Notes: Quinevere: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you like my fic. IvyZoe: Actually, I have no idea how Jean got caught, she just did. And yeah, there's gonna be a whole angsty scene between Rogue and Scott in a couple of chapters. XX-Goth-Gal: Teehee, thanks for the review! It's been about a month and a half and you're right, the guards are going to be really suffering, especially Adams. Ashnan: Sorry for the long wait, unfortunately these coming couple of chapters are the hardest to write. I'm glad you like my fic! Queen-morganalefey: Heehee, I understand being hyper. Thanks for the review and congrats on the new cd! Sangofanatic: Ooh, I hadn't thought about Logan's reaction… hm, must see how that turns out. Thanks for the idea and the review!

This chapter was so friggin' hard to write! I hate writing missions and shit, hence why I try to avoid doing so at all costs. So, yeah, if this chapter sucks, don't be afraid to tell me, I love getting con crit.

Chapter Nine

She could remember all their names now, when at the time she could only remember a couple. She knew their names, knew what they looked like, and knew that every single one of them would die at her hands before she left this godforsaken place.

She'd never actually explored the building, she was only ever allowed three places-her cell, the Cage, and the luxury room-and it was a direct route each time. She quickly confirmed that they were indeed underground and that the building was a maze of corridors. She passed a couple of elevators that would presumably lead up to the surface, but ignored them; she had a mission.

The first guard she came across was named Brennan, one of the more 'normal' of the guards, fairly young, but with a very good right-hook. He wasn't expecting to see her, running down the corridor with a mildly panicked expression, and she raised the baton, bringing it around to smash into his face. He slammed into the wall and crumpled to the floor, unconscious with a broken jaw. She shot him in the head, the shot echoing in the empty corridor, and grabbed his gun, shoving it behind her back, not a perfect place but it would have to be sufficient.

She moved on, straining all her senses and pausing to listen cautiously before turning a corner. It was empty, and she moved along it cautiously, eyes darting around, searching out any traps. Her feet made no sound as she walked, her training making her move like a ghost. She had six targets, not including Adams. She knew that the chances of her killing all of them without getting hurt, or worse, was slim, but didn't care.

She passed a door, but paused when she heard a scuffling noise from inside. She listened closely and ascertained that there was only one person in there, trying very hard to be quiet and actually doing quite a good job.

She took a step back and studied the door. It was fairly poor quality, thin wood and easily breakable. She stared at it, focusing all her attention on a spot just next to the handle, until it was all she could see. Then she kicked it sharply, her booted foot connecting with a low thump. The lock splintered and the door swung back on its hinges, revealing the room inside.

She was already scanning the room with her eyes and her gun, seeking out her target. It turned out to be the sandy-haired guard who had branded her. Her shot was perfect, the bullet hitting him just above his Adam's apple, and he fell to the floor, blood pooling around his neck. She walked swiftly into the room, looking down at the body. She could still feel the pain across her back and thighs, and could remember with sick clarity the words decorating her skin.

She'd killed him too quickly, she thought. He should have suffered, should have been tormented like she had. She was sad that she had granted him such a quick, merciful death. But there wasn't any other option, she rationalised. Making them suffer was a luxury she wanted to indulge in, the necessity was that they all died, and if she wasted time hurting them, the risk of her getting caught and killed increased dramatically.

Her body was thrumming with nerves, her muscles tense and aching already from the stress she was exerting on her wounded body, but her mind was clear, for the first time in days she was thinking in a clear and concise manner, very detached from her emotions. She knew that later she would get emotional, that when she was safe and warm she would allow herself to feel what she had gone through, but she couldn't afford that now. She was too close to the end, so very close, to give in to any weakness in any form and sometimes, emotions were a weakness.

She killed two guards together as they rushed past her, looking at their limp bodies to ascertain whether they were on her list of targets. They weren't but in her opinion, the more people involved in this macabre situation she killed, the better. She knelt down to steal the clip from one of the guard's gun and shoved it into her pocket, just in case she needed the extra ammo.

She couldn't hear the fighting anymore, but didn't know whether it was because the fighting had ceased or she had simply moved too far away. It wasn't really important, she thought, either way, she still had a mission to do. The only other thing she cared about was the other prisoners, she wanted them safe and far away from this horrible place, which was odd because she'd never really cared about them before. Still, she knew that Logan was taking care of it, so she pushed the thought of her mind.

The soft sound of someone's voice reached her ears and she paused, listening carefully. It was male, not surprising, and was just one word repeated over and over like a mantra. It was the work of three point five seconds to identify the voice and a grim smile curled her lips. Gripping the gun tightly in her hand, she rested against the wall for a minute to think up a plan. She could just charge into the room and shoot, but that would be too merciful and he didn't deserve mercy.

Taking a deep breath, Rogue inched forward and kicked the door open, gun up and aiming even as she was walking forward. He had jumped up when she entered, hands coming up to show that he was unarmed. She spared a moment to think about what a fucking dickhead he was before she pulled the trigger. Her bullet created a gleaming red hole in the palm of his hand and he collapsed to his knees with a pitiful wail.

Rogue shook her head and shot him again, this time in the thigh, being careful to avoid the major arteries and muscles. She didn't want him to die too soon. He wailed again, tears leaking from his eyes and he stared up at her with a mixture of horror, desperation and fear.

"You're a fucking weakling, Kendell," she hissed, glaring down at him. "I spent all this time at your mercy and never once did I break. Two fucking bullets and you're cryin' and moanin' like a little baby. You fucking pig!"

She backhanded him, hard, and he sprawled onto the ground, whimpering and shaking. He looked up at her and opened his mouth to speak, but a quick kick to the stomach prevented that.

"You think it was funny, Kendell?" she asked, bringing her booted foot down hard on his side. She heard the sick sound of a rib cracking and felt a spark of triumph within her. "Did you think it was a right ol' laugh to humiliate and degrade me like that? To turn those girls into nameless, faceless, soulless whores? Well guess what? I'm not fuckin' laughing!"

Another kick to the stomach, hard enough that he coughed up a little bit of blood and bile. She looked down at him for a moment, trying to calm the raging storm of hatred and violence that was brewing within her. Her hands itched with the need to punch and pull and strangle and hurt him. She'd spent all this time of suffering his violence, dancing for his sick pleasure, forcing herself to not react, to not let it affect her, and now she was the one in control. She could do anything to him and she really wanted to.

She took another deep breath and pushed her hair out of her eyes. Kendell had struggled to his knees and she gave him another casual yet powerful kick before kneeling down in front of him, the gun held loosely in her hand but also in front of his face. She quirked an eyebrow when she saw how his eyes fixed on it, wide with fear. What a fucking coward.

"You wanna know what you're biggest mistakes was?" she asked quietly. "It was hurting my friend. Because no one hurts my friends without answering to me."

She pressed the barrel of the gun against his forehead and looked into his terrified, pale blue eyes. The loud explosion of the gun didn't even make her flinch, nor did the blood that splattered onto her cheek. She watched with grim satisfaction as the light disappeared from his eyes and his body went limp, the limpness that only comes with death. Then she stood up and left, mentally scratching one name of her list of victims.