DISCLAIMER: Well in this continuity the X-men are Marvel's and I'm not making any money. But their are always alternate timelines. Now if I only I had a dimension jumper...


"Scott's gone."

"And Jean."

"Whoa, don't you think we should give them a little privacy?" Bobby said, smirking.

"Don't be an idiot," Warren said, grabbing the boy by the collar of his t-shirt. He wanted to shake the little git until he had some common sense. His fingers got cold. He pulled them away with a sigh. "Sorry. I'm just under a lot of stress." He raked a hand through his gorgeous blonde locks, shaking them away from his eyes. "And they wouldn't 'run off' with Rogue going….well rogue on us."

"AWOL, would've worked as well," Hank quipped. "MIA. Or-"

"I can't get a reading on them." The Professor said. "Jean's not answering me."

"That can't be good. Any sign of Rogue?" Warren asked.

"Not sense Cerebro caught that brief flicker of her power last night." Xavier said. "Hank, go check Scott's room for signs, Warren, go check Jean's, please."

"Hey! I'll go check Jean's," Bobby said.

"No, Robert, Warren is more than capable. If you will, gentlemen?" Bobby pouted on the couch while the two men went to check. Warren came back within a few minutes, shaking his head. Bobby was questioning him about Jean's underwear when Hank came back in. He held a zip lock baggie.

"There's blood in the hallway and I found this," he said, giving it to the Professor. The small skull charm seemed eerie, drenched in scarlet. Like an omen of sorts.

"Mystique," he said. He looked at the three mutants in front of him. "We're going to need backup. One team to look for Rogue and one to look for Scott and Jean."

"But who? I mean, people ain't exactly lining up to sign up for the X-men." Bobby said.

"Warren, do you think you could give Ms. Braddock a call?"

He shrugged. "She's not too happy with me, right now." A soft smile played on his lips. "But I'll see what I can do."

"Hank, do you still correspond with Ororo?"

"Yes, we regularly send e-mails."

"Please, if you could try to contact her. And Bobby," he smiled at the boy who was grinning like a kid in a candy shop. More women in spandex? Could his life be any better? "I need you to get a hold of Ms. Pryde. And perhaps Mr. Rasputin? Tell them all," he said, encompassing Hank and Warren, "they will be duly rewarded for their services. But make sure they know the danger of the situation as well."

Bobby nodded and scurried off to his room. Hank had gone to email Ororo, and Warren could be heard arguing on the phone. Charles rubbed his forehead. His headaches had grown increasingly worse these past few days, and with the kidnapping of Scott, Jean, and Rogue. He was beginning to wonder if his dream was worth the lives of these young kids. He stared out the window. He wished for the company of his old friend, Eric. He could always talk him out of his bad moods. But now he was simply Magneto. There was nothing left of the bright eyed boy that been his confidante through the worst years of his life. He wondered what would become of his students if he would just leave them. Would they be better? Would he eventually lose them all anyways?

"Betsy's on her way, sir," Warren said, poking his head in the Professor's office. "Bobby's on the phone now and Hank's waiting for Ororo's reply. Is there anything else we can do? Is there anyone else we can call?"

The Professor shook his head. "I do not wish to drag these civilians into my mess, Warren. It is bad enough that I ask you to call on your friends, but as these times are, my friends are few and numbered." And evil. "This is best if we keep this within strict confines. I have some…shady contacts that I will have keep an eye out, but I do not wish to engage them with this."

"I understand. It's like a business venture, you know? Sometimes you have to bring in the crooked ones, if only to keep the good ones straight."

Charles smiled. He had forgotten how much Warren had grown under the added strain of managing a multi-million dollar company.

"Please, leave me now. I am going to continue to search for them using Cerebro. After," he amended, "a few phonecalls."

Warren nodded and slipped out of the room. Charles picked up his secure line. He wondered if this were the right thing to do, then he resolutely dialed the number. She picked up after the first ring.

"Frost."

"I need you, and your…colleague's….help."


"What are you doing here?" Scott demanded.

Rogue sniffed primly and turned around, eyeing her surroundings. She marched to window and peered through, huffed loudly, and investigated the door. She wavered, then pushed against it with all her might. Then she sat on the floor, peering at her hands.

"Power dampeners," Jean supplied. "That's why you couldn't absorb him."

"Hmph. The first time Ah wish for mah damn powers." She turned to look at them. "Who shot ya?"

"Where's LeBeau?"

"The little pansy ran off."

"Where did he take you?" Scott demanded again.

"Who shot ya?"

"Mystique."

"Why?" she retorted.

"Where did he take you?"

"Sinister's. But he didn't want me. He wanted her," she pointed to Jean. "So Gambit…rescued me, if you could call that sorry excuse for an escape a resue."

"What happened to your hair?" Jean asked.

"Why did Mystique shoot ya?"

"Why does Sinister want Jean?"

Rogue shrugged. "Ah didn't exactly have the nicest time at Sinister's. He was about as forthcomin' with information as ya'll are being," she said, nastily.

"Mystique somehow broke into the mansion and shot us and dragged us here. Now I wonder if you didn't have something to do with it?" he was angry. Jean wondered if the anger was covering up hurt? And why would that really matter? "She didn't exactly tell us why she was taking us here, either."

"For me," Jean supplied, huskily. "She wanted me too."

"Why do you smell like garbage?"

"I was thrown into a dumpster."

Scott rubbed his head.

"It ain't like ya'll exactly smell like roses, either!" she said. "More like old gym socks."

"Who threw you in a dumpster?"

"Gambit."

"I thought he rescued you," he was getting exasperated.

"He did." Scott wanted to choke her. In fact, without her powers, he could. It was getting really tempting. He wanted that smug little smile off her face. Jean placed a hand on his arm.

"So he rescued you by throwing you in a dumpster?" Jean asked. How could she sound so damned pleasant? Scott was seeing red, only literally, not figuratively.

"No. He rescued me, then wrecked the car, then I flew us to Mystique's, then he blew me up into a dumpster, then when I got to Mystique's, Lance said she had come here, and when I got here, Magneto dragged me down into here with you. There, my whole life's story," she said.

"Wait a minute, you flew?" Scott asked.

"Yeah," she said, her voice tiny. "I don't know how."

"Well there's this funny thing called gravity, and-"

"Scott," Jean scolded. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she said, a bit amazed. "You'd think a card blowing up in your face and crushing a dumpster would at least leave a scratch. But nothin'."

"What did Sinister do to you?"

She shot evil eyes at Scott. "He was in mah head. He…mucked with it, Ah guess. He took Carol and-" she clamped her mouth shut.

"Who's Carol?" Jean asked.

"Ms. Marvel." Scott said, coldly. "What did you do to Ms. Marvel?"

"Ah absorbed her," she said, viciously. "completely. She was in mah head, like a separate entity. She tried to take over me," she nodded to Jean, "like that day at the pharmacy. And then when Sinister came into mah head, he made my psychic self absorb her psychic self. Ah don't know what it did. Ah just can't hear her anymore. And," she said to Jean, "she wanted you too."

"Ms. Marvel can fly," Scott said, "and she's invulnerable, possesses super strenght, and a like sixth sense of impending danger. Or, she did. She was a contract mercenary. She's been missing for about a month."

"Bingo," Rogue said.

"Ah, hello," a voice said. "I couldn't help but overhear. I'm Kurt, but in ze Munich circus I vas known as ze Amazing Nightcrawler!"

"What th'Hell?" Rogue said, coming to her feet. She went over to the window. "Who's there?"

"My name is Kurt, but in ze-"

"Yes, yes, alright. But who are you?"

"I am Mystique's son, being held prisoner against my vill. And you, fraulien?"

"Son?" she stepped back from the window and began pacing the small confines. "She never said…Irene might've….but Ah thought she meant…but with…son?" she stopped and marched back to the window. "Did you know?"

"No. I vas adopted by a circus family. I never knew who my real parents vere."

"Hmm." Rogue said. "Why would…oh! Jesus Christ, Magneto, you bastard!" She went to the door. "You bastard! It's all because of you, isn't it?" She banged her fists on the sheet metal. "Ah'll kill you! Ah'll rip out your insides and stuff them back up your-" the door opened. Rogue tumbled forward, and was caught by a man in a trench coat.

"Well, 'ello, petite."


Oh and I apologize for Kurt's horrible, horribly accent.

Next up: New recruits! And we'll find out what that rascaly Cajun's up too!