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~three months earlier continued~

“Hey Jake, it’s almost closing time. I want you to get these guys outta here.”

Jake continued wiping the shot glass he was cleaning and stared at his coworker. “And where the fuck are you goin’?”

“Anniversary. My old lady’s waitin’ on me. It's been months, if ya know what I mean.” His coworker winked at him as he headed out the door. “Make sure you lock everything up before you go.” Jake waved him off and surveyed the room. He counted four guys he might have to deal with. His eyes settled on the massive form sitting at the end of the bar. He had reddish-blonde hair, blue jeans, and a black shirt that barely contained all his muscles. He was staring intently at the TV. He had been there since Jake clocked in, 6 hours ago, and never stopped staring at the TV. Every hour he told Jake to change the channel to a different news station. He was looking for something. Jake looked at the name on the guy’s tab. Brock. He had ordered a ton of beers since Jake came into the bar. ~Hope I don’t have to deal with him at closing time~ Jake was just about to yell “Last Call!” when another figure came in the door. He slowly dragged his feet to the counter, as if every movement was causing him pain. He flopped down on the nearest seat and muttered an order for a beer. Jake took a deep breath, slightly puffing out his huge chest and clinching his fists to enhance his muscular look. He leaned over the counter until he was right in the guy’s face. “Hey man, it’s all packed up. We’re closed. And plus no shirt, no service-”
The guy looked down at his bare chest, as if just realizing he wasn’t wearing a shirt. His movement caused his dog tag to rattle on the chain. He grabbed it with one hand and swiftly shot his other hand out to grab Jake’s collar.

“I said, give me a fuckin’ beer. I’m just passin’ through.”
Before he realized it, Jake found himself in the back, re-opening a case of beer. He silently cursed himself for being intimidated. Jake was almost twice the size as that “rude little shit” that just walked in. That’s why he had been hired for the night shifts. He was the one to kick out all the drunken bastards that didn’t want to cooperate. But there was something about this guy. Something about the look in his eyes that shook Jake to the core. Not one to mess with. ~He did say he was just passing through. I guess I can let him alone.~

Jake took another deep breath and headed back up front with the beers. Two guys were gone. One guy stood by the door, staring at his cell phone. Left at the counter were Brock and the dark-haired guy that just walked in. They were both now staring at the TV. The blonde guy grinned. Seemed he finally found what he was looking for.

“This Jane Stillman, reporting live from the scene of the murder. It appears that the victim in this case was indeed a mutant.”

Brock snickered while the dark-haired guy snarled.

“The body was found in an alley at six a.m. this morning. The limbs had been severed and the face was “clawed” beyond recognition. Also, his brain, as described from various eyewitnesses, was...brutally removed. The only part that was kept intact was the chest, in which a giant “X” was painted in blood.”

Jake shuddered at the mind picture. This horrendous act happened at six in the morning. Why were they just now showing it so late at night? ~Because the victim was a mutant,~ Jake decided. He watched the news enough during his bar shifts to know that during the day, mutants on the news were portrayed only as the “bad guys”. Murders, robberies, rapes, all crimes seemed to be caused by mutants nowadays. Only at night did the media finally succumb to the truth and show everything. But usually that was only when human witnesses were involved.

“Witnesses say they saw the victim the night before, when he made a scene in front of a local telephone booth. Apparently he was making a call when another man approached and began yelling and making obscene gestures at the victim. The two men exchanged heated words which escalated into physical blows until a policeman arrived and broke them up. The victim wasn’t seen alive again and his accomplice has yet to be found or identified. So far the only lead police have is the telephone records from the public phone. It appears the victim was making a call to the Xavier Institute in Manchester, New York right before the altercation that might have lead to his demise.”

Everyone’s attention was suddenly broken with a hard smack on the table by the big blonde guy. “Finally! Took ‘em long enough!”

He took his beer in one hand, toasted the air in front of him, and took a long drink. Jake gaped at him. Is he actually celebrating the mutant’s death? ~No haters in my bar~. “Hey fellas, it’s closing time now. Get the fuck out.”

“I’ll leave when I’m good and fuckin’ ready. It’s time to celebrate right now. Give me another fuckin’ beer.”

Jake stared at Brock in disbelief. He hadn’t been a problem all day. But now the alcohol finally got to him. Revealed him for what he really was. Jake looked at the other two guys too, who didn’t seem to be moving either. He reached under the counter and grabbed his shotgun. He had had enough. “I said get the fuck out. And I mean it.” The man with the cellphone quickly exited the door and the dark-haired man tossed down a tip and slowly got up. Brock, however, stayed and stared into Jake eyes, with amusement. “You fuckin’ feel sorry for that mutant bastard on TV don’t ya? Well mark my words, the world is better off without him. Without all of ‘em.”

“Wanna run that bullshit by me again bub?”

All eyes turned to the dark-haired man, who was now standing near the door. He stopped and turned around, facing Brock with his fists clenched. Jake froze as he watched the confrontation unfold. Brock smirked at his response. “And who the fuck are you? Another mutant lover?” Brock jumped up from his spot at the counter and slowly walked towards the dark-haired man. The man frowned. “Wanna make something of it?”

“Yeah, the worlds better off without you fuck-offs too-“

“HEY! I said get the fuck out of my bar. Take that shit outside!” Both men turned towards Jake, snarling. Brock snapped, he triggered it all. “Oh no, this includes you too motherfucker!” Before Jake could register what he just said, Brock was jumping over the counter and punching him to the ground. ~What the hell?! His speed…I didn’t even see…!~ Those were Jake’s last thoughts before he lost consciousness. Brock beat him relentlessly until…”Hey asshole, why don’t you bring some of that over here!” Brock stopped and looked up. His fists were bloody...


****************

The woodsy area that surrounded the bar was usually peaceful, quiet. It's what drew the business. But tonight's setting was rudely interrupted by the sound of a body flying through a broken window. Brock's body to be exact. A short feral man with adamantium claws soon came out after. Brock was hardly dazed, hopping to his feet to deliver an upper cut. He caught the Wolverine in mid-battlecry and made him do something he'd never done before. Bite off his own tongue.
Fuck, it stung. Itched like hell growing back in. Distracting. Staggering back, Logan spat out a wad of blood(and his old tongue) on the ground. This crazed maniac was going to be a challenge. Good. He had some frustration to vent. Slicing him up didn't really seem appealing. Logan wanted to pound Remy's....Brock's face into the back of his skull. He retracted his claws and commenced to doing just that. Brock wasn't such an easy target. Logan assumed he was human, but humans couldn't move that fast. Humans couldn't punch that hard either. There was no time to think about his moves. Both men came at each other in a blur of fists and blood. Logan felt like he was attacking a reinforced brick wall, sure that this guy Brock probably felt the same. He sacrificed some severely scraped fingers just to get good hits in, making his healing factor work overtime. When a fist came back at him, Logan noticed all the man's fingers were broken. His knuckles were bleeding raw almost to the bone. ~This man couldn't be human. A traitor? Maybe he's posessed.~
As if to confirm his thoughts, Brock suddenly took on a dark complexion. Logan's sensitive ears picked up a voice like whispering wind. ~Ssstop it. Too much damage. Uselessss.~ None of this seemed to stop Brock. Logan was caught offguard by the voice and a mind numbing blow sent him on his back on the ground. Brock put everything he had into that hit and was now clutching a dislocated arm. He straddled Logan, against protests from 'the voice'. ~Sstop. Too sstrong. Ssso much anger...Wait.~ Logan stared up at the man, realizing that Brock was speaking these words himself. To himself. His face seemed to be stretching. He was foaming at the mouth as he leaned closer to Logan. Inspecting him? It was uncomfortable, to say the least. Logan could only hope he was attempting a headbutt. "Sorry bub, I don't know you well enough yet. Why don't you tell me why you wanna kill your own kind?"
Brock...or the now slimy black thing on top of him paused, then laughed. His speech produced two tones at once. The whisper, and a disturblingly low croak, formerly Brock's voice. "I won't be compared to mutated scum on earth." His hand slithered (Slithered?!) around Logan's just as he unsheathed his claws to pierce Brock's heart. He had decided this thing needed to die, whatever it was. A sickening sound decided otherwise. Logan cried out at his arm was literally ripped and twisted backward, as far as his adamantium skeleton would allow. Brock-It's expression stretched into a smile that took up it's entire face, revealing rows of razor sharp teeth. "Your resilience is fascinating." He let Logan's arm flop to the ground and watched it heal with some sort of sick glee. Logan was seething. Tonight was not his night at all. He just lost his woman, possibly his place at the mansion, just to run into some sick superhuman motherfucker. The way he was being restrained was wrong on so many levels. Brock's limbs melted into black...stuff, holding him down like handcuffs. "This one is weak and broken, too long to repair. But you are....instant. You turned his anger into fear. I hate the taste of it. I've lost more hosts this way..." Logan wasn't listening to his freakish babble; he was trying desperately to pull himself from this slimy grip. "You have so much anger now, it's blinding you...mmm."
"Oh..no...fuck," Logan strained his neck to the side, disgusted, trying to avoid the elongated tongue that was now licking his face. It was only pissing him off more, and seemed to make this thing stronger. "With you, I can fulfill my purpose. Yesss..." The thing's grip loosened, and Logan took his chance. He forced his limbs from the restraints with a growl. Suddenly, a flash of black whipped across his neck. A single red line formed and Logan's eyes bulged, clutching at his neck as blood squirted forth. The black form seemed to shrink and pulse, absorbing any blood that landed on it. It then made a beeline for Logan's neck, squeezing in between his quivering fingers. This one had something special inside, a skeleton made of unbreakable metal, and the alien symbiote would attach itself to that instead of pathetic flesh. Logan let out a hoarse cry, feeling a familiar pain of something fusing to the inside of his body. The symbiote was now inside, Logan's neck healed, and he felt a sudden state of calm. His anger and shock were unnaturally dissappearing.
That is, until he realized Brock was laying on top of him, unconscious. Logan scowled, quickly pushing the man to the side. The blond haired man had possibly broken every bone in his body. Logan gave him another kick as he stood up, straightening himself out. "Ah, that felt good." He looked around his surroundings. The place seemed deserted. Besides Brock, Logan sniffed another bloody body inside the bar. That stupid bartender. This had to be one of the wilds bar fights Logan had gotten himself into. Brock had been a raging maniac, but Logan eventually got him. A few good punches and he was out. That was the end, right?
Right. Maybe he'd go to a few other bars and start some more fights while he was in the mood. Maybe go back to the mansion and have his way with that easy weather broad. She'd do anything for him now that she screwed up. And fuck up that swamp rat while he was at it. Anything to keep this rush he was feeling. The healing mutant gave a half smile. Things were finally looking up.

****************

“He’s coming back, Ororo. Don’t worry.” Ororo shook her head, holding her hand lightly over her mouth. The whole night they managed not to talk about it, but Ororo realized her crappy mood was bringing down everyone in the room. Rogue's demeanor worried her the most. Jean finally said something, but Ororo retorted with- “He‘s deeply wounded, Jean. You don’t understand. He won’t return until he’s healed and can prove himself to his mate. If he even decides to take her back…”

“Geez, I feel like I’m watching the Discovery Channel.”

“Jubilee!” Jean snapped at the little Chinese-American girl, who was eating from a tub of ice cream. She smiled innocently in return. “Wolvie will be back. He loves us too much to stay away.”

Ororo shook her head again, leaning against her dresser. So much for an all girls slumber party in the attic, Jean’s idea. It had been a month since the incident and she was trying her best to keep Ororo distracted and thinking positive, but it wasn’t that easy. Ororo only kept her emotions in check for the sake of everyone else. But there was nothing really to be done for her.

Rogue lay in the middle of the bed, idly curling her hair around her fingers. She hadn’t said a word since Jean invited her. “Ok! New subject!” Jean called out. “What else can we talk about?”

“Sex!”

“Jubilee…”

“What? I’m serious…I need to know these things, and you guys need teach me. It’s your job as my teachers. You don’t want me to make a mistake and mess up my life, do you? It’s not like you don’t have the experience…” Jubilee heard a snicker behind her on the bed, and suddenly felt guilty. “Oh, Rogue…I didn’t mean…I’m sorry I just…”

“It’s alright.” Rogue finally spoke, smiling. “You actually made me laugh, sugah, which I ain’t done in a while now.” She eyed Storm. “Besides, just because I can’t touch nobody don’t mean I don’t know nothin’.” She propped herself up on her elbows, smirking at Jubilee. “Whatcha wanna know?”

Jubilee shrugged, looking around the room at all the women. They were all so amazing and had their own story to tell. Jubilee wondered if she’d ever be in their position some day. “Well…like, how does it feel, you know? I heard it hurts the first time, and you have to figure out exactly where everything goes, so it gets awkward…” She really hoped someone else would start talking now.

“Well, my first time with Scott was hardly awkward. He’s definitely a leader, in every aspect.” Jean grinned, biting her lip, then clearing her throat to speak again. “If you really love each other, every moment you make love will be a cherished moment, whether it seems awkward or not. It’s what the two of you share, and it’s special, anyway you look at it.”

Jubilee blinked. “So Scott had it down the first time, huh? No condom mishaps or sticking things in the wrong hole…”

“JUBILEE!”

“What?”

Rogue laughed once more. Jean’s face flushed, but she managed to calm down. “First of all, for your information, Scott wasn’t a virgin when I married him, so no, nothing like that. And second, I won’t be telling any intimate stories, so if that’s what you’re looking for, then we can have another change of subject.” Jubilee pouted, looking over at Storm. The white haired woman had been awfully quiet through all this. “Miss Munroe? Any advice?”

Ororo rubbed her arm and looked up, half smiling at Jubilee. “It’s like what Jean said. When you’re in love, everything else comes naturally. The both of you will fit together like you were made for each other. And when you become one, the bond you make is unbreakable."
Rogue suddenly sounded like she was choking. Everyone froze, watching Rogue carefully. She was laughing. "Aww, Stormy, that's so sweet." Though she was still chuckling, her voice took on something cold and dark. She called Ororo 'Stormy' to mock Remy's nickname for her, basically spitting out the word. "I'm glad you got to become one with someone, that must be nice...." Rogue had an open door, which she'd clearly been waiting for. Not the best time, but hell, she was taking it.
Ororo looked taken aback. "Rogue, it wasn't my intention to offend you. I'm sorry if I did." Rogue kept chuckling, but it sounded forced. Jubilee was freaked out now, staring at Rogue. Jean looked on with fierce concentration. The tension she sensed between Ororo and Rogue reached screaming heights. The friendly environment she had tried to fabricate only made things worst. Rogue held a pillow up to her chest, contently observing the indentions she made while she poked it. She kept speaking as if she hadn't heard what Ororo just said. "Becoming one with more than one person at the same time, must be even better, right? Especially someone that's frustrated from not bein' able to bond with his own girl, 'less he wants to die, if you know what I mean. Good thing there's a kind Storm to take of that need."


"........I won't ask you to sympathize with the situation I'm in right now, especially since you obviously have your own ideas. But I'm not going to stand here and let you accuse me of something I didn't do. You should have come to me earlier about something like this, in private. Have you even talked to Remy?" The Weather goddess watched Rogue with wide eyes.
~Remy, huh? How affectionate~ Rogue slowly stood from the bed, pillow still in her hand, returning Ororo's look. "I don't even like hearing his name come out of your damn mouth." Jean suddenly intervened. "Rogue! This is sensitive situation. You're only making it worse with your irrational behavior. There's more to this than your suspicions of Ororo and Remy, and Ororo is not the one to take it all out on." Jean looked more nervous than anything. She did an emergency scan of thoughts in the room, and nothing was positive. Rogue pretended that the comments about physical contact didn't bother her, but it really added to the pain she was already feeling. Since the night Logan left, Remy had been acting strange toward Rogue, toward everyone. She was sure something had happened between him and the weather witch he always cared about so much. Rogue held Logan in higher esteem than Storm and believed he had a valid reason for causing the havoc he did. Storm was the logical one to blame for everything.
The accused didn't have much better thoughts. While Logan was in most of them, there were also disturbing images of Rogue drowning or being electrocuted.. Both women were in a fragile state of mind right now. Even worse, one of Ororo's thoughts seemed to confirm what Rogue was blaming her for.
Jean wouldn't believe it. Something was definitely wrong.
Jubilee...well Jubilee had an 'interesting' mind picture of Rogue and Storm in a WWE ladies match, wrestling in a giant shallow vat of chili cheese fries. With Remy and Logan on either side of the ring in red bikini briefs, cheering them on. Storm had a mohawk. Eh... "Jubilee, sorry about this. I think you might want to excuse yourself.. Please shut the door behind you. "

TBC





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