Moments Prior to the Pair's Escape…

Bastion was finishing his final round of sterilization for his bride, his prize, and her ordeal when the lights dimmed once. Twice.

Two picoseconds after the second dimming, Bastion allowed his technopathic abilities to tell him what he needed to know. He infiltrated the communication system like a shadow fleeing across a meadow. He could hear the scrambled relays; and tapping into the camera system, swiftly found what he needed.

Rogue, awake, yet still bound, thrashing so charmingly, so coquettishly in her restraints. She arched her back to the heavens, though it afforded her little movement. But her face was screwed up in concentration and determination that captured his attention completely. He slowed the recording down to watch her lithe movements carefully. Her little show was amusing, and he felt the uncharacteristic tugging at the corner of his lips. Ah, right. That was a 'smile'. Fascinating, the way he found himself emoti-

One of these soldiers here entered her room, and as the seconds ticked by, he sped the feed up. Too many things happened that he didn't enjoy witnessing. Bastion's smile swiftly turned to a snarl. She was freed. She was freed! The collar's demise was an insult felt on a personal level; how dare she be taken from him, unfettered?! Bastion refrained from grinding his teeth, but the frown only deepened further. As he was already tapped into the base's systems it was simplicity itself to set it to self-destruct.

He had itched to perform some of this operation himself, with his own hands. It would have been appropriate, just like it occurred back in the Siege. That was his, by right of their battle, their trial, and their rebirth; how dare it now be denied him! Regretfully, he thought of the cybernetic implants that he designed for her. Had they not been interrupted those elegant devices would dance their way through flesh, cleaving through nerve clusters and latching to bone, as tight as sinew and muscles, supplanting, elevating.

Perfecting.

Leaving the sterilization chamber Bastion casually murdered his way through the building on his route to leave, utilizing the weaponry that lay cast about. A few times he crushed a windpipe, or snapped a neck, but he didn't want to ruin this suit with potential battle damage, or worse, human blood. He wanted to meet his erstwhile brother-by-adoption, Graydon, without stain, or evidence of any strife. The fool had to think of them as equals. Creed had to be placated, pacified. Made absolutely complacent and compliant, right up until Bastion betrayed him.

He remotely disabled all elevators but the ones that would swiftly whisk him to the rooftop where his helicopter was already remotely starting. As he swung the helicopter's door closed he made certain that every magnetic lock on every door remained shut. Certainly a few dozen may escape, and those on patrol avoided this death, but the majority of this section - fully a third of Humanity's Last Stand, would die.

'This will spur that greedy, bastard brother of ours to 'offer' his Friends of Humanity to merge. And then my Purifiers will subsume them all. Our rank and file will swell, allowing our men to avoid dying. Yes, the Friends of Humanity can 'nobly shield' their Purifier comrades.'

He could and would turn this disadvantage around swiftly. He would blame mutants for the destruction of this base. It would be simple enough now that he had the video feed recorded within his memory banks. Some doctoring and a filter to simulate grainy footage. He would make certain that these two couldn't be identified in what he submitted to the news stations.

He settled back into his seat while remotely piloting the craft mentally. He thought to himself how he would adjust his plans, tweak them to his liking. Life for mutants would become much more difficult, but there were stories in all sorts of religious texts of a trial occurring to a people. If his sister refused the easy, correct path, if she was so tempted by this odd, silver-haired snake that dared to enter his Paradise, then he would rain holy fire down upon them all.

'But, mutants first.' he resolved as the helicopter pulled up high enough to whisk him - and only him - away from the blossoming fireball. This base of Humanity's Last Stand - well their third to last stand, on reflection - was eradicated in a series of explosions and booms that caused a minor tremble on the floor of the helicopter. Mentally, Bastion piloted the helicopter to adjust, and the stick moved of seemingly its own accord in response.

Flying into the safe envelope of nightfall, Bastion planned. He would bring this revelation about. But first, he needed to locate his sister; and finish the first steps necessary for them to achieve godhead.

Even if this portion of his plan was on hold, Operation: Zero Tolerance would begin soon. The merge would occur faster than planned, which was fine. Everything else was still progressing along the timetable according to his projections. He would make certain this wouldn't potentially make anything else spiral out of control. He was supremely confident. He knew he would succeed. One deliberate step at a time.

Hours Later…

Together, they stole away as far as they could, and Rogue was counting her blessings that they managed to do so. She still felt gobsmacked by the figure who flew alongside and slightly behind her. This was so perplexing; why did he look like Magneto? Now, finally, she alighted in a low crouch on a rocky outcropping, they paused to regroup.

"You will need clothing." the tall silver-haired man said, the first thing since he had called to her "This way!" as they left Humanity's Last Stand.

'And only one?' she half-asked, half-hoped as they had escaped. But then she regretted that thought, when there was a bright light followed by the rumbling of a sonic boom. It could be heard even as they were already miles away and thousands of feet in the air. She could see it; a small blossoming bud of orange-yellow light that had a series of small bubbles before dying almost as fast as she could turn her head to witness it.

As they flew, Rogue wondered how many had died; and hoped that it wasn't too many. She had a sick feeling that it had been a high number, and That their escape hadn't caused it…if this person - it was Magneto, right? - wasn't with an ulterior motive

For whatever that meant, in whatever way it meant the best. And she desperately wanted to hope this turned out for the best. What could be believed, especially after that many revelations that were lumped on her so rapidly.

"Yeah, s'pretty cold out here in the mountains." she agreed as she rubbed her bared arms with her bare hands. Rogue was so relieved to have control over her body again. Almost all the lethargy was gone from limbs, and now there were only faint tremors. It was bright enough to see; she could now see some of the patterns on her hands, and how bewildering they were. Certain she was a bedraggled mess in a ripped up hospital gown, still, she wanted a mirror. And a shower. The size of Niagara Falls. She started to look down, to check on how bad off she was, when she realized he was moving closer. "Whoa!" she cried out, immediately darting to avoid his touch. Despite his gloved hand protecting him, she wasn't in the mood to let anyone touch her now. "Hol' on there, partner."

"Excuse me, I just though -"

"No, Ah just don't - "

"Wait." he said, as he ushered them back against the rocky wall, where a convenient outcropping would give them shadow in the moonlit night. She didn't complain, didn't argue, especially as he kept a respectful distance while still shielding his very noticeable hair from catching anyone's eye.

She heard it, faintly. All those times absorbing mutants with healing factors, she was nearly, completely positive she had more notice of her senses. Whether it was their powers somehow faintly echoing in her - she couldn't tell and she blamed herself for not mastering her powers still- or just the training that those folks she imprinted were gifting her with their experience, she could tell much more quickly when others were approaching.

Or, in this case, an entire squadron of helicopters from the US Air Force going to check out why there was an enormous explosion within the borders of this country. Rogue felt a sinking sensation in her stomach as those aircraft were followed by those of the local police forces. It took a good ten minutes for the air to quiet down as the engines and blades died away. The pair said nothing, just waited anxiously together in the silence.

Finally they emerged from the mountainous areas, and now on the outskirts of the town the man and Rogue had planned to move to the next, roughly 15 miles southwest. She shivered, counting the minutes as she hovered above the gritty side of the road's shoulder. The way the silver haired man - Magneto…it had to be - looked at her was just how he always did. He wasn't going to leave her, not after all that effort. Logic aside, she knew in heart that he wouldn't, and thus she never doubted it.

He came back within minutes, his own hair stuffed under a brand-new nondescript black baseball cap, a new shirt fresh from the shelf, along with a pair of jeans too large. It was to hide the battle armor he wore underneath, along with the too large flannel shirt he tugged on to hide his arms.

"Thanks, sugah." she managed as he cleared his throat roughly, and then did a smart about face at her raised eyebrow. Did he think to catch an eyeful? 'Fresh,' a bit of her thought as she eagerly shucked the remains of the hospital gown. He seemed to act like he knew her. That look on his face when she expected him to turn around…

He picked some clothing for her, a pair of jeans much like his, a woman's belt in case it was too large, an oversized T-Shirt in the same color as his, perhaps a two-pack, and another large flannel shirt, hers in green. Simple enough clothing to dress up or down, and without the chance to choose various jackets or worrying about fashion. It made them look the same, and she buttoned the shirt up nimbly to hide the fact a little better.

"Alright, sugah, we need to figure things out." she said, trying to sound authoritative. "First off, why do you look like Ma-"

"Your husband?" the man said, as if to supply her with the word she was about to say. It must've been her accent, the way she said the word over her. But the sheer impossibility of the statement caused her mouth to gape open.

"Mah hus-..." she cut off, choking away her surprise at the assertion. She shook her head and raised her hands with a bit of a rueful smile on her face. "Ah assure you, that's not what Ah was about t'say."

The look on his face. Rogue didn't think she could've hurt him worse than if she had socked him a good one across the jaw.

"My apologies…I am…confused," the mysterious man said as his face grew more remote. She embarrassed him, hurt him. Guilt grew in her stomach, and the smile died as the pair set off on foot.

She stuffed her hands in her pockets. "Alright. Let's try again. Ah'm Rogue. Thanks fer savin' me. Ah'd shake yer hand, but that's not a good idea right now, 'kay?"

"I know who you are." he said quietly before rallying into her once again shocked silence. "We should save this discussion for later." his voice sounded so familiar, his face a younger - well, it was disorienting, to say the least. Bewildered, she nodded and the two continued on to the nearest motel, the sign already in view.

With a quick, muttered, "Wait here," he left her outside. A smart move, this kept her away from the line of sight of the clerk at the motel's front desk. One look in a car's passenger windshield and she could clearly see why. She was still marked for surgery. Taking into consideration the oddness of her dress, the state of the windblown snarl that was her hair, it was clear that she was not looking her best, or her most casual. She spent a moment briefly hating the fact that men could wear nearly the same outfit, and look so different than her.

It kept her mind off bigger problems. She ignored the minutes as they stretched into the night, only interrupted by the infrequent road traffic. It was either very late, or very early in the morning, if so little was happening on a road that led to the nearby interstate. Despite knowing it was necessary, she was getting mightily tired of standing outside and waitin-

"I got only one room," he said somewhat sheepishly, and without showing any further emotion -

'No need to embarrass yourself any further, girl,' Rogue thought as she nodded. It would be safer for them to keep together, and she said as much quietly as they moved along, keeping their heads and brims down for any cameras. She noticed he fell into it as easily as she did.

Well, that didn't do too much for her "This isn't Magneto" theory. They seemed to act the way they always did when around one another. He had a room on the second floor of the motel, and they swiftly entered, locking the door securely.

She turned around as Joseph very gentlemanly held the door open for her and let her enter first.

"You will want to shower firs-"

Defiance flared in her, hot and bright. She wanted to take control of something, or punch something even harder. But she could settle for at least controlling the conversation and getting some answers.

"Now hold on," she said firmly and was surprised to see only concern in his expression. He gestured with his hand toward the mirror. Glancing over, she finally, fully getting a look at her face, her hands, and the bit of flesh at her neck.

"Oh, Lordy," she moaned to herself as she parted the button-down flannel shirt, parting the wide neck of the tee so she could see how she had been marked. The patterns and whirls continue around where the collar had lain, around and down, under her recently purchased clothes. Some…looked like the marks a plastic surgeon would use to guide him in a surgery. But others…

There were long lines directed along to make a Y-shaped pattern from the edges of her collarbone to the center of her sternum. The imprint of Beast cleared his throat, trying to remain clinical inside of her.

'Vivisection,' she recited uncomfortably in her mind. 'the practice of performing operations on live animals for the purpose of experimentation or scientific research.' by the end of the explanation, even the shade in her mind was disturbed by the notion. It must've been why she woke. He wanted her aware during it. Chilled to the bone, she also registered the others, which looked like patterns for a circuit board.

Rogue gulped and looked back at Joseph who removed a bottle of shampoo and conditioner all rolled into one from a back pocket sheepishly.

"I thought you might want this, too," he said tentatively, carefully, like he didn't want to offend her by accident again. She noticed his voice, with a strange accent to it, a faint Latin American inflection? Whatever it was, it had a strained tone to it, but also somewhat wondrous. She assumed he had never seen Plus Pert before.

A thought that didn't have malice, but the whole…night was full of self-recrimination. If it was even the same night.

"Thanks. Ah'll be a minute," she muttered before beating a hasty retreat to the tiny motel's bathroom.

She snapped the light on, and the door lock - 'Would it really matter?' and looked herself over the mirror as she awkwardly jerked the clothing off her body.

She was covered, head to feet in lines. Directions, arrows, inserts. But also, all along her body was a very familiar shape. Something she had seen in the memories of the X-Men she had imprinted, the one who went to space with Jean, before she arrived, before Jean was even Dark Phoenix. The scholars who had advised her before, all of their studies had included an introductory course in all the major religions, and their more secretive sects within.

She was covered head to foot with the Sefirot. They stood at as many chakra points to allow, and at every major intersection of her body. A roadmap to her transformation, to be made into some pliable doll for him to project his sick, paternalistic fantasy on. Rogue shuddered violently, and gripped the counter edge.

'Careful!' came the typical admonishment, her usual reminder at almost every action to refrain from damaging anything with her super-strength. Despite all that, she really, really, really didn't want to listen to it right now.

Momma's teachings always won first.

'Still in danger, keep a low-profile.' she recited dutifully, and forced her hands to relax. She'd satisfy that urge to break something later, once she had more answers. Yes, once she knew a little more, was out of harm's way, she'd settle that feeling with a punch to Bastion's smug sonofabi-

Shower. Shower first. She turned to the stall, resolute, and turned it to as hot as she figured she could stand, and then shrugged as she pushed the dial all the way to the red letter 'H'. She was nigh invulnerable, this couldn't hurt her. All the heat would be fine. She wouldn't burn.

Rogue took a shower that lasted the better part of an hour, and almost the entire bottle of Plus Pert.