JAMIE: This is me flashing my Artistic License. *pulls out wallet and flips open to official looking card* Don't beat me up!
PLOT MONSTER: grrrr….
JAMIE: What do you think, my little plot monster? To kill Emma, or not to kill Emma?
PLOT MONSTER: *snarls*
JAMIE: That's what I thought.
The sewers were dark. Darker than the nighttime sky above, shrouded in the shadows of the city as well as the layers of dirt and cement that separated them from the outside world. Being there right now felt like being confined to hell.
The dead bodies added to that effect.
"Why?" He rasped.
He looked down at his hands, which were covered in blood. Every inch of him was covered in blood.
"That isn't for you to know." The curator of this hell assured him. His cold voice made him shiver.
His eyes wandered to the bodies. So many of them.
"You lied to me."
"I'm a liar."
Both of them whipped their heads around when there was the sound of whimpering. Hope blossomed in his chest and before he knew what he was doing, he was running towards the sound.
"Stop!" Commanded the curator.
He was to far gone to listen.
The whimpering continued.
"You two, find him! Kill him if necessary!" The cold voice crawled down the passage ways after him, sending out orders to the people who had destroyed every living thing down here.
All, except maybe one.
"Petit?" He called out, looking for the source of the whimpers. "Petit, scream if y' can hear me!"
There was a soft moan from underneath one of the bodies, and he took that as an affirmative. He clawed his way through the mountain of lost souls to find a little girl with pink hair and bones sticking out of her face at odd angles, sobbing into her own arms, which also had bones growing out of them. She couldn't have been older than five.
"Are y' alright?" He asked, so desperately happy to find someone alive that he forgot what he looked like.
"Don't touch me!" She shrieked and scooted away from him.
"I'm not gonna hurt you." He assured her with the biggest smile he could manage. Which was hard to pull off as he was almost gagging on the smells of dirt and gore.
The little girl didn't seem to believe him. She stood her ground.
"If I was gonna hurt you, don't you think I already woulda done it?" He smiled again, this time more genuinely. She seemed to consider this for a moment before crawling into his outstretched arms. "I'm gonna get y' outa here." He promised her.
"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep." Someone growled as they tore the little girl out of his arm.
"No!" She screamed and he immediately found an entire deck of cards being charged in between his fingers.
"Let. Her. Go." He growled, the glow from the cards casting demonic shadows over his face.
The tall feral man holding the girl with one hand only laughed at him.
"Can't." He tossed the child from one hand to the other as if she were the ball of yarn to his catty appearance. "Bossman said no survivors." He raised up his hand in a menacing gesture, claws extending in front of the girl's face. "So-."
BOOM.
The girl quickly leaped out of the feral man's grip when the charged suit of cards exploded against his chest and scampered back into the open arms of the man who had already saved her twice.
He bundled her up against his chest and sprinted down the sewers, almost losing his footing on the blood slicked ground several times. Echoing footsteps followed him.
"Petite," He said to the little girl hurriedly as he rounded another corner in the maze of darkness to find a ladder. "I want y' to get up there and I want y' t' run. Run until y' can't run no more. Never look back, y' hear me? Not once."
"But," She whimpered as he pushed her up the ladder. "What about you?"
"Not once!" He repeated.
She nodded and used the bones on her forearm to dislodge and replace the storm drain.
He breathed easier once she disappeared, but she wasn't out of hot water yet. They could still catch up to her if they were fast enough.
He charged another deck of cards in his hands, fully intent on robbing them of that opportunity.
"Bad news, Gambit." Someone breathed from directly behind him. He turned on his heel to find Harpoon glowering at him, his namesake held firmly in his hand, fluctuating different colors as he charged it for different effects. "You've been cut from the deck."
Before he could react, the harpoon was lodged in his chest. He gagged on the rush of blood against his tongue and bared his teeth in the face of the agonizing pain. A numbness ran throughout his body as Harpoon himself twisted the weapon so that it caused more damage before slowly dragging it down the length of his torso and finally surrendering his hold on it.
Gambit fell to the ground. He watched his own blood pool around him. He felt his own gasping breaths wrack his torn chest. He listened to his heartbeat slow to almost nonexistence.
So this is how I die. He thought. His vision started to dim. Not as a thief. Not as a hero. Not as a murderer. Other voices could be heard above the fading of his heart. What am I?
"Is he dead?" Vertigo sneered.
"Who knows?" Riptide shrugged. "Quite honestly, I thought the guy couldn't be hurt without making at least one card pun."
"Actually," Harpoon cut in. "I took care of that this time. …It kinda felt pretty cool…"
Gambit cast his fading sight down to his hands. The puddle of blood beside him cast his own reflection back at him in the dank lighting.
Eyes.
Red on black eyes.
Demon eyes. Devil eyes. Sinner's eyes.
This is not how I die. He resolved. This is not a demons' death. Letting himself die in the slew of the sewers. Demons spit fire.
"What should we do with him?" Sabertooth growled before giving off a muffled yelp that only occurs when one witnesses the reanimation of the dead.
Everyone standing around him took a step back out of shock as he dragged himself into a sitting position and shuffled a bloodstained deck of cards.
"What are you doing?" Vertigo yelped as well, eyes wide.
"Spitting fire." He grunted as he charged the deck of cards to the point where their atomic structure was questionable. He gave his personal bastardized grin, which was only enhanced by his red teeth. "52 card pick up anyone?"
Fire and smoke rocketed out of the storm drain behind him as he dragged his body out onto the rain washed street. He continued to drag himself to his bike, which he had concealed in the shadows next to the entrance to the Morlocks' lair, but was now quite a ways off.
Through out his painfully long journey of crawling and weeping in pain he constructed a sort of makeshift plan that consisted of one word -
Stormy.
She would help him. She wouldn't ask questions. Hell, she'd probably keep him off of death's doorstep for a couple of days…
He tried to mount his motorcycle, only to lose balance and fall off again, hitting his head on the hard, cold ground.
…That is, if he could keep himself off of death's doorstep until he got to her…
He collected himself again, shedding his coat and tying it tightly around the deepest part of the wound to cut off blood loss and keep himself in one piece.
Taking a deep breath that sent a stab of pain through out his entire body, he attempted to climb onto the motorcycle again
In the real world Remy was thrown out of his nightmares by the thrashing of the girl laying beside him. His sweat slicked chest was heaving so heavily with his gasps for air that he thought for a moment he might have cracked his ribs.
He quickly ran his fingers down his chest to check and see if the scar was still there to confirm that he'd actually made it out of hell alive.
The raised scar tissue dragged against his fingers and he breathed easier for a moment.
Fear. Hatred. Lust for vengeance. Desperation. Heartbreak.
He cried out in pain as he was assaulted by a wave of primal emotion, the origins of which were she small woman beside him, still fighting away her dream demons.
"Sh," He tried to soothe as he wrapped his arms around her still sleeping form and ran his hand down her hair in a comforting repetitive gesture after he regained his bearings. "Calm down, chere," He mumbled into her ear. "Calm down…"
He vaguely wondered what was so terrifying in her dream world.
She struggled against the restraints, internally screaming GET THEM OFF! LET ME OUT! GET THEM OUT! Searing heat invaded her body without her permission. They had told her it would hurt, but this… this was beyond pain.
"When it starts, whatever it is the reason you're doing this, focus on that, maybe it will help." The woman had advised.
Her reasons were simple.
Kill. Victor.
Maim. Destroy. Obliterate. Make sure he paid for what he had taken from her.
Her body rocked with the tremors of pain as the god awful heat spread through her body. She couldn't stop it. There was no stopping it.
Gasping for air was pointless seeing as she was pinned down in water. Attempting to scream had similar hindrances. Simultaneously she was burning from the inside out and drowning in the frigid water.
Finally, her thrashing stopped.
Her attempts at breathing stopped.
Her silent screams stopped.
The erratic beeping that had been the personification of her heart beat stopped.
"Well, I guess he can die." Somebody chuckled.
This comment was met by a few moments of broken silence as everyone grappled with the idea of failure. Failure. The experiment was a failure. Shewas a failure.
Beep-beep.
Attention was drawn back to the heart monitor as the dead line perked up a little bit.
Beep-beep.
"Come on, old friend." Someone mumbled under their breath. "Come back."
Beep-beep.
"Heart rate rising." A feminine voice sounded astonished.
Beep-beep.
"Adamantium reservoir is depleted."
Beep-beep.
"No rejection…" Someone else inhaled. "Procedure completed…"
Beep-beep.
"We did it." A voice was close to laughter.
Beep-beep.
"…We did it…" Stunned conformation.
Beep-beep.
"Are we taking him to The Island?"
Beep-beep.
"The Island? No." That idea was promptly rejected. "The bonding works. We use his DNA for the eleventh. Erase his memory."
Her eyes snapped open. Her teeth ground together. Unbreakable claws suddenly found themselves protruding out of her fists. The beeping of the heart monitor was suddenly off the charts.
Erase her memory?
Hell. No.
"I think he heard you…"
She tore the bonds on her wrist and came out of the water screaming.
Rogue screamed herself awake. The air smelled of spices and bourbon. Her first reaction off the bat was to pin the body that was practically on top of her to the wall.
"Chere," Remy gasped staring into the eyes of the sweaty girl, his breathing hindered by the forearm pressed into his throat.
Her eyes were brown.
"Chere," He tried again. "I need y' t' calm down…"
"Who are you, bub?" She growled. Her voice was unusually deep and guttural.
"You… know me." He gasped again, starting to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen.
She sniffed the air around her and held a moment of silence that hinted she was listening for something.
"Rogue." Remy attempted to reach her the same way he had last time.
"Rogue!" She looked around wildly before slitting her eyes at him. "What did you do with the kid?" She demanded, practically in his face. Her brown eyes flashed with animal fury.
He reached out slowly, very slowly and picked a lock of white hair out of the slick amount available and held it out in front of her eyes.
"You are Rogue…" He reiterated for her benefit.
Her brown eyes went wide and slowly faded back to green.
"Oh no…" She mumbled and dropped him to the ground where he coughed for a moment and then went momentarily limp.
She backed up into a wall.
What's the matter, Marie? One of the nameless voices taunted. Can't handle your own crazy?
Here she is, listening to the voices in her head. So sad.
True. She is rather pathetic.
Shut up!
Make us. Oh, wait. That's right, you can't, Marie.
Mutants. Always thinking they have all this power, and most of them don't even know how to control it.
I knew I should have killed this one when I had the chance.
"Logan? Please say something." She begged out loud for someone to interject. "Erik! John! Somebody, please!"
Can't fight your own battles, Marie?
Are you just that weak?
"Pete? Bobby?" She went to her knees. "Please…"
What if they're gone, Marie? Never coming back. What if it's just us in here?
You and your innocent victims.
Do you even remember our faces?
"Make them stop, make them stop…" She put her hands on her ears.
I didn't think so.
She started to scream, but was cut off.
No one's coming. They told her.
"What… What should I do?" She asked them, desperate for some sort of guidance.
Run.
Everyone and everything you touch wilts away into nothingness. Even on the streets you accidentally brushed too many people. Do you know where those people are now?
She nodded, cold tears streaking down her face. It wasn't fair that on the outside the people around her hated her and the people inside her head were out to get her.
They're vegetables.
She started sobbing.
Buck up, kiddo. Grab some gloves and some pants and be on your way. They won't miss you.
Her eyes were stuck on Remy's limp form.
He won't miss you, Marie.
The voices didn't lie. They had found out long ago that the truth always hurt her more than lies.
She didn't even bother with pants or gloves. She could freeze to death for all she cared.
She opened the door and started to run down the hall when she tripped over something, grazing the heels of her palms and knees on the hard wood floor as she went down.
"Ow…" She whimpered, still weeping as she cast her gaze down to see what she had tripped on.
Emma Frost was sprawled out on the ground, eyes closed, growing bruises at her throat.
Rogue screamed as loud as she was physically allowed and scrambled to get away.
"Rogue?" Someone called out from the end of the hall. She turned to see Warren, who was apparently the first person to care enough about her frantic screaming to come investigate.
Warren saw Emma's body and then turned to see the look in Rogue's eyes, and though he didn't fully comprehend the string of events here, he knew that look.
"Rogue," He took a step towards her. "It's alright. I don't know what happened, but it's going to be alright."
He's a liar. Someone hissed in her ear. He won't miss you. He thinks you hurt her. Run.
Rogue was up in a flash and sprinted down the hallway in the opposite direction of Warren's ascent.
"Somebody!" Warren shouted as he chased after her. "Help!"
Betsy and Jubilee came stumbling out of their rooms as Warren tore past.
"What's going on?" Betsy asked stupidly.
Jubilee shrugged with a yawn .
Rogue rounded another corner going top speed.
Run, run, run, as fast as you can. The voices taunted.
"Shut up!" She screamed, gasping for air in between sobs.
"Rogue!" Someone shouted from behind her.
And you hurt the boy. He kissed you and you tried to kill him…
"I didn't mean to!"
You didn't even have to touch him. You are poison, Marie. Not just your skin, you.
"Make them stop!" She shrieked, finally driven to her knees
"Betsy!" Warren called. "Can you do anything?" He asked nervously as he risked putting his hands on the shrieking girl's shoulders.
"Turn them off." She begged through the tears. "Make them stop whispering to me."
"She needs to calm down first!" Betsy said as she dragged on her robe and kneeled next to Warren. "I can't use my telepathy on her if there is so much emotion clouding her judgment!"
Remy LeBeau, fresh from his unconsciousness, shoved them both out of the way.
He winced at the amount of emotion radiating off of her, but gritted his teeth and sank down to her level. He couldn't be a thief right now. He couldn't tell her that he'd been accessory to hell, or a scientist's plaything, or even a murderer. Not now. Not ever.
He refused to see her hurt like this ever again.
"Chere," He mumbled to her, rubbing her shoulders.
"Make them stop," She muttered, hands on her ears. "They hate me."
"Who hates you?" He asked, despite the utter shock that anyone could hate her.
"The people," She sobbed. "The people in my head. They stay there. They don't wanna be there but they stay. An' they did something with Logan and Erik and Johnny. I can't find 'em."
Us? They sounded affronted. We didn't touch them!
She screamed.
"Stop talking to me!"
"Sh," Remy put his hand on her cheek but she seemed unresponsive to the touch. "I'll make everything okay."
"Do you promise?" She asked, seeming to calm down a little bit.
"Yes." He vowed.
In the back of his mind he could hear a growling voice telling him not to make promises he couldn't keep.
JAMIE: Holy shitballs, plot monster! What have I gotten myself into?
PLOT MONSTER: *growls*
JAMIE: … Did you like my extra-long-I-apologize-the-last-chapter-was-so-short chapter?…
PLOT MONSTER: *hisses*
JAMIE: Heyheyhey! No need for that kind of language!