X-Man
by Babs Yerunkle
From the "X-Men Evolution" universe, beginning
after the end of the first season.
Chapter 7: Rogue memories
In the sober light of morning, I wondered what the hell had
happened to me. The night before, I had acted completely unprofessionally.
How was it that *I*, a World War II veteran, had broken down in front of a
bunch of schoolgirls over (if you can believe it) simple verbal insults. And
not even insults that were aimed directly at *me*. Rather, it was nothing more
than the sort of crass barracks talk that I'd heard for years. True, the
object of that talk had been Rogue, a girl whose body I was currently
inhabiting.
My best speculation was that the female brain was inherently
more subject to storms of emotion, and that somehow Rogue had realized that she
was the target of the locker room chatter, and that somehow (unbelievably) the
fellows were in some sense serious. And since I, of necessity, was forced to
do my thinking and existing *inside* said female brain, I got carried along
with her emotions, despite the fact that I should have known better. I
resolved to do better. We are intelligent creatures, after all, and we are not
ruled by biology. I was a man, no matter what form I might be in, and no
matter what tides of female emotion swept through me, I would remember that I
was a man and act accordingly.
With that in mind, I sat up, feeling an unfamiliar pair of
weights at my chest. I looked down in stupefaction at the mounds that swelled
gently under my nightshirt.
"Don't worry, Jackie, they'll grow back," Jean
said lightly.
I looked at her stupidly.
"Smaller than you're used to?" she followed up.
"No, larger. Much larger."
"*Rogue?* Why haven't you changed?"
I was starting to feel the first stirrings of apprehension.
It's all well and good to accept *intellectually* that you're a man trapped in
a woman's body. But staring down at the evidence that was, quite literally, in
front of me, I felt such an intense threat to my very identity that I can
scarcely begin to describe it.
"I don't know, I –" and then the incredible
feeling swept over me. I watched in intense relief as my chest flattened and
broadened, and as I gained a few inches of height.
"Like, no offense, but I still find that really freaky."
I mentally prepared an outfit. It was a combination of
several things I had seen yesterday – slacks, shirt and sweater combo, and a
leather jacket over the top of that. As I stood, I melted my T-shirt nightgown
into the new outfit, and evaporated the dust and grime from my skin at the same
time.
"Wow!" Jean said. "Can you whip up any
outfit you want?"
I smirked at her. "Try me. Although I'm still trying
to figure out how to do hair styling."
She gave a greedy smile. "My friend! Let's go
shopping sometimes."
"Sorry, I find women's clothing rather…embarrassing. I
think you'll have to wait until Rogue's back."
"Darn."
We both headed out – Jean to the shower, me to the kitchen.
She stopped briefly and touched my shoulder.
"Jerry? Rogue? I'm not sure what to call you,
sometimes?"
I shrugged. "Whatever you like. Hopefully Rogue will
be back for real soon and the confusion will be over."
"I just wanted you to know – I *do* want Rogue to get
her memory back, but I'll miss you, too. I just wish you could both stay."
And with that, she was gone.
Her comment left me bemused, in more ways than one. It lit
something incredible inside me to think that someone actually recognized the
uniqueness of *me* in here. Trust a telepath to see past the exterior.
*****
School was buzzing with the rumor that one of the
cheerleaders was looking to fricassee Tony Amoretti. Apparently the unnamed
cheerleader had talked to all the other cheerleaders, and now they were *all*
after him. Duncan Mathews seemed to be catching some heat as well. I hadn't
met the unfortunate Mr. Mathews, but if he was anything like Tony Amoretti he
deserved everything he got.
*****
Instead of gym, I now had "study hall." At first
this seemed like a fate worse than prison, but I realized that if I managed to
get my homework finished during school then I'd have time for extra training in
the evening when everyone else was working on *their* homework. And after the
Tony incident, training was suddenly a lot more interesting.
The study hall took place in the cafeteria, re-using the
facility beyond lunch hours. This gave plenty of room for the sparse crowd to
spread out, but left isolated corners for small social circles to form. I
assume that the study hall monitor was responsible for keeping the students
quietly at work, but he seemed to feel that however they chose to waste their
time was none of his business.
This was important because two members of my study hall were
Fred Dukes and Todd Tolensky – otherwise known as Blob and Toad. After a few
minutes, I packed up my work and headed over to their private section. After
all, if I was serious about finding Rogue's missing memories, this was the best
place to start.
Toad – I'd have to start thinking of him as Todd – looked up
and spotted me. "Hey, Freddy, it's the new kid. Come on over."
I held my hand out to him. "I don't think we've been
formally introduced yet. I'm Jerry Tratwick."
Toad snickered, holding his hand out limply. "Todd Tolensky.
Although you've probably heard my code name more often."
I smiled noncommittally and turned to his companion. "You
must be Fred Dukes."
His hand engulfed mine. I don't mean that his hand was
merely larger – he was so big that when his fist closed, it swallowed my entire
hand, wrist, and much of my arm.
"Yeah, you better watch out for me."
"Indeed I shall, Mr. Dukes."
"Jerry here," Toad jumped in, "is the guy
that's responsible for dropping Amoretti's shorts. That's his power! That was
you, wasn't it?"
I gingerly recovered my hand from the Blob's mighty fist. "Yes,
I'm afraid it was."
"What'd he do?"
"He was incredibly foul-mouthed and said vile, untrue
things about the girls up in the mansion, as well as every cheerleader in the
school."
"You got a code name yet?"
"Maybe. Char – Professor X and the team want me to
take the name 'Axis', but I think I'll be returning to my original idea and
going by 'Vaudeville.'"
"So whadda do? What's your power?" Blob
eloquently inquired.
I tried to make my voice ominous. "I have the power to
disintegrate matter!" Then in a more normal voice, I added, "Well, I
can disintegrate fabric. Small amounts, at least. So far, the only useful
thing I can do is make people's pants fall down. Maybe eventually I can make
an entire outfit disappear."
"Well you better not try anything like that with me,"
Dukes said. "People would laugh, and I get really, really angry when
people laugh at me."
I looked back at him. Not only was he wide, he was tall.
Huge in every dimension. And if the descriptions of his power were to be
believed, he was far stronger than he looked. "Mr. Dukes, believe me, I
value my life far too highly to waste it in a cheap pratfall."
Blob just looked down on me with suspicion.
Toad said, "So what brings you over, Jairr-meister?"
My brow beetled in confusion. "Jair-meister?"
"Hey, it sounds better than Tratwickster or something
like that. So what brings you by? You just feel like hanging with us, or
what?"
And there it was. I steeled myself internally. "Well,
actually I was wondering about Mystique."
That got their attention alright. Toad was suddenly looking
around like he was afraid that the seventh fleet was about to target him. Blob
was looking at me like I was a potential candidate for squishing.
"What do you know about her?" His massive hand
suddenly came down and rested on my shoulder. I mean to say, he covered my
shoulder, front and back, and his thumb reached around my throat. I felt very
much like a twig. Perhaps this hadn't been such a good idea.
"Nothing, much," I dissembled. "I used to
know her." How true that was. Both as Raven Darkholme, back in the
fifties, and if you count my body only, Rogue had known both Mystique and
Principal Darkholme. "I caught just a glimpse of her last Sunday – all
decked out in blue, if you know what I mean." They both nodded. "She
looked man enough to kill, but that's all I know. Now that I'm starting to get
messed up in all of this, I'd kind of like to know who the players are and what's
going on."
"She's in a coma."
"Freddy! They wanted us to keep quiet."
Blob turned to Toad and stared him down. "Shut up.
Anyone knows anything, we're supposed to bring them to the meeting tonight. He
saw something, so he comes."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
Blob faced me, staring hard. His hand never left my
shoulder. "Last Sunday, Mystique got us together. Told us to be ready.
We didn't hear anything, so after a while we went to the place and saw that
somebody had trashed it (again). There was a woman there. She looked like she
might have been related to Principal Darkholme. Anyway, she's in this coma.
We took her. After a day, there's no sign of Mystique, the woman isn't coming
out of her coma, so we call an emergency number that Mystique left us. They
wanted Avalanche and Quicksilver to bring the woman up to this place in
Massachusetts. Some guy from that same place is coming down tonight to talk to
anybody who knows anything, so that means you got to be there, too."
"I thought you said that *Mystique* was in a coma."
He nodded ponderously. "Yeah, we talked about it a
while and figured that the woman who looked kind of *like* Principal Darkholme,
probably *was* her. You know about her power, right?"
I nodded. After all, I had first-hand experience. I
probably knew a lot more than they did.
"That's right." Now that Blob had started
talking, Toad seemed eager to get his say in. He looked around stealthily to
make sure no one was close enough to overhear. "It was Lance that figured
it out. He said that maybe that was her 'real face' and that she never even
let any of us see it. But that would mean that the whole red hair – blue fur
thing was just a con-job. What for? Did she want to look like Nightcrawler or
something?"
I clenched my fist at that, but could hardly move with Blob's
hand still on my shoulder.
"But Quicksilver, you know how he is – always zooming
off in another direction – he figures that maybe it's Mystique only she got
knocked out and froze in the last shape she was in. *I'm* figuring that it's
exactly what it looks like, and she's maybe the Principal's sister or
something. Who would figure that she had a family, but I guess we all got to
come from someplace, right?" Once Toad got started, it was obviously a
challenge to get him stopped.
"So the X-Freaks got something to do with it, that's
for sure! While Lance and 'Silver are driving the body up to Wellesley, the
X-Jokes hit our place and grab this geezer we snagged, over at Rogue's place."
"Toad, *shut up!*" Before I knew what was going
on, Blob's massive hand was gone from my shoulder and wrapped around Todd's
skull.
"Sorry, Freddy. I just got carried away, you know?"
Blob released him and turned back toward me. "You know
where Mys – uh – Principal Darkholme lives?"
I nodded. As a matter of fact, I didn't know, but I figured
I could find out.
"We're all meeting there at six o'clock. Be there."
I nodded. "I'll be there, Mr. Dukes."
He looked at me, as if searching for some hint of mockery. "'Mr.
Dukes'? Why'd you call me that?"
I furrowed my brow in thought. How could I explain it to
him? During the war I'd met a lot of people that I would never have ever known
during a normal life. Some of them brilliant, some of them what we'd
charitably call 'slow'. Some of them craven, some brave. And some rare few
had such a sheer stubborn determination that they'd rush straight into a
machine gun nest. Some were heroes, some were crazy-mean, all of them were men
that wouldn't ever be swayed. Fred Dukes fell into that stubborn group
somewhere. How could I explain it to him?
"Mr. Dukes," I began, "I've just met you. I
don't know if I'll come to like you, and I'm sure that I'll often disagree with
you." He began to frown. "But I've known men like you before. Men
who would do whatever it takes. Men who were dangerous, whether or not they
had special powers. So while I won't always agree with you, I'm smart enough
to respect you."
He gave a start at that, and for just an instant he gave a
smile that was almost child-like. Had no one else realized? Had they all seen
the huge, fat exterior and completely missed the bulldozer will inside?
"Just be there," he finally said. "And don't
call me 'Mr. Dukes' no more. My name is Freddy."
I nodded crisply to him and took my leave, just as the bell
signaled the end of study hall.
*****
At least biology was a class that I could snooze through.
My only problem here was giving an answer simplistic enough that the instructor
could understand it. I wrote out a summary of what I had learned from Todd and
Freddy, then folded the paper up and wrote Rogue's name on the outside.
*Elegant*, I though, *it identifies both sender and recipient.*
Drama was slow, since I had to spend most of the class
watching the imposter flirt with Scott. For some reason, that really bothered
me. I think it was the fact that I knew Jackie was a man, and such behavior
was ill-suited to any man. Or perhaps I just didn't like to see the fairer sex
laying it on so blatantly.
After class, I waited until 'Rogue' slinked off, then caught
Scott by himself.
"Where does Mystique live?" Straight and to the
point.
"Why?"
"I think Rogue may have carried part of my apparatus
there." Well, true, but hardly the whole story. "I want to look
around for clues."
He gave me the address. "Don't try anything on your
own. It's the Brotherhood's headquarters."
"By the way, can you give this to 'Rogue'? No peeking,
it's personal."
"Well…"
"Promise?" I tried to drag it out of him.
"Yeah, okay."
*****
It was only a short walk from the bus stop. Fortunately,
Charles had given us all unlimited-ride passes, not the cheap student passes.
It wasn't long before I reached a run-down boarding house with a sign out front
that proudly proclaimed "Brotherhood of Bayville Boarding House." I
could see that the entire "brotherhood" was waiting for me.
"Well, well, if it isn't the new kid." Lance
Alvers stepped forward and looked me over like I was a piece of filth. I must
say, my initial impression of him wasn't favorable.
"Whadda know?" Pietro Maximoff zipped up to me,
moving as fast as he talked. "Not much to look at, are you? Think you
can hurt me with that pants-dropping junk? Won't work. I'll grab 'em as soon
as they fall. Anything you can do, I can react faster. Face it, you're
outclassed here. Might as well give up now, man." All of which was
delivered at about double speed.
I wasn't too worried about Lance and crew – they had no
reason to want to hurt me. I was more worried about Mystique if she showed
up. On the other hand, if she were in a coma, who would be coming to meet us?
"Easy, boys." I told them. "I'm just here to
check on an old friend."
"*Old* friend? You're younger than I am!"
"On the contrary, Mr. Gavin is older than he looks."
The voice was deep, with a cultured Bostonian accent. The quiet slamming of a
car door signaled his arrival.
We all turned to stare at the new arrival. An extremely
solid, muscular man in his mid-forties, the speaker had just finished stepping
from the back seat of an honest-to-God Rolls Royce Silver Cloud – with an
extended wheelbase to allow for both a chauffeur and facing limousine-style
seating in the rear.
The man opened a door and spoke briefly to his chauffeur,
then turned to the rest of us.
"Obviously, we shall require a cab to accommodate all
of us. I have reservation prepared for dinner. I assume no one has plans?"
I thought briefly. They *were* expecting me at the mansion,
but whoever this man was, he knew about Jacob Gavin. Then there was the matter
of Mystique's condition. Thinking quickly, I decided that the benefit
outweighed the cost. I shook my head with the rest of them, indicating that I
had no plans.
A few moments later a cab arrived. Quickly taking command,
the rich newcomer directed Lance Alvers and me into the rear of the rolls while
sending everyone else to the cab. I didn't envy the others, sharing a cab with
Freddy.
Lance and I took our seats, choosing to sit together to face
our wealthy visitor.
"Mr. Alvers made my acquaintance a few days ago,"
he began. "And although I have employed your services indirectly a few
times, I've never had cause to meet you personally, Mr. Gavin. Or should I
say, Ms. Gavin?"
The fellow held his hand out, a little more curled than I
would have expected. I almost thought he would accept my hand as a woman's,
and raise it to his lips. Instead, I gave him a firm, manly handshake. At
least, I tried to. His hand might as well have been carved from granite.
Lance stared at me very oddly at that point. "*Ms.*
Gavin?"
"I was born a man, and I still consider myself a man,"
was all I said. I tried not to think of the bikini briefs or training bra I
was wearing.
"Very well. As you may have surmised, I am Sebastian
Shaw."
I gave a small start at that. Shaw Industries was a
modestly well-known firm dealing, if I recalled correctly, with heavy industry
or defense or some such. I was familiar with the name of its founder, much as
you can't help hearing about the head of RJ Reynolds, Nabisco, and the like.
Why was a man like that involved with Mystique?
"Ah, you had not surmised. Interesting. Perhaps my
sources over-estimated you."
I schooled my features to blandness.
"What are you talking about?" Lance interrupted. "This
isn't some chick! I've seen him in the locker room!"
"Mr. Gavin is a shapechanger. A shapechanger whose
natural form is female."
Lance stared at me. "Is this true?"
It struck me that I was entering into a dangerous game.
Whoever this Shaw was, he was rich, well-informed, an acquaintance of Mystique,
and presumably dangerous. What would he do if he discovered my deception? On
the other hand, how much was I willing to risk to uncover Rogue's true
memories? I decided that the best path to take would be to play along, but to
never speak anything actively untrue.
"It's true," I admitted, "that my 'natural'
form is now female. As I said, I was born a man, and in my mind I remain a
man. As a shapechanger, the point may be moot."
Lance was inching away from me. "Yeah, sure. Whatever
you like."
Shaw appeared to be grimly amused. His voice had the deep
tones that command attention. "Calm down, Mr. Alvers. If you can't cope
with something this mundane, you'll hardly be able to deal with situations of
greater importance. Now, Mr. Gavin, perhaps you could tell me why Charles
Xavier has hired your services."
"I'm sorry, but professional ethics won't allow me to
answer that at this time." Which was true, but in a different way. As a
therapist (even uncredentialed), I was not about to tell the world about my
patient's sad condition. And that's exactly how I considered it. Rogue's body
was in reasonable shape, but her mind was definitely messed up until I could
find a way to return her to normal.
"Well, I suppose that's the sort of discretion that
people pay for, isn't it?"
Lance was staring between the two of us: the massive and
deeply impressive figure of Sebastian Shaw, and my own slight teenaged form. "Who
the fuck are you?" he said to me.
I noticed Shaw scowling at the obscenity.
"I'm a temporary guest at the Xavier mansion and an
equally temporary transfer student to Bayville High School."
"Cut the crap!"
Shaw spoke calmly, but with authority. "Mr. Alvers, I
will thank you to retain a civil tongue during our discussions. If you cannot,
I will have to ask you to leave."
"Yeah? You and what army?"
Shaw opened a small dry bar and extracted a spoon from
within. "If you're going to shoot off your mouth, Lance, you'd better
know what you're getting into." As he spoke, he idly crumpled the spoon
into a small ball, the way I would wad up a piece of paper. He handed the ball
to Lance for examination. "You'll find me a man of
considerable…resources."
Somewhat subdued, we arrived at what appeared to be an
expensive private villa overlooking the lake. A small sign out front announced
that this was "Vincenzo's".
"Ah, New York," Shaw said, stepping out of the
car, "even upstate, you have the finest Italian food."
I hung back. Lance spoke briefly to the rest of his crew,
showing them the crumpled ball, then we all followed Shaw into the restaurant.
The view was spectacular, the restaurant deserted aside from
us, and the food was Florentine (a pleasant surprise for me). It was a setting
meant to awe and impress and clearly it succeeded, from the looks on the faces
of Lance and crew. I, on the other hand, was having the time of my life. The
glimpse of Florence was pleasantly reminiscent of my war years, more than five
decades ago. I was making progress in the matter of Rogue, and I enjoyed the
sparing with Shaw who was a handsome and fascinating man, even if he was
cloaked in an air of danger and mystery. Actually, that only made him more
interesting.
Shaw gestured for us to sit and an obsequious waiter
materialized, handing out toasted bread and small dishes of olive oil, along
with the menus. "Would you care for anyzing else while you order?"
I glanced at the menu. "Yes – the calamari in zimino
is Florentine style, I assume?"
"Of courze. With spinach."
"Excellent. I'll have that. And could you bring some
pinzimonio?"
"But of courze, zir." He seemed pleased with my
order.
Blob ordered spaghetti and the rest of the crew followed in
that unimaginative fashion. Shaw surprised me by ordering the Trippa alla
Fiorentina. Tripe isn't a dish for the casual diner.
While we finished those formalities, Lance had been
whispering to his companions, bringing them up to date.
"No way!" Quicksilver blurted out. "You're a
chick?"
I massaged my temple. "As I said before, I was born a
man and I still consider myself a man. My body is male, despite the fact that
over time it tends to revert to a female state."
"Haw, haw," Blob said, "a fucking chick!"
"Freddy," I said dangerously, "I didn't
*start* that way. If you continue to involve yourself in the affairs of
mutants, you might find yourself subject to similar accidents, or worse."
At that, Shaw took control of the conversation once more. "An
excellent point to keep in mind. Look at what happened to your late mentor,
for example."
"Then that lady *was* Mystique?" Quicksilver
blurted out.
"Apparently. Her DNA matches. I think we have seen,
for the first time ever, Mystique's true form. Apparently the blue fur was a
disguise all along."
"How is she?" I asked.
Shaw fixed his penetrating gaze on me. "First, I'd
like to hear about your encounter with her. I was, to say the least, surprised
that you had been involved at such an early date."
"Yes, well…" How was I going to cover this up? "It
was Sunday the 29th. I was engaged in a project which must remain
confidential, but which had nothing to do with Mystique. I was quite surprised
when she almost broke down my door and burst in on me. I believe that she was
looking for someone – I now think she was looking for Rogue. She seemed almost
insanely angry, ranting that she would, 'Kill the damned bitch so hard that
there won't be *anything* left of her.' I struggled with her, but she knocked
me unconscious. She then searched my place, and located Rogue's temporary
address. And that's the last I saw of her."
"Naw," Lance said, "doesn't make sense. She
already knew where Rogue was staying. She told us Friday night."
"Then I have no idea what she was looking for."
Could she have been interested in my apparatus? Rogue and I had been the only
ones who even knew about that.
"Your turn," I said to Shaw. "You said that
the woman was definitely Mystique. What's her condition?"
He gave a dangerous smile. "*Was* Mystique is probably
the operative word."
We all blanched.
"She's dead?" Toad finally asked.
"No, but she might as well be. She is a tableau rasa.
I have a telepath working with her, and with that help we've been able to get
her to the state where she can feed herself, speak in simple sentences and the
like. There is no trace of either her memories or her powers. All in all, it
sounds as if she went one-on-one with the girl Rogue, and lost the fight –
permanently."
Shaw was *far* too well informed for my piece of mind. If
he had those pieces, he might know that Rogue was now a shapeshifter, and
figure me out. I decided to keep a low profile. But the question remained –
if he was telling the truth and Mystique's body no longer held any memories, we
now had two sets of missing memories: Rogue and Mystique. Where were they?
"I told you two to watch Rogue," Shaw continued. "What
did you learn?"
"She's acting a little odd," Lance said. "Not
so you'd notice if you weren't looking for it. Avoiding her normal friends,
being extra quiet in class. She was always like that, but it's worse now."
"She fell down and scraped her cheek yesterday,"
Quicksilver volunteered. "Today there was no sign of the injury. No
scab, no wound, nothing."
"Hmmm. Inconclusive. And what about the raid on the
house with the old man?"
Lance and Quicksilver shrugged. Shaw finally focused on
Toad.
"Uh, well, it was me and Blob. The whole damn X-crew
came screaming in on us. While Cyclops kept Blob busy out front, the others
snagged the old man from the back. I still don't get it, though. Who the hell
was that guy?"
"A noted biologist, at one time," Shaw answered. "Apparently
he had some rare contacts with Xavier, although I don't understand his place in
this." His eyes turned to me again. "Which brings us back to you,
Gavin. What's going on here?"
"You seem better informed than I am. I honestly don't
know how all this fits together. Why was Mystique so angry at Rogue?"
Shaw leaned back in his seat. "That's a part I don't
understand either. She was ordered to retrieve the girl, not kill her."
All of us reacted at that.
"What for?" Blob asked.
Shaw merely smiled. He slowly ate some bread, then
continued his grilling of me. "Why did Xavier's team rescue the old man?"
"I'm not sure," I said. "I thought I knew,
but clearly I was wrong. Perhaps they just wanted to rescue an old man."
I glared at Blob and Toad. "You didn't treat him very gently."
"…sorry."
"Who is he? What's his part in this?"
"You already know his background. I think he just
showed up in the wrong place at the wrong time. I honestly don't think he had
any part in Rogue's conflict with Mystique." Except…why had Mystique
broken into my lab? Why was the apparatus smashed? Why had old-me gone to
Rogue's apartment? "Honestly," I admitted, "I'm not sure *what*
his role was. But everything I've been able to piece together says that he was
just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Interesting," Shaw responded. "Then it
appears that you're missing a few facts. My young allies here searched Dr.
Trautwein, before they brought me Mystique's comatose body. They discovered
him in Rogue's temporary apartment. And in his jacket pocket, he had the keys
to Mystique's room."
"What?" I couldn't hold back the outburst.
"One more question, Mr. Gavin. You're living in the
mansion now. What's Rogue's story?"
"She claims that she doesn't remember. The entire
incident is a blank."
"And you believe her?"
"It may seem odd, but yes, I believe that."
"Hmmm."
We paused for a while as the meals arrived. The food was
excellent. Afterward, Shaw seemed deep in thought and the four lunkheads didn't
seem inclined to disturb him. At last, he spoke once more.
"Gavin, what's your business in all of this?"
"I came to the mansion to locate Rogue," I said,
having prepared for the question through dinner.
"And did you?"
"Yes. Well, let's say that I located her
independently," I was thinking of old-me, who had apparently figured it
out on his own. "Logan actually found her first."
"Then why do you remain?"
"I'm afraid I can't reveal that."
"I could put you on retainer. Perhaps one hundred
thousand per day, with the understanding that anything you learn would be
passed on as soon as possible?"
I shook my head "no."
"Pity. Well, I'm sure I'll be in touch again. I have
arranged for cabs to see all of you home again." With that, he rose and
made his exit.
*****
"You what?" 'Rogue' yelled at me, from her side
of the room.
"I turned him down. What do you think I was going to
do, tell him, 'Yeah, the girl you're looking for is right here in front of
you. Sorry she's got the wrong mind in her head. Maybe that won't bother you,
since I don't know what you wanted her for.'"
"A hundred thousand a day?" Jackie dropped her
head into her hands. "At least say that you played me cool."
"As a cucumber," I assured her.
"So," Logan said, "Sebastian Shaw is involved
in this."
I nodded. "Who is he?"
Charles spoke up. "He is one of the least savory mutants
I've encountered. He and a very small circle of like-minded mutants seem to
feel that their abilities make them the natural aristocracy of mankind. They
control considerable wealth and power. Shaw himself can absorb kinetic energy
of all kinds and convert it into strength and stamina."
"Yeah, I saw the strength part. That would make him
virtually invulnerable to most attacks."
"Yes, it's a potent combination."
"Ja, but ve are no closer to finding Rogue's memories,"
Kurt said.
"No," I disagreed. "I think we've heard
enough to know exactly where they are."
Everyone looked at me, then Charles suddenly nodded. He'd
figured it out, too.
"Look," I told them, "if we believe Shaw,
Mystique's mind is blank. Her memories are gone; there's nobody home. Rogue's
memories are gone, and somehow I find myself living in her body. And from
everything we've heard, there were only three people involved Sunday morning.
So the missing memories of both Rogue and Mystique…"
"Must be in your old body!" Scott finished.
I nodded. "So now it's essential that you wake me up."
Moira frowned. "I still say we're rushing things…but
if you'll wait until morning I'll agree."
Continued in Chapter 8, appearing NEXT Sunday!
since 03/09/03
