Void's fingers are reaching for me again, trying to take my life away.
Trask smiles and laughs as I scream and flail about, biting down on my
bonds.
"No!" I scream. Slowly my mind finds its way back to calm, and I curl up into a little ball.
How many days has it been? Week's maybe, years? I don't know anymore. I want so badly to wake up from this nightmare, I want to be back at the Mansion, the school, anywhere other than here.
It's a training camp for mutants. Trask captures us, trains us into using our powers at their full extent, and then sells us to governments for testing and weapons use.
I don't really want to think about the training, although I suppose I have to. Do you remember when Trask told Void that "it" would happen again? That was what he was talking about. Void's training is horrible, she told me about it. Trask brings in things, like homeless people, animals, plants, and makes her suck them dry.
If Void disobeys him, she has to take our lives. Us. Mutants. There are maybe a hundred people here, all of them being trained. Trained to kill, to fight, and to do what we're told. Void was captured when she was five, her name then was Arashi. She was here till twenty-five, but she was taken last week.
Taken. It's our fate, all of us here. Void was sold to Hydra Corporation; she'll be used to help them with "disciplining" their own mutant army.
But why am I here? Because Trask thinks that soon I'll be able to use all of the powers of people I've touched, and then I can start missions. I get training every day for two hours, a guard will be here soon to escort me. I bet you're wondering why I haven't used my powers to get out of here. It's simple really, there's no way out. I'm outnumbered, I'd have to absorb at least a hundred people to get out, and that's if I wasn't shot first, just like Nathan.
Nathan was a boy in the cell next to mine, and one day he somehow got out. He only got three steps before a sniper took him out. It happened right in front of me, and as he fell, I caught his eyes, and told him goodbye. And then he hit the floor, I lay down and kept his gaze, my gray-green eyes locked onto his deep brown ones, telling him how sorry I was, sorry that he was dying. We stayed that way until they carried him off, he was still alive.
Sometimes at night I count the scars on my body, and talk to the voices in my head. They don't answer me much; over my time here they've stopped talking. I can't even hear most of them anymore. Now there's only Jean, Scott, Kitty, Kurt, and Remy. Remy's fading fast, I can only hear his whispers now. He likes to joke, keeps my spirits up when the world tries to break me. But I'm losing him, losing all that he was, losing all that was me.
A guard's here, the plastic window lifts up, and he walks in. I used to fight them, kick and scream, but when I did that, all that would happen was I would get shocked, or they would hit me over the skull until I bled. So now I just put my hands out in front of me, where they can see the barcode tattooed onto my palms. They scan it, and then chain me up. I get led past a few cells; I know all of the people in them.
First comes Generous, number 2238, she's ten, and one of the donors. Then Fortune, 34660, seven years old and a prophet. Last comes Green, 6732, my age or maybe a little younger, he can grow plants and things. I'm number 4734. That's what we are, numbers. We don't have an identity, only a number. You know sometimes I can't remember my own name.
The plain white door opens, and I'm shoved inside, still chained. Trask is always there for my training sessions, he tells them what to do.
I'm tied to the wall like a cross, with ropes at my elbows, wrists, knees, and ankles. Then the training begins. It's pretty simple, Trask thinks that if they hurt me enough, abuse me, make me angry, then I will go into a self defense mode in which I will be able to call up psyches at will.
He's smoking a cigar, and stubs it out on my cheek. It hurts, feels like something's burrowing into my skin. I used to love my pale skin; it was my best feature. Now I have no real skin, only a motley assortment of scars. Trask pulls up a chair and sits in front of me; I stare down at him in silence.
"Well Rogue," he says, "I see that physical pain isn't going to work on you, so let's try some psychological stuff."
Please god, you made me a mutant, and a lot of times I've asked you to take me away from this pain, could you do it now, now that I really mean it?
"Rogue, you deserve this, you know that right?" I set my jaw; he won't get any reply out of me.
"Rogue, you're a murderer! Remember Mystique, your mother?"
Please, shut up.
"You pushed her off a cliff! You killed Kurt's mother!"
Don't talk about them; they're my only friends.
"That's why they left you there, and let my agents take you! They hated you for what you did to Mystique, for what you did to Kurt!"
I can't take it...
"Shut up."
"What's that Rogue?"
"Shut up! They had to leave me, it wasn't because they wanted to, they though I was dead!"
"Rogue, you're lying to yourself. They didn't even go and try to find your body, they just forgot about you, and left you here with me."
I'm seeing red, everything looks like blood. I want to kill him, kill him like he killed me. My god, everything's on fire. Pain...so much.
Blood spatters from between my fingertips, a noise like swords coming unsheathed, and I have claws. I have Logan's claws. I did it. At one time I would be happy, but now all it means is that I'll be taken sooner.
Trask is clapping as I struggle. "Good Rogue, we've mastered Logan's, now try Scott."
I don't know why, but I want to. I want to show him that I can. Burning behind my eyes, I think my skull might explode. There, a beam of light, it burns a hole in the floor. He's clapping like a child delighted with a new toy.
Some people come in, they untie me and I slip to the floor, and curl up in a ball. God, let me die. Please don't make me listen to them anymore. Suddenly I know I'm going to throw up, and I do.
Trask smiles as I wipe my mouth and sheathe my claws, the holes in my skin close. Someone comes up behind me, and holds my head down, another puts a drop of something in each eye, and suddenly I stop thinking about resisting, I have to do what's commanded of me, I have to do what I'm told. Trask speaks, "Rogue, your first mission is, Kill the X-men."
"No!" I scream. Slowly my mind finds its way back to calm, and I curl up into a little ball.
How many days has it been? Week's maybe, years? I don't know anymore. I want so badly to wake up from this nightmare, I want to be back at the Mansion, the school, anywhere other than here.
It's a training camp for mutants. Trask captures us, trains us into using our powers at their full extent, and then sells us to governments for testing and weapons use.
I don't really want to think about the training, although I suppose I have to. Do you remember when Trask told Void that "it" would happen again? That was what he was talking about. Void's training is horrible, she told me about it. Trask brings in things, like homeless people, animals, plants, and makes her suck them dry.
If Void disobeys him, she has to take our lives. Us. Mutants. There are maybe a hundred people here, all of them being trained. Trained to kill, to fight, and to do what we're told. Void was captured when she was five, her name then was Arashi. She was here till twenty-five, but she was taken last week.
Taken. It's our fate, all of us here. Void was sold to Hydra Corporation; she'll be used to help them with "disciplining" their own mutant army.
But why am I here? Because Trask thinks that soon I'll be able to use all of the powers of people I've touched, and then I can start missions. I get training every day for two hours, a guard will be here soon to escort me. I bet you're wondering why I haven't used my powers to get out of here. It's simple really, there's no way out. I'm outnumbered, I'd have to absorb at least a hundred people to get out, and that's if I wasn't shot first, just like Nathan.
Nathan was a boy in the cell next to mine, and one day he somehow got out. He only got three steps before a sniper took him out. It happened right in front of me, and as he fell, I caught his eyes, and told him goodbye. And then he hit the floor, I lay down and kept his gaze, my gray-green eyes locked onto his deep brown ones, telling him how sorry I was, sorry that he was dying. We stayed that way until they carried him off, he was still alive.
Sometimes at night I count the scars on my body, and talk to the voices in my head. They don't answer me much; over my time here they've stopped talking. I can't even hear most of them anymore. Now there's only Jean, Scott, Kitty, Kurt, and Remy. Remy's fading fast, I can only hear his whispers now. He likes to joke, keeps my spirits up when the world tries to break me. But I'm losing him, losing all that he was, losing all that was me.
A guard's here, the plastic window lifts up, and he walks in. I used to fight them, kick and scream, but when I did that, all that would happen was I would get shocked, or they would hit me over the skull until I bled. So now I just put my hands out in front of me, where they can see the barcode tattooed onto my palms. They scan it, and then chain me up. I get led past a few cells; I know all of the people in them.
First comes Generous, number 2238, she's ten, and one of the donors. Then Fortune, 34660, seven years old and a prophet. Last comes Green, 6732, my age or maybe a little younger, he can grow plants and things. I'm number 4734. That's what we are, numbers. We don't have an identity, only a number. You know sometimes I can't remember my own name.
The plain white door opens, and I'm shoved inside, still chained. Trask is always there for my training sessions, he tells them what to do.
I'm tied to the wall like a cross, with ropes at my elbows, wrists, knees, and ankles. Then the training begins. It's pretty simple, Trask thinks that if they hurt me enough, abuse me, make me angry, then I will go into a self defense mode in which I will be able to call up psyches at will.
He's smoking a cigar, and stubs it out on my cheek. It hurts, feels like something's burrowing into my skin. I used to love my pale skin; it was my best feature. Now I have no real skin, only a motley assortment of scars. Trask pulls up a chair and sits in front of me; I stare down at him in silence.
"Well Rogue," he says, "I see that physical pain isn't going to work on you, so let's try some psychological stuff."
Please god, you made me a mutant, and a lot of times I've asked you to take me away from this pain, could you do it now, now that I really mean it?
"Rogue, you deserve this, you know that right?" I set my jaw; he won't get any reply out of me.
"Rogue, you're a murderer! Remember Mystique, your mother?"
Please, shut up.
"You pushed her off a cliff! You killed Kurt's mother!"
Don't talk about them; they're my only friends.
"That's why they left you there, and let my agents take you! They hated you for what you did to Mystique, for what you did to Kurt!"
I can't take it...
"Shut up."
"What's that Rogue?"
"Shut up! They had to leave me, it wasn't because they wanted to, they though I was dead!"
"Rogue, you're lying to yourself. They didn't even go and try to find your body, they just forgot about you, and left you here with me."
I'm seeing red, everything looks like blood. I want to kill him, kill him like he killed me. My god, everything's on fire. Pain...so much.
Blood spatters from between my fingertips, a noise like swords coming unsheathed, and I have claws. I have Logan's claws. I did it. At one time I would be happy, but now all it means is that I'll be taken sooner.
Trask is clapping as I struggle. "Good Rogue, we've mastered Logan's, now try Scott."
I don't know why, but I want to. I want to show him that I can. Burning behind my eyes, I think my skull might explode. There, a beam of light, it burns a hole in the floor. He's clapping like a child delighted with a new toy.
Some people come in, they untie me and I slip to the floor, and curl up in a ball. God, let me die. Please don't make me listen to them anymore. Suddenly I know I'm going to throw up, and I do.
Trask smiles as I wipe my mouth and sheathe my claws, the holes in my skin close. Someone comes up behind me, and holds my head down, another puts a drop of something in each eye, and suddenly I stop thinking about resisting, I have to do what's commanded of me, I have to do what I'm told. Trask speaks, "Rogue, your first mission is, Kill the X-men."