Chapter 16
Logan snorted. They had a podium. The Dicks of Humanity had a podium. With his arms folded, he watched the first speaker clamber up the unsteady pine steps. The makeshift stage creaked under the footsteps of Bigot Number One, and Logan looked around at the small, all-male group. The sea of faces remained unfamiliar to him, but middle-aged and all-white seemed to be the popular demographic. A pack of angry, pasty-faced bigots whose round faces reddened the longer the speaker droned on with inflammatory bullshit. Logan had heard better speeches from Scott Summers. He snorted again and earned a handful of offended looks from the audience. They took themselves far too seriously; he thought to himself with a smirk.
After a while, Logan studied the layout of the floor again, scanning the crowd for a more familiar face. He spotted Victor leaning against a wall with his hands in his trench coat pockets. Black, navy and tan graffiti covered the concrete blocks behind him, and he almost looked like an art installation. Logan snorted again because he had spent too long around the kid during her Gloria phases. When Bigot Number Two cleared his throat in the microphone, Victor and Logan scowled at each other. Both grew impatient with the stream of narrow-minded bullshit, but they kept to the mission objectives and continued to record the meeting.
The bigots' sob stories seemed to follow similar patterns. All the speakers had issues with the world and wanted to blame it on mutants. Fired from their job? It's a mutant's fault. Wife left them? She ran off with a mutant. Broke with ten bucks left in the bank? Too many mutants in the country. Can't afford medical bills? The doctors were mutants. No woman wishes to bed them? Mutants have bigger dicks. You get the picture.
After the fifth speaker left the podium, Logan dug in his jacket pocket for a cigar. Half-listening to the mumblings on stage, he found his lighter and checked his watch. Two hours they had been talking bullshit, and he still waited for them to make some sense. Shaking his head, he eyed Bigot Number Six and waited to hear what had rattled his cage. As he lit his cigar, he sighed heavily.
"My name's, well, that's not important, but I want to be a mutant hunter," the man said proudly, scratching at his nose that had healed badly from a recent break. He dragged a hand through his greasy black hair and flashed a wide grin when he received a round of applause. "I hitchhiked up here today hoping to find people like you. You know, guys who understand what it's like to live in a world where we'll never be in control while mutants are around." He smirked again when he earned a second round of applause.
"Take another fucking hike back to where you came from," Victor muttered under his breath.
The man continued to talk, growing more confident as his off-the-cuff address continued. "I came from Maryland today. A little place sometimes called Butcher's Creek."
Logan inhaled his cigar smoke, and his eyes focused on the idiot at the podium. Butcher's Creek was the term locals used for the town where he liked to cage fight. It's the location he had taken Rogue to, and she earned that goddamn bruise when he left her alone.
"We've got issues down there. Mostly drugs, which I don't have a problem with no matter what you've heard. But you know what really gets to me? Girls," he explained, his hands resting on the podium. His dirty fingernails dug into the polished pine as he ranted, his pupils expanding under the heady current of various illicit drugs.
With another snort, Logan breathed out a lungful of smoke. He didn't understand the link between these guys and the mattresses in their mothers' basements, but he was growing tired of the shitty excuses.
"I'll tell you a true story. Listen to this. I met a girl in my favourite bar last month." He leaned forward against the podium on his forearms, getting comfortable. "I went for another slash. You know what beer does, don't you?" Half the crowd nodded, and some muttered in understanding. "When I got back to the bar, I saw a girl, and thought to myself, she thinks she's special. She's on my stool and there she is, thinking she looks pretty. She's fluttering her eyelashes and using that southern drawl of hers."
The mocking amusement faded from Logan's face, and his whole body tensed. His eyes narrowed dangerously the longer the speaker shared the story with the crowd.
"And I lost it with her. I really lost it. She looked scared, and it made me feel powerful. When I shook that stool, she fell and hit her back, and I thought, yeah, it serves you right and I hope it hurts. These girls think they're everything when really, they're nothing but the dirt on the bottom of our shoes."
Logan dropped his cigar and crushed it under his boot. With a ferocious growl rumbling in his chest, he took a threatening step forward and could feel his trusted grip on his temper unravelling.
"I wanted to do stuff. You know, really teach her a lesson with whatever I could find. Maybe she would have liked it in the end, but she ran off and slipped through my fingers." He looked down at his hands and smiled. "Kinda tragic, really. I like them when they're scared, and she really trembled when I hurt her. I started to think, shit, who left her here without any protection? Where's her daddy? Doesn't he know we're everywhere, just waiting for our chance to pounce?"
Victor continued to block out the speech, his thoughts centred on several important topics as he studied his nails. Would Ororo scream for him again? What would he next read on the can? Why did he always get seared beef wedged in his fucking teeth? His enhanced senses picked up the sounds of furious boots on the ground and the scrapes of a dozen chairs shoved out of the path of a raging member of the crowd. His gaze snapped to the scene, and he watched his brother force his way toward the stage. Hadn't they agreed to lie low until the meeting ended?
Shocked, panicked, and confused voices from the audience shouted for calm, but it made no difference. Frowning, Victor pushed himself off the wall and moved to intercept his brother. "Jimmy?" he called out questioningly, his scowl darkening. "Jimmy!" But he was too late and heard the SNIKT. He caught sight of the flash of deadly claws, and all hell broke loose around him as his brother's ruthless feral roar tore through the building.
At that precise moment, at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Rogue crossed the threshold of the garage and sighed at her best friend. "You don't understand," she said softly and attempted to explain with a gentle frown on her face. "Maybe this is how it's meant to be. Maybe boys grow up and become guys who hurt us. I don't know why, but everything about life so far has told me it's true."
"You can't believe that?" a shocked Jubilee asked her and pulled her to a stop as they watched Bobby waiting in the car. "He cheated on you, lied to you, lied about you, and you're willing to help him? Have you lost your mind, Chica?"
Sighing, Rogue gazed down at her tennis shoes. She played with the zip of her borrowed X-Man uniform and frowned. Even Logan on the stairs of the hotel in Meridian believed it to be true. "Jubes, I know what I'm doing. There's nothing about my life worth caring about if I don't help Bobby. He needs me and he's all I have."
Jubilee let go of her gloved hand and matched Rogue's frown. "But you've got me and Logan. Even motherfucking Sabretooth's in your corner."
Smiling sadly, Rogue shook her head. "Only you and Bobby care," she admitted quietly and turned to gaze at her ex-boyfriend again. Her heart remained broken, and she danced around the anxious thoughts in her mind. "Can you promise me something? If I don't come back, tell Logan I'm sorry."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop making it sound like you're going to die. I'm not telling his hairy, fine ass anything, Rogue," Jubilee told her friend, hoping this was one enormous prank. "He's going to tear the mansion apart with those claws of his. Seriously, girl, try to think for a second. None of this is a good idea. You running away with Bobby or me being left to deal with a Wolvie temper tantrum is a huge mistake. We're not organised enough to get away with this."
Rogue checked the time on the clock above the workbenches. Quarter to ten. She needed to get in the car before Bobby left without her. "Everything happens for a reason, Jubilation Lee. I think, maybe, this is fate calling my name. Like a little dose of destiny." Remaining in a pensive mood, she wandered to Bobby's car and waved goodbye to her best friend. "Remember, don't tell anyone where me and Bobby have gone. Tell a lie. Tell lots of them. Make a silly story up and say we're at an all-night party or something."
Victor grumbled and checked the time on the dashboard of the SUV. "Midnight," he muttered as he eyed the downtown New York liquor store and scowled as he wondered what the fuck had set Jimmy off. With the bodies littered throughout the warehouse, they had doused the place in gasoline and struck a match. Burning abandoned buildings down when the going got tough was a family trait that spanned the centuries. Hitting the nearest liquor store was also a pastime for the feral brothers after a shitshow like tonight.
Deep in thought, Logan returned to the truck, armed with two bottles of whisky. He settled down in his seat and watched the urban scenery pass them by while Victor drove to the next intel location. His knuckles itched and his temper remained frayed while he replayed the last few hours over in his brooding mind. With the Wolverine put to bed, he scratched at his jaw in frustration. He wanted to kill the son of a bitch again. Those bragging words on the stage, the self-congratulating smirks at the podium. They had twisted in Logan's gut as he learned how Rogue earned the bruise. But when he listened to the last lines of the speech, something savage snapped inside him.
Clearing his gravelly throat, Victor parked down an alley outside several apartment buildings. He nodded at the liquor bottles in his brother's hands. "You gonna hog it all, Jimmy?"
With a growl, Logan handed over a bottle of amber liquid and thought about his troubled past. Eventually, something bothered him. "What happened between me and Mystique?"
Twisting the cap off the whisky, Victor inhaled the scent of his favourite booze. He downed half the bottle, unsurprised he was ready for this walk into the past. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he sighed. "Back in 1984, Magneto got it into his head to launch a recruitment drive. He sent Mystique after targets, and you were one of them. She has her own way of drafting. You know, usually stripping out of those tight clothes of hers in a restroom stall. Sometimes it works, and she bags her target."
Grunting, Logan listened to the words and felt little connection to them. His memories remained locked away. In frustration, he snapped the lid off his own bottle of whisky. "She seduced me," he muttered. "That's what you're saying?"
Victor nodded and nursed his liquor bottle. After a while, he pointed to Logan. "You gonna drink that?"
With a scowl, Logan watched his brother closely and tightened his grip on the neck of the bottle. "Where did this seducing take place?" The answer would make him snort in disbelief.
"Laughlin City," he replied, still eyeing the booze expectantly.
Logan pointed at him with a warning look. "Stop yanking my chain," he growled half-heartedly.
Victor scowled and held his hand out for his prize. "It's your past. You need to own it. All I know is she headed down south for most of the eighties. The next time I laid eyes on her, she was back and scheming with Magneto. It wasn't until after Ellis Island that I learned who the girl belonged to. Sure, I asked questions and demanded answers. The thing about Mystique is she won't dish the dirt easily, but from what I learned, she kept the girl hidden for a reason."
Grumbling to himself, Logan handed over the booze to him. He decided he needed to keep a clear head. "I'm not gonna like this, am I?"
Victor finished draining the last drop of liquor from his own bottle and tossed it out of the window. It shattered against a brick wall, and he grunted in approval at the sound. "Destiny's an old friend of hers. She's an old bat that sticks her nose into the future with these fucking premonitions. It meant Mystique knew about the girl's mutation years before it developed." He looked at his brother. "Y'know, all roads lead back to Graydon with this."
His eyes narrowed; Logan sighed heavily. Last year, when he clashed with Mystique, he should have killed her on the spot. "What does this have to do with that boy of yours?"
"She kept the girl hidden so you wouldn't stop her from doing what she planned on Ellis Island. That plot she hatched with Magneto had fuck all to do with revenge. She wanted to turn Graydon into one of us, thinking it would save him, but then you crossed paths with the girl. Some clever fuckers out there might say a telepath interfered along the way, but all I know for sure is this is some good whisky, Jimmy."
Logan leaned back in his seat and continued to growl deep in his throat. He didn't believe in coincidences, and anyway, two visits to Laughlin City, and his only reward was a kid for all his troubles. He shook his head, his thoughts hazy with threats and anger. Mystique had been willing to sacrifice her daughter to save her son. He growled again. No, she'd sacrificed his daughter for her goddamn son. He checked his watch and scowled. It had a crack across the face. He must have damaged it during the shitshow at the warehouse. It was almost two in the morning. At least the kid would be in bed, safe and sound.
Standing at the bottom of the hill in New York State, Rogue breathed anxious breaths and gazed nervously around her. With the flashlight clutched tightly in her bare hand, she found nothing but rocks, dirt, and a full moon. At two in the morning, she expected nothing less. She and Bobby had split up, and wandered along different routes, searching for the mysterious mutant. And no, she wouldn't call it a friendly breakup to their mission. When she softly requested an apology from him, it sparked an argument. The fight was tame compared to her battle of wills with Logan, but they separated at the foot of the hill and stormed in different directions.
In a reflective mood, she gazed upward at the sky when snowflakes fluttered down and landed at her feet. She wished she could be curled up in her warm, cosy bed, safe from harm and protected from her silly thoughts. Wrinkling her nose at the bitterly cold weather, she pulled her gloves on and, for the moment, forgot about protecting herself. With a curious glance at the old Friends of Humanity base, she wondered if it would be warmer inside. Eventually, with an unsure sigh, she climbed the hill one careful step at a time, worried she would slip and fall.
When she finally reached the unwelcoming entrance of the base, she discovered a shattered lock on the ground. It felt unnatural because she knew the X-Men had secured it before they left. Stepping inside, she held her breath and wandered quietly down the maze of corridors. She attempted to retrace her steps like Victor's memories had taught her. He snarled because he thought her actions belonged to a stupid brat, but she ignored his voice in her mind and continued to creep along another passage.
Inside the four walls of a room still in disarray, Mystique, in her natural form, perched on the edge of a steel table and stared at the pool of dried blood on the floor. She studied it for hours, but without viewing her son's grave, how could she possibly grieve? When she heard an unnatural sound behind her, she expected to see a bigoted straggler. Perhaps even Victor, but her eyes remained cold when she recognised the late-night visitor.
Rogue turned to leave when she spotted Mystique, but the memories in her mind resurfaced and shuffled. She felt Victor's presence fade, and the tears stung her eyes as she felt like herself again. "You really hurt me," she whispered, watching her birth mother look away. Wandering further inside the room, she kept her distance. "You hurt me. You lied to me. Then you threw me away." Her tears fell because, for the first time, she could see the truth in her broken mind. "Everything you did after you found out about my powers. I can see it in my head. You wanted me to die to save someone you cared about."
Mystique refused to glance at the girl again, returning her gaze to the floor and attempting to ignore the harsh words.
Brushing her tears away, Rogue gazed tiredly down at her tennis shoes and frowned at her untied lace. "You wanted me to die, and do you know what? I'm already dead to you and you don't even care. Have you any idea of the pain you've caused me and my family? Yes, my family. He knows the truth, but we still lost all those years together. And if this was a story I had to tell, from the bottom of one of those caves, it would be messy with narrations in the wrong place. People would say, what's wrong with you, Rogue? I don't understand these chapters or what you're trying to say. That's what you did to me. You ruined me. You messed with my life and my mind and my words. You mixed everything together in one toxic mess and I hate you for it."
Stepping forward, Rogue's frown grew stronger and more stubborn the longer she spoke. "I hate you for it, Raven Darkholme. I hate you for giving birth to me, and I hate you for abandoning me. I hate you for never telling my daddy the truth, and I hate you for keeping me away from him. I hate you for leaving me with the D'Ancanto family, and I hate you for coming back into my life. I'm dead to you and I'm going back to my daddy. Do you hear me? I'm going home to my daddy, and you can stay here all alone."
"It's not funny, Jimmy," Victor said with a thunderous growl, listening to his brother chuckle. As he grumbled in the front passenger seat, he looked down at his soaked clothes. While he had emptied his bladder up the side of a brick wall, some stupid woman had opened a window above him and poured a bucket of cold water straight over his head.
Logan continued to chuckle as he drove them back to Xavier's because it had been the perfect end to their abandoned mission. Watching Victor earn his just desserts from an irate woman shrieking insults in Spanish had made his night. As they reached the mansion gates, he slowed down and quickly keyed in the security code. "That was some show you put on."
With a dark scowl, Victor looked at him. "She's lucky I didn't go up there and break her fucking neck."
Raising an eyebrow at the response, Logan watched the gates swing open. "Things have changed, huh?" he muttered and checked the time on the dashboard. With an uneasy feeling, he massaged the knuckles of his right hand absentmindedly and parked outside the garage. Almost four in the morning and his body tensed in suspicion when he spotted the girl dressed in yellow pacing inside the garage. Leaving the SUV with the engine running and the headlights on, he climbed out and noticed the absence of Bobby's car. He closed the distance between him and the contents of the garage.
Jubilee swung around with a relieved grin, expecting to see Rogue and Bobby, but wanted to die on the spot when she saw Logan. "Oh fuck," she said out loud before she could stop herself.
Gazing around the garage with a growl, Logan could smell Rogue and Bobby's hours-old scents. With deliberate, calm steps, he closed in on the frightened girl. "Where the hell did she go?"