It didn’t take Logan very long to realize that Rogue could fight, and fight well, and fight damned hard; and it wasn’t long before they were interrupted, in any case. Logan didn’t hear the door open because his skull was humming from the most recent blow it had received from Rogue, who had simply chosen to ignore the door. It took Scott a few minutes to get their full attention, and he was unnerved by the way they turned to glare at him in unison, like two wolves squaring off with a deer who had interrupted them, and solved the problem of their dinner.
Before they could get in any snark, Scott broke the sudden silence. “Genosha has just launched some kind of long-ranged missile. It’s too big to be a bomb. It’s something meant to target mutants, and is scheduled to land in an hour. Let’s go, Wolverine.” He started to turn away.
Rogue spoke up: “Did they call it a ‘Sentinel Launch’?”
Scott froze. “How did you know that.” He turned to glare at her, but fell abruptly silent when he caught sight of her face.
The anger and ferocity written across her features could have made Wagner weep and call his ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ worthlessly impotent. Rogue said simply, “Ah’m goin’ with you. You’ll need my help with this.”
Scott made a sound of unease and looked at Logan.
Logan seemed to be looking at Rogue with interest, the coolness of his consideration not quite covering his own instinctive flare of anger, which did not quite match Rogue’s, but which still did not look remotely merciful. “He’s worried that you’d have a problem with chain of command, Darlin’.”
Scott looked at Rogue again.
She looked at him back. “Do ya want your team to survive?” she barked.
Scott scowled. “You know the answer to that.”
Rogue’s eyes narrowed. “Then don’t worry about tellin’ me what to do, boy. I know more about keepin’ soldiers alive than most anybody on the planet.” Her accent was a mixture of her own Southern drawl, a hint of Logan, and a very notable trace of Nick Fury, but her thoughts and emotions were all her own, even if the memories they fed off of often weren’t. “Now let’s go beat this walkin’ cliche` they’re sendin’. Ah’ll go get my uniform.” She marched out.
Scott watched her, his mouth open slightly. Finally, he seemed to regain the ability to speak. “Did she just call me boy?”
“That she did, Scooter. I’d listen to her, though. This time, at least. My bet is, she stole the thoughts of a few people in that compound she was trapped in, and knows somethin’ about the Sentinel program. Where is this missile supposed to land?”
They stood in New York City within forty minutes, gathered and waiting, watching the horizon with notable tension. The Sentinel Launch was predicted to land in Central Park. Logan said he could hear the approach of Black Hawk helicopters in the distance. By then, they could see the projectile. Logan noted that Rogue’s feet didn’t quite the ground; instead, they hovered a few inches above it.
Logan knew that if he’d had the opportunity to face down a direct attack from Stryker, he would have the same look on his face. He couldn’t help but smirk when she started to ease into the air as the others were distracted, fixated on the sight of the approaching weapon. Earlier, Rogue had given a brief summary of what she knew about the sentinels:
Ya remember the Terminator movies? Remember the nasty androids tryin’ to kill specific targets? Imagine havin’ ‘em about ten feet tall, less skeleton-like but more cheesy destoryer-robot, an’ programmed to seek-an’-destroy mutants. That’s the whole big idea behind the sentinels: mutant exterminatin’ machines.
She was right; it was terribly cliche`, but then, so was most Genosha’s rhetoric.
It took a full two minutes for the others to realize Rogue was in the air, headed to intercept the projectile, and that was because she was then visible as a speck in the air.
“What’s that headed for the missile?”
“I don’t know...”
“Where’s Rogue?”
At that point, Logan was already halfway into the blackbird.
“Where are you going?” Scott barked.
“To get buckled in.”
“Why would you-” Jean started, but was interrupted.
“The missile is changing directions! It’s following Rogue!” Storm shouted.
From Jubilee: “What the fuck-”
“In the plane! Everyone in the plane! Jean, Storm, get ready to pursue. And Storm? Make things difficult as soon as we’re somewhere less populated,” Scott ordered.
“Cyke, we’re in New York! Everywhere is populated,” Logan snapped.
“He’s right, Scott, I’ll need to be able to concentrate, and there will still be a lot of...excessive damage,” Storm said.
“Something tells me that there’s going to be a lot of that, regardless,” Scott growled.
Logan gave a nod of approval.
Rogue, to her credit, found the largest empty space outside the main of New York City to land in. Of course, shortly after she landed, she had to dodge the missile, and still ended up vanishing under the tail end of it as the blackbird landed.
The X-men emerged just in time to see the outer shell of the projectile fall open, and Rogue explode from underneath their remains to launch herself at the first android within reach. It was a striking sight, lit up in the sudden Storm-induced darkness by a few flashes of lighting as Rogue tore apart metal as the machines turned on her. She looked like pure rage incarnate; beautiful the way that fire is beautiful. The rest of the X-men closed in as Rogue was hit with the first flashes of pink-red blasts from the sentinels. The humming, zapping sounds of the blasts were interrupted by shouts of pain and lots of cursing. Once Rogue got away from the cannon-fire she shouted a warning that the blasts would badly injure anyone without invulnerability.
There were eighteen machines in total. Iceman, Jubilee, Siryn and Kitty worked in unison with the ease that came from endless drilling, fending off three sentinels. Storm had formed a narrow, but powerful cyclone, as well as a great deal of lightning, while Cyclops and Jean worked in tandem; the three of them took out five of the colossal machines. Logan had asked Colossus to fling him at one of the sentinels, and worked from there as Colossus took it upon himself to aid Storm in aiming her lightning bolts, and making sure Jubilee and Siryn didn’t get stepped on, before finally teaming up for some more productive destruction with Remy, with whom he took out two sentinels.
Logan and Rogue finished off all of the rest.
The most impressive light shows came from the others, but Logan and Rogue were by far the most brutal and efficient in their fighting. Logan beheaded two within the first five minutes, before he was knocked to the ground and forced to work harder; although he got a pretty good view now and then of Rogue tearing open the metal joints of the machines with her bare hands. He had heard her scream a few times. The powerful blasts from the machines challenged even her durability. Her uniform had also suffered, which Logan found profoundly disappointing, because seeing her in it had been one of the day’s highlights.
It took them half an hour to fully subdue the threat, by which time S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopters were landing nearby. Rogue looked like she might like to quietly retreat into the blackbird, but something about all the adrenaline and endorphins and burning rage still flooding her system made her instead straighten up and stand amongst the X-men.
She looked up at Logan when he stepped up beside her.
He looked down at her, still breathing hard. “You alright? You took some bad hits.”
Rogue gave a crooked, somewhat unconvincing smile. “They modeled those blasts after Havok’s. He’s the only one Ah know who can cause that much hurt to my invulnerability.”
Logan’s brow drew in consideration. “Havok Summer, ya mean?”
Rogue looked momentarily surprised. “Rescued from the compound?”
Logan nodded.
“Well, that’d explain a lot, then,” she said idly. With the way she spoke––trying not to breathe too deeply––she sounded like she had bruised ribs, and much of her abdomen was indeed exposed where it had not been before, burnt away.
The smell of charred fabric was powerful, and made Logan uncomfortable, because it reminded him of how close they had passed by Ellis Island today, and of the smell of her burnt skin on top of a certain statue. He examined her visible flesh. “You’re not burnt, though.”
“Not visibly. Ah’ll be bruised like Hell tomorrow, and my skin is uncomfortably stiff where it got overheated.” She ran her fingers along her stomach and winced, exhaling through her teeth in a pained hiss. But when the S.H.I.E.L.D agents got closer, Rogue was able to completely ignore discomfort, glaring at them in distrust as they spoke with Scott. A few were shooting her suspicious glances. Two who notably turned to whisper to each other about Rogue were interrupted by gloved hands clamping down on their shoulders.
Nick Fury said something to them about a level of security that they dared not dream of, and then approached Logan and Rogue. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, when he knew he was within range of being clawed, but stepped closer still. “Logan. Rogue.” He nodded to both of them. “I take it one of your team was responsible for re-directing the Sentinels?”
Logan and Rogue exchanged glances.
“You could say that,” Logan said finally.
Fury glanced almost imperceptibly back toward his team. Once he was satisfied that they were distracted by Summers, Fury looked at his old friend more significantly, his grimness momentarily sharpened by remorse. “I’m sorry, Logan.”
There was a tense pause, and then Logan nodded firmly, still holding Fury’s gaze. “I know.” There was something firmly accepting in the way he said it, and Fury relaxed a near-imperceptible fraction, exhaling heavily.
Then Fury turned his eye on Rogue and gave a grateful nod.
Rogue raised a hand to her temple in a respectful salute.
After a moment’s hesitation, Fury smirked and gave her a light salute back. “At ease.”
Rogue lowered her hand. “How’s the world treatin’ ya, Nick?”
“Better than yours, by the looks of it.” He took a pull of his cigarette as he eyed the tattered remains of their uniforms with a clinically detached gaze. “But not by much. Turns out a few more of those were launched. One to London, one to Tokyo, and one to Hong Kong. A few of them were invited, like the ones in St. Petersburg and Berlin, but most weren’t. They’re calling it a sort of advertising. Only this particular one was launched direct from Genosha, since the U.S. has been the most thorough in keeping them off our soil, and away from our radical crazy folks who might build places from which they can launch these things. In the other countries, Genosha’s just been backing local anti-mutant groups who made the launches.” He tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette. “The X-men have been of help there. As have you, Rogue. Where’s that uniform from, anyway?”
Rogue shook her head. “People who privately pay the politicians on our side, and that’s all ya need to know, Nick.”
“How did they pay you, specifically?” Nick inquired.
Rogue wiggled her bare fingers at him. “With the means to my own self-control.”
Fury looked thoughtful, but masked. “Hm. And I haven’t heard of them?”
“Ya hadn’t a year ago, and they’ve only gotten more careful over time. Sometimes, even Ah almost cain’t find traces of ‘em where Ah know there should be.” She shrugged. “Besides, ya’ve never liked people with Mythology in their names.”
Fury shook his head. “Fine. But we’ll find ‘em eventually.”
Rogue only smirked vaguely.
Fury was finally called back into the fold, vanishing amongst the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. Logan turned to look at Rogue again, and was slightly surprised to see a hint of that same resignation that had crossed her face once before, with Remy.
She tensed at first, under the touch of Logan’s hand on her shoulder, but his hand was gentle––not actually gripping, just settling there. After a few moments, she relaxed and leaned into the touch a little, looking slightly surprised, her gaze on the ground.
“You’re on the record now,” Logan murmured. “Might as well stick around.”
She smirked a little. “Ah dunno. Ah’ve gotten pretty used t’ bein’ a ghost. It’s a big adjustment.” A look of hesitation crossed her face. “Maybe Ah can delete the data once they enter it tonight...”
Logan’s hand squeezed, just a little. “Stay.” It was more request than command; in fact, it was almost a plea.
Rogue’s eyes fell shut for a few moments, but she unconsciously leaned into his hand a bit more. “How do ya do it, Logan? How do ya stand so much light? Do ya miss the shadows? It’s so much quieter there, so much less...exposed. Less vulnerable.”
Logan thought about it, his thumb stroking along her shoulder slowly back and forth. “There’s plenty of shade, here. You’re not as exposed as ya think. Well, not to the others.”
She smirked a little at that. “But to you?”
“I see more than they do.”
Rogue nodded. “Yeah.” She finally opened her eyes, turning her head to meet Logan’s gaze, reading his face curiously, finding that he was not afraid of her. “Ah keep wonderin’ when Ah’m finally gonna scare ya.”
Logan tilted his head a little. “You already did. When I found your blood on the statue.”
Rogue’s brow furrowed a little, but smoothed along with the rest of her expression into a casual mask as she looked at the ground again. Her eyes fluttered shut when she felt Logan’s hand slide down her back, and slowly back up: gentle, and careful not to touch her where her skin was damaged, but unhesitant to touch the less injured skin, even now that he knew what it could do to him. She really liked his touch, for a lot of reasons, some of which she found all too appealing, and she wondered if those reasons were clouding her judgement, but didn’t really care. “Logan...” Her voice was a little softer than she’d intended.
“Are ya really thinkin’ about runnin’ again?” he asked quietly.
Her eyelids lifted enough for her to look up at him through her thick eyelashes. “Aren’t you?” she countered.
Logan’s lips formed a solemn line. “Usually.”
Rogue put her hand on top of his, which had again settled on her shoulder. Her fingers stroked his knuckles where the skin was still tender from healing over repeated extensions of his claws, and she was dimly aware of the silent almost-pause in his breathing when she did so. “Ah’ll stay, Logan,” she said quietly, holding his gaze and smiling faintly. It was the smile of an old soldier who hadn’t been in battle in a while, but after a good brawl was smiling as much because of the pain she felt as through it. Not many understand how some kinds of pain can feel like a bittersweet homecoming, but Rogue knew damned well that Logan was one of ‘em.
He smiled back in the same fashion. “Good. I won’t be alone with these idiots.” He jerked his head in the direction of Scott.
Rogue grinned at that, giving a low chuckle, but it made her think, and she looked at Logan more closely again, pondering the implications before she added, “Yeah, and Ah won’t be alone with a world a’ further idiots.”
They exchanged glances, and moved to join the rest of the X-men.
Jubilee looked Rogue over and whistled. “Damn, chica, how many hits did you take?”
This caught Remy’s attention, and despite the sunglasses he wore, it was clear that his eyes had widened and he was taking in Rogue’s exposed skin. He swallowed thickly.
Rogue was aware of his gaze, but ignored it, instead meeting Jubilee’s. “A few dozen.”
“Must be nice to be indestructible,” Siryn said.
Rogue gave a bitter sort of smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s got some benefits.”
Logan watched her walk up the steps into the blackbird, knowing that the others didn’t see the way she favored her left ankle, and how stiff her back was against the pain from blast-scorched skin along her back, stomach, and arms. Just as he knew they never noticed how gingerly he tended to move limbs where bullets and shrapnel hadn’t worked their way out of his flesh yet. He, too, was bitter. But he followed Rogue, wondering if she wanted to be a little less alone than she’d been for most of her life. She was making him think that he did.
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