Notes: First off, I want to apologise for all the hassle with the last chapter. I know that the url didn't work and that's because it was the wrong one, ffnet deleted the underscore in my name. It's supposed to be kali (underscore) sama, not kalisama. If it still doesn't work and you still want to read the end half of the last chapter, there's a link to my journal in my profile (click on homepage) and just scroll down until you come to the entry for December 1st.
NCS WARNING!!! The torture in this chapter is brief, so I decided to post it here, but still, don't read if you're squeamish and/or don't want to see Jean get raped. Enjoy and review!
Chapter Five
Jean screamed, thrashing with all her might, but to no avail. The guards held her down on the cold stone floor with brutal grips, grinning as their friend slammed into her again and again, tearing at her sensitive inner tissues without caring. Sweat beaded both their skin, his from exertion and passion, hers from terror and despair. Her red hair was half-covering her face from where she had tossed her head around, and it was wet with both sweat and tears.
Rogue watched it all with a mixture of sorrow and fury, not able to drag her eyes away from the pitying and terrifying sight of her best friend getting raped. Her body still ached and burned with pain, which had prevented her from struggling against her chains and trying to help her friend.
"Stop it!" Jean screamed, her desperate voice echoing in the small room. "I'll fight! I will! Stop it!"
Jean screamed, her desperate voice echoing in the small room. "Rogue's heart plummeted. Something inside her, something that had somehow survived not only her torture, but the sight of her friend's, shattered and dissolved at the knowledge that she would either kill her friend or be killed by her.
A tear rolled down her cheek and she bowed her head as her breath hitched in her throat. She wanted to cry, she wanted to sob and scream and moan and whimper and she wanted to not have to fight her friend. But in her heart, she knew that she had to, so she fought back the tears, fought back the pain, and raised her head again.
The guards had moved away from Jean, leaving her to tremble and cry, naked on the floor. Blood was splattered on her flesh from multiple cuts, and her skin was starting to darken in several places, ugly bruises already starting to form. Her mouth was smeared with blood from rough, biting kisses, and her fingernails were broken and bloody from where she had clawed at the stones beneath her, trying desperately to escape the pain.
She bore very little resemblance to the tall, confident young woman Rogue knew and she hated the guards so fiercely in that moment, hot rage running through her body. She hated them for turning her friend into someone so broken and defeated. It was then that she swore on her pride, on her honour, on her very soul, that she would kill them. She would kill them or she would die in the attempt.
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The Cage was exactly the same as it had been previously, but to Rogue's eyes, it had become even more vile and sinister, even more evil. Because this time, she would either kill her best friend, or be killed herself. Always before, she had never been close to any of her opponents. She had kept herself isolated and hidden away, so that when she fought, she knew nothing more about her opponent than what their strengths and weaknesses were, and what powers they had. No personal information, and so, no personal attachments.
But this time was different. This time, she knew her opponent intimately. She knew what shampoo Jean used, she knew what her favourite pair of jeans were, she knew how she liked her coffee, she knew how she hated physics, she knew what her favourite meal was, she knew how much she loved Scott. She knew everything, ever strength, every weakness, every minute detail. She sighed, watching her feet as she walked inside, listening with a small flinch of sorrow as Jean was quite literally thrown in behind her.
Two days had passed since their torture, and they were both healing as well as could be expected. They were still injured, still in pain, but the bosses had decreed that the fight would take place tonight, no matter what. Rogue's skin still ached from the branding irons, and her muscles throbbed whenever she tried to move. She was weak, and she knew it. She had never fought in such a weakened condition, and though her training helped her overcome many forms of pain, this pain was a completely new level of agony and she couldn't quite handle it. No meditation, no exercises, nothing let her escape it, and she knew that because of it, Jean stood a better chance of winning.
Jean's injuries were not as severe as Rogue's, she had suffered for a smaller amount of time because her torture had been after Rogue's. Cuts, bruises, a broken rib, a sprained ankle, a shoulder that had been dislocated, and, of course, the internal injuries sustained during her… assault. She had spent a few hours unconscious, something that Rogue had been grateful for, as it gave her a time to think as well.
She had thought a lot during that time, about her past, about her present, about her rather shaky future. She thought about her friendship with Jean, she thought about her other friends, she thought about her enemies, she thought about the people who didn't fall into either the 'friend' or 'foe' category, which was basically just Remy. She thought about her skills and talents, about her weaknesses and faults. And she thought about something she rarely did, she thought about her faith.
She'd never really believed in God, the thought that there was some mystical higher power guiding her actions and that she had a destiny and stuff was a bit too fantastical for her to really believe in. But sometimes, she did find herself thinking about what happened after death. The thought that everything just stopped was too depressing, but if that wasn't true, then what exactly did happen? Was it Heaven or Hell, was it reincarnation, was it the Summerlands, what exactly happened? She'd never actually decided what she believed, and what she wanted, to happen, but she did know that she wanted things to keep going, in one way or another. She always wanted a piece of herself, some part of her spirit, her essence, her soul, to continue on. Whether it was in another body or an animal or hell, even a tree, she didn't really care. The details weren't important to her, just the basic need for some piece of herself to live on forever. And that, she thought, was good enough.
The sound of the weapons being tossed into The Cage dragged Rogue out of her dreamlike thoughts and brought her crashing back into the brutal reality. Jean was kneeling down on the dirty floor, her hair hiding her face, but her shoulders weren't shaking, and Rogue couldn't hear any sobs. There was a rather large and very sharp knife next to her right knee, and Rogue watched as she slowly reached out to grasp it.
Rogue's heart gave one painful thud, and then settled down into a slow, steady rhythm. Biting her lip, she crouched down to pick up the nearest weapon, a solid and hefty fighting stick, much more powerful than Remy's bo staff but also slightly trickier to handle due to it's mass and weight. Rogue knew how to handle it, and she gave it an experimental twirl, getting used to the feel of it in her hands.
Grasping the fighting stick tightly in a two-handed grip, she shifted her footing so that she was in a more solid fighting stance, and waited for the fight to begin.