Disclaimer: None of the mutants belong to me. Anything familiar you read below is most probably not mine either.
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Chapter 11*
She wasn't the prettiest fille Remy ever saw. Far from it. You see, Remy had dated supermodels, beauty queens, and even actresses. All more beautiful and more glam than she was.
She wasn't even his type. Growing up, he was drawn towards the blond and the blue-eyed, the sweet and the seductive, the dangerous and the wild.
Not for the dark, sarcastic, and extremely witty.
Sometimes, personality was even optional for him.
And yet, it was she who held his dreams at night. It was she who he keeps coming back to. It was she who mattered.
He wanted to kiss her, that day in the cave. He wanted to so badly.
But he knew she wasn't ready.
And it surprised Remy that he hadn't taken advantage.
That was his first sign that what he had with this woman was more than just innocent flirtations.
She wasn't just any girl. She was the girl. She was his chere.
But no.
She's not.
She's rogue.
But as fate would have it, as he was snooping around downtown, trying to get the layout of the place, planning his next heist, who would he see brooding on top of the tallest building but the object of his latest obsession?
"Roguey," he said smoothly as he walked up to her casually. "How are you doing?"
Rogue, whose gaze was focused upon the sight below, didn't even turn to acknowledge him. She merely shrugged.
"You've been missing school, chere," he told her as lightly as he could. It's been two weeks since the Trask fiasco. And since then, Rogue never went back to Bayville High, even as her teammates did. Merde, even pricipal Raven Darkholme was back.
"I'm not going back there," it was said with such finality that Remy found it easier not to argue with that.
"And why not?" Remy asked. "Remy would think that his chere had been avoiding him,"
Rogue turned to him, slowly. The hardness in her eyes slowly disappeared. A gloved hand reached for his cheek. "I'm not."
Remy covered the hand that was holding his cheek tenderly with his. "Then why?"
Rogue removed her hand and went back to looking at the sight below. "I've been busy," was the reply.
Remy frowned as he watched Rogue closely. Something was wrong with the way she was standing. Then he realized what it was. She was on alert. She wasn't looking down because of the view. She was looking for something. But before he could ask her about it, someone interrupted them.
"R-Remy!" A high-pitched, shrill voice stammered.
Rogue and Remy whipped around.
"Jaime," Remy groaned. "I thought I told you to wait for me in the diner." Ever since they took the young boy home, Jaime had taken to following him around. He had no objections to that, since it gave him more freedom to explore Bayville High. Jaime was the legitimate excuse he gave whenever he wanted to go out—legally. After all, no one would suspect him to be planning his next heist while babysitting a kid. However, he did dislike the interruption today.
But Rogue couldn't suppress a grin. The kid was just too adorable for words. Clad in an all-black ensemble enclosed by a brown trench, Jaime adjusted his glasses that looked suspiciously like Remy's. "Hey, sugah," she reached out and ruffled the boys hair.
"Roguey, no!" Remy cried out. But his warning came too late.
Two Jaimes blinked and stared adorably at Rogue. "'Allo, chere," the two said in unison, in a bad Cajun imitation.
Rogue burst out laughing. "You better stop hanging out with the Swamp Rat, sugah,"
"Swamp…"
"…Rat?"
Two pairs of brown eyes appraised Remy closely.
"It's a form of endearment, petit," Remy grinned at the boy. "Ma chere couldn't help herself."
Rogue snorted. Then her communicator activated.
"Roguey, you in place?"
Rogue turned around and replied, lowering her voice so that Remy and Jaime wouldn't hear her.
"Dear ol' dad wants us to meet in ten minutes. Quicksilver out."Rogue turned back to Remy and Jaime and looked at them apologetically. "Sorry guys, gotta go,"
But before Rogue can sweep up past the Cajun, his hand shot out and grabbed his arm. "Chere, what is ol' Buckethead up to?" He knew that the Brotherhood was up to something. Maybe he could get some clue and warn the professor.
Rogue gave him a smile that chilled his bones but would haunt his dreams for nights to come. "If I tell you that, then, I'll have to kill you."
Then, she leapt off the building.
Jaime shivered as she gazed at Rogue's flying form in adoration. "Wow."
And Remy couldn't help but agree.
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All her life, Rosie Thorndale wanted to be a journalist. She wanted to be seen on television, delivering the events that had just happened around the world to thousands of people simultaneously. She wanted to experience first-hand the excitement of uncovering dark secrets, exposing scandals, and investigating mysteries.
And now, after four years of hard work in college and three years of working her way up the national television station, all she was had was this.
She sighed.
She supposed that covering the latest session of the senate committee hearing on what had happened in the island of Genosha was an OK job. After all, it was anyone's guess what had happened with the partially government-funded research of Bolivar Trask. The soldiers say that it was an accident. Crime scene investigation says otherwise.
But she didn't become a reporter for this. She wanted to go into investigative reporting. She wanted to investigate the Genosha Island explosion, not report on people who are doing the investigative reporting. Unfortunately, all her boss saw was a pretty face, so she was relegated to anchor work which didn't involve anything remotely intellectually stimulating other than reading idiot boards.
She supposed it could be worse.
But, lordy, she hated politics.
She looked around, trying to hide her boredom. Observing people was a habit she trained herself in as a child. After all, a good journalist must have an eye for detail.
Soon, she saw a dignified old man walking down the corridors towards the entrance to the hall. That shouldn't have caught her attention particularly since dignified-looking men were a dime a dozen in that place. What had caught her attention was his entourage.
Behind him glided two women, both beautiful, and dangerously so.
The one on the man's right side was decked in red. Was that red spandex she was wearing? The spandex was ripped in all the right places, exposing slivers of flesh. And to pull off the outfit was a red trench coat. Her dark hair contrasted sharply with her pale skin. Her earrings dangled enticingly just above her shoulders.
The first thing you would notice about the other woman was her hair—auburn with two distinctive white stripes. She was decked in an outfit almost identical with her companion, only this time, the spandex was black and the trench coat brown. Her green eyes glittered with malice. Rosie immediately knew that one doesn't mess with this girl and live to tell about it.
Behind the two women were two males, both ruggedly handsome.
The brown-haired man just screamed bad boy. The man you dated just to get back at your father. The man good girls fall for.
And if she were to chose which one of the bunch she would like to cross in a dark, empty alley, it would have to be the guy with the purplish blue hair. His skin was pale, but he had a kind look about his face. She watched as he reached forward and touched the shoulders of the girl with the two-toned hair. He whispered something to her but she just nodded in reply.
And bringing up the rear were two thugs. If Rosie was to be told that the four teens were the dignified men's children (differences in appearances notwithstanding), she would have said that the two men in the rear were their bodyguards.
One was big. Huge. Scary. She had no doubt that this guy could pick her up with his pinkie. He glared at anyone that so much as looks at him.
The other guy was shorter. He had shaggy green hair. Bu he had this smirk upon his face that warned anyone that he is not afraid to play dirty. Given the right weapon, this guy looked like he would not hesitate to hurt and kill. He walked with a slouch and occasionally hopped whenever he would get left behind.
"Rosie! What on earth are you doing gaping there?" A voice snapped at her. "Start with the interviews!"
Rosie snapped out of her reverie. "Yes sir!"
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Pietro zipped to his father's side after checking out the layout of the building. "All's according to plan," he grinned.
"Good." The man known to many as Magneto said. "Are the media in place?"
"Live international coverage through the news channel." Pietro nodded. "This is going to be fun,"
"What's the item on our agenda, Mr. Hewitt?" The senate president asked the man at the head of the long table.
Cameras immediately panned to the man who holds the flow of the investigation.
The brown-haired man smiled rather sinisterly. "I have some friends that you might want to know," he said.
"You mean we would start to question the witnesses?" The senate president frowned.
"You could say that," the man replied.
Then there was a commotion from the spectators. Screams and shouts caused the camera to pan towards the civilians. The cameraman's eyes widened at what he saw. He almost dropped the camera but his training as a media man compelled him to focus on what caused the commotion. Beside him, Rosie Thorndale gasped.
A man.
A man in a business suit was rising up in the air.
And then, pieces of metal began to float and make their way to the man. And slowly, they twisted and bent their shape until they resembled an armor. An armor which soon conformed itself to the man.
"I would like to introduce you to the world of mutants." The man, Mr. Hewitt, said as he stood up. Then slowly, he morphed into a woman, a blue-skinned woman.
*
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Warm brown liquid spouted out of Scott's mouth.
"Like, ew!" Kitty grumbled. "That's gross, Scott!" She took a paper towel and started to wipe her skirt on the spots Scott's projectiles hit her.
Bobby laughed at the sight of their high and mighty leader spitting out his soda. His only complaint was that he wasn't the one who made Scott do that. It was the TV. His head swiveled to the ignored kitchen TV. They were watching the news, right?
Scott coughed a few times to dislodge the remaining liquid in his throat. "Professor!"
"He's psychic, Scott," Kitty rolled her eyes. "You don't have to shout."
"Ah!" Bobby's eyes widened. "Magneto!"
"What?" Kitty's eyes searched the room before she finally turned her attention to the TV. "Mystique!" She gasped.
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People in the room began to panic. Some attempted to flee. But the main doors were blocked.
Blob crossed his huge arms. Beside him, Avalanche smirked malevolently, as if daring someone to go through him.
"What is the meaning of this?" The senate president demanded. "Guards!"
The numerous uniformed guards all simultaneously drew their weapons. And turned it towards the senators.
The cameraman made a move to turn off his camera.
"Keep it rolling," Mystique commanded.
Trembling a little, he did what he was told.
"How long can you keep that up, Rogue?" The Scarlet Witch asked her friend who was concentrating hard to access Xavier's power.
Rogue merely shrugged.
While Rogue's job was to control the minds of the guards, the Witch's job was to protect her from harm.
"To the fire exit!" A man in the crowd screamed.
"I do not think so," a voice heavily accented said as he appeared in front of the fire exit in a puff of smoke.
People screamed at the sight of the yellow eyed blue demon.
A few brave souls ventured forward, only to be hit with green glob on the face.
"You freaks of nature!"
"On the contrary," Magneto said as he floated to the center of the room. "We are the masterpieces of nature. We are the next step in humankind's evolution. We would like to formally introduce to the more advanced form of man, the homo sapiens superior."
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"We're doomed." Evan groaned as he watched the news from the Blackbird. "Now the whole world knows."
Beside him, Bobby couldn't help but agree.
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~tbc
A/N:
Sorry guys, I don't know how it is things work in the US Senate hearings so it's a bit sketchy/erroneous.
Thanks to my reviewers ~thank you~. And to Yumiko, I use MS Word but save it as a Web type so the formatting errors are at a minimum.