're surfacing, and you see them as your own." She looked at Remy. "But they aren't yours. The desire to smoke, the skill at theft, and the French all come from Remy, but they feel as if they were your own memories. Until you have your real memories back, I'm not sure you'll be able to tell who you are. And I doubt anything we could tell you would help."
"So basically Ah've got too many memories in mah head, and Ah just have to sort them out, raght?"
"Sounds about right to me."
Remy and I both spun around at the voice behind us, my hand instinctively dropping towards my non existent pocket for a non existent playing card to charge with the power I no longer had. Remy on the other hand quickly came up with a Queen of Diamonds glowing angrily in one hand.
There, sitting quite calmly on a large piece of rubble was a rather startling sight. A boy, probably about my age, rather handsome if you discounted the fact that he was covered with blue fur, he had fangs, yellow eyes, three fingers on each hand, three toes on each foot, and a spaded tail that was waving rather lazily in the air behind him. Oh, and did I forget to mention the pointy ears?
"Vhy does everyone always vant to attack da fuzzy dude?"
To Be Continued.
merde: Shit
ma peu de beauté: My little beauty
Qui êtes-vous et qu'avez-vous fait avec mon Rogue?: Who are you, and what have you done with my Rogue?
Oui: Yes
Ce qui?: What?
Notes: So the stage has been set. The world has been destroyed, and so far only mutants have survived. What happened? And Why did Scott blame Rogue for the destruction? How will she take meeting her Brother, the resident Fuzzy Elf?
All will be revealed, or at least some of it maybe, in the next installment of Desolation.
I wanted to clear up a couple things. Rogue IS the catalyst behind all the destruction, and I will eventually explain how she did that, and why. But for right now I want to clear up her costume. It's basically the original yellow and green outfit she wore in Uncanny X-Men, I just changed the colors to dark blue and grey, thinking they'd fit the more goth like personality of the Evo Rogue. Her hair is still just like it is on Evolution.
Oh and I don't own X-Men Evolution.