A/N: Sorry for the long wait and the short update. I promise the next chapter will be longer.
Chapter 2: Unwanted Attention
The sun was rising by the time Rogue got back to the mansion. She swayed on her feet as she walked in, more than tipsy from a night of drinking made possible by a fake ID from Jubilee and a stolen wallet. She was already starting to feel the beginnings of a hang over, and guilt over hot-wiring, pickpocketing, and fake ID using was creeping up on her. Going straight to her room, she got into bed without even taking her shoes off. She was only asleep for half an hour before the Professor's voice in her head woke her up.
"Rogue, I need to see you in my office as soon as possible."
Reluctantly rolling out of her bed, Rogue trudged down to the Professor's office. She yawned loudly when she got to his door and was about to knock when he opened the door for her.
"Please have a seat," he instructed, all business.
Rogue did as she was told. She was waiting for a lecture about her bad behavior was coming, but it never came.
"Cerebro has picked up a mutant who may be in some trouble. I want you to find him and bring him here if need be."
"Okay," Rogue nodded, dreading the thought of doing anything but sleeping.
"His name is Kevin Ford, and he lives with his father in Atlanta. Your plane leaves in three hours. Storm will drive you to the airport when you are ready."
"Flight 161 to Atlanta, Georgia now boarding."
Rogue marked the page she was on and put her book into her backpack. Trudging to the plane, she kept her eyes on the floor and tried to avoid any unnecessary eye contact. Her clothing had been attracting some attention in the airport. It was almost ninety degrees outside, and, while everyone else was in shorts and t-shirts, she was fully covered in jeans, long sleeves, gloves, a scarf, and a knee length, wool coat. She even had the hood pulled up over her head.
Taking her seat on the plane, she got her book back out before shoving her backpack under the seat in front of her. She had a window seat, but she would have preferred an isle seat.
Walking through the park, Kevin attracted the attention of everyone else currently occupying the area. The grass wilted and died in footprint shaped patches where he stepped. Everyone watched him warily, slowly moving away from him. Even the people that didn't notice what he was doing to the grass couldn't miss his clothing, a tarp wrapped up like a toga. It was a more than obvious tip off that something wasn't quite right with the kid.
He kept his eyes on the ground and tried to pretend that no one was watching him. Soon enough he was out of the park and away from the staring, heading down a deserted street to the junk yard.
A few hours went by quickly and uneventfully, and Rogue's plane landed in the Hartsfield-Jackson International airport. Pushing through the crowds of people headed somewhere fun for summer vacation, she exited the airport as fast as she possibly could and got into a waiting cab.
"Where to?" the driver asked.
"13 Wells Avenue," Rogue told him, double checking the address.
When the cab stopped in a suburban neighborhood, in front of quaint little house that looked exactly like all the others, she paid the fare and went up to the front door. The bare patches in the lawn caught her eye as she approached the house. They almost looked like footprints.
No one answered when she rang the doorbell, so she knocked. The door came open on it's own as her fist connected with it.
"Hello? Anybody home?" Rogue called as she stuck her head in the door. Taking a step inside, she didn't see or hear any signs of a break in, but she also didn't see any of the house's residents. "Your door is open." It didn't make sense. She continued through the house warily.
There was dust all over the sofa in the living room and a large pile of ash in what she assumed was Kevin's bedroom. The ash made her wonder if he had some kind of fire related power. A shiny, metal plaque on the wall in the livingroom caught her eye.
Atlanta Art Contest
Kevin Ford
1st Prize
Looking in the garage, she found the floor scattered with scrap metal and several half-finished sculptures. She remembered passing a junk yard during the drive from the airport. Back inside the house, the phone started ringing. After about a minute, the message machine picked up, and Rogue listened in as the caller left a message.
"This is Mark Myers, the art teacher at Frederick Douglass High School," stated the garbled voice that came from the machine. "Kevin hasn't been in school for the past two days, and it's not like him to miss finals. I just wanted make sure he was okay."
The school was the next place where Rogue planned to look for Kevin, but since that location had just been ruled out, she decided to try her luck at the junk yard.
The sun was starting to set and the wind was picking up as Kevin climbed the junkyard fence, carefully avoiding the barbed wire at the top. Sitting down on an old, abandoned car, he looked out of the place where he spent so much of his time that it was like a second home to him and felt some comfort for the first time in days. His feeling of comfort was short lived though, cut off by the sound of growling.
"Oh, no," he gasped, looking over his shoulder to see a vicious rottweiler coming his way. He slipped off the car and started backing away from the dog, frantically searching for somewhere that he would be out of its reach. "Good dog . . . I'll just leave now . . . Just stay there."
The dog kept advancing, growling and baring its teeth.
"Stay back!" Kevin screamed as the dog charged toward him, latching its jaws onto his bare arm. Trying in vain to pry the dog off of him, all he could do was watch as it withered away.
