A note from the author: Hello readers, those of you who have been with me from the beginning and any new who are discovering these amazing characters and this fic for the first time.
It is very strange to be back here, but I am definitely so glad for it. It is almost surreal, because when I started this story and Demon In My View, I was just a child of 16 years old going through a tough period of withdrawing from the world. What was so amazing and special about these characters is that they gave me something to escape into. I think for some of us fanfiction writing isn't exactly something we share out to everyone in our lives. I'll admit it's something I keep for just me -– and obviously for all of you birds of a feather who also lean a little on the fanciful side.
Fast forward literally 20 years and I'm reflecting now on how it's such a great and amazing power these stories and characters have for those of us who let them into our hearts and minds. I am so grateful to have been able to do this, now a grown adult who's looking forward to continuing this journey. You may notice some more maturity and nuance in the themes, dialogue, and characters. I was concerned because I didn't think I'd be able to get back into this account or recover my plot notes for this fic after so long – but I have and I am excited to show you what's been in store, two decades in the making.
Thank you so much for your patience, your support, and your time, even after 20 years.
Now we commence Part 2 of this story, the journey to Genosha.
Enjoy,
Raven
PS: Sharing my writing soundtrack for this chapter for those who want to listen along: "Empire Now", "Son of Nyx", and "Blood Upon the Snow" by Hozier.
PART 2
Chapter 17 - Harbinger
JFK International Airport, New York City
The international terminal was a hive of activity that evening, with the steady hum of voices and soft rumble of rolling luggage. Overhead screens flickered somewhat dimly with flight information, sports, some news, some duty-free advertisements. Weary travelers strode impatiently across the crowded walkways.
Remy Lebeau sat at a cafe near his gate, with one carryon bag at his feet and an empty tumbler of bourbon on the table, staring at a single text message from Logan's number: Do NOT engage alone. - Rogue. No chance of that. He had turned off signal reception on his device and was not planning on responding. He was starting to regret sending her and the X-Men the intelligence he had gathered; it made it far more difficult to go about this solo, which was easier for him as much as it would've been not ideal for them.
A commotion at the gate caught his attention. Several people clustered around the desk, manned by two overwhelmed airline agents; some were children. By the accounting of adults, the group looked to be composed of three or four families. Mutant families – several of the adults and children had physical deviations far from any homo sapien norm: a girl with large pointy ears, a man with gills on his throat and webbed hands, a woman with what appeared to be tattoos all over her body except her face, that swirled subtly across her skin and moved faster the more frustrated she became.
"We have to be on this flight," she was saying. She clutched a toddler in her arms, who was trying to grab at the swirling ink on her wrist. "We have been waiting for 14 hours to get on a flight. My daughter is exhausted. We lost everything. We can't stay here. Please, please don't bump us again!"
Several other voices chimed in with similar pleas. One of the gate agents held up his hands, a genuine look of stress and guilt on his face that his partner did not share. "I'm really sorry, I really am. We're doing everything we can to get you on the next flight," he pleaded. "Flights to Antananarivo are overbooked. I've never seen anything like this – the demand has just been crazy!"
"Of course it is!" the man with gills shrilled. "We just want to go where it's safe!" He gestured frantically at the television screens hanging over the passenger seating area – each broadcasted a damning headline about the mutant experience that seemed uncannily timed to prove his point.
25 AMERICAN AND EUROPEAN CITIES CONFIRMED ILLNESS AFFECTING ONLY MUTANTS; LINKS TO POPULAR 'REVIVE' ENERGY DRINK.
CONTROVERSIAL GROUP 'FRIENDS OF HUMANITY' SEES RECORD MEMBERSHIP GROWTH – 50,000 ACROSS THE U.S.
HATE CRIMES AGAINST MUTANTS INCREASED 60% GLOBALLY SINCE JUNE.
U.S. MUTANT REGISTRATION ACT PASSES THE HOUSE, MOVES TO SENATE VOTE.
THOUSANDS OF MUTANTS BEGIN MIGRATION TO GENOSHA WAYPOINTS.
All eyes of the mutant families had turned to look, and their reactions – some despair and fear, some frustration and rage – displayed the realization that they were seeing for the first time the clearest ever signals indicating the undeniable urgency to flee the only place they'd known as home for a dream that should be impossible, that should be too good to be true – but what was realistic or pragmatic didn't matter now. They all felt it – the sense of a tipping point, whether or not it was reality or a mass delusion. Who could know for certain in this position? Especially when the call of Genosha rang so assuringly.
Remy looked away. He couldn't help them. The only thing he could do was stick to the plan: infiltrate the Revive operation and its shipping contractor, Atlas Logistics, a regional operator stuck with 1,000 crates of something Guy Spear and likely Nathaniel Essex wanted to be kept secret. He had to confirm his suspicions of what was in the shipment and where it was going.
And then — a flash of dove-white and auburn in the corner of his eye. Hein? It couldn't be.
X
X
X
The Xavier Institute - War Room
The hologram display at the center of the circular planning room projected a video that could only be described as eerie.
Flashes of pristine residential streets showing obvious mutants with obvious 'ordinary' humans peacefully jogging, walking their dogs, trimming hedges, juxtaposed with gleaming skyscrapers with modern workers of business and economy, beside footage of vibrant marketplaces where citizens traded and socialized and laughed and smiled. An inviting voice over, "You are welcome in Genosha, a green land, a pleasant land of hope. Of opportunity. Where the watchword is freedom. For all mutantkind and our allies."
As the video continued to play, showing more scenes of a happy, mixed society of sapien and superior, the senior X-Men in the war room exchanged glances of bewilderment, skepticism, and general unease.
Logan paused the hologram projection on an aerial drone shot that captured a west facing crescent shoreline and the cove where its capital city, Hammer Bay, scintillated with turquoise waters and gleaming edifices, the words Welcome home to Genosha overlaid.
"The English version's had more than 400 million views online since it was uploaded three hours ago," Logan explained, "100 million more in other languages. Every major news joint in the world is broadcasting it."
Kitty grimaced as she exchanged a nervous glance with Kurt beside her, "These stats make me nervous. Why are so many people eating up this, like, obvious propaganda?"
Professor Xavier sat with his hands clasped lightly near his face, fingertips touching each other. "The power of hope in these troubled times," he said. "It's as potent as a drug, I'm afraid."
"But ve don't buy it, right?" Kurt asked. "This can't be real. It'z juzt too perfect. Unglaublich*." (*Unbelievable.)
Scott shared his unease, "Yeah, we're all on the same page there. The problem is, we can't really know based off highly curated footage like this."
"Magneto is nowhere in the video," Jean observed. "That must be intentional."
Logan nodded, "No recognizable face so they can make this palatable to wide audiences. There ain't anything divisive in it. It has one goal: make Genosha appealing to as many people as possible."
"Does it say where it is?" Scott asked.
"No, but other videos have been shared secretly through mutant communities and online groups. They were so underground that Sean Cassidy only got a copy earlier today. Right under our noses. These messages give instructions for emigrants to find their way to Mombasa, Zanzibar, or Antananarivo where Genoshan reps will allegedly provide transportation to Genosha's secret location. Every major power in the world is trying to find that island – problem is, there's a hell of a lot of ocean for that island to hide in, and you bet there are mutants masking where it is."
Kurt shook his head in awe, "Thiz iz vild. How many people just pick up and go to zese random cities with such vague information?"
"Things are getting bad out there for mutants," Jean said solemnly. "We don't really see it in our Bayville bubble. How many are already emigrating?"
"We don't know for sure. Based on the surge of flight bookings to those three cities alone, some estimates put it at around 6,000 in the past two weeks."
Kitty's mind was racing, analyzing ahead about what the next insane problem would be — something didn't sit right with her about any of this. "Don't you guys think this is so off base for Erik Lehnsherr? He's the president or whatever of Genosha right? This messaging does not look like his vibe. It's borderline delusional."
"Just delusional enough for the delusional masses," Bobby drawled.
After giving Bobby a look of mild reproach, Ororo said, "Even Magneto can't run an entire country by himself. From preliminary reports, Genosha appears to have the beginnings of a functioning government and economy, with Magneto at its helm as the Chancellor. Humans and mutants alike occupy leadership positions in the main governing bodies, including one focused solely on government communications."
Kitty's mouth hung slightly open, "How has he been able to set up an entire country in such a short time?"
"The wonders that can be achieved when humans and mutants work together, " Logan said cynically. "Our priority now is understanding what is really going on there and how it connects with what we now know about Revive, Essex, and the Hellfire Club."
"How?" Scott asked.
The smile that slowly drew on Logan's face was completely mirthless, "We are going to Genosha."
X
X
X
JFK International Airport, New York City
He scanned the thoroughfare and immediately saw her: Rogue emerged from the crowd with the grace of a cat, dressed in a sleek black X-Men uniform mostly concealed under a dark green jacket that drew out the emerald of her eyes. The throngs of travelers seemed to part before her as she walked toward him, gaze fixed on his with a mix of vexation and … was that relief?
It did not escape him that less than 24 hours ago they had been tangled in that gear room, his hands in her hair, her inner thigh, her mouth taking his with a hunger that seemed unleashed after years without satisfaction. And satisfaction was about to be had, until something happened and she fled – he still didn't understand why, though he was beginning to think it was not because of him. She wouldn't be here if she'd been repulsed by him; that much logic could assure him. But he wasn't sure he would ever get the chance to know for sure, the rate things were developing. Was there ever going to be time?
Before he could stand up to greet her – like a southern gent – Rogue snatched the chair across from him, yanked it out, and sat, leaning forward as her left elbow fell to rest on the table for leverage and apparently, intense effect. She leveled him with a look a military officer would give an insolent subordinate, "If you were in my X-Corps squad, Ah'd be chewing you out for going AWOL."
One corner of his lips tipped upward at her brass, "Can't say following a chain o' command was ever my strong suit. How'd you find me?"
"Xavier. Cerebro." Obviously. Her fingers closed on the edge of the table, "Whatever you're planning, Ah'm comin' with."
It was his turn to be vexed. "Non. Dat's exactly what he'd want."
Rogue narrowed her eyes, understanding that he meant Nathaniel Essex, mutant scientist who had kept years of files on her, had tried to abduct the X-Men, and as far as anyone could tell, had been stalking her for years. She scanned their surroundings briefly out of habit; no one had tailed her, of that she was certain. The ongoing argument at the gate nearby was catching most eyes and ears around them.
And she hadn't felt that disconcerting presence in her mind in a while; she had been putting a lot of work into the mental shields Emma Frost had taught her. But she had a hunch that the psychic intruder was otherwise…occupied.
"No one knows Ah'm here," Rogue said.
Remy leaned forward and he noticed her mirror his movement. They were inches apart. "Maybe," he said. "Either way, m'not changing my mind."
"This is too big for your unilateral decisions, Cajun."
"Xavier and the others can have their plan, but I won't risk it."
"Won't risk what?"
"You, Rogue. I won't risk you."
X
X
X
The Xavier Institute - War Room
The alluring video of Genosha faded away, replaced by images of people, places, and artifacts taken from the various databases the X-Men and their allies had access to. The images splayed across in hologram with lines of blue light illustrating their relationship to each other, intersecting and linking like an intricate NYPD crime board.
At the same time, Logan pulled up a separate video screen, split into three frames that each encapsulated a different person on a live call with the war room: Warren Worthington on the balcony of his New York penthouse, angelic wings splayed lazily on both sides; Emma Frost reposed in a dimly lit office with a look on her face that seemed to say she'd had many calls on the topic of Genosha today, and Piotr Rasputin in the driver's seat of a vehicle on the other side of the world where it was daytime.
"Don't think we need to do introductions," Logan said, gesturing between those in the war room and those onscreen.
The X-Men exchanged curious glances.
"We're supplementing the mission," Logan explained. "These X-Corps operatives have the experience and skills we'll need on the ground. We're leaving as little to chance as possible. Angel, White Queen, and Colossus were recruited for their unique skills and abilities."
"That was almost flattering, Logan," Emma Frost smirked from the screen.
Logan cleared his throat with a barely noticeable twinge of awkwardness. Bobby and Kurt exchanged amused glances, wondering what that was about. "Let's get this briefing started. We ain't got all night. Half-Pint, you're up."
Kitty moved to sit in front of the war room's hologram controls. She zoomed into the section of the digital board labeled "Hellfire Trading Company" and called up her superior analytical briefing skills. Her computer science and engineering degrees weren't only useful for technical topics.
"We finally pieced together a picture that kind of explains recent events," she said. With a flick of her fingers, she enlarged a photo of a slender raven-haired woman standing behind and askew to a grinning Sebastian Shaw at a corporate event. She was not looking at the camera, but the angle showed enough of her face to be identifiable. "This is the entity we understand to be Selene. We all saw her at the Friends of Humanity fundraiser – hard to miss, this one. She is a close business associate of Sebastian Shaw and has even signed documents for their holding company, Hellfire Trading Co., as Selene Gallio, Gallier, Galilee, among several other variations. As obviously influential and real as she is — any tangible records with personal identifiable details about her are almost impossible to find. No college degrees, no real estate, no taxes. No personal credit."
As Kitty swiped her fingers across the air, new images appeared as successive holograms, each of a different version of the same woman in a different era: Selene in the entourage of French actress Marion Cotillard on Bastille Day in 2015, Selene in the crowd at a polo match with the Kennedys in 1955, Selene at Heinrich Himmler's dinner table in 1931. In each photo, she appears unchanged by time, ageless.
"To use a technical term, Selene is creepy as hell," Kitty continued. "It's obvious she didn't try very hard to hide her face over the decades, but not the biggest concern when you're, like, a powerful telepath and change aliases so frequently.
"We've also found strong — though not conclusive — evidence that Selene may be thousands of years old, maybe even similar in age to Apocalypse." A chill quiet fell across the room, as if everyone had stopped breathing. After an involuntary pause, Kitty continued, "Based on mutant anthropology experts and our own Magma, we understand that Selene is part of a group of proto-mutants who had ruled over various civilizations across the world, entities we've seen referred to as the Externals. Selene ruled behind the scenes in Nova Roma during Magma's childhood but was overthrown for reasons we don't fully know. We identified another External, Garbha-hsien who ruled in Mongolia. We still don't know enough about them, so research is ongoing."
Kitty swiped the air again and images of artifacts from archeological dig sites appeared: pictographs and crude paintings on excavated wall fragments, murals, pottery, each depicting eerily similar scenes of a central humanoid figure with hands raised toward a circular shape above. Some illustrated a single figure while others showed nine.
Kitty continued. "Selene was often associated with the moon and moon goddess. What's important to understand is that during every iteration of Selene in each civilization she ruled, there was a period of relative prosperity followed by some kind of cataclysmic event, usually followed by that society's destruction. Details are obviously hard to lock down. We think there were a total of nine Externals at one point, but sometime in the last few centuries Selene hunted down and killed them. We don't know why or how."
Bobby released a slow whistle, "This is all seriously so fucked."
"Bobby," Ororo said. He shifted in his seat.
Kitty flicked her hands and photos of Friends of Humanity rallies, Graydon Creed, Revive energy drink, and Guy Spear with headlines about mutant hate crimes and increasing cases of mutant illness flashed onscreen.
"We don't know how long Selene and Shaw have been partners but we think she's in it for more than, like, money and influence — Shaw and his corporations are just her tools in this era. We know she's using him to fund the Friends of Humanity and back the Revive company, which Gambit discovered has been used to hide shipments of mutant negating collars to Africa, collars made by Nathan Essex, who as we know has been stalking the X-Men for at least 3 years and at least one of us for much longer. A shapeshifting mutant is currently posing as Guy Spear, who we think is dead. All of this says Selene is behind a national if not global scheme that is making mutants' lives harder."
"Why would she want that?" Scott said, horrified. "She's also a mutant."
Kitty shook her head, "We don't know if that's what she wants, but we can see it's definitely the effect. Regarding Nathaniel Essex, most of the information we have is from Gambit, who's dealt with him in the past out of necessity —"
Bobby interrupted, "And we're just supposed to trust this guy now? Look what happened to Evan. And Lorna. We don't know if he—"
"We know enough," Ororo cut him off, settling him with an impatient stare that seemed to say she had met her limit of patience for his perpetual surliness. "Remy LeBeau neither kidnapped Lorna Danes nor attacked Evan or the Morlocks. He saved Sarah. His association with Essex was purely for survival, and I doubt any of you would have chosen differently under such harrowing circumstances. So perhaps we can all climb off our pedestals of self righteousness and understand the world is not black and white and focus on our objectives?"
Bobby's eyes widened, his mouth twitching as if trying to figure out what to say. The fact that it was Ororo repudiating him, elegant and motherly Ororo who everyone trusted and looked up to, snuffed the hottest of his indignation. Then he glowered at the floor, and when he spoke there was no impudence in his tone, "Okay. I can do that."
Ororo squeezed his shoulder. There was hope for him yet.
Kitty continued, "So about Essex, there are almost no public records, other than on a student roster at Oxford, where a PhD candidate of the same name was expelled for unethical genetic experiments in 1988. We'd have to confirm but it looks like that's him, which means he's been working on 'gene limits' and 'perfecting' mutants for a long time.
"We don't know what Selene's relationship is with Essex but they seem to be associated. We suspect the collars are going to Genosha and that, like, can't be good, but we don't know what exactly Selene has to do with Genosha. There's no reason to think Magneto is in league with someone like this but we just don't know. Selene is definitely involved with Genosha, based on Rogue's intel." She hesitated on the last word.
"What 'intel' does Rogue have exactly?" Warren Worthington asked with a raised eyebrow.
Kitty glanced at Logan, who nodded. Full disclosure, I guess. "She's…mentally connected to Selene who keeps saying to her that Genosha is the promised land."
Emma Frost's hand slammed onto her desk, startling everyone except Piotr who did not even flinch. "What?" As a telepath herself who had helped Rogue for weeks on mental shields and control, this was not acceptable.
"You'll have to ask her for details," Kitty was trying to sound casual.
"Where is she now?" Emma demanded.
Logan said neutrally, "On a pre-mission retrieval task."
Emma's icy blue eyes narrowed, plush lips thinning into a severe line, "Don't pretend this isn't an obvious operational risk. I know Rogue's history. She could be compromised and not know it. She could compromise the entire mission."
"Why do you think we're stacking up on telepaths, Blondie," Logan huffed.
"You want to use her as bait," Piotr interjected flatly.
All eyes locked on him onscreen but he said no more.
Emma shook her head, "This is reckless. If this Selene is as ancient and powerful as we suspect, it's unacceptable."
"And it was her idea," the Professor finally spoke. He had been eerily quiet. "I don't approve of it, but we all know what Rogue is capable of. The stakes are high enough, the risks we must take will be equally great. Something sinister is at play and we don't fully understand it. It is not an exaggeration to say that the fate of mutantkind hangs in the balance." His gaze moved across each of their faces, individuals he had nurtured and trusted with responsibilities they never should have had to take on. "None of you will be forced onto this mission. We must not be under any illusions that it will be safe or easy, or that we will have any control. And while I detest the idea, Rogue is important to our enemies. How or why we do not know but of that I am sure, and we must allow her to exercise her agency."
X
X
X
JFK International Airport, New York City
The weight of apprehension in Remy's voice gave her pause.
She stared into his red-on-onyx eyes, puzzling through the confusing mix of emotions rising in her stomach, up her chest, stealing her words. She tried not to think about the heat and pressure of his hands on her skin, his lips on hers barely a day ago. He had disappeared for two years with no word. He had saved her from falling to her death at the Plaza. He facilitated the Morlock massacre. He caused the death of god knows how many in the New Orleans guilds. He was now making mission decisions based on… her safety? How did any of this make sense? She didn't know what to think, and she had to focus. Something far bigger than them was at stake. As if to remind her, the dystopian headlines on nearby TV screens seemed to scream silently in her periphery.
Several responses ran through her mind but the one that came out was, "It's not your call. Ya not my keeper."
He shook his head, "My mission, my call."
She bristled at what she was starting to perceive as an irritating level of dismissive stubbornness, as if he were the only one with real world experience and savvy. Her temper flared – exacerbated by the frustrations and stress of recent events and the mere presence of this confusing man who she had had in her grasp mere hours ago and somehow still couldn't have.
"You haven't seen me in two years," she retorted, "and what, after a tryst in the gear closet, you're now on an overprotective kick?"
His frustration met hers, charging the inches of air between them with tension that begged to be broken – one way or another. But hearing that their interlude was still on her mind changed the energy of it, at least for him, giving him a doorway to a part of her that was previously blocked to him, that he was more than willing to venture through now. He clasped her wrist that was resting on the edge of the table, on top of the exposed skin right beyond the sleeve of her jacket and between gloves she still wore in habit, his grip firm but not overberaing. He leaned in closer. She drew in a short breath, her eyes flitting to his touch for an instant, a flash of surprise disappearing as quick as it came, but she did not recoil.
"It don't matter how long it's been," he said, voice low and gravelly. He had more words, two years of reasons and rationale, guilt and shame, explanations he wished were easier to give, but none came at the sight of the uncertainty and, yes, suspicion, in her eyes. And how could he blame her when they'd had barely any time since being thrown back into each other's lives?
His words made her heart stutter, but there were too many contradictory thoughts in her mind. Follow protocol – persuade him. Trust him – but he's not telling you everything. Can my feelings be trusted? What were her feelings, beyond this infuriating want deep in her body, especially in this proximity with his skin on hers.
They stared at each other for seconds - maybe minutes. Green on black. Black on green. A loud, crackling announcement at a faulty gate intercom startled them both to attention.
"Flight 887 from New York to Antananarivo via Paris now boarding priority passengers."
X
X
X
The Xavier Institute - War Room
"That concludes the background." Kitty went back to her seat.
Ororo took the helm next, raising a video of Erik Lehnsherr dressed in a civilian version of his usual maroon uniform that made him look more approachable than usual. "This missive was sent via diplomatic cable to G20 countries a few hours ago," she said and hit play.
"Leaders of humankind's most prosperous and advanced nations," Magneto began. As he spoke, the camera slowly panned out, revealing that he sat at a simple but elegant light wood table in a floor-to-ceiling windowed skyscraper overlooking a glimmering modern cityscape in bright midday sun, lush flora and tranquil ocean in the background. "You have the opportunity to witness the beginning of a new era, a day of liberation for both our kinds. We invite you to Foundation Day, a week-long event of goodwill and diplomacy beginning in three days hence. As our most honored guests, you will be treated to the highest hospitality and see with your own eyes what mutants have built with our extraordinary abilities in our new sovereign nation. Your safety is guaranteed – we have nothing to gain from harming you on a day whose goal is celebration. Attached to this video are names of senior officials we will accept, no one lesser. You may bring your own limited security; details will be shared if you agree to attend. I, and the rest of the Genoshan government, look forward to your response." The video abruptly ended.
"G20 leaders agreed that this visit would be organized through the United Nations," Ororo said next, "and the X-Men have been specially invited by the UN Secretary General to join his cohort. The Professor, Warren, and I will leave in the morning for UN headquarters to join urgent planning sessions with other G20 representatives."
Scott frowned, "The Professor and Ororo I get, they're irreproachable leaders of the U.S. mutant community. But no offense, why you, Angel?"
"It may have something to do with how I'm the third richest man in the country and the only mutant billionaire," Warren shrugged. He winked at Jean, and Scott's frown deepened. "Or the fact that Worthington Industries has holdings in advanced aviation, media, and energy around the world. There is some kind of effect from the Worthington name."
Emma Frost nearly rolled her eyes, "Yes yes we know you're amazing, Warren. And what's a global summit without some corporate interests represented? Make no mistake, these governments are not beyond considering what they can exploit from relations with a mutant nation. Not even hate trumps capitalism."
"Everything is on the table," Ororo agreed. "And neither should we assume that the UN flag over this human delegation means there is no danger. This is without doubt an emergency visit to assess the threat of Genosha to human-controlled governments – they would not take the risk of exposing themselves otherwise. The slightest mishap or misunderstanding…we could see ourselves caught in the middle of the next great war. Erik will know this as well. This will be the most highly scrutinized and fraught interaction of humans and mutants we've ever experienced."
Ororo flicked her wrist and the hologram shifted to show the X-Men and X-Corps members split across three teams, each with a team leader: Gold - Ororo, Xavier, Warren; Red - Logan, Jean, Kurt, Bobby; Blue - Emma, Piotr, Scott, Kitty.
Kitty and Scott started protesting at the same time: "Why would we follow her?" "We shouldn't split up the X-Men."
Ororo held up her hand, palm facing outward, blue eyes a sharp gaze of steel, "As Logan said, you do not have to participate in this mission, but if you are, team assignments and leads are not up for negotiation – we organized every team to have a balance of psychic and physical abilities. Remember – our objective is reconnaissance and seeking information to understand the web of Selene and Essex. But we must be ready for anything. While Gold Team begins at the UN tomorrow morning, Red and Blue Teams will have two days to prepare for the pilgrimage."
"Pilgrimage?" Kurt echoed. "Interesting vord choice…"
Logan smirked, "Gold Team is getting the VIP treatment, and we'll be going under the radar as civilian mutant emigrants to see what's really happening."
The younger X-Men exchanged nervous looks.
"It'll be fine guys," Jean said, not sounding so confident herself. This was the biggest operation they'd ever been on, with so many more mutant lives at stake right in front of them. Anyone who didn't feel the weight of the moment was lying.
"When will we rendezvous with Rogue?" Emma Frost asked, a probing eyebrow rising sharply.
"She'll send us her plan once she's tracked down the AWOL Cajun," Logan said. He glanced at his watch. "If I know her at all, she's probably already nabbed him. Now, get some rest tonight people. We'll start on the tactical plans at 6AM sharp. Like Storm said, this is ain't gonna be a walk in the park. It'll take everything we have."
X
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X
JFK International Airport, New York City
Remy released her wrist and cleared his throat, standing up, "Dat my cue, chere."
Rogue decided it was her turn to be bold. She stood, grabbed his arm swiftly and stopped him in place before he could turn away; she held him with strength that was not naturally hers. "Need Ah remind you, Ah can make you comply."
He narrowed those devil-red eyes on her, "You'd really use your powers on me dat way?"
"You clearly aren't listening to reason," she huffed. "Going alone on something like this makes no sense – no matter who you are, no matter what powers you have. Ah don't know how you think you're sparing me from anything with this reckless behavior, but Ah will not let you get yourself killed. It always takes a team. That's something Ah've learned the hard way. So, dealer's choice." She released him, resting her hands on her hips and looking at him expectantly, "We doing this the right way, or the way where Ah make you think you're my slave?"
At his smirk, she immediately wished she had chosen a different threat. But he didn't use the opportunity to make a glib remark. "Fine," he said. "We do dis your way – for now. Doesn' mean you're in charge."
"We'll see about that," she said with a sarcastic smile. She turned away from the gates, "Come with me."
"Quoi? The flight is boarding."
"X-jet trumps commercial airline, don't you think?"
"Can't argue dere. Give me a moment."
"Cajun -–" she started to protest.
"Just a moment."
She watched him walk over to a distressed-looking woman with swirling patterns of ink on her body. She clutched a toddler in her arms and looked to be in near tears as she spoke with the desk agent.
"Give her my spot, mon ami," Remy said to the agent, sliding his boarding pass across the desk to the woman. "Cut through de red tape dis one time."
The woman gawked in silent surprise.
The agent looked nervously between them, "I don't know, sir. We're really not supposed to do that…"
"Nobody will be de wiser," Remy pressed. "Do de right thing dis once and give her a chance. Be de hero, mon frere. You won't regret it."
"This doesn't even get her to Genosha. Your ticket stops in Madagascar."
"She'll figure out de rest. Just give dem a chance."
After a few moments sweating and Le Diablo Blanc staring him down, the agent groaned and scanned the boarding pass, "Welcome aboard, ma'am."
The woman burst into tears and wrapped her free arm around Remy, the other clutching a now-sleeping child. "Thank you thank you thank you," she sobbed.
Rogue studied him as he bid the woman bon voyage and felt like she was getting a glimpse of who Remy really was for the first time in a long while.
As they set off together across the concourse, she couldn't help but ask, "How do you know going to Genosha is right for them?"
"I just wanted to help her out of de current hopelessness," he said. "I hope it was de right thing to do." He glanced at her with a look of uncertainty.
She wanted to reach out and squeeze his hand. Instead, a quiet nod of understanding.
