X Weeks After the Assault of the Institute:
The X-Men were run to ground after Apocalypse's forces, led by a half-crazed Gambit - 'No, Death now, girl. And now he's dead…' Rogue thought for what seemed the fifteenth time in the last hour. But it was necessary, even now, so many weeks removed from the event, she struggled to keep her mind from wandering back to it. Who could blame her? The chaos that erupted after the team had successfully repelled the onslaught was a near-run thing.
It had only, regrettably, ended, when Logan did what he did best. Remy's severed head was on the floor, and Rogue had been forced to choose the moment before it. Restrain her former lover, the man who hid so much from them all, or somehow stop Logan from the killing blow. She made her choice; her family, always her family, even as her heart broke into countless fragments. She hadn't thought it was still possible; the events leading up to that assault had dulled every bit of her, or so she thought. Every now and then she'd find herself thinking down this path, and she'd have to start recentering herself all over again.
Since then they had gone underground and the suggestion of lead SHIELD operative Nick Fury and a really deep inside tip from J. Jonah Jameson of all people. Something about a government agency forming, and their assault will be swift and brutal. None knew how badly or deeply it had gone, and trusting any of the usual teams was unacceptable. It seemed that there was a wide-sweeping technological net that compromised too many safeguards. Avoiding it all without giving their location would be tantamount to impossible.
Therefore, the Professor, Cyclops, and Storm had come to an agreement: split the group up, and meet at appointed times via an encrypted source using newly sprouting Internet cafes in large cities, and if not, well, they've all learned how to improvise a necessary connection. Cyclops had drilled it into them as this newly minted "World Wide Era" began. The armies of the world were already past this point of understanding Terran technology, and they had all learned various other styles in their galactic travels.
So they used what they could as safely as they could. But that meant that they were isolated. Ever since whatever had happened to reality that…happened…Rogue's mind was more chaotic than ever. After what felt like countless in depth sessions with the Professor and Jean Grey performing all their abilities in tandem, they found Rogue's mind was nearly beyond their ability to penetrate, even with her completely relaxed and allowing acceptance.
It seemed whatever happened had affected reality. Whatever it did, it left Rogue with a memory, a legacy that was ill-organized, and almost too much to understand. The Professor and Jean have both come away, unable yet to grasp the enormity of that world, where one life was that influential.
And so, Rogue found herself alone, doing her damndest to hold it together. She hid her distinctive white stripe under a hat, a bandanna, you name it. It was impossible to get it to hold a color, otherwise she would've dyed it the first chance she got. It had been impossible to keep the brown in after all, and it gave her weird white streaks on the sides of her temples aging her at least -
"P-P-Pardon me, 'scuse me, ma'am." A local boy in a stock apron said, moving past her at double speed, as if worried about something. Adept at avoiding people - perhaps that's where Carol's Seventh Sense went? - Rogue easily avoided him, but in doing so, he managed to jostle her, and her hat fell off. Brown and white hair spilled everywhere, and a few people looked as the poor shopboy had seemed to really fall on bad luck, and fell into a pile of produce. Everything spilled everywhere; Rogue couldn't leave him to handle the work on his own.
"C'mon sugah, ain't no use cryin' over spilled potatoes." she tried to joke, but the boy seemed to keep looking at her like she was going to bite his head off. Figuring she was no company for levity, Rogue kept silent and helped the kid restock. Many hands made light work, and shortly after, others pitched in. The potatoes were piled quickly, the sign restored, and everyone left one another with a friendly farewell call; all for each other save Rogue.
She probably shouldn't be in such a small town, but she was in between large cities. There was property Irene and Raven once owned, if she kept heading in a south-westerly fashion. She was trying to remain incognito, and so she was taking a leisurely drive through backroads, pretending to be a rich college graduate looking to explore 'this here great country' before workin' at Pawpaw's firm. Or at least that was her story.
Yes, for now, she was content to spend the long holiday weekend here in this small town south of the Mason-Dixon. She liked its neighborly charms, it reminded her of the southern gothics she read as a child - or at least she was nearly certain it was her. It was one of her oldest - she thought it was one of her oldest - memories. So it was either her or Carol, and Carol didn't seem to be the type who'd read those kind of -...
Rogue was on autopilot, trying to distract herself from letting another intrusive thought make its way through, which is why she didn't pick up on the young clerk picking up a phone with shaky hands to dial a number. She also didn't notice the road maintenance crews on the street again, for the fourth day in a row. She didn't notice that the street she turned on to for the room she was renting for the last two days of her 4 day stay was full of cars. She was too deep in her head, unmindfully observing without processing.
That's why when she walked in the back door of the charming Gothic Revival turned Bed-and-Breakfast, she was surprised when a voice in the dark said, "Don't turn on the light." The voice sounded ashamed, small. But familiar.
"Melody?" Rogue asked, closing the door behind her, but leaving the lights off as her landlady requested. "What is it? Powers out?"
"No." the woman half-sighed, half-laughed. "You've gotta listen to me, 'cause I'm more jumpy than a long-tailed cat in a room fulla rockin' chairs." Her levity dropped immediately. "Last week…I did a stupid thing. I talked where I shouldn'ta. I let my fears get to me. I asked ya to keep the light off because I gotta call today."
Rogue's stomach sank as she knew the cross was coming, and was powerless to stop it. Her mind snapped back to the present, to now completely, and her whole body tensed. "Who called ya, Melody?"
"The…Humanity's Last Stand…I went there…"
Rogue didn't gasp, but she wanted to. Her empathy closed around her, protecting her. "Why didja do that, Mel? Ah thought that wasn't necessary here."
"You…didn't do anything, sugar. It's just…I know what you are…I don't mind it, don't care, but m'son. He's the whole of m'life." Yes, her son Steven. Little Stevie; he was a sweet, precocious boy who missed his tragically departed father. Melody was especially protective of him as a widow of less than three years. Rogue could understand.
To a point.
"The news talks more 'n more 'bout that there Legacy Virus," Melody continued, wringing her hand, just like the expression said. Rogue had heard it, read it, but never seen it in reality until now. "It says people l-like you explode before you die. I couldn't…couldn't let that near my Stevie."
"I'da left Mel, I really wo-" the kitchen exploded then, knocking Melody from her chair and Rogue to the floor. The two women looked up as dozens of soldiers streamed into the room then through the rest of the house. There was another patron in the B&B at this time, and they heard him cry out once, before going silent. No gunshot, he was probably detained and told to keep quiet for now.
"Well…when you told us about your concerns, Ms. Watkins, we understood that a mutant would require some extra forces to help detain." A smooth, calm voice said. "You neglected to tell us that your tenant was an X-Man." In the hole made in the wall, there was a tall, white haired man in black and purple. His face was set into grim, serious lines.
"Perimeter secure, Extraction Squad Commander," one of the helmeted foot soldiers reported. The man in command raised one hand and the soldiers seemed to fall back and resume their duties. Some stayed, guns trained on the women, and others moved about to complete their tasks.
Melody gaped in astonishment on the ground as Rogue slowly got to her feet. "She didn't know anythin' 'bout who I hang around with, so you can let her an' the rest go, chum." Bravado she felt for herself - nigh invulnerable, she would be fine. It was everyone else Rogue was worried about. Typical.
"Mommy?!" A high, piping voice rang through the house. The soldiers that followed their leader had infiltrated the building and had found Melody's son. Rogue figured they were looking for any excuse to continue illegally occupying and searching the house. Even if there was nothing else to find, it gave them no right to do this here.
"Why don't we take this dance outside, sugah?" Rogue asked as the remaining soldiers fanned around their commander. "I don't wanna scuff the floor. Original tile, yanno?"
"Address me with a more civil tongue, mutant," the man sneered at her as three soldiers entered the room, with little Steven in tow. Melody cried out wordlessly at seeing her boy, so slight in between those jackbooted men.
"Look, Ah'll go wherever you want, if you let the people in this house go;" Rogue began before being cut off as the man casually raised a laser-type pistol and shot Rogue point blank in the chest. She made a small "Urk!" of shock, and fell over. The gun malfunctioned, and the barrel warped, superheated. The man hissed and dropped it on the ground.
"Terribly made device; she's not dead. I'll need anoth-"
"Sorry sir, that was our last one; we don't have access to more of the prototype." A soldier reported as Melody scrambled over to her son, cradling him tight.
"Unforgivable. Can't you people do anything ri-" were the last things Rogue heard and saw before darkness overcame her.
