Disclaimer: Not mine.
Chapter 54-Famine
He ran as though his life depended on it. Not once did her look back to see if he was being followed. All that mattered was going forward, getting closer to any sign of life that would be able to save him. Protect him. Tree branches tore at his face, letting blood trail down his cheeks, but even then he did not slow down. He couldn't slow down. An owl hooted off in the distance, making his eyes grow wide with fear. They were coming. They had to be. He had been told that he was a wanted man. And now he had escaped. He was running.
"Halt!!" came a harsh cry, making him stop in his tracks. They had found him. He was going to die.
"Who goes there?" demanded another voice, just as cold and harsh as the first.
"Please…I didn't mean to run…please," his voice broke as he dropped to his knees, his hands clasped together in a pleading manner. He couldn't die. He couldn't.
"Dr. Trask…is that you?" This time the voice wasn't as loud or harsh as the first two. In fact, the voice seemed comforting. Looking up, he blinked as a bright flash of light was played across his eyes. He brought his arms up to shield them, praying he wouldn't go blind. When he finally lowered his hands again he blinked several times to be sure that he wasn't seeing things.
"Oh thank-god," was all he could choke out upon seeing the ever familiar patch with the S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia on it.
Bolivar Trask had finally been found.
Europe:
"Remember, though she may look like an innocent teenager, she is anything but," said Beast, glancing over at his companions who stood on either side of him. On one side Shadowcat and Nightcrawler nodded in understanding, on his other Blob and Daytripper murmured their acknowledgement of his words. Beast took a deep breath, glancing straight ahead of him, trying hard not to see the bodies strewn across the cement. So many innocent victims were dying at mutant hands; it was growing easier to see why so many humans resented mutants.
Shadowcat spoke nervously, her voice cracking slightly. "Look at everyone. They look…so gaunt…so sick."
"Dead," added Nightcrawler softly. "They died of hunger…how could there be such a power? It is unimaginable to go through life having a power so cursed, so—"
"Like Rogue," stated Blob bluntly. "Just like Rogue's powers. This is why she hates her powers, 'cause they can inflict this kind of damage."
Daytripper gulped, edging closer to the oversized mutant beside her. "It takes a strong person to bear such a weight."
"But is Rogue strong enough?" questioned Nightcrawler, blinking back tears. "I used to think nothing could stop her, that the burden she carried was small…but it's been two years now…and now…now I believe she has lost not only her mind, but her soul to the power within her."
Beast sighed. "Many could say the same of Jean Grey and Phoenix. Charles has said that one must learn to control one's powers, and not let them control you. Control is a very hard thing to come across for a mutant…every day is another battle. Can we refrain from using our powers for the sake of showing off? Can we act as human as possible, without seeming superior for never using our powers? Can we keep our tempers in check when cursed for what we are, rather than fighting, arguing, and acting in desperate measures?
"To be a mutant, no matter how small or how large, no matter how strong or how weak, no matter how powerful…well, to be a mutant is a struggle day in and day out. Humans will never understand us unless they were to become one of us…just as we cannot understand them for being so prejudiced and resentful without being in their shoes.
"Power in any hands is a dangerous thing, no matter how innocent those hands may be, or how tainted they will become. For years we mutants have believed that our powers are gifts, given to us for unknown reasons but to show that all creatures can endure hardships and evolution…but there are times when even we can begin to believe we are cursed beings because of mutants who have given into their powers, letting themselves be controlled by a human instinct that all people are born with."
"Fear?" suggested Shadowcat, turning to face the large blue mutant.
"No," murmured Beast with a shake of his head. "Survival. Many use their powers for fear without them they will not survive. Magneto was driven by this instinct due to his ill treatment during World War II…he will not die by any hands but his own, and to do so means taking charge and making changes that he believes to be in the best interests of mutant kind."
Daytripper frowned as her eyes scanned the darkening sky. "But isn't he in control of his powers? I mean, the guy can topple buildings with a wave of his hand…if that's not control then I don't know what is."
"Aw, but that is the question, isn't it? Is Magneto truly in control of his powers, or are they in control of him?"
Nightcrawler bowed his head for a moment, his mind turning over Beast's words. "The very thing that drives his will is his need to be superior—to not be the weak child he once was. He is as human as a homo-sapien. We all are…as God's creatures we are all simply human."
"Exactly." Beast smiled wanly; glad to see that his point might have been gotten by at least one of his companions. For two years hope had seemed to dwindle for the combined X-Men and Brotherhood. United for a cause that would take its toll for years to come. If things were to get worse Beast was unsure as to how mutants would pull through…they had been put through so much already, losing loved ones to an unstoppable evil, and their hopes of saving the souls of those loved ones were growing weaker each and every day.
The small group walked slowly through the cobblestone square, treading carefully so as not to step on a body lying in their paths. They had come in search of the mutant Autumn Rolfson, now known as Famine. She had been making her rounds across the European continent, bringing hunger in her wake, starving so many to death, leaving them for dead, rotting in the streets.
Pinpointing her exact location had not been easy. A powerful psychic had been blocking Famine's every move, preventing Cerebro from finding the teen turned Horseman. And then suddenly, the psychic presence had vanished, allowing the Professor to find Famine and send a team out to stop her. None were sure as to why they were being allowed to find Autumn, but Scott was under the belief that Jean wasn't completely lost to them.
"Hey," said Blob suddenly, "I think I see that chick we came for."
Four pairs of eyes followed a chubby finger across the square, breaths sucking in at the sight of such a thin teenage girl with scraggly hair and rags barely hanging onto her frail body. Her large eyes seemed to take up the whole of her face, and she swayed on her feet as though at any moment she would fall and never get back up.
"Caution, my friends…she is not as fragile as she seems," whispered Beast.
Shadowcat gulped. "Any means necessary," she murmured, her voice so low that none caught exactly what they were. It didn't matter however, for each were thinking along the same lines, each afraid of what means they would be expected to engage in…each thinking back to the lifeless body of Plague being carried away by the Morlocks…
From across the square Autumn eyed the mutants without blinking. She knew why they were there. She knew they had come to stop her, and deep within her mind she was grateful for the disturbance, but the thought was so fleeting and so discreet that it vanished before the teen had time to mull it over. Her mind became blank, her only desire to see others suffer, to see others begging on their knees for food, for mercy, for a swift death…
"The end is near," she stated, her voice tired and firm at the same time.
"For those like you," answered Daytripper, balling her hands into fists.
"No…for you."
And thus the battle began.
The Hellfire Club:
Emma smiled coyly at the dark haired man sitting across from, eating his dinner without much enthusiasm. Her mind skimmed over his, frowning at the amount of grief he felt for his sister, believing she would get herself killed trying to defeat Apocalypse. Emma hated dreary thoughts, they only made her depressed.
"Don't look so glum," she murmured, reaching a delicate hand across the table to cup Brian Braddock's chin. "Things will get better for us all, you will see."
"How can you be so sure…we are on the losing side," pointed out Brian, his eyes locking onto Emma's.
She shrugged, tweaking his own mind to allow his eyes to wander over her body. He complied too easily. Basking in his attention, adoring where his mind was headed with such unbidden thoughts, she said, "We are the winning side. Phoenix, Rogue, and Apocalypse will only kill each other…and then the X-Men and Brotherhood will be no more…only the Hellfire Club will be left."
Brian's eyes flickered back to her own, now two pools of pure want and desire. Emma's smile became genuine as she allowed herself to pretend that she too was as in love with Brian as he now was with her.
"Come," she murmured, her voice soft and seductive, "let's think of other things tonight."
Needing no more convincing, Brian allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, and towards Emma's bedroom.
Europe:
Up above the battle, sitting atop a cathedral, was Rogue, watching the battle unfold without worry. For once she wouldn't have to engage in any fighting, she could just sit and watch as others did it for her. She wasn't too keen on going up against the hunger depraving mutant anyhow…her head was aching again, the result of too many personas bottled up inside her mind, all screaming to be free.
New York City:
Destiny's eyes fluttered open, widening as images seized her mind. Her mouth fell open, her hand going to her heart, feeling true fear for the first time.
Images flashed…they floated in and out of her conscious, toying with her soul. This was the future to come…or the future that could be…
A chessboard…a pawn…movement… and screaming…fire exploding in air…mutants running…then falling…convulsions…soldiers…hunters…guns…acid rain falling from the sky…fire…dust…death…a grave…a funeral…water rising…a boy… Rogue…two sides…a chessboard…
Destiny gasped for air, as the images stopped; her mind and senses returning to the present. What did it all mean?
Europe:
She had woken up that morning, burning up as though she were on fire. The hotel room had been encased in ice. Luckily Remy had been out looking for cigarettes, or else he would have frozen to death. It melted with a single touch, soaking the entire room, giving it a moldy smell. On her way to the bathroom to dress Rogue had short circuited the electricity of the entire hotel…and then had promptly phased through the bathroom door.
Washington, D.C.:
Graydon Creed was having a good day. The latest poll results had just come in…he was ahead by so many points that rumors were swirling the election was pointless at his point. He had already won the presidency.
He stood at his office window, glancing out at the cars driving in the street below. His vision, his longstanding vision of protecting the human race was finally coming true, and more and more people were siding with him. Finally, humans were seeing the truth that mutants were nothing but trouble. That mutants needed to be exterminated.
"And soon enough it will become law." Graydon spoke without mercy, without regret. His mind was already set. No mutant would live so long as he was President of the United States, and the one thing that crossed his mind, is that he would have full support of the American public.
Europe:
Out of control. That's what Rogue was. She was slowly losing control of her powers…she was losing faith in herself. She couldn't fight any longer. She was tired.
Caliban hadn't said a word since agreeing to come with Rogue. He only watched with solemn eyes. So solemn that Rogue couldn't decide if he truly pitied her or was hiding tears.
Making a fist with one hand Rogue leaned against a gargoyle atop the cathedral, her eyes gazing out at the sky rather than down at the fight below her. The time was drawing near…she could feel it. A new era would soon begin…but only if Rogue could regain control of her powers.
New York City:
Arclight gritted her teeth in pain, feeling a sharpness course up and down her arm from where the dart had hit her. Blearily she glanced up as a heavy footstep sounded beside her head. It belonged to a boot. A black boot.
Struggling to keep her eyes open, she allowed them to travel up the leg belonging to the boot, until she finally reached a face. Arclight frowned. She didn't recognize the man staring down at her.
"Well looky what we've caught ourselves…another mutant to do our bidding," said the man, his voice triumphant.
"Who…who are…you…"
"Your worst nightmare."
Arclight could feel the tranquilizer she had been shot with finally taking effect. Her mind was growing dark, she was losing consciousness. From somewhere beyond the man staring down at her another voice spoke.
"Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D."
Europe:
"I can't keep doubting myself…I have to believe I'm going to beat him…I'm not going to lose."
"Are you sure about that?"
Rogue didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The deep voice, so gruff and filled with malice. It needed no face to send shivers up and down Rogue's spine. She turned slightly, only to eye the one intruding on her thoughts. Sabertooth stared back at her, his eyes glittering with hatred and raw power.
"Well, well, well," chortled Rogue with a small smirk. "Look who decided to wake up from his nap and come play with the big kids again. Did S.H.I.E.L.D. decide to let you out for good behavior?"
"Go to hell."
"I see…they've retrained you pretty well, Whiskers…I'm almost afraid of you."
Sabertooth snorted. "You should be. S.H.I.E.L.D. wants you."
"I wonder why. Think it has anything to do with the fact that you told them who my father is?"
"That's only a bonus. You've got enough powers to be made into a weapon."
"Lucky me."
"I'm only here to bring you in."
Rogue opened her mouth to shoot back another witty reply, but the words never left her mouth. From down below a single cry rattled her very core.
"Kurt!"
It was Kitty, screaming for all she was worth. Without turning to glance below Rogue knew what was happening. She could see it in her mind as though she were on the ground watching the events unfold. Sentinels had appeared. The latest models built by Trask, now under the direction of Apocalypse.
Kurt was surrounded by three, too tired and weak to teleport away, his body growing thinner because of Famine standing beside him.
Rogue was moving before her mind could finish processing the scene. Flying through the air like a bullet, she was shooting towards the ground, heading straight towards the sentinels like a missile.
She shot through the first one without flinching, tearing a hole through its massive chest, causing it to short circuit and topple to the ground. But Rogue kept moving, barreling into the second sentinel and laying it flat on the ground, watching as it turned to dust with a single touch. The third sentinel she didn't even have to touch, let alone look at, to know that it was no longer functioning. Its computer chip had been erased with a single thought, making it nothing more than a shell casing standing thirty feet into the air.
Rogue floated to the ground, her eyes watching Kurt's body, fear evident in her eyes. She was losing control not only of her powers, but of her emotions. She wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to hold herself together without going insane.
From behind Rogue came a growl.
Meanwhile:
Two figures stood side by side, their eyes burning with a black fire felt inside their souls. In front of them stood another figure, graceful and evil combined.
Her red hair blew in the wind, but she did not move from her position.
All three stood atop the cathedral, looking down below at a battle ensuing between Rogue and Sabertooth. The X-Men were still trying to detain Famine, especially with Nightcrawler out of commission.
"What next?" asked Death, his voice oddly detached.
"Chaos and destruction," answered Phoenix.
"He will try to stop us—to regain his hold on our minds," stated War, his voice detached as well.
Phoenix smirked. "Leave Apocalypse to me…your only concern should be not letting anyone get in your way."
Two heads bowed in reverence of the woman in front of them as she turned to face them, the wind dying out. Together the three mutants walked away from the spectacle taking place on the ground.
Below:
"Give up," hissed Rogue.
Sabertooth shook his head. "Never…my life depends on your capture."
"You can't catch me—no one can."
"Sounds like something your old man would say."
"I wouldn't know."
"Bitch."
"Asshole."
The pair was at a stalemate and they both knew it. Sabertooth couldn't defeat Rogue, and she wasn't willing to kill him off just yet. His mind and connections to S.H.I.E.L.D. could prove useful.
Sabertooth let out a growl, bringing a hand high into the air. He meant to try and stick his claws in her gut, but too many things happened at once.
A flash of pain seared through Rogue's brain, making her clutch her temples with a strangled cry. She dropped to her knees, vanishing in the blink of an eye as Sabertooth's claws swept through the air. The mutant he gutted turned out to be Famine, who had been sneaking up on Rogue to deprave the southerner's body of needed nutrients.
Beast opened his mouth in a silent cry of surprise as Famine's mouth widened, her body sagging as she fell heavily onto Sabertooth's sharp claws. Letting out a cry of anger, Sabertooth shoved the girl off his hand, not caring that his claws ripped flesh and bone from her body. Disgusted, he turned and walked away.
Shadowcat rushed to Nightcrawler's side, her eyes filled with tears. Daytripper pulled out a COM-link, trying to contact back up as Blob and Beast knelt by Famine's side.
By the time help arrived, Famine was dead.
Rogue was still gone.
A/N—As of June 2, 2007, Chapter 54: Famine has been revised.