Universally known: school keeps you busy. It takes up all of your young life and then a chunk of your mature life, depending on what your job is. What a pain... And everybody pray that Raven gets into the college that she wants okay? Because once she's enrolled at a prestigious university, she'll learn so much, her writing skills will improve, and she'll deliver even better fanfics--imagine that! Ok, so get to it!
Yeah, I'm just a little desperate.
I don't have much time for review replies so I'm only going to answer a few questions that stuck out. Nothing personal--I'll catch you guys next time maybe bc you all know I love talking to you! But thanks to all those who reviewed--and the few that just started reviewing even though they've been reading since the beginning! I wish I'd had those voices of input sooner, but hey, better late than never as the saying goes...
Oh, and GreenFairy--your penname just reminded me of in Moulin Rouge where they drank absinthe and saw little green fairies. God, that's the most random thought ever.
And all you new reviewers--thanks for the input! I love reading reviews!
So anyway, check these out. The questions may be of interest to you!
Q: If Annabel isn't happy, why doesn't she attack her uncle? I was wondering how long it would take for someone to ask this! It was to be explained later in the story but not a big deal if I did it now. Basically she's a mutant predator, ergo she can only attack mutants while in her astral form. She's not a physical entity, just a projection, one that's attracted to mutant brain signatures and the like. So she can't hurt her uncle or anyone non-mutant.
Q: Do these ideas come to you while you're sleeping? Or do you daydream? Does a family member assist you? Bascially it goes, "Hmm, what do I want to happen next" and I ponder while working or eating or doing something else--I can never just do one thing at a time. Then little plots and machinations form in my head and I wish someone could draw a picture of what's going on in my brain bc it's just a web that keeps expanding and getting more and more complicating until BAM you've got Demon In My View.
Most of the stuff that's happened--chapters like "Distractions", "Love In Vain" weren't even planned. Ideas pop my head while I'm writing and I just let my thoughts carry me along.
Plus, just the poetry of the Rogue and Remy story inspires me enough to come up with ideas. How poetic (for there is no other word I can think of to describe it) is it that Remy LeBeau falls in love with an unntouchable introvert when he himself thrives on touch and is an incredibly outgoing type of person? Poetry.
And no one helps me--nobody even knows I'm writing this fic and my friends would definitely think I had gone crazy if they knew my new little hobby. But hey, it's my secret and I enjoy keeping it.
Q: Is the m/f question just a ploy to get more reviews? --gasp-- I'm shocked that someone would think I was that conniving! Actually, I think I am, otherwise the twists in this story would be nonexistant and many people would be disappointed--but NO, it was not a ploy! I am just that curious of a person. Honestly. Results are down a few centimeters.
Q: Will we be seeing more of Sinister and Morph soon? They have a little part later on in this story but this fic is basically for introductory purposes concerning their roles. Sinister and Morph will have larger parts in the sequel. I'm still trying to come up with a good, all-plot-encompassing title for the next fic...that's the toughest part it seems...
Any other questions about the plot were eventually be answered by the end of the story. At least I've planned it that way. Maybe I should have written a warning in the beginning that this is a complex story...heh.
MALE OR FEMALE POLL RESULTS: 100 of reviewers are girls! But that's to be expected right? Just the pennames kinda made me think otherwise so I imagine I'll keep thinking some of you are guys (which is an entertaining thought) even while you're not. My mind works in weird ways!
So here's the next chapter. I do this for you, I do it for me--either way, it's incredibly gratifying to be able to write and have fun at it. Plus, the literary practice is a bonus!
"Why anybody'd choose t'live down here, I'll never understand," Remy muttered. He stepped around a discolored pile of goo, not bothering to wonder what it was.
"Sometimes the best choice isn't the easiest."
Rogue led the way. Surprisingly, she remembered the secret passage to the Morlock lair. The gloomy darkness of the sewers soothed her mind. It was peaceful under the city, a thorough contrast to the usual pandemonium above. Only the smell bothered her.
As they crawled through the narrow tunnel, she was ever aware of the silence in her mind though the pain had subsided to a low buzzing. It was strange with the psyches gone. She felt uncluttered and free, like a vacant house after all the junk was removed. There was so much refreshing space. Her sneaker landed in a slick puddle. She uttered a gasp before falling backwards.
Remy caught her easily, "Y'all right?" His voice was tinged with needless concern.
Her green zip-up hoodie was ridden up where his arm clutched her waist. She felt his fingers against her skin, ever aware that her powers were gone. His flesh seemed to burn against hers. "Ah'm--Ah'm fine," she said, easing herself free. She suddenly felt awkward around him. Her words from the gazebo held no merit now, their significance drained away along with the psyches and her mutation.
Remy seemed to notice her discomfort. Stepping around her, he moved on ahead. "Which way now?"
Rogue took a deep breath, "Take a right. There's a latch hidden in the side."
It took a while for them to locate it. When they did Rogue climbed in first and Remy closed it behind them. Within a few minutes they crawled into the cavernous lair of the Morlocks.
"Rogue?"
She had never been more glad to see Evan. She threw her arms around him.
Her uncharacteristic actions surprised him. He blinked in confusion before hugging her back. "Nice to see you, too." He noticed the red-eyed Acolyte and frowned, "What's he doing here?"
Rogue pulled away and waved aside his accusatory tone. "He's not our enemy right now," she said. "The mansion was under attack and Gambit saved me." She looked down at the sewer floor. "Everybody's been taken, Evan."
At first he didn't quite understand. Then his large brown eyes widened upon realization. "The predator? All of them? How--what about the Professor? My aunt?"
Rogue felt Remy's hand on her shoulder. "She--uh, they went to Austria and never came back. We haven't been contacted for while now and...nobody has any idea what happened to them." She began explaining the events of the past days, ending with what drove them to the Morlock Tunnels.
"Sounds like you X-Men have run low on luck," a female voice said. Callisto approached, arms crossed. The one eye not covered by the black patch frowned at them. "You'll lead those people to us, along with the mutant predator."
Remy narrowed his eyes, "We weren't followed."
Callisto matched his gaze with one of her own, "How do you know?"
"We've been very lucky so far," Evan said quickly. He swept his hand around at the numerous Morlocks engaged in their own activities. "Marrow's the only one who got attacked. We think it's because we aren't topsiders you know? That thing doesn't really know about us."
Rogue shook her head, "Ya're wrong, Evan. If she's absorbed Marrow then she has her thoughts and does know about you guys. She's probably just too busy with topsiders to get to you guys or somethin'..."
"She?" Callisto frowned. "Do you know this mutant predator personally?"
"Ah've...talked to her."
Callisto and Evan exchanged glances.
"It's not like Ah'm possessed or anything," Rogue said quickly. "She tried to absorb me but it didn't work--sort of. Ah think it's 'cause Ah had so many psyches in my mind that she got them instead of me, along with my powers, and she didn't realize it."
"That mean you can touch?" Evan asked.
Rogue didn't get the chance to answer. Callisto asked, "Those men that attacked you--what do they want?"
Remy and Rogue could not tell her. Callisto continued to study them. She turned to Evan, "They can't stay here. If those suits are so stuck on claiming Rogue then she's a liability to all of us."
Evan looked at Rogue then Callisto. His loyalties were being tested and he did not like it. "At least have them stay the night," he said finally. "They look a mess."
Callisto stared at the outsiders in silent calculation, "Very well, but they must leave as soon as possible. There's too much here at risk." Casting one last glance their way, she returned her attention to her people.
"Thanks, Evan," Rogue murmured.
"Hey, X-Men watch out for each other, right?" he said with a tight smile. He seemed much older, the protruding bones of his mutation causing him to appear menacing. Rogue knew about his minor uprising movement, the protests he personally made against mutant discrimination. She admired him to no end for his courage and efforts.
Things like that make ya grow up fast, she thought regretfully.
"Come on, I'll show you the Med area," Evan said.
Rogue followed with Remy behind. They went through a short tunnel and reached a sewer grotto. Wooden crates lined one wall, plain white sheets draped across them for more comfortable seating. On the opposite side were raggedy cots with bedside tables of cardboard boxes. Evan moved to one of the boxes and pulled open the flap as though it was a cupboard. He removed bottles of antiseptic and cotton swabs. "We're low on Band-Aids," he said in apology.
"Dat's okay, homme," Remy said. "We didn't come t'use up y'supplies."
Rogue could not help but notice the meager health care attempts. "We'll bring you some supplies after all this...stuff is settled," she promised.
Evan shrugged, "No big deal. We usually stock up whenever we're low. Recently everyone's been paranoid about going up. They think it'll expose them to the predator." He sighed wearily. "Anyway, I'll let you guys get cleaned up."
"Thanks again, Evan," Rogue said.
"Hey, don't worry about it," he assured, patting her shoulder. "Get some rest and try not to worry too much. They know how to care of themselves." He headed back through the tunnel and disappeared.
Remy watched him leave, "Kid's different from last I saw."
Rogue nodded in agreement while sliding off her gloves. She doused a cotton ball with antiseptic and dabbed it against the cuts on her hands and forearms. She winced from the sting.
"Lemme do it, chere," Remy said. He nudged her to sit on one of the cots and knelt on the floor in front of her. Taking her hands gingerly, he lightly pressed the cotton to her skin. The cuts didn't sting as much when he tended them. As he dabbed the incisions, his fingers massaged her hands, grazing the soft flesh over and over again as though marveling at the sheer contact.
Rogue watched him as he remained focused on his task. Her eyes traced the bridge of his nose, the curve of his cheek, the sculpted perfection of his jaw. She was ever aware that he was touching her, holding her bare hands. She stared at their entwined fingers and breathed slowly as the silence became all too loud. He began dabbing at the glass scrapes on her throat. Her heart pounded and she wondered if he could feel the pulse. His eyes would not meet hers, keeping an obstinate gaze on her minscule wounds.
When he was done he began capping the bottle of antiseptic. "You'll be all right, long's dey don't get infected or anythin'..."
Rogue noticed much of his smooth, tawny face was smudged with soot and ash. Without giving it a second thought, she reached up and brushed away the grime. He seemed surprised at her action, twitching back slightly. Rogue continued to caress his face, smooth away the smudges, enjoying the feel of his skin. A tiny smile graced her lips. So this was touch. This was what she had wanted since she could remember.
His eyes were focused on hers, exciting many feelings amorous. As he drew closer, she felt his breath caress her cheek. Her eyelids drooped in anticipation. "Remy," she said quietly.
"Yeah," he murmured. His forehead pressed against hers, their lips nearly touching.
Rogue searched for words. So many feelings, so many desires. It was almost as difficult as sorting through all the psyches. With them gone, she still couldn't seem to think straight. "Ah'm..." Her gaze fell and she noticed a red stain on his arm. "You're bleeding!"
"Don' worry 'bout it," he said.
She scowled at him, "Take off your jacket."
Remy smirked but said nothing. Sliding off the trench coat, he revealed a nasty bullet trail on his bicep. "Huh, didn' seem so bad before."
"My God, Remy," Rogue breathed. She pulled him onto the cot beside her and began cleaning the wound. "All the nerve ya have, just talkin' like you aren't hurt."
"Chere, y'concern's flattering."
Rogue frowned at him and looked around for some bandages. At the next cot, the cardboard box contained shreds of torn white cloth. She gathered a few strips along with antibacterial ointment. "Ah wanna know what those guys are after," she said.
Remy shook his head, "You, chere. Dey're after you." He winced when she began wrapping the bandage around the gash. "Dey came t'de base, tried t'take me out. Theodore Farrat sent dem."
"Farrat? What's he want with me?" Rogue frowned. "Ah've never even met him before." She shook her head in perturbation, "He's Patricia Velkonnen's brother, Remy. And Annabel is her daughter." Seeing his questioning expression, she began explaining all she knew, all that had happened. Slowly the pieces of the puzzle came together.
"Den de Professor an' dem..."
"Went to Austria for nothing," Rogue finished. "And they haven't come back so something bad happened. Maybe the Count...Ah don't know." She tied off the bandage and sighed, resting on the cot beside him. "Everything's just gettin' more and more messed up as we go along."
Remy grew increasingly troubled with the new information. "I saw her, Rogue," he told her. "I went t'see Farrat an' Annabel was dere, all happy like an' normal. Confusin' as hell."
"But--how?"
"Don' know...but it couldn't've been her. De Annabel we know is hurtin', Farrat's doin' somet'ing t'her an' she's angry." Remy explained about his dreams, about the ghost's visit, and the feelings he had received from her.
Rogue shivered, "This's is all like a nightmare."
Remy took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. "I can see some good t'ings comin' out of it," he murmured.
Rogue smiled weakly and leaned against him. As she buried her face in his shoulder he wrapped an arm around hers. He stroked her soft tresses, resting his cheek against the top of her head. They remained that way, content with the comfort. Despite the dire situation threatening their livelihood, her touch was a large consolation. Remy didn't care how ridiculous that seemed. He smiled faintly as Rogue began caressing his forearm, running her fingers along his skin in fascination.
"Feels strange," she murmured. Her breath grazed his neck. "Ah never thought Ah'd..." She smiled and shook her head.
Remy brushed her chin with his fingers, raising her face to look at him. "Anyt'ing can happen, chere," he said softly. "Y'don' have t'be afraid anymore."
She looked down guiltily. "Remy, at the gazebo, Ah didn't mean--"
"S'fine."
"But what Ah did..."
"I understand where y'were comin' from," he said, leaning back. "But dat ain't de problem anymore, is it?" He could see her reluctance. She was retreating back into her shell, putting on a mask to keep herself safe. He was beginning to think that after being betrayed so often, she could no longer trust another person. "Somet'ing else y'wan' let me know?"
Rogue closed her eyes and took a breath. When she looked up she was smiling. "Yeah," she said and leaned up, pressing her mouth against his.
Remy blinked in surprise. He had expected her to reveal some barrier, some obstacle he needed to overcome in order to get through to her. But the kiss... He pulled her closer, feeling the massage of her lips against his. Her gestures were tentative while his teased her pleasures, nibbling upon her lip and urging her to indulge.
Rogue moaned into him as his kisses became long and lingering. Her hands found their way around his neck, trailing along his firm shoulders, down his sculpted arms, around his waist. She had never known such a feeling, such a sweet tenderness that ignited a warmth within, that made her melt.
He moved away from her lips, mouth tracing the line of her jaw and kissing down her throat. He was careful with her cuts, nudging them softly with care. Touching her was such a marvel. Her skin possessed a delectable softness from years of coverage; it was pure, tender, and unspoiled. Saved just for him, it seemed. When he found her mouth again he drank in her essence, wanting to engulf every bit of her, feel her every substance.
They pulled away breathlessly, resting against each other. Remy continued to stroke Rogue's hair while she nuzzled at his throat. He heard her sigh contentedly, felt the curve of her lips into a smile against his skin. He closed his eyes and reveled in her warmth. Time passed without acknowledgment and Remy realized he had never held anyone like this before. He looked down at her soft auburn hair, his fingers weaving through the locks. Things had changed since he first sought the X-Men for aid. He hadn't realized before just how many. Beholding such irony, he could not help the chuckle that rose from his throat.
Rogue lifted her head up, looking at him suspiciously, "What's funny?"
"Me," he said with a shrug. "Jus' never t'ought I'd ever see myself like dis." He knew he sounded vague and ambiguous, but there was no real way to explain his epiphany.
Yet Rogue seemed to understand. She kissed his jaw and rested her head on his shoulder again. "People change," she said simply.
Remy had to smile--she had summed up all his confusing thoughts with two vernacular words. "Y'just full o'sagely wisdom, ain't y'chere?"
"Enjoy it while it lasts," she drawled. "Gotta be the aftermath of an emptied head."
Remy sighed, "Ahhh, no more psyches."
"No more psyches," Rogue nodded, still incredulous. "Just mine."
"An' dat's de best one, non?"
Rogue smiled at him. Not before long, her cheeks burned and she averted her eyes, self-conscious under his deep gaze. No one had ever wasted time looking at her like that, with such intensity and profoundness. It was strange, frightening, and wonderful all at once--a whirligig of emotions and thoughts that threatened to overwhelm--but provoked such measureless ecstasy. There was something here, something special that she should fight to hold on to. A cold foreboding crept upon her insides and she moved closer to Remy without thinking.
Being an X-Man was not an easy calling. The risk, the danger, the threat upon precious life... It had never been much of a problem before. Rogue, as well as the others, knew any day something might happen where their mutant powers could not save them. Any day one of them might walk the final path. Nobody spoke of it, never wanted to acknowledge the real danger of being part of the team, but each and every one knew what was at stake.
Rogue drew in a sharp breath and buried her face in Remy's shoulder. He continued to stroke her hair.
She never really cared about the danger, never gave the threats to her life a second thought. What did it matter if she died? Death almost seemed favorable compared to a life in the prison of her own skin. Her existence was nothing special and made little difference to the world around. But now with Remy... She had so much more to live for; she had so much more to lose.
Dawn would not arrive nearly soon enough. Thompson grabbed the thermos he had snuck into the truck. He unscrewed the cap and gulped mouthfuls of black coffee. A heavy weariness threatened to impair his senses. Leaning back against the truck, he looked up and down the street, eyes landing on Columbus Circle. A hobo was taking a leak upon the sculpture. Thompson wondered if the homeless man was trying to make a statement.
He and the others had arrived nearly half an hour ago. They had located the escape aircraft abandoned in a wooded area of Central Park. Being in the wee, ungodly hours of a summer morning, nobody had noticed the jet land. Thompson remembered ransacking the interior of the Velocity--it was one fine piece of machinery. He imagined himself behind the controls, speaking into a mouthpiece while manuevering through life-threatening obstructions. Just like in the movies.
The misty drizzle begun an hour ago continued to persist. Thompson wiped a hand across his slicked forehead. He was not an action star like in the movies. He wasn't even allowed to drive the vehicle he leaned against. He was simply another one of Farrat's lackeys, bereft of all authority, priviledges, or fun. He needed to find a new job, one that would let him use explosives and operate complex technologies--like James Bond. God, any man who lived a life like 007's was a lucky bastard. Thompson didn't even want to contemplate all the beautiful women the man got to screw.
"No sign of query in surrounding CP area," Thompson's comm unit cackled. He glanced down at it as if surprised. "Expand to radius of two kilometers."
"Perry, you're such an idiot," Thompson huffed. They weren't undercover operatives--there was no need for curt sentences lacking prepositions and pronouns, or superfulous use of the metric system. He grabbed his comm unit and said into the moutpiece, "Cut the spy-talk, Perry. What do you mean two kilometers? You think they'll just be loitering the area?"
Static and cackling replied to him. Cheap pieces of radio communication junk. Then, "Should've guessed that was you, Thompson. Got any better ideas, you secret agent wannabe?"
Thompson bristled under the comment. "Obviously they went and hid somewhere," he gritted, "and I doubt the coonass would've led the girl off somewhere easy to find."
"Coonass?"
"You didn't hear his accent?" Thompson asked with a huff of disdain. He may not have known much, but he recognized a Cajun when he heard one. "That card-throwing mutie is itching to get killed. He keeps..." His words trailed away as he noticed a quirky figure emerging from the darkness of a closed grocery shop. He ignored Perry's calls and left his post. As he moved closer to investigate, he shut off the comm unit.
A beady-eyed African woman walked out into the middle of the street. While one arm hefted a bag of pilfered grocery items, the other lifted the covering of a manhole. As she set the heavy disc aside, the ground beside her began to shift. From a deep pool of dark, bubbly mass, a man formed. The camoflauge disappeared to reveal a head of shoulder-length dark hair tied back in a pony tail. Two strings of wispy mustache hung from under the man's nose, causing his face to have a catfish-like appearance. In his emaciated arms was also clutched a bulky grocery bag.
Thompson stood hidden around the street corner, his mouth a perfect O of shock.
The catfish man looked up and down the street as his companion lowered herself into the sewers. After waiting a few moments he eased the grocery back into the hole before climbing in himself. He replaced the sewer cover with a quiet metallic clink.
Thompson nearly fell over from exhiliration. He snatched his comm unit and hissed, "We've got muties in the sewers!" As his grand discovery was heard by the rest of the team, orders were barked across the radio frequencies. Everyone was on the same train of thought. In a few more minutes they would arrive at the scene.
Thompson smirked in satisfaction. He wasn't just one of Farrat's lowly lackeys now--he had actually done something useful. Returning to the parked truck, he took another swig of coffee though it was mainly for taste rather than need. He wondered how long it would take to find the two renegades. Hell, maybe he'd even be the one to take down the self-resurrecting Cajun. That one sure died hard.
"Just like in the movies," Thompson almost laughed. He drank more coffee and waited.
Rogue jerked out from her nap when the commotion reached her ears. She had been alerted by too many screams lately and it was beginning to wear on her nerves. Groggy from interrupted sleep, she crawled off the cot and rubbed her eyes. Remy continued to slumber in the cot adjacent to hers. She watched him sleep, admiring his face and the relaxed expression it held. How could a guy look so perfect? It just didn't seem biologically possible.
She suddenly remembered why she had awoken. Alarmed shouts sounded from the main tunnels of the Morlock lair. She grabbed Remy and shook him hard, "Wake up!"
His eyes widended, then squinted from tiredness. He yawned, "Why, chere? Was havin' a grand ol' dream..."
"Somethin's happening--we gotta go, come on!"
"Y'were in it, chere. Y'were de star..." He sat up and saw that she was already heading out of the med area. Snatching his trench coat, he ran to catch up.
Rogue jumped out of the tunnel and collided into a young girl with bloated hands. "Oh, sorry. Ya all right?" She helped the girl up.
"Let her go," a sharp voice snapped. Callisto approached and pulled the girl away. She ushered the child to the mutant called Caliban, who was directing a group of Morlocks out an escape passage.
Remy looked around at the mutants rushing to gather things and evacuate. "What's gotten all deir strings in a knot?"
Callisto glared at him, "I told you this would happen. Those men after Rogue have tracked you down. A few of them were detected in the exterior sewers. If they keep advancing they'll reach our lair and we'll be exposed." Her calm anger was perhaps more frightening than if she had lashed at them with screams.
"Y'don' have t'all run away," Remy said, returning her hard gaze. "If y'build some kind o'resistance...."
"Spyke has already gathered a team. The majority of the Morlocks are only meager mutants who have just begun to tap into their powers. They are not fighers," Callisto emphasized. Her eyes widened when an elderly mutant collapsed to the ground. She rushed to his side and helped him up until a woman came to take his arm. Callisto made sure they were sound before turning her attention back to Gambit and Rogue.
' Despite her steely attitute towards outsiders, Rogue could tell Callisto was a true leader dedicated to the safety and welfare of her people. Such devotion was admirable, and Rogue felt like a nasty splinter in the Morlocks' lives to be the reason they were fleeing their home.
"Ah'm sorry," Rogue heard herself saying.
Callisto's eyebrows shot up, "What?"
Rogue ignored any feeling of guilt, allowed the heavy grip of duty to arise instead. "You shouldn't have to run away because of one mutant. Ah know you're too righteous to just hand me over to them--though the idea's crossed ya mind, right?"
"We would never do that," Callisto gritted under narrowed eyes. "The fact that you would even suggest such blasphemy is an incredible insult. Mutants must band together--"
"Ah'll go out to them," Rogue cut her off.
Remy's eyes blazed in her direction, "Chere?"
"Ah'll draw 'em away so they won't find your lair," Rogue said, making up a plan as she went along. "Take me to where Evan's fighting and Ah can catch their attention and, uh...lead 'em away from here...."
Callisto stared at Rogue with a sour expression on her face, "That's your brilliant plan? What happens after you get kidnapped?" She scoffed in disdain.
Rogue bristled, "Like you'd care if Ah did. Long's Ah'm outta your hands ya don't have to worry beyond that!"
"Listen here, school girl," Callisto seethed, stepping forward menacingly. "I've been dealing with crap like this longer than you and if you keep acting like some backwater, wannabe superhero--"
"Cut de hissy fit," Remy snapped. He turned to stare dubiously at Rogue, "Y'crazy, chere? Y'know what sort o'danger y'gon' be puttin' y'self in?"
"Got any better ideas?" she demanded. "Those goons have heavy artillery they're not afraid of usin'. Ah don't want people's lives blown apart 'cause of me."
Remy continued to stare at her, his expression unreadable but hard.
Callisto was ever aware of the tension but decided it was unimportant in the wide scheme of things. The Morlock home could not be discovered. "Spyke led the team this way," she said, and urged the outsiders to follow. She hurried through a sewer tunnel and disappeared.
Without another word Rogue ran after Callisto. Remy growled in frustration and followed.
They dashed through passages narrow and wide, feet splashing into water and nameless substances. As they drew further from the main Morlock habitat, sounds of battle and incoherent yells reached their ears. Callisto came to a stop at the tunnel end, bent at the knees. Without warning she swung out her leg and viciously kicked the man passing by. With a throaty "Oof" he stumbled backwards and dropped his gun. Callisto reeled on him again, her booted heel colliding with his jaw until he splashed into a puddle, motionless.
Though the man had seemingly come from nowhere, Rogue soon saw the main fight.
Bone-spikes bombarded a group of a dozen or so armed men further down the passage. Through the throng of flailing limbs and flying bodies, Morlocks defended and evaded while strangers attacked. Mutant powers could only go so far against bullets and plasma rays. As Callisto, Rogue, and Remy ran to join the fray, Spyke was tackled to the damp ground.
Remy easily jerked the man off, punching him effectively across the face. He helped Spyke to his feet, "Y'all right, mon ami?"
He nodded then frowned at Rogue, "What are you doing here? Run before they--"
"It's the girl!" a voice shouted. "Don't shoot her!"
Remy cursed under his breath and decked the first of Farrat's men to advance. "Chere, dis ain't a good idea..." His words trailed away as he realized she had already started retreating.
"Ya want me?" she called to them. "Come and get me!" She disappeared into an adjacent tunnel.
Farrat's men scrambled to break the Morlock obstruction. Weapons were adjusted to stun as they pursued their query, knocking aside any mutant that stood in their way. Remy and the Morlocks tried to slow them down, but their determination seemed to have heightened since spotting the target.
A stun ray impacted Remy's chest, disorienting him. He fell against the sewer's grimey wall, holding his head. In his confusion all motion blurred into a kaleidoscope of gyrating colors. Then he noticed something floating in the midst of the brawl, the smoky figure of a girl. His eyes widened but he couldn't register the thought. Suddenly someone grabbed him by the trench coat collar, pulling him forward just to slam him against the wall again.
"Just can't stay dead, huh, coonass?"
Remy's jaw hardened at hearing such a derogatory address. "Y'got a problem wit' Cajuns, homme?"
Thompson replied with an ear-splitting wail. Spikes impaled his hand bearing the gun and he clutched at it in horror. His shouts were shortly cut off as Callisto's heel met his face. He splashed into a pool of sewage.
"Could've handled him m'self," Remy said, massaging his neck.
"Right," Spyke muttered. He looked around at the injured Morlocks and few fallen intruders. "They were sure in a hurry to get after Rogue."
Remy nodded, searching the scene for the smoky figure. All he saw were Morlocks gathering their injured and detaining the intruders. Had he just imagined it? Truthfully, he wished Annabel would come, explain to him the reason behind all the present madness.
"Does Rogue even know her way around these sewers?" Callisto suddenly asked. She placed her hands expectantly on her hips, glaring questioningly at the two males. "Well?"
Spyke shot her a worried glance.
Remy ran a hand through his hair and clenched his eyes shut. Chere, what'd y' get y'self into?
Note I got from The Charged Deck that "coonass" is the most derogatory slang term for a Cajun, just in case you guys were curious about the word choice.