Summary (Chapter.01): The first meeting….two words, Laughlin City. Things work out differently this time.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of the x-men character in any of the different Marvel universes (Cartoon, Comic or Movie). All owned and copyrighted by Marvel Comics.
Author’s Note: This fic. is going to involve and take from all sources I have access to, i.e. the two X-Men movies, the Evolution Cartoon series and all the comics (Uncanny, New, Astonishing and Ultimate). Lets see how it works out.
This has been in the works from my very first fic. I hope I know the characters well enough to do justice to them.
** ** indicates telepathic communication
‘ ’ indicates thought
“ ” indicates spoken words
“Hey kid,” the trucker’s gravelly voice jarred the woman, nee girl from her semiconscious state. “Get up. Yer stop is here.”
“Huhn,” large innocent dark brown eyes peered from inside the green hood covering the girl’s head.
Looking through the front and passenger side window, she saw the *city* she was in. All it consisted of was about a handful ramshackle buildings that looked like they would collapse at any moment. One of them had lights on inside and from the shadows appearing in the windows, was the *in* place to be in this city.
“Ah thought ya were taking meh t’ Laughlin City?” she turned to the potbellied trucker, who even as she sat inside the truck, was backing up to turn around and return on the path he had come on to leave her.
“This is Laughlin City,” he replied as he scratched his three-day-old stubble.
“Some city,” she mumbled under her breath, casting another wary eye at the dump she had managed to land in.
“Thank ya,” she drawled as she opened the door, which took a couple of tries to yank open. A couple of tries and hard kick to be factually correct. She was truly thankful, not for the place, but for the ride and for the fact that the fifty plus father of five had kept his hands to himself. He had been kind enough to get a decent enough meal, even if consisted of a simple burger and coffee, in which she had dumped a shitload of cream in order to get the most amounts of calories as possible.
As soon as she jumped off the truck, did the driver pull away, causing snow…slush to splash all over her calf length overcoat.
Anther *freebie* which she instantly felt was the frigid winds which slapped against her, causing her to draw herself closer and run, well huddle to the building, which turned out to the only bar in the *city*.
‘Fuck city,’ she wanted to say, but even after spending eight months on the road, she was still able maintain her manners.
-----
The first thing she did once inside the *building*, was cough her lungs out as the choking smell of smoke, alcohol, sweat, blood and urine hit her.
“The best in Canadian backlands,” she said, as if talking to herself.
Looking around, her eyes stuck on the cage in the middle of what must have been at one time a warehouse. It seemed to the center for attraction for almost everyone in the place.
Inside it were two men, who were clearly trying their level best to pound the living hell out of the other.
As if drawn by an invisible force, she found herself walking to the cage. Once nearer, she was able to get a clearer picture, and it was then she saw the most perfect specimen of male body she had ever seen.
He was standing with his back to her, cracking his neck just after having knocked his opponent down….the poor guy was so out that his tongue was lolling out, licking at the dust on the cage floor.
She appreciated his physique, which as he was wearing a pair of faded jeans, was clear as day for anyone to see. He was covered with blood, but as there was no torn flesh or marks of any other kind on him, she thought that it must have been from his opponents. His whole upper body was covered in a light sheen of sweaty moisture and his hair…his hair were sticking out like in each and every direction, giving him a ferocious and intensely threatening look. *WILD* her mind screamed out.
Feeling something boring into her she looked up to gaze into dark, almost midnight black eyes, which seemed to stuck at her as their *owner’s* nose flared. The whole *do* made her stop in her tracks, her own eyes widening as he seemed to grow large right before her eyes.
*CLANG* the cage door opened and drew the attention of her *observer* away from her, causing her to let out the breath she had been holding.
-----
Turning towards the door, she saw the *emcee* enter the cage.
“Gentlemen, in all my years, I have never seen anythin’ like that. Are ya gonna let this man walk away with yer money?”
Even as the girl looked on, another soon to be stretcher *lover* jumped up and plodded to the cage.
“Whatever ya do,” the emcee whispered loud enough for the girl to hear. “Don’t hit him in the balls.”
“Fuck off,” the challenger flicked his warning off.
Meanwhile, Mr. Perfect as the girl had taken to call the winner, was lounging in his corner, taking a puff off his smoldering cigar and a shot of some kind of alcohol that the jaded waitress had handed him, while giving him a clear view of her, uh, assets.
Cracking his neck and stretching his perfect muscles, he turned around and walked to the center of the cage where both the emcee and the challenger were waiting for him.
----
As soon as the emcee made the obligatory announcements and waddled out, the two men started circling each other.
It was the challenger who made the first and in his case, the last move. He aimed at Mr. Perfect’s groin, but just missed and hit just below his jumbo size belt buckle.
‘Thaht’s gotta hu….maybe not,’ her line of thought of thought changed as Mr. Perfect just seemed to go crazy.
The next punch thrown by the challenger sounded as if it had hit a metal wall….although all he had hit was the center of Mr. Perfect’s *perfect*palm.
“AAAAaaaaa…,” his cry rang as Mr. Perfect’s palm closed as in a fist, the *chall-loser’s* fist caught between it.
----
‘Did he just growl?’ the girl’s mouth fell open as Mr. Perfect drew the *chall-loser* towards him.
A loud and effective sound announced the end of the fight as Mr. Perfect let go of the loser and with the same fist that had been crushing his bones, knocked the daylights of him. The punch was so forceful that the other man flew off his feet and landed ass-first on the floor, his body making a loud *THUD*.
Moments later the emcee entered the cage along with two other men, who brought the loser’s newest lover, the stretcher and carted them both out.
Knowing that there would no other idiots stupid enough to challenge Mr. Perfect, he stepped forward and yanked the hanging mike down.
“Ladies and gentlemen tonight's winner and still king of the cage, the WOLVERINE.”
‘The Wolverine,’ the girl finally got a name to pin on Mr. Perfect’s perfect chest.
----
Almost instantly the crowed thinned. Now that the main attraction had ended, the people were going home for the night….leaving the *city*.
Walking to the main counter, the girl dug into her pockets and drew out all her *monetary* funds….one Canadian Dollar, plus change. Her eyes rose and fell from the menu board where the cheapest item was listed at more than double than what she held in her gloved hand.
“Huhn,” she sighed as she asked for the only thing she could at that time….water. The bartender was so *helpful* that he asked if she wanted it on the rocks. Having spent the better part of a year in places like this, she glibly answered, “Plain.”
Looking up from the *super-clean* glass and water she had been just served, her eyes fell on the large glass *tip* jar that stood just a couple of feet from her.
Given the dire state she was in, the barest temptation rose in her, which from the bartender’s next action was pretty clear to him too. Grabbing the jar, he moved it to the other end of the counter.
Picking up her *order*, she settled down on one of the now empty tables in the place. She had no place to go and was in no hurry to leave the warm confines of the now bearable bar for the lovely weather that awaited her on the other side of the door.
She had just started wallowing, when….
….Mr. Perfect came and sat down on a stool at the counter.
----
“In other news…” the television blared as the bartender handed over a wad of cash to Mr. Per…Wolverine.
Her breath hitched at the news story. It was about the mutant *menace*….about *her kind*.
As soon as the story changed, she averted her eyes, drawing the hood of her coat closer, as if trying to disappear. She further moved away, when she noticed the Wolverine glancing at her before returning his attention to the beer lying before him.
“Ya want somethin’ else, honey? Or are ya stickin’ with the water?” the bartender rattled her already frayed nerves, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“No, thank ya,” she answered meekly, wanting the old man to just walk away and leave her alone, which he did gladly.
----
The next moment hell broke loose…well started to break loose actually, as the stretcher-lover came trudging from lord knows where, his piss drunk friend accompanying him, just for show sake.
“Hey,” he barked at the Wolverine. “You have something that belongs to me.”
With those prophetic words, hell DID beak lose, and before she knew, she was crying out to Wolverine, who even as the words left her mouth, had sprung into action and pinned the man to one of the many wooden support beams…literally pinned him, with two, twelve inch blades on either side of his neck, while a third one slowly emerged from what she saw with bulging eyes, was from between his second and third knuckle.
*Cling Clang* her mind started again at the sound of metal hitting the wooden floor and striking against metal. Her eyes saw that what she had heard was what had been the end of a double barrel shotgun that the bartender had leveled against Wolverine's head.
Fearing for her own *mutant* life, she silently slid away, and moments later got under the tarp of trailer of the only truck left standing in the parking area….the only truck she thought she might be save in…..the truck belonging to the Wolverine.
-----
“Ow,” she whimpered as the truck came to a grinding halt, causing her to hit her head against the cold-hard metal side.
Moments later, “Hey,” something poked at her freezing body.
“HEY,” the growl was louder the second time as the tarp was yanked off, bringing her face to face with a very angry and due to the dark, a very scary Wolverine.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?” he growled at her, blowing smoke and breath into the pitch black night.
“Ahm sorry,” she apologized as he pulled her into a seating position. “Ah needed a ride. Thought ya might help meh.”
“Get out,” he yanked her out of the trailer, growling as her painful wince.
“Where am Ah supposed t’ go?” she cried out, her voice a mere squeak due to the intense cold and fear of being left behind in the middle of nowhere.
“Don't know,” he tossed over his shoulder, surprised at her actions. Not only had she hitched a ride in his trailer after witnessing the bar scene, she wasn’t even scared of him, which he found intensely annoying….even unnerving.
“Ya don't knoh or don't care?” she tried again.
“Pick one,” he shot her down once again as he opened the driver side door.
“Ah saved yer lahfe.”
“No you didn't.”
----
“Please, Ah’ll do anything,” she pleaded in a last ditch effort. “Ahm just lahke ya.”
“What do ya mean?” that got his attention. “What do ya mean *like* me?”
“What?” she was taken aback for a moment at the sudden change in him. “Ahm also a mutant,” she whispered dejectedly. “Ah really need this rahde. Ah’ll do anything.”
Even with her head hung to her chest, she heard the crunch of snow as heavy feet padded towards her.
“What do ya mean ya will do anything?” Wolverine took a deep sniff, his nostrils filling with her young, hungry…practically starving, scared, cold and *pure* scent. What he also detected, and what was of the utmost importance to him was that there wasn’t a whiff of lying about her.
“Anything,” she didn’t want to look up, fearing that her false strength would fade away.
-----
“Uhmm,’ she flinched away as a gloved finger came up to her cheek. “Don’t touch meh, I don’t want t’ hurt ya.”
“WHAT?” His annoyance grew even further.
“Its mah – mah….”
“Mutation,” he supplied the word.
“Ah can’t touch anyone,” he caught the hitch in her voice, also noticing that her body had started shivering in the intense cold. “Its mah skin.”
“What about it? Why can’t I touch ya?” she thought that she imagined the mildest of concern in his growl.
“When people touch meh, they get hurt,” he smelled the pooling tears. “They – they die.”
It was only through his enhanced senses he caught the last word.
-----
“So ya will do ANYTHING. Will ya?” he asked for confirmation.
This time she merely nodded, not able to look him in the eyes. She knew what she was offering and by his tone, it seemed….do did he.
“Get in the truck.”
----
“Thank ya,” her voice was thick due to her accent and the cold.
“Hn,” was the entire acknowledgement she got, as the truck started moving again.
“What’s yer name?” he rolled the cigar to a side.
“Rogue.”
“What kind of a name is Rogue?”
“What kind of a name is Wolverine?” he arched a brow at her almost teasing tone. The warmth seemed to be working to loosen her.
“Logan,” his right hand shot out at her.
“Marie.” She answered sweetly as she hesitantly took his hand, his large paw swallowing up her smaller one.
“Now Marie lets see what can ya do fer this ride,” he jerked his head to the back of the cabin, a grin forming on his face at her widening eyes.
“Oh….”
-----
Back at Laughlin City,
Two strangers walked out of the now closing bar, one of them a tall, handsome man, oddly wearing ruby colored glasses, while the other almost equally tall, dark skinned woman, with hair matching the color of the freshly fallen snow.
“We were late,” breath-vapor clouded his view of his companion.
There was no answer from the woman, who seemed to be lost in the gentle snowfall. She enjoys the weather…because she *controls* the weather.
“Ororo,” her name is like a soothing rain on the parched Sahara. “STORM,” he tried her codename.
“Yes Cyclops,” she looked as if she had woken up from a dream.
“Are you alright?” his voice carried a brotherly concern. They are teammates, friends…even family.
“Yes,” her voice still carried the accent of her motherland, or at least the place she calls as her true motherland….Africa.
“We should contact the Professor,” her tone became all business.
“Yes,” he nodded. “I don’t understand how we lost this one. According to the bartender, she left along with a cage fighting mutie freak….”
“….Wolverine,” she completed his words, frustration clearly visible on both of them. They had been tracking the young girl for months now.
----
**Professor** Cyclops sent out a mental call.
**Yes Scott** Charles Xavier, also known as Professor X, one of the most powerful telepaths on earth answered.
**She’s gone sir**
**Gone?** even the thought that came back had a cultured British accent to it.
**Yes sir…and apparently she left with someone names Wolverine**
**I had detected a mutant signature in the area. I didn’t know it was him. Even with Cerebro I cannot have an accurate lock on him, and the girl, she seems to have the same case…maybe they share mutant characteristics** Xavier answered. **However, even that single mutant signature disappeared about an hour ago.**
**What do we do now sir? If she is with him, she is as good as gone.**
**Yes, I am afraid that seems to be the case** Xavier sighed.
**Scott, return home**
-----
Four months after that night,
“What are you thinking?”
“You should know,” Scott Summers smiled as he answered. “You are the telepath, not me.”
“I know,” two slender hands snaked around from his back as red hair were draped across his back. “It…”
“….feels nice to ask sometimes,” he completed her thoughts.
“I thought I was the telepath,” Jean Grey, the telekinetic-cum-telepath came to his front, placing a light kiss on his lips, before turning around to face the open window.
“Oh,” a sad smile formed on her face, as she understood what her lover had been observing.
“Yes, oh,” Scott rested his chin on her shoulder. “She’s changed.”
“Yes,” Jean sighed. “Even after all this time, she still hasn’t been able to move on.”
“Hmm,” Scott let out an equally dejected sigh. “Any discoveries or suspicions?”
“No,” Jean shook her head. “Not as far as I can tell.”
----
“Scott should we…” Jean started.
“No Jean,” Scott cut her line of thought. “Let her be. Give her time.”
They were both lost in thought when a mental call alerted then and the subject of their silent observation.
**All X-Men, report to the war room**
**Yes Professor** Jean replied for Scott and herself. **Is there an emergency?**
**Yes** Xavier answered. **I have just detected a possible source to help us finally find Wolverine**
**Who Professor?** as the leader Scott started his conversation to get a before hand knowledge of their upcoming mission.
**Its another mutant Scott. He may be able to help us. Scott, you will need to get the team ready**
**You are going to New Orleans**
Note: I will be explaining the characters and their origins as the story develops.
Professor X: This one is a mixture of the movie and the evolution series Xavier, with a dollop of uncannyverse Xavier thrown in for good measure. Nothing from the ultimateverse yet for him…..that Xavier is just too *horny*…man, come on – Mystique and Frosty of all the people. He really slummed in that one. Still stuck to the wheelchair. (Age: Fifty plus)
Cyclops: Mostly Ultimateverse…with Evoverse sometimes. (Age: Mid twenties….26)
Marvel Girl/Phoenix: Mixture of Movie and Ultimateverse….with Evoverse sometimes. Jean is younger than Cycke here. (Age: Early twenties…23)
Storm: Everything goes for her. All comics, movies and cartoons I access to. (Age: Mid twenties…..25)
Rogue: *Do ya even need ta ask?* Background story taken from the movies, but the accent is all comic/cartoon. Nothing Weapon X i.e. Ultimate about her….well not yet anyway. (Age: Late teens…not an adult yet…16 and then some)
Wolverine: Same here. All comics, movies and cartoons I access to….body type is taken from Movieverse, but muscular like the Uncanny/Ultimate verse. (Age: Don’t ask)
The rest will be explained as they come.
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