Ha, yeah, animal crackers aren't exactly the manly food, but I just had to put them in somehow because (1) Tidbit of our "real" world and (2) I've gotten addicted to them this summer--I mean, aren't they just great? Crackers that are not too sweet but sweet enough and you can eat them with coffee, milk... Wonder who does the grocery shopping at the Acolyte base...
Ishandahalf: Just gotta love the cliffhangers. Batman is also one of my fav superheros. So dark and demented, like me I guess! PomegranateQueen: I guess it's good you're so speechless? mou shini inkinai ka: hmm, don't know about that "tomorrow" update but today's good too, right? Yersi Fanel: if they haven't updated in so long, I'll bet they just forgot about the story. And hell yeah I'm doing a next update. Zen Master White Dragon: Well, Annabel can't die else the Count would be pretty pissed, yeah? Funny, Remy's mode adjective seems to be "buffoon" in this fic from readers. Oh, so Remy WILL be in your fic! See, now my interest has sparked even more. X2P3: I do believe you have been absent for a long while, my friend. Glad to see you're back in the network. Da tru count: thanks, and god the applications...then I have to wait to see if I even get in to the school I want. Pain. Sweety8587: the broom, hahaha...Remy does fit the description of a knight in shining armor...--sighs dreamily-- Well, guess I'll just have to fulfill my own fantasy here. Cd lover: I think I may have suffered a few first-degree burns there...ouch. But glad to see such vehemence! I love exciting such emotions! Kitty is gonna be back!--and I'm dedicating a whole five inches or so of a page just for her and Lance so just you wait. Blackroguefillie: You're too sweet, but please don't stop. You've been spelling your name wrong this whole time? Oooh...I thought it was supposed to be "rouge" like you know, red. It was still pretty that way because it's like black-red-fillie. But whatever you prefer. And no, you didn't sound like a butt at all! Still love ya. Don't envy, enjoy and relish! I envy all those great movie-makers. How fun it would be to write a script for those movies. Gren44: Heh...heh...I just can't help the cliffhanger chapters, however evil they may be. But it's not Farrat that wants to use Rogue for experiments, it's the red-eyed scientist from "Mysterious Relations"--just in case there was any confusion. As for your other questions, here they be answered. Loneraven: Hi! You're back! Thanks for the Wows! Silky black: Alas, poor Annabel is receiving a bad rap...but oh well. I have a feeling she'll win over a few hearts in the end...God! Enough with the hints! Hahaha kitty food for sabretooth... And Remy shall be enacting the role of the perfect knight in shining armor, swooping the lady love into his arms in a gallant manner and whisking her away on a glimmering steed...yeah right, maybe in 1554--but still something close to that effect here. And love your review as always! :) kendokao: Jean fought back like a beast. She's not a wimp like some may think! So many questions, oh my gosh--hope you get your answers here. Epona04: Love such descriptive enthusiasm. Ooh, your compliments are too much but don't stop. Ever! And hell yeah there's gonna be a sequel. You just wait. Enchanted light: Let's do an experiment and see if you actually check my reply. How about we go for a 8-word review next time? Yeah? ;-P Totally Obsessed47: Another wow! I should start collecting them. Soon enough, yes? Alexandria: That is such a pretty name but I can see why you'd go by Allie--what a mouthful! And I think you're the only person here of whom I know the true name of. Everyone else goes by an alias. I hope you were able to get to this chapter okay. GreenFairyGirl88: Ever seen Moulin Rouge? With the "I'm the Green Fairy"... Freak87: I think I should have said this before, I like your little insights to the plot, shows you're thinking and seeing beyond the superficial material, reading between the lines. Oh, Rogue the main character, just couldn't have her be comatose until now y'know--would be bad for plot development. Annabel just loves Remy--who doesn't? Werewolflass: I do so much squealing writing this it's so messed up. Ooh God 5 papers already? I completely understand, though--God, in what country do you go to school?? Guess it's kinda good not to check too often, you get more chapters that way! Flowerperson: I remember where you went now! Missed ya bunch and glad I don't disappoint. The gazebo scene is most infamous for the heartbreak--but gotta love it still. Skyangle2004: Yeah, figured it would have been stupid leaving "Target" like it was, but not so sure "Rogue Remainder"'s ending was any less cliffhangerish. I guess you're right. I think once all the applications are in, I can just be anxious with the waiting and simply focus on schoolwork and life. Yeah...Icy Discordia: You're new and that's good. What am I going to do with the plot now? If I didn't know we'd be in trouble, I think. Read on to find out how Remy deals with his findings.
Remy didn't bother stopping outside. That would have only wasted precious time. He crashed through the Institute's front doors upon the Harley, screeching across the foyer and leaving swoops of black skid marks. He hoped no one would be too upset with him. Propping the motorcycle against the wall, he called out for Rogue, then Jean. They should have heard him come in--his entrance hadn't exactly been subtle.
He realized how quiet the mansion was. No sound reached his ears, no movement caught his eye. "Rogue? Chere, where y'at?" He hurried into the rec room, found it empty. He was about to head upstairs when he noticed the kitchen door sat ajar. The wood was skewered with many forks and knives. Dread leaked into the pit of his stomach.
As he entered the kitchen, his boots ground against shattered china. He looked around the disarray, noting the broken utilities and chipped walls. A telepath had done this, thrown everything around into chaotic wreckage. And Remy could think of only one reason why. He noticed the absence of a patio door. Shards of remaining glass hung precariously along the edges of the frame.
He rushed outside to a scene of pale moonlight glinting from shattered pieces of glass and reflecting off the placid waters of the pool. The scene appeared surreal. He saw the redhead first, lying on her back upon a bed of glass. Blood leaked from tiny scrapes on her hands. Remy picked her up, brushing harmful debris off her clothes, and set her on one of the tanning chairs. She looked asleep, just like the others. Remy frowned with worry and ran a hand through his hair. So Jean had been attacked--but where was Rogue?
A horrible scenario flashed across his mind. Farrat's men could not have gotten here so soon. Remy had taken the quickest route to the Institute. He turned back towards the mansion but a dark figure by the pool caught his eye.
She lay there on her side, one arm drooped lazily in the water and legs angled perpendicular to her body. Her bangs formed a white halo around her auburn head.
Remy was at her side in an instant, gently lifting her up. Holding his breath, he tilted her head up towards him. She remained completely still, breath even and shallow. "Rogue," Remy breathed. He shook her delicately, "C'mon, chere, wake up. Y'ain't in a coma. Y'can't be."
She looked so peaceful, so angelic. Maybe this was better for her. She didn't have to feel pain, was no longer trapped in her own skin or being harassed by multiple psyches. Remy stared at her for several long moments, losing track of time and space. He wasn't sure what to think, what to feel. There was only one way to be sure. He tenderly brushed his fingers along her pale cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut.
Nothing happened. She had been absorbed.
Annabel, why'd y'have to?
A flicker of light flashed in the corner of his eye. He looked back towards the mansion and saw car headlights wash against the side of the house. The faint humming of engines and slamming of vehicle doors reached his ears. His muscles tensed and he gritted his teeth. Why now of all the times? Why did all these things keep happening? What he would give for one day of peace... So lost was he in his thoughts he didn't hear the groan when it first sounded. Only when something was squirming at him did he look down. His heart skipped a beat and the tightness in his chest released like a breath of air.
Rogue mashed her lips together in an expression of discomfort. She gasped for a breath, resting her forehead against his chest. "My head..." she moaned thickly.
Remy resisted the urge to clutch her close. "S'all right, chere, y'gon' be okay..." He helped her to a sitting position, marveling at her consciousness. "How'd y'survive it?"
Rogue blinked slowly, rubbed her face. "What...oh, Ah don't know...she was here--Annabel--and Ah felt her in my head. The psyches..." She frowned and looked at Remy with wide eyes, "They're gone--Remy, the psyches are gone!" The exclaimation pained her immensely and she grimaced, massaged her head. "Feels like...somebody socked me with a sledgehammer--more than once...."
Remy saw bloody cuts on her bare forearms. "Chere..." He frowned, reaching out and stroking the scratches on her neck. He felt her stiffen and jerk away by reflex.
She stared at him, green eyes incredulous. "What--Ah didn't absorb ya. Ah don't understand...oh, God my head..." She swooned dizzily and Remy caught her, an arm around her shoulders.
"Chere, we kinda in a fix," he said. Farrat's men were no doubt already in the building. "An' my gettaway ride's stuck in de foyer..."
"Velocity," Rogue rasped.
"What?"
"The heli-jet...under the basketball court--" She hissed vehemently as a bright light flashed before her eyes.
Remy turned towards the source.
"They're out here!" the man shouted. He fumbled with his flashlight and struggled to engage his weapon. He was too slow and a charged card exploded at his feet. With a loud wail he took to the air and collided with several of his buddies. "It's the same mutie from before!"
"How'd the hell he get here?"
Rogue began to run away, but immediately felt everything swirl around her. She stumbled and strong hands wrapped around her unstable form. The next thing she knew she was thrown over Remy's shoulder as bullets rained at them.
"Alive fools!" an angry voice yelled. "We need her alive!"
Rogue pounded Remy's back though the quick movements only made her head hurt more. "Jean! We left Jean!"
"Can't do anyt'ing fo'her now, chere," Remy said. He moved agilely through the trees, dodging low branches and leaping over thick brambles. All the while he held her firmly as she bounced on his shoulder. "Where's dis damn ball court?"
"Well, Ah can't see where we're goin', can Ah?" Rogue snapped through her pain. She was lowered to the ground and noticed Remy smirking.
"Glad t'see she didn't 'sorb dat sharp tongue, neh?"
Rogue couldn't think clearly enough to retort. She rubbed her temples and looked around the wooded area. Flashlight beams cut through the darkness some ways off; their pursuers were drawing nearer. She tried to remember the layout of the Institute. "That way," she said. "Ah think..." She begn a quick walk but the darkness and vertigo only made it more difficult. She felt Remy's arm around her again. "No, don't pick--" She growled in irritation as he ignored her demand.
"Y'can move 'bout well as a drunk, chere," Remy said. "Dis'll be quicker." Taking advantage of his red night vision, he moved through the trees with adroit precision. They had just broken out of the flora when stun beams sliced the air around them.
"What do they want with me?" Rogue gasped. She clung onto Remy as he leapt over the short fence surrounding the basketball court.
He shook his head, "Dunno," and set her on the ground. He dragged her behind some bleachers. Stun rays bounced off the metal seats parlously. "How we go'n' get t'de chopper, chere?"
"The storage shack," Rogue said absent-mindedly. She was wondering what hurt more--the shrieking of her psyches before or the now throbbing sting all around her skull. It felt as though chunks of her mind had been violently ripped away, and the remaints were desperately trying to piece themselves together. "A panel...it opens up the court from out here..."
Remy was already moving, grabbing her firmly by both arms. They ran across the basketball court, lightening beams of stunners covering their tracks. Rogue fell against the brick wall of the storehouse while Remy dealt with their advancing foes. She forced deep breaths as she tried to remember how to open up the court. A typical electric panel sat against one of the shack's exterior walls. Rogue flipped it open, and through the god-awful ache in her brain, tried to decipher all the switches, knobs, and wires.
"Aw, shit," she spat.
Remy cocked an eyebrow in her direction, "Bad news?"
"There's so many..." Rogue gritted. "Which damn button is it?!"
The last of Remy's charged cards impaired another wave of shooters. "A lil' haste be good, I t'ink," he said, looking around for something to blow up. His eyes landed on the shack. "What's in here, eh?" He zapped the lock free and pulled open the door, a grin spreading on his face. As he grabbed a cage of basketballs, he excited their dormant molecules, feeling the latent kinetic energy rising. Soon the whole cart was ablaze.
Rogue's mind was too boggled. Frustration at its peak, she growled and swept her gloved fingers across the switchboard. Something was either turned on or off; she didn't know what, nor did she care. Lights flickered. The buzzing of electrical circuits reached her ears.
Remy pulled the latch of the cart up and a sea of glowing basketballs tumbled free. His eyes flashed with satisfaction as the charged spheres impacted with a force tantamount to cannon balls. Those of Farrat's men in the front ranks didn't know what happened before they were blown away. Others cursed and many hightailed the scene like frightened children.
Admist the shouts and hazy smoke, the floor of the basketball court spread apart at the midline. Remy grabbed Rogue and dragged her to the edge of cavity. He leapt down and called for her to jump. He caught her easily and they made their way to the idle helicopter. Remy took the pilot seat while Rogue sat beside him, cradling her head.
"Can ya fly a chopper?" she asked doubtfully.
"Chere, when y'work for Magneto y'learn a few t'ings." As his hands twirled dials and pulled levers, the Velocity sprang to life.
Rogue gasped when the window on her side cracked. Farrat's men had given up with the stun guns and resorted back to bullets. They fired without hesitance, eager to take down the jet. Sparks flew with the pattering of metal digits striking the Velocity's exterior. Frowning severely, Rogue grabbed the gun controls and began firing without prejudice.
The helicopter ascended, lifting free from its underground abode. The basketball court became whole again as it cleared the space. Farrat's men fired in vain at the retreating jet.
As the Velocity flew away into the night sky, Rogue could relax, deflating against her seat. She looked down at the buildings below growing smaller and smaller.
"Y'okay, chere?"
She turned towards him, watching as he steadily piloted the helicopter. Through all the rush and action, she hadn't had time to register what was really happening. She observed the contracting muscles of his scuplted forearm, the grip of his resolute fingers. His unique eyes glanced at the monitors and dials every so often to ensure the safety of their aircraft. Rogue smiled faintly and almost cringed at the cheesey thought that crossed her mind, My hero. Annabel must have done a number on her head.
Remy saw the expression on her face. The corners of his mouth curved slightly. "I take dat as a yes?"
Remembering the way they had parted, Rogue winced and looked away. She was about to apologize when Remy spoke again.
"Where to now, chere?" he asked. "Both our places aren't safe anymore."
A great dismay fell upon her. The Institute and Acolyte base were overrun. She tried to fight back heavy dread as she thought of all the comatose X-Men lying vulnerable in the Med Bay, of Jean unconscious on the patio. She had never been in such a hopeless situation. Then a thought occurred to her. "Evan," she said urgently, "and the Morlocks. Fly us to New York."
Remy did as she asked.
The rest of the flight was spent in quiet contemplation. Both wanted to say many things but were reluctant to delve into such uncomfortable topics. Rogue continued to massage her pounding head. The pain had lessened just a tad, allowing her think about the Morlocks and Evan. She hoped they were okay.
Whoever had claimed money could not buy happiness was obviously poor and envious. Theodore Farrat could not disagree more with the vernacular statement. He sat ensconced within a plush, Persian armchair, loose with comfort. Reaching over, he picked up the three-hundred-thirty-eight-dollar bottle of wine and refilled his glass. "Gaja 1998 Langhe Nebbiolo Costa Russi," he sighed, loving the way the name rolled off his tongue. Italy was a great country, one he planned to visit after all these inconveniences had passed. He could probably find more expensive, more exquisite wine there; all they had was vineyards.
The den was serene and cozy that evening, faint opera music falling and rising in the background. As a fire provided warmth and a golden light, Theodore Farrat closed his eyes and took a sip of wine. He was a very simple man when everything was said and done. He did not need lavish entertainment or extensive materialistic pleasures. His Upper East Side home, though expensive, was chosen for its top quality and elegant beauty. All he wanted was a nice place to live. All he wanted was a comfortable life.
He stared at the flickering flames. They illuminated memories of London, of cobblestone streets and dark alleys. Within the orange heat he pictured a sickened mother, an irascible father, a troubled sister. He remembered days of labor and nights of hunger, of scratchy clothes barely useful in the winter, of food that tasted as plain as it looked...
The wine was sweet and tangy, a savory flavor in his mouth. Exquisite.
Times had changed since the years of youth. He was no longer cursed with the trifling burdens of survival. His steely blue eyes involuntarily turned towards the doorway, the one leading to Annabel's room. And yet he was not at ease. The present situation was threatening his peace of mind. Was it too much to have peace, a comfortable life? Patricia's daughter had been nothing but trouble since the day she was born. The automobile accident rendering her comatose was the best thing to have happened to the world.
Theodore remembered the child when she was first sent to him, young and innocent with a head of pretty black curls. Her father endowed her new guardian with more than enough money for both to live on.
"She must not be here," the Count had said. "She must not know of her mother's shadow."
Annabel was like a little doll, one that her uncle showered with gifts and fondness. He treated her like his own daughter, and for a long time, it felt like she was. But then her mutation manifested. Then she started ruining lives.
The alto opera voice reached a wailing crescendo. Absolutely heartbreaking. Theodore drew another sip of wine.
Annabel's powers were hardly noticeable in the beginning. She was only a young child of seven years, always playing and always laughing. She began testing her powers, absorbing people out of spite or fun, messing with their minds because she found it entertaining. One day a girl in her kindergarden class angered her. The girl died as class dismissed, found with a broken neck at the bottom of the stairs.
"What did you do?" Theodore had rasped in horror.
Little Annabel shrugged her petite shoulders, "Nothing, Uncle. She fell." She was only a child, one that did not understand the wrong she had committed.
Her powers were no longer a fun gift; they became a curse. She needed to touch, to drain others. The powers of her mind only aided in her childish hunts. She became a monstrosity. "I feel better afterwards," she said innocently. "If I don't touch people then I get sick."
Theodore laughed dryly upon remembering her words. He swirled the wine in its glass, watching the ambrosial liquid in fascination.
A child corrections facility had agreed to take her in. But the car never reached its destination. Police officers could not explain what had caused the vehicle to swerve off the cliffside. There had not been any road obstructions or other cars to cause such an accident. Theodore knew better. He stood by the torn roadside fence, watching as a crane lifted the car out of the bushes below. He saw the tattered bodies, all of them dead. And who would be the sole survivor but little Annabel herself?
But you would never laugh or play again, Theodore thought, staring at the flames. He wondered what Patricia's last thoughts were before she perished. Mother and daughter, plagues among people and destructive to themselves. Tragic.
Someone knocked at the door.
"Come in."
A brunette man entered, hard-set jaw clenched. His jacket was slicked from the light drizzle outside. As he approached the fireplace, he did not look at his employer. "I have some bad news, Mr. Farrat."
Theodore did not remove his attention from the fire. The light flickered in his cold eyes, glinting off of them sprightly. "What happened, Deaver."
"The mutant girl you asked us to retrieve escaped." He did not mention the demon-eyed man and admit to another failure.
"Were there so many at that Institute?" Theodore asked with a frown.
"No, sir. The girl was just very...capable."
"I see."
"I have dispatched some men to go after her. They'll pick up the trail and track her down. It'll only be a matter of time."
Theodore studied the man carefully. "You didn't kill Gambit, did you?" he accused knowingly. The man did not meet his gaze. "So the thief went and helped the girl and that is why she escaped."
Deaver did not reply.
"Fool," Theodore spat. He clutched the wine glass so tightly it shattered in his hands.
"Sir--"
Theodore held up a hand to silence him, staring at the blood. He calmly pulled out a handkerchief from his blazer pocket. "Ready the private jet," he said, picking rogue shards of glass from his flesh. "Have some men begin packing my things, as well as some of Annabel's."
Deaver frowned curiously, "Uh, sir, we are still pursuing the girl and--"
"My niece and I are leaving this city before anything else unexpected happens," Theodore cut him off. He wrapped the handkerchief around his hand and tied it securely in place. "Your incompetence is causing much strife, Deaver. Find the mutants and eliminate the threat."
Deaver nodded obediently and left to carry out his orders.
Theodore cursed under his breath as he picked up the phone. He would need to call the Count's American financier, make sure all the money issues were taken care of. He would lease the house for a while after it had been cleared. Spending an extended period of time out of the country was the safest thing to do.
If that thieving fool wakes her up... Theodore thought angrily. He will try. That is why he came that night asking for her and Patricia. He's trying to save her.
It was not going to happen, Theodore decided. He had worked too hard to make things right and no backwater thief was going to ruin it all.
This guy I dated for a two weeks was a friend that knew me very well and I think that's one of the reasons I was so turned off by his approaches--but the POINT is, he figured out that I am an immensely curious human being, more so than is normal for others of this grand species.
So my curiosity generates another question that's itching to get answered: Are we all girls here? Hahaha, that may seem random, which it is, but I was just wondering. Maybe you'll out a M or F in your review to let me know. Figures if I see a lot of "F"s bc all the Remy-loving would generate a lot of females, well, unless you've got guys like the butt-fond waiter from a previous chapter...And guys, no shame in loving Remy. He is a fine specimen.
And about that weird wine name...I actually went online to look up some Italian wines and picked the most expensive bottle that was being sold. So that's where that came from.
But okay! I have a knack for going off on tangents and I just remembered I haven't been doing this lately.........
Next Chapter: Haven No More