X-Man
by Babs Yerunkle
From the "X-Men Evolution" universe, beginning
after the end of the first season.
Chapter 23: Aerobic workouts for
mutants
"Okay, talk," Scott ordered.
Jean had bowed out, saying that she would be getting home
later. Jackie-Rogue was in the back
seat of Scott's red convertible, while I was in the front seat as Angel. Scott peeled out of the school parking lot
and headed back.
"Maybe we'd better wait until we're in the
mansion," I suggested. "Rogue
told me she was afraid that people were monitoring us. Maybe even with telepathy."
Sometimes it's hard to see a reaction in Scott. Those glasses of his hide a lot. But this time, even he couldn't cover up his
surprise. He wasted no time in heading
for the mansion.
*****
"So," Charles summed up, "we have an
organized, unknown group of mutants attempting to recruit Rogue for purposes
unknown."
"Hardly 'unknown', Chuck," Logan said. "The telekinetic bully-boy sounds like
LongArm. Remember him?"
"Oh, yes. Part
of the Hellfire Club, wasn't he?
Predictable, given Shaw's involvement." Charles typed at his keypad and an image came up on the
conference room screen.
"Yeah, that's him," I confirmed.
"Wait a minute!" Scott suddenly broke in. "Professor, you're telling me that
there are large, organized groups of mutants out there, and you never saw fit
to mention this to us?"
Xavier was unfazed.
"For the moment, Scott, you are still a high school student. I deemed your education to be of paramount
importance. I felt you would be better
served by concentrating on scholastics, athletics, team training exercises, and
the like. I would have briefed you on
this additional information well before you left the institute. There has simply been no need to bother you
with it until now."
Scott stared at his mentor in disbelief. Finally he burst out with, "I've been
working on this for *years*! My college
career, my majors, everything I do has been devoted to the difficulties that
mutants face. And you thought this
WASN'T IMPORTANT?"
"Scott, we shall discuss this in private, after this
meeting."
"Yeah, you can be sure of that."
I think all of us were surprised by that. I had never heard Scott talk back to the
Professor. Never.
After a moment, Logan broke the tension. "Well, we can get some ideas about our
security. If LongArm's telling the
truth, they aren't using telepaths.
Rogue's powers shoulda blocked a telepath, but Gavin's an open book,
right Professor?"
Xavier nodded, looking apologetically at Jackie-Rogue. "My apologies, but you've never had the
benefit of the training I give my students.
Calling you an 'open book' is a bit extreme, but I'm certain they would
have detected your true identity. I
don't think they would have gained more details without using enough power for
you to detect them."
Logan continued.
"Right. So they're using
surveillance. Might be people, might be
gizmos. For the first, I'll start doing
sweeps, try to flush them out. For the
second – I don't know. Maybe I can pull
in some favors."
"Cerebro may prove helpful, as well. After this meeting I shall approach
Kitty. I believe it may be time to see
if her computer skill matches the potential I believe she has."
"And maybe," Jackie said, "you should
consider bringing SHIELD in. Jack's
going to be dropping by for the next few days.
It's the perfect opportunity."
Logan growled. The
Professor merely looked thoughtful.
"We'll consider it."
Still looking displeased, Logan added, "Another
thing. I'll need those files on the
Hellfire Club. I'm going to set up the
Danger Room for some new training. With
both Rogue and Gavin. If we're going to
have problems, we'd better be ready."
"What's the status on Dr. Trautwein?" I asked.
Moira blinked, coming out of her self-imposed silence. I think she was surprised to hear me refer
to him that way, as if I *wasn't* Dr. Trautwein.
"Well," she said, "his condition could be
called stable. There's still subdued
brain activity, but there's no indication that he's going to be coming out of
the coma any time soon."
"Would it hurt him for Charles to do a telepathic
scan? I'm hoping that he can transfer
Rogue's memories back."
She grimaced.
"Hard to say. I'm convinced
that *you* touching him would kill him.
Any sort of drain – well, he doesn't have much left. As for telepathy, from what I've seen a
light touch doesn't alter much. I don't
think it would affect him much one way or the other. A heavier scan, yes, I've seen that affect people. It might end up rousing him, or it might be
the straw that kills him. He's so weak
at this point that the act of waking him up might kill him."
It was frustrating that I still had to convince them of
this. "I think Rogue must have had
some clues as to what was going on. At
the very least, she knows what they wanted her to do. And Dr. Trautwein is a lost cause. He would accept that – believe me. But now, more than ever, we need to get Rogue's memories back in
place. We need to do it before we lose
the opportunity forever."
"You still need more training to be able to accept
those memories," Charles stated.
"Then give me that training. Now!"
Charles sat back and steepled his fingers in that irritating
manner he has. "We will discuss
it. I'll let you know what we
decide."
'We' meant the adults.
Scott and I, and surprisingly enough Jackie, left the conference
room. Inside, the debate took off
again.
*****
Kitty, Jackie, and I sat together up in our room. Kitty was looking extremely worried.
"But if they're, like, watching us, what can we
do? They know everything about us, and
we don't know anything about them. They
could be anyone!"
"She's right," Jackie-Rogue said. "But *you* can be anyone, too. Or at least, Rogue can."
I shook my head.
"I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet. I have enough trouble figuring out who I
really am, without trying to become someone else."
"Sorry, I'm not sure that you can afford that attitude
right now. Why not at least practice a
little? You never know when you might
need these skills." She
frowned. "And… if your powers were
anywhere near Mystique's level, that choke-hold never would have worked. You could have altered your throat, maybe
moved the major veins and arteries…"
I reluctantly agreed.
"Yeah, alright. But you
have to tell me the other tricks of the trade.
Like how do you go about creating a new identity? I mean, something that will stand up to
legal scrutiny?"
"Ah, that's a trick.
It depends on how much money you have and how solid you want the
identity to be."
Jackie began to explain the twisted details. Since most identity crimes were based on
fraud, you needed a solid identity to set up bank and credit accounts. But, conversely, financial records
(particularly social security) were what they cross-indexed to check an
identity. So it was something of a
chicken-and-egg problem, unless you started at high-school age. That inspired me, and I remembered the
experiments I'd done with turning into a child. I waited until Kitty was looking the other way, then shifted into
a five-year-old girl, dressed in an over-cute powder-blue nightgown.
Jackie stopped speaking, stunned at my near-instant
transformation. Kitty looked back and
goggled.
"Pick me up, Auntie Kitty," I pleaded, looking up
at her. "Tell me a story!"
Kitty's face was stunned, but she picked me up before her
mind had a chance to react. "What? Rogue?
Is that you?"
I hugged her the way I thought a little girl might. "You're pretty, Auntie Kitty. I love you."
"I…she…Rogue?
It looks like her. Rogue, are
you in there? Ohmigawd!" She stared at Jackie in a panic. "She hasn't, like, regressed, has
she? She isn't stuck this
way?" All the while she was
holding me and sort of rocking back and forth.
I couldn't help it.
I started to snicker. And it
wasn't a little girl snicker either.
"You…you PIG!"
Kitty dumped me on the ground.
"What's the matter, big lady?" I lisped, almost in
baby-talk.
"And to think I thought a little Rogue was cute! You tricked me!"
I grew back to normal size, returning to Angel's form. It took about three seconds. "Yeah, but you have to admit, it was
kind of funny."
Kitty crossed her arms and huffed, turning her back to me.
"Aw, come on Kitty!"
"Oh, alright," she huffed. "Maybe it was just a teeny bit
funny." Then she lighted up. "But you know what *would* be
funny? A baby Kurt! He'd be soooo cute!"
"Uh…I don't think so," I said. "Too incestuous, you know?"
"How about baby Logan," Jackie suggested. "That'd be a hoot."
Then Kitty's eyes grew wide. "I've got it. Even
better than a bald baby Professor X. Do
a baby Scott. Then we'll bring Jean in,
and tell her that you're Scott's love child!"
Once we recovered from the laughter, I went to work trying
to copy adult Scott. It wasn't
easy. Kitty managed to get a photo of
him, and I was able to shift, it's just that the shapes weren't exactly correct. I had the 'mutant' aspect down pat. I'd be great for next Halloween. I just couldn't get the normal human look
quite right. And when I did, the
details were wrong. So while Jackie
explained the intricacies of creating a false identity, Kitty critiqued my
Scott impersonation.
The first thing I noticed is that it was easy to get an
approximately Scott-shaped figure, but the devil lay in the details. The second thing I noticed was that I was a
guy again (or at least, guy-shaped). To
my horror, it didn't feel right. It
felt rather…perverted…to have a guy's thing down there. It was wrong and bulky and awkward. I missed my smooth curves and snug underwear
that fit correctly. I felt deeply
troubled by the loss of my breasts.
The implications were obvious, but I didn't want to face
them. Instead, I concentrated on
getting Scott's features exactly right, and occasionally playing with
exaggerating my features in comic fashion.
"…so it's a lot like a bootstrapping process in a
computer. You use the first identity to
take the funds out in cash. Then with
the second identity, which is unconnected with the first, you pose as an
illegal alien seeking entry. A good
scam is to say –"
"Your nose is too long!"
"Huh?"
"I mean it!
Scott's nose isn't that big!"
"His glasses make him look completely different. Here, try this." I created a pair of amber sunglasses, tinted
red. That was easy. I just hadn't figured out how to do clear
yet.
"Oh, yeah.
You're right. But the jaw is
off."
"So where was I?
There are brokers who buy identities off legitimate people to sell to
illegal immigrants. Not just farm
workers, but drug handlers, landowners, politicians, industrialists – anyone
wanting to become a US citizen without being traceable. The trick is to find the broker, and also to
make him believe you fall into one of those categories…."
*****
Later, in the bathroom, I practiced a few shapes on my
own. Jerry Tratwick – it was a
snap. Then I imagined a tall girl with
mousy brown hair. A moment later, I saw
her face looking back from the mirror.
I imagined Scott, complete with red glasses (how else could he be
Scott)? Moments later, he was looking
back from the mirror. Only… it wasn't
quite right. It was easy to become a
different person. Angel Quinn was a
perfect example. And I could return to that
shape whenever I wanted. But becoming
an exact match for an existing person… that was hard. I could become a lot of people who looked something like Scott,
but not of them were quite exactly Scott.
But I realized that there was one person…
Just once since this whole thing had begun, I had taken the
exact shape of an existing person. I
could take Rogue's shape, but that didn't count since it wasn't so much
assuming a new shape as relaxing into this body's natural shape. Could I do it? Could I become an exact match for a living, existing person? I didn't want to. I was afraid of what I might learn. But I needed to know.
This new group of mutants might mean serious trouble, and I needed
everything I could get. I closed my
eyes and shifted, taking a shape that I hadn't worn for weeks.
When I opened my eyes, I stared into the mirror at the
wrinkled, geriatric face of Dr. Gerard Trautwein. He was wearing his tweed jacket with a rumpled white cotton dress
shirt beneath, and linen slacks pulled up a little too high.
"Is that me?"
The image, the movements, the sound of his voice – they were
all perfect. Inside I still felt young
and strong, but for the most part, I moved like an old man. Even the hand I raised to wonderingly tough
my ancient face had a sort of palsied shaking to it.
But it also confirmed my worst fears.
The face in the mirror *was* Gerard Trautwein, but it wasn't
*me*. There was a feeling in my chest,
an emotion of looking at someone very familiar, but someone outside myself,
like a brother or extremely close acquaintance. I knew Gerard, knew him better than anyone. But looking into his face I couldn't kid
myself any longer. I was not him.
At the same time, I couldn't believe that I was Rogue,
either. Everyone seemed to be insisting
that was the case, but I suspect that it was because it let everything work out
conveniently for their own comforting little view of the universe. "Oh, Rogue's powers went wild and she
thought she was someone else for a while.
She eventually came out of it and went back to normal, none the worse for
wear. She even learned a little from
it."
Simple. Easy. Non-threatening.
But I couldn't believe it.
I had counseled Rogue. I had a
reasonable understanding of the girl, and what made her tick. And in fairness to Charles, I had to
reluctantly admit that I *was* acquiring many of her quirks and personality
traits. But this didn't make me the
same person as Rogue. I was an
individual in my own right, not just "a confused Rogue."
So I wasn't Rogue.
And now I knew that I wasn't Gerard Trautwein, either.
Then who was I?
*****
I felt like the odd man out (well, "man" being a
figurative term) as the rest of the team gathered outside the Danger Room. They were all in their X-uniforms, while I
was in jeans and T-shirt, with a medium-sized purse chock full of mahogany and
solid enamel.
"Ah don't know what Ah'm doing here," Jackie-Rogue
said. "Ah'm not even an X-man, not
for real. Besides, Ah don't have any
powers. Nothin' that's going to help in
a fight."
"Yeah, that's the old Rogue we all know and love,"
Spkye said.
"Hey!" I yelled at him.
Spyke shrugged.
"Well, you know…"
"Well not everyone has to have, like, killer slasher
beams and stuff," Kitty said in apparent support.
Professor X rolled up to the group of us. "Kitty is correct. Some of you have abilities that are well
suited to combat, but I happen to believe that the group is strengthened by
diversity. Sometimes the abilities that
seem least likely to subdue a foe turn out to be the key to achieving your
goal."
I restrained myself from tapping my foot or showing any
other signs of boredom during the lecture.
After all, I was Angel right now, and Angel was a nice girl. Everyone liked her. Largely because she never cut people down
(not even when they deserved it) the way I wanted to do right then. *Come on, Professor,* I thought, *cut to the
chase!*
"That's also why I've had Angel here appear in normal
clothing, rather than a uniform. An
important aspect of this training is to exercise and test your mutant
abilities. Angel, as she is calling
herself these days, is obviously a shapeshifter. As such, she can often best use her abilities *out* of
uniform. I want the team to begin
getting used to that idea. At other
times, she'll appear in uniform, alongside the rest of you. Angel, if you would?"
I took this as a clue to change. Turning around, I grabbed my purse with both hands, letting it
flow up along each forearm. Then,
turning back to them I armored up, patterning my uniform to look much like
Kitty's. The gloves and belt were both
necessary requirements. I layered the
gloves with punching knobs and enamel strips for claws; the belt held extra
mass. And when I triggered the change,
I tried to duplicate a trick that I'd seen Mystique pull on the few video shots
we had of her. I changed in a slow
wave, from the top down. Apparently it
makes an impressive display. Rather
ostentatious, but that's the point, I think.
The last thing a shapeshifter wants is for people to expect subtlety
from them. It makes it so much harder
to be sneaky.
Scott turned to the Professor. "What's our situation?"
"First, you should know that I will be taking the role
of one of your opposition. I'll be
playing Emma Frost, a telepathic member of the Hellfire club. This situation supposes that you've received
information that the Hellfire Club intends to strike at warehouse 24, in the
shipping district. You don't know
anything else. Your goal is to foil them
– prevent them from achieving *their* goal.
If possible, you are to figure out why they are here, and turn this to
your advantage as much as possible."
"That's pretty poor intelligence," Scott said.
Wolverine growled back a response. "Yeah, but it's typical.
Either they're hitting you by surprise, or else things get twisted on you. Either way, you're reacting when you don't
know what's really going on. It's good
to train that way."
The seven of us stepped through the Danger Room doors, and
into the darkness of the (simulated) warehouse district, late at night.
Scott immediately took control. "Okay. The core
group will consist of me, Jean, Spyke, and Rogue. We have the core fighters, but mostly we can't do the
reconnaissance as well as you other three.
Kitty, Angel, Nightcrawler – Jean will keep a light touch, to keep us coordinated. It's your job to scout the place. Don't be seen! As soon as we know what we're facing, Jean will pass on new
directions."
All of us nodded. At
once, Kurt vanished in a puff of smoke.
Kitty took off, running quietly.
I swirled a cape around me, wrapping myself head-to-foot in
midnight-black cloth. Then I, too,
headed for warehouse 24.
*You okay there?* Jean's thought came. I could feel her trying to 'touch' my
eyes. I let her, letting her see where
I was and what I was doing, then she slipped out of my mind again.
I ghosted along, or at least I tried to. The soles of my shoes were as cushiony and
silent as I could manage. It felt like
I was walking on pillows. I was wrapped
in sheik-style robes and hood, and I kept modifying the colors so that they
matched the backgrounds I was against.
I briefly considered launching a line to the roof and traveling that
way, but I knew that I didn't really have the skills for that. I could travel along the rooflines, but not
quickly.
Soon enough, it was ahead of me. I circled around, noticing that some lights were on inside. After a while, I spotted movement through
the glass. I was considering shooting a
line up to the roof and climbing up to try an upper floor windows, but an
easier opportunity presented itself.
*Kitty and Kurt both report lights and movement, but the
doors are all closed and locked,* Jean sent.
*Send one of them over my way, to help me inside,* I
suggested.
*Kitty's around the corner to your left. Why don't you try her?*
*Okay. Tell her not
to jump when I sneak up on her.*
That made getting there doubly interesting. Not only did I have to beat the dumb guards,
but if Kitty was doing her job, she'd be ready and alert for me. So what if I came in from a different direction? I slipped back to the surrounding buildings,
then came around the warehouse from Kitty's left, instead of her right. Now, where was she? There was one particularly dark pool of
shadows, this side of a group of scrap metal dumped outside the warehouse. It seemed like an obvious spot – and there
was movement. Frankly, I think that
lavender stripe on her costume is asking for trouble. I mean, it's not like the giant target that Scott has painted on
his chest, but it's still high contrast.
I snuck up to the side of the warehouse, then matched colors again.
Hmmm, how to sneak up on Kitty? When you think about it, you realize that a person who can walk
through walls can be pretty sneaky. I
wonder how long she can hold a "phase"? She could just sit in the middle of that pile of debris, and no
one would notice. What did I have that
could match that? Well, for starters, I
could use better camouflage. Thinking
about it, I materialized a giant kite shield.
A lot like a child's kite, but five feet wide and six feet tall, bulging
slightly around my body. It was flimsy
lightweight sticks covered with a loose fabric that mimicked the wavy steel
siding I was pressed against. In fact,
it looked a lot like any other square panel.
It was thick enough to be opaque from outside (in the dark of the
night), but thin enough for me to see out through it. Now, what else? Kitty
would expect Angel, who was reasonably tall for a girl. But if I were shorter… With another thought, my body shifted,
shrinking, until I was barely three feet tall, the size of a small five year
old girl. I shrank my disguise panel,
too, until it was only four feet tall.
Now I was doing well. With my
cushion-fluff shoes and a little care in walking, trying to keep an eye on
Kitty, I moved only when I thought she was looking in another direction. My movement came in bursts of: freeze, move
quickly but carefully, freeze, and so on.
I was finally close enough to talk to her, but either she really hadn't
seen me or else Kitty was being very polite.
I waited until she was looking the other way, then shifted back to
normal, wearing my X-uniform with the green stripe. I waited silently until she turned toward me.
"Shit!"
She stumbled backward before falling back on her butt. "Don't DO that!"
*Hmmm, I guess she hadn't been pretending,* I thought with a
grin.
"I thought Jean told you not to jump," I
whispered.
"Yeah, but you were supposed to be here, like, five
minutes ago. And she said you were
coming from the other side."
"I decided to be extra careful."
"Showoff!"
"Help me get inside, okay?"
She nodded, sending her ponytail bouncing. "Sure.
I've been peeking around, and this looks like the best place to sneak
in. Come on. I'll help you first, then pull the rest through in this same
spot."
I looked up and saw the 'core group' moving into position in
an alley across the street.
"Okay," I said, "I'm ready."
Kitty put a hand on my shoulder, then guided me
forward. As soon as she touched me,
something felt different. It was hard
to explain how, exactly, but it was different.
Then I followed Kitty as she stepped into the wall. Or rather, as she passed *through* the wall
as if it were nothing more than air. Of
all the strange abilities I've seen, Kitty's has to be one of the most
astonishing.
Inside were pallets.
Stacks and stacks of pallets with everything from crates to lumber to
scrap machine parts. Aisles were wide
enough to allow forklifts in. Light
came from a half-dozen sodium vapor lamps set in the ceiling far above, but the
combination of their monochromatic yellow tinge, the miasma of dust in the air,
and the irregular shadows cast between the towers of junk gave the place a
sinister and forbidding appearance. The
only spot of warmth was the clean white light coming from some sort of
supervisor's office, tucked in upstairs at the far corner of the building. And there was a strange element in the
number of guards. I might have expected
a single security guard, or none.
Instead, I could see four guards walking along the upper level
catwalk. Down on the ground, at the far
end of the aisle, I saw a canine shape move.
It seemed to be chasing after something tiny that scurried across the ground. I didn't think the dog would be able to
smell much, since there was an overpowering tang of rust in the air. Still, I tugged Kitty's sleeve and
pointed. She saw, nodded, and then
stepped back out through the wall, leaving me alone inside.
How was I supposed to deal with dogs? It occurred to me that an effective weapon
would be just a little bit of skunk musk.
I could whip up a filmy bubble, or a squeeze bulb. Too bad I'd never had a chance to analyze
skunk musk. Or bear scent. Or cougar scent. Any of those might have worked.
I'd have to remedy the omission, sometime in the next day or two. A quick trip to the zoo might teach me a
lot.
For the moment, it looked like getting off the ground was my
best bet. Let's see… the catwalk up
above allowed a pretty good view of the entire building. I looked around, trying to spot the stairs
or ladder up.
The only path upward was a long, vertical ladder, but it was
*retracted*. Definitely not
normal. One of the guards walked by
overhead, and I took a moment to study his uniform (as well as I could, from
this distance). When he'd passed, I
formed a crossbow and shot up a grapple, trailing a thin line of black
cord. I'd learned that my upper body
strength was nowhere near enough to climb hand-over-hand, but I could control
the fabric of the rope. I could
temporarily bond it to the soles of my shoes, allowing me to 'walk' up the
line, almost as if it were a rope ladder.
I pulled myself up onto the catwalk and then shaped myself and my
clothes to look like a guard.
This was the nerve wracking part. I didn't know who these guys were, what they wanted, or what the
Hellfire club might be up to. I could
touch one and try to use his memory, but I was extremely reluctant to do
that. Having my mind invaded by another
personality was a gruesome experience.
I had performed it with friends, but to bring a stranger into my mind,
or an enemy – that was a pretty intimidating.
Fortunately, no one seemed to notice me as I boldly walked
toward the lit office. There were now
only two of us up on the catwalk, with everyone else being inside. I approached the office, and waited until
the other guard was turned away, scanning the warehouse below.
This was as good as it was going to get. I'd be exposed for a minute, but with luck I
could accomplish my goal. As the guard
turned away, I created a line with a sticky-blob at the end. I flung it up to the ceiling, where it stuck
fast. As quick as could be, I shimmied
up the rope to the ceiling, ten feet above the catwalk. Using the shadow of a girder, I quickly
constructed another kite shield like the one I'd used outside. Think of it as a duck blind. As I clung to the ceiling girder, the
stick-and-fabric panel hung under me, looking for all the world like one more
dusty piece of the sheet-metal ceiling.
Then, letting out a (silent) sigh of relief, I spun myself a hammock-net
stuck to the ceiling with ties and sticky glue-blobs, so I could lie in safety
above the camouflage sheet. It was
cramped, but I managed to shrink myself down to five-year-old size, which gave
me much more room. Then I settled in to
watch.
"Quiet night, Ed?"
"Yeah. Hey you
wanna brew a fresh pot?"
"Might as well.
You know, I'll feel a lot better after tomorrow morning, when they pick
this load up."
And the conversations continued in the same vein. I learned that there were five guards, they
occasionally used military terminology, and I came to know their faces and
names. I also studied their
rounds. All of which I relayed back to
Jean, once I remembered to lock in my five-year-old size and cancel the 'buzz.'
After that, there was a bit of waiting. I was able to handle bathroom details for
myself (disintegrating unwanted fluid), but I resolved, next time, to bring
along a thermos of something like coffee to drink.
Over an hour passed that way. I think I was the most comfortable of the team, since I was
stretched out in comfort, wrapped up in a warm blanket that I made for
myself. Once we had the routine down,
Jean announced that she was going to drop down to a very light, very occasional
touch, since we knew there was another telepath working against us. She was trying to maintain 'radio
silence.' The main problem was that
since they hadn't given me a *real* radio, I had no way to contact the team
without Jean's help. So I sat and
waited, out of contact with the team.
And then I felt something brush my mind. Maybe my work with Professor X was paying
off, but I immediately realized that a telepath was trying to touch my
mind. I shifted, changing back into
Rogue, getting ready for combat, and holding my navel just slightly out of
position to keep the 'buzz' going. I
wasn't sure if it would make me invisible to the telepath, but they certainly
wouldn't be able to use their power on me.
I dressed in my uniform (armored, of course), morphed a crossbow with a
rifle stock, and prepared a set of quarrels with wide enamel barbs.
Suddenly, the guards below me went stiff. Three of them passed out on the catwalk, the
other two marched like marionettes, lowering the ladder and walking down to the
floor. I banished my 'duck blind' and
slithered down a line, changing to look like a guard as I moved. Moving quietly across the catwalk, I
approached the three sleeping guards.
They were all breathing heavily.
I began slapping the first in the face.
"Ed! Wake
up!"
My voice wasn't that good of a match, but Ed was only slowly
waking up.
"Whaz happening?"
His eyes slowly opened, then he saw my face. "Who the hell?"
He began scrambling backward, reaching for the pistol at his side.
Damn. I reached out
to touch him.
For a moment, I felt the touch of cold plastic as I grabbed
his arm. The illusion of the Danger
Room was momentarily punctured, and I heard the Professor's voice speak in my
head. *Rogue, your powers are one of
the things that we cannot simulate in the Danger Room. Instead, I will give you some of the same
knowledge that you could have obtained through 'Ed.' The rest is up to you.*
And then a handful of vital facts and figured poured into my mind. Memories, and I could even remember how the
Professor had learned them, sitting in his study and reading the briefing
summary. Then our contact was cut. He was right; I was on my own.
I wrapped Ed's unconscious body tightly and stashed him
under the bed, hidden under some camouflage cloth. Then I became Ed. I
looked in the mirror and tried to work on it until the likeness was halfway
decent. Then I dragged the next man,
Rick, over so that my face was half in shadow.
I slapped Rick awake the same was I'd done to Ed.
"Rick, buddy, wake up." I coughed and wheezed, as I spoke.
"Huh? Where am
I? What happened. That you, Ed?"
I coughed again, taking the opportunity to cover my face
slightly. "Gas, I think. We've got a Situation Delta. Call HQ and try to get Tim going. Juan and Renaldo are below opening the
door." I faked another cough and
made my voice rougher. "I think
they've been co-opted. I'm going to
cover things from the end of catwalk three."
I ran out the door, pausing to grab a laser rifle.
At least now I knew what the Hellfire team was after. This warehouse was run by SHIELD. Hmmm, had Jack Dugan helped put this
exercise together? In any case, SHIELD
had five cases of laser rifles below, similar to the one I held in my
hands. We certainly didn't want those
to fall into the wrong hands.
While I ran down the catwalk, I clamped my shape in Ed's
form. I needed to look like a SHIELD
guard to the rest of the guards, but I also needed to open my mind to talk to
Jean.
The two guards below were already unlocking the doors. I cranked the rifle down to a non-lethal
setting, then gave them both shots in the back. It was almost unfair – they could hardly dodge. They were both knocked down and aside, but
not before opening the front gate. I
took what cover I could behind the metal plates on the catwalk, and fired at
the Hellfire team rushing through the door.
*Rogue? I mean,
Angel? Are you back with us?* Jean's voice had a note of panic.
*Sure am. The
warehouse is run by SHIELD. They have
five crates of laser rifles. Here's the
details:* I brought up the rest of the
facts and sent the info as fast as I could.
*I'm going to go blank again, so that their telepath can't get me.* And before Jean could protest, I shifted my
bellybutton again, blanking out our connection in the mild static created by
the buzz.
I needed my full concentration back anyway. Three bruisers had pushed through the
doorway and were pelting to the far end of the warehouse – toward the retracted
ladder, I realized. I took shots into
their backs, but the air seemed to shimmer into a wall of distortion behind
them. The air rippled like the heat
distortion over a hot road. My laser
shots hit that and bounced off, ricocheting in random directions. Quickly I turned up the power and aimed at
the ladder itself. Three seconds of
continuous fire and the left side melted free, breaking with a loud crack.
Another plane of distortion formed between me and the
ladder, blocking my next shot, but by now Rick and Tim were awake. They made short work of the ladder, then
turned their fire on the bruisers.
I was just turning back toward the front door, when my rifle
jerked itself out of my hands.
Almost. I managed to hang on
through sheer stubbornness, but I was lifted off the ground. Then I was kicked in the gut. If I hadn't been wearing the extra-thick
armor, I would have relaxed my grip.
But I knew who I was facing now.
It was the same man who'd beaten me up in the weight room. My rage started to build. I wasn't about to let go of the rifle.
Looking down, I saw the real team entering. LongArm was in front, staring at me, his
hands held above his head as if lifting something. He occasionally tipped up on one leg to make a kick. Each time I saw, I jerked my head to the
side and tried to shift my body as much as possible. I wasn't sure if I could make him miss, but it was worth
trying. His target became obvious. A couple of blows to the leg and thigh, then
he connected solidly. He was trying to kick
me in the crotch! Then I realized that
he thought I was a guy, and he didn't know that I had multiple layers of solid
armor there. In fact, I still wore
bikini-style plates, even if they were shaped for a man's body at the moment.
I had a moment to glance at the rest of the people filing
in. One was a platinum blonde dressed
in (if you can believe it) white silk stockings, a white leather corset, white
leather bikini panties, and long white gloves.
She was the telepath, Emma Frost.
Also known as the "White Queen," for reasons that currently
escaped me. Well, the white part was
obvious, but all I could think of for the "queen" description was an
inappropriate sexual reference. That
is, she certainly didn't look like a guy in drag.
Beside her was a man garbed in shimmering mirage
ripples. I recognized him as
"Cordon," and as I watched he held his hand palm-out, to create a new
disk of distortion in the air. Based on
our briefings, I knew that those zones of solidified air would last for at
least an hour, and would block bullets, lasers, electrical bolts, and most
other conventional attacks.
Then, another shape loomed up from the darkness
outside. A figure taller and wider than
anyone else who had entered. Freddy
Dukes, better known as the Blob. Now I
saw the other three members of the brotherhood joining him, Todd Tolensky – or
rather, Toad – Avalanche, and Quicksilver.
Were we outnumbered here? The
three bruisers were some of the cyborgs the Hellfire club employed. On the other hand, SHIELD guards were
nothing to sneeze at. We had two or
more SHIELD guards and seven mutants; they had three cyborgs and seven
mutants. It might be almost even.
In my heart, though, I knew we were about to be
slaughtered. I desperately searched for
ways to make myself more effective.
As Quicksilver streaked into the warehouse, searching crates
like a deranged whirlwind, a spear shot past Freddy and slammed LongArm in the
back. Immediately the tug on my rifle
vanished. I spun, taking aim and
shooting at Emma Frost. I was able to
fire around the edge of one of the distortion disks, winging her in the
shin. Cussing, she dropped back, and
more distortion disks shimmered into being ahead of me.
While I had a moment unobserved, I shifted the wood armband
at my wrist into a crossbow and quarrel.
I cocked it, then fired a sticky-ended cord across the roof. I slung another one around a girder over my
head. Now I had two lines for escape
routes. I fastened both to my armor, so
I didn't have to hold them, then morphed the crossbow back into a wrist
band. Being at the dead end of a
catwalk was a position that was bound to turn awkward, real soon now.
Now the X-men burst in, full force. Spyke was firing at Blob, Cordon, and
LongArm. The first two didn't have much
effect. He'd gotten a surprise shot in
on LongArm, but another distorted zone of solidified air shimmered up between
them and Spyke was blocked.
Cyclops had fired at Emma Frost, striking her in the back
and sending her to the ground.
Unconscious? I didn't know. Jean seemed to be telekinetically wrestling
with LongArm. Avalanche started to rip
the ground open under the X-men's feet, but Nightcrawler appeared in the air
over his head and began to punch and pummel him.
It was a free-for-all.
From inside, I watched the Blob ignore the battle to stomp
his way into the warehouse. Toad hopped
from stack to stack, higher and higher, and finally leapt onto the catwalk and
spun to face me. I felt suddenly like
it was showdown at the OK coral.
Toad hopped forward until he was only thirty feet away. I raised my rifle to shoot him, when he
spit. The glob of slimy gunk he spat
toward me didn't hit me, it hit the forward barrel of my gun. I frantically wiped it clean while Toad
tried to grab the rifle with his tongue, if you can believe that. I got the barrel lenses clean enough to take
a shot, but with his (surprisingly strong) tongue tugging another way, my shot
went wild.
I wondered what had happened to the dogs, but had little
time for that as I stumbled backward.
Toad had released my gun and was spitting again. I swung the rifle aside and blasted him in
the chest. The impact knocked him back
by a good twenty feet and seemed to knock him out. I turned back to shoot into the melee.
It was tough. The
scene was chaos, lit in sharp-edged beams of sodium yellow. The air was punctuated with the ruby rays
from laser rifles, and the crimson firehose from Cyclops' visor. I saw my chance to hit LongArm and took it,
but just as I fired, my platform shook and I ended up nearly hitting Jean. Scott turned my way with an expression of
rage, as Blob yanked out the support column under my catwalk.
I dangled from the cord overhead, then cut it and swung
across the room to land atop one of the stacks of lumber. I released the cord climbed back to my
feet. LongArm was in the clear! I took aim and fired, but the distortion
field bent the ray. This time, it flashed
in the direction where Kitty and Jean-Rogue were grappling with a revived Emma
Frost. I didn't hit any of them, but
came close.
From the corner of my eye, I saw the crimson bolt flashing
toward me. It struck me solidly, right
in the gut. I doubled over and skidded
off the stack of lumber, falling at least ten feet to slam to the concrete
floor below.
*****
I woke up in the medical lab, still in the shape of Ed the
guard. I had massive pains in my gut,
my entire left side, and the side of my head.
"Geez, I'm really sorry!" Scott was saying. "I thought you were one of the regular
guards, and you couldn't tell who was who.
You would have been more danger to us than to them!"
I groaned, relaxing back into Rogue's real body. "That's okay. No permanent damage. Is
training always this rough?"
"Well, this strenuous.
Not this confusing and chaotic."
"I see. Did we
pass or fail?"
"Oh, we failed, big time. They got the entire shipment, injured three of us, killed Kitty,
and got SHIELD hunting us."
"Ouch. Not too
good."
He shook his head.
"We'll be doing the same exercise again tomorrow."
I rubbed my hand over my face. "I can't wait."
Continued in Chapter 24, " Duncan do-nots" appearing NEXT Week!
since 07/20/03
