She could feel the blood, she could feel the blades as they rammed so harshly through her abdomen but she felt no pain. That didn’t mean Rogue didn’t react, the shock of the event left her speechless, gasping, staring up at Logan in fear. Her breaths seemed hard as she naturally panicked and stumbled backwards from Logan. His terrified eyes faded from view as the simulation ended, and Rogue found herself in the control room, sprawled on her back with her gloved hand still clinging to her bleeding midriff. But as she looked down, her uniform bore no holes, nor any sign of injury. In fact, the only evidence Rogue had ever been in the simulation was the rain, which continued to drench her form. She sat up slowly, simply feeling a little winded from the fighting.
“Logan?” she called uncertainly, wondering if he had made his way out of the simulation yet.
Then he appeared on the metal staircase, running up from the arena at a reckless pace. His saturated hair swung over his eyes as he reached the control room, panting as his gaze locked on Rogue. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered as he moved towards her, kneeling by her side and placing a hand carefully at his abdomen.
“I’m fine,” Rogue insisted as she watched him. “It’s not real.”
Logan watched her with careful eyes before he eventually nodded, taking her by the arms and helping her to her feet. “I didn’t mean to.. I just..”
But Rogue shushed him gently, placing her gloved fingers on his lips to cease his apologetic rambles. “Forget it,” she replied quietly. “Neither of us is hurt.” When Logan moved to speak, Rogue shook her head, talking over him. “I’m goin’ to change out of this uniform then we can go and get some food. It’s quite late, y’know?”
“Meet you up in the kitchen?” Logan eventually said, lowering his head in a slightly cowed manner.
Rogue nodded her head at him, a smile on her face. She slipped out of his arms to exit through the parting metal doors, leaving Logan alone. He glanced down at his bare hands, carefully running his fingers over his clean knuckles tentatively. Despite Rogue’s words, he did feel guilty, and rather sickened by the shocking events. But after pushing her away did nothing for her safety, it seemed bringing her closer had to be the best option.
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The sky outside was dark, veiled with clouds to hide the stars from view. It only indicated that the hour was late, and the evening was wearing on, but that didn’t bother Logan, who after quickly drying his hair had travelled to the ground floor kitchen. He helped himself to a beer (so secretly disguised in the fridge as a soda bottle, with Logan’s name penned crudely on the label.) He was in mid-drink when Rogue arrived, her damp hair now tied up in a high ponytail, the ivory streaks drawn across the crown of her head tightly to join the rest of her brunette locks in the elasticated band. She seated herself on the stool opposite him at the breakfast counter, resuming a familiar position they had one adopted a long time ago in this very kitchen.
“Is that beer you’re drinkin’?” she asked as she sat down, eyeing the label which expressed it’s previous contents as fizzy pop below Logan’s marker-pen naming.
There was a grin on Logan’s face as he replied. “’Course it is.”
Rogue raised an eyebrow, before she stood to her feet, moving to the fridge. Logan turned his head to watch her rummage inside before plucking out another soda bottle that was clearly marked with his first name. Before Logan could protest, she had removed the cap and was drinking the cold contents.
“That’s mine,” he said, staring at her as she drank his beer.
Rogue lowered the bottle from her lips, giving him one of her most charming smiles before she moved over to him and brazenly seated herself in his lap. Surprised by her daring behaviour, Logan didn’t vocally respond to her actions. “So am I,” she replied, then taking another swig of the beer.
Logan chuckled quietly, eventually resting his arm against her back. “That’s still my beer,” he said. “And you happen to be drinkin’ it. That means I’m one down.”
“Oh, Logan, don’t be such a spoilsport,” Rogue said, though a grin was evident on her face.
“I didn’t think you even liked beer.”
Rogue shrugged, “I don’t,” she responded simply, before adding. “You do.”
There was a sudden realisation to her initially mystifying reply, and Logan leaned forward to press a rough kiss to her cheek. “Ah, well. Seein’ as I’m partly to blame, I suppose that means I can share my beer. And of course, by share, I mean you can have one out of every eight pack.”
Rogue laughed at his words, playfully hitting him on the shoulder as he spread a wolfish smirk her way. “Oh, yeah, you’re real generous, sugar.” The laughter was returned, but cut short when Logan halted, frowning, as he appeared to pick up a distant sound. “What is it?” asked Rogue, but was shushed softly as Logan placed down his beer and carefully slid to his feet, listening carefully at the otherwise silent mansion.
The other mutants were in bed at this hour, but regardless, this sound was not familiar to the school. Logan gestured for Rogue to both remain still, and to keep quiet. He edged closer to the open doorway, his ears still tuned in expertly. He turned his head as he began searching the air for a scent, eyes roaming out of the doorway as he moved across the threshold.
And that’s when he saw it. Soldiers; their attire as black as night as they drifted through the darkness, gripping weapons. Rogue had quietly followed him, but he quickly grabbed her by her shoulder and pushed her back into the kitchen. “Stay here,” he muttered under his breath before he strode forward, his claws swiftly exiting his knuckles as he silently stalked up upon the nearest soldier, muffling his screams with a hand whilst the other plunged three deadly blades into his back. Rogue stared as she watched Logan continue down the corridor, swiftly taking down soldiers in an eerily expert silence. Now, she herself could hear the drone of helicopters, and she slowly ventured across the kitchen and towards the window, noticing the spotlights in the sky dart around the mansion’s grounds.
Behind her sounded a muffled grunt, and Rogue spun round to see Logan suddenly in the doorway, wrestling with an armed soldier whose rifle had previously been aimed at Rogue’s unsuspecting back. “You picked the wrong house, bub,” he growled in the man’s ear. The solider seemed to decide if he was going to go down like his comrades, he was going to go down with a success, and suddenly let his weapon fire at Rogue. Rogue screamed as the bulletfire started, and she darted behind the kitchen counter to shield herself from the attack. Logan, still having his grip on the man’s arm meant the aim was poor, and instead the bullets shot at the kitchen’s window, before striking the tilted surface of the breakfast counter and smashing their beer bottles into shards.
Rogue crouched down as much as she possibly could, listening fearfully to the rapid gunfire. The bullets stopped when she heard Logan’s angry growl, followed by the sound of knife being unsheathed. The soldier had momentarily gained the upper hand, and now pressed Logan against the counter with a large blade inches from his face. Rogue slowly peeked over the top of the counter, only to see Logan’s blades abruptly shoot from his knuckles, shocking the soldier, who soon found himself thrown backwards against the silver fridge. Logan’s enraged roar bellowed throughout the kitchen as he impaled the man to the fridge door, the injection of his claws leaving the man without support, and he slid down the fridge to crumple on the floor. The fridge door sported six bloodied holes.
Panting, and adopting a closing cut on his cheek, Logan spun his head round to Rogue. “You all right?” he asked her, being replied to which a small nod. Satisfied, Logan nodded in return, then adding an abrupt, “Let’s go,” before he strode to the kitchen doorway, followed by the anxious looking girl. Logan speeded up down the corridor, which bore evidence of his earlier rampage. Rogue kept close to him, following him right into the garage. Logan soon picked out his choice of getaway – Cyclops’ sleek royal blue Mazda. The team leader’s pride and joy only in second place to his cherished Harley Davidson.
Logan got in the driver’s seat, but Rogue stopped him shutting the door as she firmly held onto it, staring at him. “What about the others?”
“They can handle it. Get in,” Logan instructed sharply, pulling the car door from her grip and slamming it shut. Rogue hesitated for only a moment before she ran to the other side and quickly got into the passenger seat. She had barely brought the door closed when the tyres screeched around the dimly lit garage, and the vehicle raced out through the opening doorway and off into the night.
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