Note to Peoples: Have College Paper/Presentation due Wednesday. Don't expect anything 'til Thursday, minimum

Wild Card Reaf: Oh. My. God. An intelligent review. You referenced specific parts and explained why you liked them. …will you marry me?
Anyway, could you elaborate a bit on the Mystique's stone arm question? Are you curious about how it ended up lodged in an underwater crevice? Or do you mean: "Why the heck did the severed arm grab Rogue!"
Heh. I'm glad you like the sudden switches between serious and funny. I do that a lot. It's fun to give my readers emotional whiplash.

Thanks night-angel35 and rawringlizzard, for making this a favorite fic.
Hugs go to Wild Card Reaf, for putting this on story alert.

———And eternal gratitude to the 50-ish people who've read the story so far———
(firm believer in Stats feature…number is the hits for the latest chapter)


XXX

Cloning Evolution
Step 3: A Dose of Reality

XXX

Getting her to morph into a cute little redhead girl and hold that shape turned out to be the easy part.

"I need to give you a name, hon," Rogue explained.

The girl frowned at that. "I'm Mystique," she stated.

Rogue face became a roiling thundercloud. Various thoughts of killing McCoy filtered through her head. She knew he took to calling the clone the same name as her genetic-mother—considering his belief that DNA was everything, he probably thought of the two of them as the same person. She still couldn't believe he told her that was her name. He couldn't be more wrong. This little girl wasn't Mystique. She was an angel.

"Mystique isn't your real name," she explained somewhat patiently. The clone put on that face that Rogue thought meant 'the voice-pictures were wrong again.' "Mystique was…" Rogue closed her mouth. How to explain this cloned thing to a being who was only a few months old? "You're related to her. You look a lot like her, but you're not her."

"What's my real name?" the girl asked.

"Risty."

Rogue blinked after she said the name, not understanding what had possessed her. Risty had been a persona Mystique made up to get close to her. Rogue had thought they were friends. Maybe more than friends. Maybe family. She smiled at that. This little girl was definitely family. "Now then…" she mused, sitting and playing with the halo-watch on her wrist until her hair turned the same shade of red as Risty's. To her relief, the shade worked with her shade of skin.

"Now…Risty," she began, "While we're out there, yah need to call me Mom."

"Isn't your name Rogue?"

"Yes, but yah can't call me that outside. Call me Mom. People need ta think I'm your mom."

"That you're my mom…" Risty said, switching the pronouns around thoughtfully. Then, she nodded, "Okay, Mom."

Rogue couldn't help but wonder what was going on. Was Risty accepting it all so quickly because she desperately wanted an identity? Or was it because her mutant genes made it easy for her to pretend to be someone she wasn't? The woman automatically chose the option that had nothing to do with genes. Her rage at McCoy was still fresh in her mind.

She smiled at Risty. "Let's go. Now remember; stay close to me no matter what…

XXX

The mall was supposed to be a learning experience for the newly named Risty, but there were a few shocks in for "Mom" as well. There was a closed off dining lounge for mutant families. There were security guards crawling everywhere, but they didn't even blink when a girl with literal spikes for hair shoved a normal one into a wall. When Rogue found Risty staring at the mutant girl, troubled, she leaned down and whispered, "Yes, she's breakin' the rule. Someone'll deal with her—later."

Other than that, it was your typical 21st century mall: big, bright, lots of glass and brand names. And people. Risty turned out to be shy. The girl was all but surgically grafted to her leg. She was probably shocked that the majority of people were not blue-skinned. Rogue chuckled. At least the girl wasn't trying to burrow herself inside her leather jacket. No, she was outside and looking around excitedly—just keeping within 3 millimeters of her mom at all times.

They went clothes shopping. Rogue became a benevolent dictator mom and let Risty pick out outfits for her and "her big sister" under supervision. Not so surprisingly, a majority of the clothes ended up being various shades of blue. As they cleared the last store, Rogue looked down at the little girl in her slightly outdated khakis, shirt, and sneakers and realized something. Risty was essentially naked. If she lost control of her morph for any amount of time…

"Bathroom break, Mom chirped.

XXX

They entered the family stall. Rogue's instincts told her there was a camera somewhere in the place, but she also knew the odds were that that no one had bothered to check the recording in years. So, after some trouble, she explained to Risty that clothes, in fact, were separate from your body and you wore them over your bare skin. In the end, it wasn't perfect. They hadn't bought any underwear or socks or shoes. The concept of underwear was a foreign concept to Risty anyway. She tended to only appreciate the surface of things. (Wonder why.) She morphed her feet back into the plain, shoelace-less sneakers after Mom helped her into the outfit she picked, and they were back on their way.

Rogue sprang for pizza at the food court. It was delicious, so not nutritious, and not a dinner knife in sight. She found herself trying not to laugh with a mouthful of pepperoni as Risty watched her with laser-beam eyes before picking up a slice of pizza and eating it the exact same way as her mom. Left to right, repeat process until you reach the crust, split said crust in half, and eat it horizontal. Everyone had their quirks. Risty just seemed intent on copying all of hers down to the letter. Again, she had to wonder. Was the girl a stranger to the world, determined to learn how to fit in? Or was her mimicry instinctive? Rogue swallowed her food as it turned to ash in her mouth.

She pushed her food aside and watched the clone dig into hers, then move on to her mom's leftovers. Then she asked if she could have more pizza. Understandable. The girl didn't look it, but she was still undernourished from a few months of constant, monstrous growth spurts. She'd also never had pizza before. Rogue beat off the parental guilt by making sure the next two enormous pizza slices were loaded with veggies. To avoid any odd looks, she moved the two of them away from their old table to another one at the opposite end of the sitting area. As Risty ate happily, a mother nearby eyed the vegetables and asked Rogue what her secret was. She put her index fingers on her temples and replied, "Mind control."

The other woman, her carnivore children, and Rogue shared a laugh as Risty chomped down more vegetables. Then both women sat back with a sad smile, thinking along the same lines. Just a few years ago, a joke like that would have resulted in accusations of being a mutant freak. In the wrong crowd, Rogue and Risty would have found fists pummeling them. But now the government encouraged people to talk like having powers was normal. They sighed. In the old days, it would have just been a joke, not a political statement.

The mother seemed to be the type to talk to cover up nervousness. She started up a conversation with Rogue about the nutrition of children these days that somehow evolved to talk about motherhood itself. The guardian of the clone tried her best to act like a real mom. At least she had the advantage of having taught Risty to feed herself these past few weeks. And use the toilet. That had been an unexpected un-fun experience.

Speaking of which…

She cleared trash and hauled Risty off towards the bathroom. She didn't care if the girl was able to expand her bladder at will. She was not going to deal with an accident in the middle of a crowd of strange people.

They came back out to see a sorry sight. Some mutant teenagers were in the middle of ordering some ordinary ones to leave the table they had just sat down at. One of the seated normal boys smiled nervously and tried to solve the situation with some gentle words. He was thrown out of his chair. Rogue felt her left hand clench into a fist, though she was careful not to crush Risty's hand in her right. There were empty tables nearby. There was a special area just for mutants. It was totally unnecessary. It was wrong, and it was abuse, not to mention a sad bit of history doomed to repeat itself yet again.

Granted, it could be worse. There weren't any guns, and it wasn't a mob situation, but it was wrong in different way. At least normal folk had reacted against "the freaks" out of fear. These mutant teenagers were picking random targets for fun. People not in the immediate area were talking a little too loudly and averting their children's gazes. They were so pointedly not paying attention, it was sick.

The remaining seated teenagers quickly vacated their seats. The bullies laughed. "Who wants to sit where a Normal's been?" sneered one, and they turned to leave.

Just then, Risty's troubled voice cut clear across the food court. "Mom, they're being Bad, aren't they? They're breaking the Rule." The capitals in Bad and Rule were more audible than a thunderclap. The mutant delinquents froze in their tracks. More than a few people flinched.

Out of the mouths of babes, it seemed. "Yes, Darlin', they're breakin' the rule," Rogue replied, pitching her voice slightly. It turned out she didn't need to. The area was so quiet a pin dropping sounded loud. She looked around, and took this as her last chance to walk away quickly with Risty before the mutie bullies decided they weren't above teaching a little kid a lesson.

They slipped into the crowd and headed to a different area of the mall on a different floor. Their destination, when they reached it, just so happened to be the opposite end of the building.

XXX

There was a big-chain bookstore. Rogue frowned at it thoughtfully, thinking of a book that had been banned in her Mississippi high school's library. The professor had given her a copy. Lovingly worn, it had burned with the rest of the mansion. She nodded. "Hon, I wanta buy you a special book," she smiled and led Risty into the store, determined to get another copy.

She frowned when it wasn't in the extensive Classics section. Risty, who still hadn't quite grasped the concept of what a book was, stared in wonder at the shelves of them as Rogue dragged her around, hunting for the book. Eventually her "Mom" sighed, exasperated, and stalked out of the maze of bookbindings in search of a store kiosk.

They found one in a section chockablock full with colorful, picture filled books and games. For the first time in fifteen minutes, Rogue released Risty's hand and told her to "stay nearby, hon." The woman then walked purposefully to a counter to talk to another, older lady. "Ah'm lookin' for a book," she began.

Risty wandered a ways, torn on whether to try the area with books covered with pictures of girls or the one that was decidedly blue. She was leaning towards the blue, but then she noticed a little slice where blue and girls met. Perfect.

A lot of the wall was taken up with slightly thick books, all with pictures of a blue-haired girl on them. Risty fingered her own long, unfortunately red hair. The desire to try out the blue look was particularly strong, but Rogue had told her not to change what she looked like.

A boy and girl with similar features and a small age difference bounded up to the display, startling her. "Killer!" the boy cried. "They've got a new one!" The girl instantly grabbed two copies of a certain book and a short fight over whose book was in better condition ensued. The girl ended the argument by stating, "They're both Guardian Girl, so they're both good." The boy couldn't argue with that.

"What is Guardian Girl?" Risty asked, her curiosity overcoming her shyness just long enough to pose the question.

Both children stared at her. "You don't know?" squawked the girl. Risty found two arms draped over her shoulder as two voices excitedly told her everything they knew about the lovely, blue-haired Guardian Girl.

Rogue, meanwhile, was starting to get a bit perturbed. The clerk had just informed her that they didn't have The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain in stock. "You should have that one," she said. "It's a Classic and practically a required read." She sighed, debating her options. She desperately wanted the book, but there was no way she was going to buy it on Ebay and have it delivered to a secret, subterranean base. That left one option, outside of rewriting the book from memory. "Please order me a copy, a nice one," she requested and began searching through her purse, looking for the debit card she had bought Risty's clothes with.

"I can't do that, Miss."

She looked up from her rifling. "What?"

In another corner, Risty was experiencing information overload.

"…a mutant—
—who's got a cool power!
—When she's angry—
—her arms get huge—
—and she beats up the bad guys—
—and saves the people!
She helps everyone live together peace.
And the bad army…"

It didn't matter which sibling was talking. It was both of them, rapid fire. They didn't seem capable of finishing one sentence on their own. They went on to talk about Guardian Girl's boyfriend/not-boyfriend/is-too/is-not, a.k.a. DogBoy, and her dog Boy, whom both kids mentioned was not her boyfriend. Then they went back to Guardian Girl's mission/duty to save people, defeat the bad/evil army, actually kiss DogBoy/or not, and help everyone live together in peace. The 'She helps everyone live together in peace' line seemed to be the only part where they didn't argue about the wording. She noticed the phrase was written somewhere on each book. Funny thing was, the siblings didn't seem to noticing they were quoting it—constantly.

"What d'you mean the book's outta print!"

Risty, the children, and most of the store looked up at Rogue. Unfortunately, her outburst didn't seem to be the end of it.

"It's required college reading; it can't be out of print," the livid woman informed the flustered clerk, at about the same decibel level as before. It wasn't anywhere near as loud as she could go, if necessary. She couldn't stand liars, especially bad liars, and the store employee was lousy at it. She wrenched the computer monitor on the counter around to face her. She ignored the clerk's protest and read the information on the screen. It was about the book The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain. The number of copies in stock was a lot more than zero.

What really made her blood boil, though, was the bright red warning by the title of the book. 'Mutants Only'

"Yer censorin' tha books Non-Mutants can read!" There was a bright red warning on that sentence. And she had said it loud enough that people had probably heard her back in the food court on the opposite end of the mall. The clerk had a horrified expression on her face, and Rogue got the feeling this had been a secret until she shouted it for the world to hear. She'd pat herself on the back later. Now was the time to scream, demanding what the world had come to.

"Please be quiet," the woman behind the counter all but whispered.

"Why?" she asked loudly. "So you can cover this up an' pretend it never happened? An' why, why are you doin' this? Why're you keepin' people from reading books? What's wrong with The 'ventures of Huck Finn? Is it because it teaches that it's wrong ta treat some people like dirt, just 'cause they're supposedly born "inferior?" That all people are human beings?"

A manager had appeared from somewhere. His eyes were a solid green color. "We'll give you the book, free," he pleaded. Just quiet down and leave."

Her head weighed the situation and decided that was the best thing to do, but her adrenaline was doing the talking. "No!" she cried, suddenly sick of everything. "How dare yah do this? It's wrong. Everything. Mutants just terrorize innocent people, and no one does anything! No one! Don't yah people remember the Civil Rights Movement? Don't yah remember "All Men are Created Equal"? Or have you censored that too? Did you censor the goddamned Declaration of Independence!"

She suddenly found Risty at her side. "Mom?" the girl asked nervously.

"Not now, Darlin'," Rogue said, one moment of sweetness breaking up her barrage of pent-up rage.

As she turned back to level more shouts at the manager, Risty looked in the other direction. A large number of security guards were gathering outside her mom's range of vision. A few were listening to their earpieces, nodded, and pulled the same object off their belts. It was sleek and black, but she recognized the object as a gun. There were now several of them pointed at Rogue's back. She felt her eyes flash. They were breaking the Rule.

She stalked up to the nearest guard with one of the odd guns and demanded at the top of her voice, half crying, "Are you going to hurt my Mom?" Everyone stopped when she said that, even Rogue. Risty glared up at the guard. "If you are, you're breaking the Rule!"

'Her hair,' someone whispered, but she didn't notice.

"My Mom's a nice person. She doesn't shove girls into walls or throw them out of chairs for no reason! She doesn't shoot people! She just wanted to buy me a special book, and you want to Hurt her! You're breaking the Rule!"

She wrenched the gun from the guard's hands. Rogue shouted, "Risty, no!" but she paid her no mind. She put the gun in one monstrous blue hand, balled her spare into a fist, and smashed it into her palm. The weapon smashed to bits in the process.

"You don't do anything you don't want folks to do to you. Don't you people understand?" she screamed.

Rogue's jaw dropped as the other guards lowered their stun guns and backed off. Had they actually listened to her?

Then the bookstore manager demanded, "Why didn't you tell us your daughter was a mutant?"

The Southerner bristled. They were backing off because they thought there were mutant genes in her family. She was suddenly "mutant class" and able to do shit without being punished. It was wrong, and she told him so. "Why didn' I? Because I shouldn' have to! It shouldn' matter who's what."

The rage was leaking from her system, being rapidly replaced with weariness and depression.

"Ah'm tired of it matterin'," she sighed. "Ah'm tired of the movin' around an' the stares, people Ah cared about dyin'. Ah'm tired of bein' hated. It's not supposed ta matter who's what. But it does, an'…Ah wish I had been normal." She paused in the dead silence. "Oh, hell."

A security guard stepped forward. "You're an unregistered mutant," he said, no doubt in his voice. "You both are." Suddenly Risty was in her arms. She looked down at the girl, now sporting blue hair and monstrously muscular, slightly blue arms. The rest of her was still flesh-toned, thankfully. She sighed, wondering where the girl had gotten the idea.

There were suddenly two orange pass cards in front of her face. "These will identity you as a mutant," the guard explained, clearly by rote. "Keep them with you always. You have two weeks to register as mutants—your name?" he asked, jumping out of memorization mode.

She sighed and gave the name her debit card was registered under. The man was still holding out the pass cards. She considered not taking them but decided she'd really been stupid enough for one day. If she didn't go along, they'd probably suspect something and take the two of them to the nearest mutant center and register them by force. Her DNA was probably still on record—maybe Mystique's too. It would be quite the pickle to explain how a dead mother and daughter pair had suddenly reappeared with the roles switched. She took the pass cards.

She was handed an expensive copy of Huck Finn and told to get out. She slung the bags of Risty's clothes over one shoulder carelessly, not bothering to pretend the weight affected her now. She took one of Risty's impressive hands in her gloved one. "Care ta change back?" she asked, but the girl shook her head.

"Not until people stop breaking the Rule."

"You'll be like that forevah, Darlin'," she sighed. "Let's go. Ah'm sorry the mall turned out so rotten."

"It was okay. Can I have more pizza?"

Rogue managed a weak laugh.

XXX

Over pizza at a parlor down the road—and they didn't use the pass cards to getbetter service—Rogue asked Risty, "You wanna go on a road trip, hon? No people. Just us, a car, old uncensored songs"—she realized the kid had absolutely no interest and switched tactics—"pizza for three meals a day…"

"I wanna go." The girl smiled winningly. She even got rid of the muscles arms, though she still seemed attached to the blue hair. Well, that was that. She was going. But only after they cleared out and bought the girl underwear at the nearestTarget did Risty ask, "Where are we going?"

Rogue smiled. "To get your brothers and sisters."


Repeat: College Paper. Must focus all writing ability on itnot Cloning Evolution.

On a lighter note: Let me relate to you something freaky. Takes a little explaining, but the coincidences are scary.

For a Harry Potter fic, I made up this character. He has several names throughout the story: Dobbin, "Fen," and Fenrir Albtraum Svartálfar.

I made up Fen.
Fenrir sneaked in because I was naming lots of characters after gods and wanted Fen to be short for something.
Dobbin is the namesake of Dobby, the House Elf.
Albtraum is German for nightmare (the kid has nightmares),
and Svartálfar is Norse for "Black Elves" (the kid's a house Elf).

I did all that on purpose. Here's the weird, coincidental parts I've recently learned:

"Fen" is swampland (& where that Hat says Slytherin comes from); Fen ends up being sorted into Slytherin (don't ask how).
"Dobbin" actually means "work horse;" I named a house elf with horse-like ears "Work-Horse."
Fenrir is this wolf-god who gets bound by this magical chain; my Fen gets bound with this magical chain/collar!
"Albtraum," directly translated, means "elf dream!"
Dammit, could these names get any more accidentally loaded with meaning?

P.S.: I've just discovered that the names Dobbin and Fenrir both appear in THE SIXTH HARRY POTTER BOOK.
"…Gaah!"