X-MEN ETERNITY

X-Factor #5: "Rogue Mission"
Rated PG-13 for violence and language

by R. John Burke
X-Men Eternity Message Board: http://solofan.proboards76.com/index.cgi

DISCLAIMER: The X-Men are a copyright of Marvel Comics. I don't own them, but this is only non-profit fan fiction. No money is involved and no infringement is intended.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: X-Men Eternity started (in Uncanny #1: The Shattering) with the events at the end of "House of M" and went in a different direction. "X-Factor: Eternity" deals with the part of the team that has become trapped in an alternate 19^th Century America.

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

"Understan', cher: You make dis choice, dere be no goin' back..."

New Orleans
Autumn 1861
Alternate Reality #915

Picture of a bargain about to be struck: The lady with the white stripe in her hair is Rogue. The man, withered and bent by age, with brown skin like leather, is Guillaume, a prominent member of the 19^th Century Thieves' Guild in New Orleans. Rogue is a mutant, a representative of what is very probably the next step in human evolution: the X-gene she carries separates her from the rest of humanity, both figuratively and literally.

Like the old man, Rogue is a thief. A thief of powers, skills, and memories. Her touch can be deadly, but always at a cost, for Rogue carries within her the shadows of anything she steals. Her mind isn't her own anymore, her personality merely the dominant one in the amalgam of the hundreds of lives and millions of half-recalled experiences that constitutes her brain. Luckier mutants consider themselves blessed by their power. Rogue is cursed.

Guillaume might be a mutant, too. Or he might be a mage, the embodiment of a demon, an alien scout, trapped on Earth. In her time with the team of mutant heroes called X-Men, Rogue has learned to take nothing for granted, and there are too many gaps in what she knows about the old man.

Guillaume's power is to control energy. He doesn't create power; he only influences that of others. He's promised Rogue he could show her this trick, how to master her own abilities... for a price. (*see last issue) But that isn't what Rogue wants. She draws a deep, shuddering breath, knowing she might change her mind at any moment.

"Do it."

Guillaume peers at her. "Not so easy, cher. You make yo' choice, got t'be wit' yo' whole heart... yo' *soul*. Dere's no holdin' back from me here."

"I understand."

"Do you? Don't got t'impress nobody. Don' got t'be de hero. Recall, cher, your parley's wit' a thief. Ask me, ain't no shame in takin' what you need, while you can get it."

Rogue shakes her head. "There is for me. I'm an X-Man."

"T'ink dat make you more den human?"

"Nope," she says. "It makes me part of a family. You understand family business, old man."

Guillaume peers at her through sad, depthless eyes, and nods. He sets his hands atop hers, muttering to himself, body swaying slightly and breath coming faster as he summons the full extent of his abilities...

"Remy," Rogue murmurs, "forgive me..."

Guillaume's hands clench tight around her wrists. Power floods Rogue at his command, flowing between them, making the air around them burn. Rogue gasps-- ghostly impressions dance through her mind, all the people she's touched, people she never knew at all, people she's loved and hated... slipping away from her, along with everything she is, as her mind is drawn closer and closer to the old man's, spinning around, a jumble of feeling and loss.

In the instant before she loses herself, Rogue remembers how it came to this...

****

Bentonville, Arkansas
Two Days Earlier

"This is where I lost him, I swear." Paige Guthrie-- known professionally as Husk-- sighed and then swore. "'Least, it's where I woke up. I guess I don't know for sure Jono was ever here."

Her teammates-- Rogue, Remy LeBeau (Gambit), Dr. Cecilia Reyes, and Paige's brother Sam (Cannonball), fanned out a little to explore the Ozark mountainside where Paige had awakened that morning, following her confrontation with puppets of their now-deceased enemy, an assassin called the Sculptor. Somewhere along the way, she'd lost her teammate Jonothon Starsmore-- Chamber, who had absolutely wasted a building with his psionic energies and then vanished into thin air. (* issues 3-4) Maybe young Sophie Cuckoo could have used her telepathic abilities to find him, but that hadn't worked before. Besides, in a fit of pique, Rogue had sent the kid back to their home base in Richmond along with Paige's lover, Warren Worthington, the Angel. Who knew where that relationship now stood, in the wake of Warren's apparent betrayal? (* last issue)

As weeks went, Paige wasn't having the best one, and as team leader, Rogue felt her pain. She got everybody else's sucky days times two, plus responsibility for fixing them, and right now Rogue wasn't sure that was possible.

She felt a hand on her shoulder-- Cecilia, who drew her to the side a bit and spoke in a voice only Rogue could hear.

"You okay, girl? You're not beating yourself up over this, are you?"

Rogue looked down at her clenched fists. Her usual solution to such problems was to beat up others. The proper course now appeared to be somewhat more complex.

"How the hell we gonna find him?" Rogue murmured. "The Assassin's Guild was our only lead, an' now that's gone. Even if I called Sophie back, who says he ain't on the other side a' the planet by now?"

Ceclia shrugged. "Well... there's Warren."

"No Warren. I gotta cool off a little before I can even *think* about what t' do with that sonofa..."

She actually did finish the word, but nobody heard it because of the earthquake. It wasn't *really* an earthquake, just a large patch of ground spontaneously exploding. Which, to Rogue's mind, might have been even worse.

Sam Guthrie was standing beside it when it blew; caught without his blast field in place, he flew through the air and almost slammed into Rogue, hitting the ground at her feet. Meanwhile, Remy dug his staff into the ground to anchor himself in place, but he seemed about to blow away, ravaged by an unseen storm...

And then the storm appeared. Another explosion revealed the mouth of a cave, pitch-black but flickering with energy. As Rogue watched, the energy grew stronger, redoubling each time it pulsed, destroying anything nearby. Remy swore viciously in Cajun French... and then the curses were interrupted by a voice, echoing inside Rogue's mind, nearly familiar, but tormented and angry:

--HELP Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!--

"Jono!" said Paige immediately. "He's in there! What've they done to him?"

"I'll find out," said Sam.

"Careful!" Rogue warned.

Struggling gamely to his feet, the lanky young man engaged his blast field and streaked toward the cave...

--NooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!--

Another wave of energy lashed out, and Sam-- who should have been quite invulnerable inside his field-- hit the ground, clutching at his head and screaming. The attack must have been coming on a mental level, too, something he couldn't block out.

"Dammit!" Rogue hissed, and took a step toward him.. but she could barely get three steps against the currents of swirling energy and debris. A plasma field would only block matter, not the rest. If she'd been invulnerable still, she might have had a chance...

"Stay back, cher!" said Gambit. "I got him!"

"Don't be an idiot, Remy! You can't get through!" Rogue turned to her other companion: "Ceci, babe, hate t' tell ya this, but you might be the only chance we got."

"Yeah." The doctor took a deep breath, her force field appearing as a faint halo, and stepped into the maelstrom.

Her shields held. Barely. She pushed ahead like a mime walking against the wind... only this wind was real, and deadly. For a moment, Rogue thought she was going to make it. Then, as she neared Sam, she winced in reaction to something only she could perceive. A couple of steps away, she started to stumble.

"I'm not gonna make it!" she called back to Rogue. "Something's pounding away at my brain! I can bring him back, but that's all..."

Another curse. "Awright, yeah, get 'im outta there. We gotta come up with a better way t' do this..."

Cecilia grabbed Sam under the arms-- extending her force-field to cover him at some risk to herself-- and hauled him back to the group. Rogue looked around at her friends. She knew who had to do this-- only one option, really. Sam and Cecilia and Paige could take plenty of physical damage, and she and Remy both had some protection from telepaths-- Remy because of his unique energy signature, Rogue from the multiple personalities running around her head. But this attack was coming on both levels, and they didn't have anybody who could withstand both. Not anymore.

"Let me try," Paige said. "Let me talk to him."

Rogue nodded. Paige ripped off her outer skin, revealing her most durable steel husk, and pushed forward a little:

"Jono? You in there? Jono, it's Paige..."

--I hear yer, luv,-- said his telepathic voice, calmer than before, although weary. --You'll forgive a bloke fer not comin' to the door t' greet yer, but I'd just as soon not kill yer trying."

"You *are* doin' this, then?" Paige said.

--Yeh, 'fraid so.--

"Well... I mean, can'tcha just... stop?"

--Love to, Sunshine. I've been spending quality time with the Slayer. He decided t' teach me a few tricks. At first it was nice, in an I'd-still-like-to-kill-the-bugger sort of way. But he's rampin' up my power much too fast. I'm losing control.--

Paige took another breath. "Awright... I'm coming. Just... take it easy, huh?"

--Paige, I CAN'T!-- Another blast of energy set off a miniature landslide; Paige nearly stumbled. --Don't yer see? I'm fightin' this wanker fer control of... of everything! He says my power makes him stronger. I can't let that happen.--

Paige stopped short. "Wait... what're you sayin'?"

--I'm sayin' get OUT of here, Sunshine! You're th' last person I want in the middle of this!--

"You won't hurt me," Paige said, and took another step.

--GET OUT!!!-- Jono cried in their minds, and the whole hillside shook as his power went berserk. A baseball-sized rock got through Rogue's protective screen of plasma and bounced off her forehead. Even Cecilia's forcefield seemed to be weakening.

"Jono, please!" Paige called.

--So help me, luv, if you come any closer, I'll collapse this tunnel! I'd rather be dead than kill the lot of you!--

"You don't know what you're sayin'!" She reached out toward him...

--There's no other way, Paige. Now go on back to Warren.--

"Warren ain't..." Paige bit her lip, struggled forward again, ignoring the fury all around her. If he decided to really bring the thing down... "I was wrong about Warren. Maybe I was wrong about a lot of things, Jono. I just..."

--Don't! Will yer please just listen t' me fer once, Sunshine? Gordon Bennett! Yer the most infuriatin' skirt I ever...--

Rogue interrupted, "Paige, honey, c'mon away. He's right. This ain't the time or the place."

Paige turned on her. "But you heard him! It's just gettin' worse! If we don't save him now, we might never!"

"We ain't licked yet, p'tit," said Remy. "Give you my word. We wait for de right cards, eh?"

"C'mon," Rogue repeated, staring the girl down.

"We'll be back for you," Paige said, in the direction of Jono's cave.

--'Course yer will,-- he replied, in a tone that implied he rather hoped they wouldn't.

The turmoil abated, and Remy struggled over to help Cecilia with Sam, while Paige slowly walked away, glancing back every couple of seconds. Only Rogue remained, deep in thought. There was one way to save Jono, wasn't there? If she had the guts to take it. The lady called Rogue had never lacked guts.

Brains, she reflected, were something else again.

****

Jacksonport, Arkansas
275 Miles to the Southeast

The matronly woman in the brown homespun dress bustled about the room, while Warren Worthington sat at table with her husband, a gaunt fellow with a steel-gray beard and even steelier gray eyes. Between the men sat Sophie Cuckoo, the teenaged telepath posing as Warren's daughter, but even with the power of the Five-in-One group mind behind her, she hesitated to interrupt the staring match between the two men.

"Our Jeb *did* mention a Warren from Manassas," the older man drawled. "Said he saved his life. (* X-Factor #1)"

"Well..." Warren smiled. "I don't like to brag."

"'Course, he also said he was so far gone with pain, he thought the fellow was an angel."

"Kids today, huh?"

"Yep. What I'd like to know, sir," The gaunt fellow leaned across the table, staring at Warren, "is how the Sam Hill we can tell you are who you say you are."

"Oh, Pa!" said the woman, who was easily twice as wide as her husband. "These folks are our guests!"

"He talks like a Yankee."

"I told you," said Warren patiently, "I went to school in New York."

That much was the truth. The man glared at him suspiciously anyway. Warren didn't blame him, especially since he knew he was cashing in a debt that honor would have forgiven, all for the sake of bumming a free meal before a cross-country flight. When a fellow had to flap his own wings the whole way, it paid to remember such things. Besides, a little hero worship and adulation would have done wonders for Warren's bruised ego.

But he was getting that only from the woman, who returned to the table with an overloaded tray of food: "Now, Pa, however he talks, this man saved the life of our only son. If you think I'm going to send him away without so much as a decent supper..."

"Yum," said Sophie as the food was set before her. "Greasy slabs of grizzled meat and bread with weevils in it."

"Sophie, mind your manners," Warren said, just as though he *was* her father. "It looks delicious, ma'am, thank you."

In truth, the food was below his standards, as well; another sign of how low the Angel had fallen. He forced it down anyway, with a plastered-on smile.

"You seem a healthy enough young fella," Jed's father said. "Why is it you ain't jined the Cause, Mr. Worthington?"

"Well, I..."

"It's none of our business!" the mother insisted. "Will your wife be arriving soon, Mr. Worthington? Some of us ladies are having a quilting bee this Saturday, for--"

"Enough!" said Sophie, and her eyes glowed white. The woman stopped in mid-sentence. The man froze with a forkload of food on its way to his mouth. Sophie turned to Warren. "Charmed as I am by the citizens of Mayberry, don't with have more important things to do?"

"Such as?" Warren forced down another bite. "We seem to have been sidelined."

"Oh, no, Mr. Worthington. No one will be able to remain on the sidelines of this battle. Not for long."

He arched an eyebrow at her. "You know, if *I* were to look so knowing, people would assume I'd been talking to the Slayer."

"You got too close to him," the girl said. "But that could be useful."

"You have a plan?"

"Possibly. How far are you willing to go? Will you do exactly as I tell you?"

"Anything," Warren said, and meant it. "I'll do anything to make this right."

"You might have to move Heaven and Earth... but that should be right up your alley."

"These Angel riffs are wearing thin." He sighed. "It said... 'she's moving too fast this time.' (*last issue) But it didn't mean Rogue; it meant you. It's afraid of you, I think."

Sophie's eyes glowed even brighter. "Isn't everyone afraid of me? I'm one of those creepy lookalike girls. Everyone's talking about us."

"Well, I'd say it's your turn at bat. Yours and your sisters'. But when you kill it? Save a piece for me."

"Believe me," the girl said, "you'll be there at the end. But now it's time to go."

"Uh, what about...?" Warren nodded to their hosts.

"Yes. Right." Sophie addressed them, pressed a hand to her forehead, and Warren heard her telepathic voice: --You'll turn in, get a good night's sleep, and forget all about us. You will also introduce fresh vegetables into your diet, because seriously? This is gross.--

"Nice to see Emma taught you to prioritize." Warren pushed back his chair and headed for the door, behind Sophie.

She fell right into his arms, collapsed really, with a strangled: "Oh--"

****

The dark room was strangely empty. In her mind, Sophie Cuckoo saw herself hunting to and fro for her sisters, but they were gone again. She half-expected to be confronting Esme...

But this time it was her sisters Phoebe and Mindee who joined her in the group mind connection. Sophie could feel their distress before they spoke-- before they even *thought* anything, she could feel that it had all gone wrong.

"Celeste is gone," said Phoebe.

"We think she's dead," said Mindee.

"No," said Sophie. "I'd feel that."

"He *killed* her," said Phoebe, ignoring her. "The Slayer."

"Esme helped him," Mindee added. "Now she's cut herself off."

"We can't talk to her at all," Phoebe said.

"She needs to die," both sisters said together.

Sophie took a step back in her mind, steepled imaginary fingers, and smirked. "Well... this is a change. I thought we were forgiving and forgetting."

"That was before she was a traitor bi--" said Phoebe.

"Now she is, and we want to kill her," Mindee interrupted.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," said Sophie, remembering how her wayward sister had suckered her into leading her X-Men into a trap (*last issue), then tricked the others into believing it was her fault. (* Uncanny X-Men #5). Apparently, all as a set-up for this... the elimination of the Stepford Cuckoos in their various realities, one by one. An end to their interference... and, not incidentally, an end to Charles Xavier, who had enlisted them to protect his students.

"What do we do?" both her sisters said, fear hanging off their minds like little icicles.

"Well," Sophie said slowly, "next time you could try listening to the *good* sister instead of the, you know, the evil one."

"Stop making fun of us!" Mindee snapped.

"It's mean," Phoebe said.

"Sorry. It's just... I like irony. What do we have to say for ourselves, girls?"

Mindee and Phoebe shared a long look, rolled their eyes, and sighed. They said together:

"We're very, very sorry."

"*Thank* you," said Sophie. "And *who's* your most favorite sister in the whole Multiverse?"

The identical twins frowned.

"Don't make us kill you, too," said Mindee.

"'Cause we'll totally do it," said Phoebe.

"It's been that kind of day," they said together.

"Okay, girls, alright." Sophie put grim satisfaction aside and focused on the problem at hand: "So... the Five-in-One is the Three-in-One again, eh? That will serve, in a pinch."

"You *hope*," the others said.

"Our powers expanded with the nexus of Universes," Phoebe reminded her.

"The nexus isn't very strong with two gone," Mindee said.

"It will *serve*," Sophie repeated, as though she could make it so by force of will. "It's falling into place. I've got Worthington. I can make him play his part. Phoebe... I think it's time to have your talk with Bobby Drake."

"I was afraid you were going to say that..."

"Do I tell Miss Grey?" asked Mindee, who shared a reality with said resurrected Phoenix. (* eXcalibur series)

"Not *yet*," Sophie judged. "Almost, though. It's very close. Be ready."

"We will," the others promised.

"Do you really think Celeste is alive?" Phoebe asked.

Sophie shrugged. "She has Magneto, Wolverine, and Psylocke to call upon, for a start. (* X-Force series) If the Slayer's killed them all already, we might as well write off that reality as a total loss. But I don't think that's happened yet. We'd know."

"We wish we had your confidence," Mindee said.

"What about Esme?" said Phoebe "What do we--"

"Esme's *mine*," Sophie said, and glared at the others. "Any objections?"

"I certainly have none," said a new voice.

All three Cuckoos turned: A fourth identical sister swept into their minds, dressed in flowing black, hair elaborately coiffured: Esme as she undoubtedly saw herself, as the shadow's Black Queen. To Sophie's eye, it was *almost* enough to disguise the mean-spirited little bully lurking beneath.

"Traitor!" said Phoebe and Mindee, and they stepped forward together--

"Oh, go away," said Esme, amused. She waved her hand, and Sophie flinched as her connection to the others was violently severed.

She closed her mind against the assault, sending out a wave of light to guide her sisters back. But it all dissipated in the shadow that now followed Esme like a tame thunderstorm.

"Divide and conquer," the would-be queen said. "I like this part."

"I thought you weren't going to kill me?" Sophie reminded her, squaring off.

"Did I say that? Damn! I *hate* accountability!" Esme's expression changed; for the first time, Sophie saw none of herself in the other's face. "Rest assured, dear sister, I'll never be able to kill you. Not entirely. You'll always remain in their memory-- the perfect one, the one everyone loves. The hero. You could never be as dead to them as I was. Un-mourned. Unloved."

"Emma mourned you," Sophie said quietly.

"In her own, *special* way." Esme made a show of looking around. "No Miss Frost to run to now, dear. No groupies to protect you."

"I don't need protection from you."

White-hot anger and light flooded through Sophie, and she unleashed it all in her sister's direction.

****

"--NO!" Sophie screamed in the physical world as Warren caught her. For a moment, the girl was limp in his arms, her eyes shut tight, but then they blinked open, blue, then glowing white again, and she gasped.

"Sophie!" Warren said. "Are you all right? What--"

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "*Something*. In my mind, for a moment. *Her*. But she's gone now."

"One of your sisters? Do you need to--"

Sophie grabbed his arm. "No time. You have to stop Rogue."

Warren remembered what the Slayer had said (* last issue). "Yes, she was going to... do something. Alone, something Gambit wouldn't like. And I was supposed to make sure she succeeded."

Sophie nodded. "She's going to save Jono."

"And that's bad?"

"It's *terrible*... if she succeeds."

****

New Orleans
Now

Everything hurt. Not in the usual, "Ouch-I've-just-been-trading-blows-with-the-Blob-and-boy-are-my-arms-tired" way. More in the all-consuming, 'Holy-CRAP-who-removed-my-spleen-without-anesthetic?' kind of way, except it wasn't just her spleen that hurt, it was her whole body. Especially her head.

"Where?" she said-- or tried to-- but her mouth felt like cotton and her tongue was not responding to commands.

Guillaume was crouched on the floor behind her, hands resting lightly on her shoulders. "How you feel, p'tit? Like de gator bite you, non? Dat'll pass..."

"Where?" she managed, intelligibly this time.

"Where you was. Jus' rest. It come back t'you."

"Don't even..." She swallowed. Her throat was painfully dry. "Don't even 'member my name..."

"Focus, p'tit. It'll come."

She groaned. "Carol Danvers."

"Try 'gain."

"Ohhhh... awww, hell..." She tried to sit up; didn't quite manage it, but Guillaume propped her head up in his lap, which helped a little. "Name. Um... Raven? No. Damn."

She took a deep breath, while Guillaume laughed. Her own personality bobbed to the surface like a fisherman's lure in a stormy sea. She grabbed it and held on for dear life.

"*Rogue,*" she said definitely. The details still escaped her, but she'd regained her grasp of the essentials.

"Dere she is," said the old man. "How you feel, p'tit?"

"Just told ya. I feel like..." Rogue blinked. Except she didn't, anymore. The pain had faded almost at the same moment her memories returned. She felt a strength surging through her body, an irresistible energy. She leaped to her feet, dragging Guillaume up with her, and started to laugh-- nervously, even hysterically. She felt almost *too* good. She felt...

She felt like nothing could hurt her.

"Oi," said Guillaume quietly. "Lot of energies runnin' through you, p'tit. *Lot* of energies. Wasn't so hard, findin' de right pattern. If you know where t' look."

"You can teach me that, right? You said you could--"

His bony skull moved from side to side. "Our business be *through*, p'tit. Owed you *one*. De debt is paid. Can't do no mo' an keep you in one piece. Wouldn't if I could."

"Yeah, but--"

"You made yo' deal, *mon tres belle mademoiselle.* You knew de cost."

"I--" Rogue began, and stopped herself. "Yeah. Fair's fair, old man. You're right."

"Wish you luck, cher. Wish you all de luck you need... which is considerable." Guillaume stretched skeletal limbs and started shuffling back toward his rocker. "Don' come back here again. Dis fight yo' in... it ain't mine. Not anymore."

Rogue backed away, started to turn for the door... then stopped, peering at him. "It ain't like I remember."

He shook his head.

"It's like... I'm not me. I'm just rememberin' me from a distance."

Another nod. "Can't really bring nothin' back, cher. Not jus' like it was."

"I feel more powerful now."

"Dat's true."

"But..." Rogue looked down at her hands. Slowly, she slipped on the gloves she'd brought. The ones that had kept her apart from people her whole life. The ones she'd always hoped to take off... someday. She swallowed hard.

"I'll never control this, will I?"

He shook his head. "Too much power, p'tit. Power you *asked* fo'. Dat's de bargain."

Rogue nodded. "Thank you, then. You been... a gentleman."

Guillaume laughed. "Not hardly. Fo' too much time's passed, you gonna wish me dead fo' dis. Wish I never was *born*. Dat's why I try so hard t'... ah, but it's done. C'est la vie, eh?"

"Yeah," said Rogue.

She turned without another look at him and walked out the door, finding her way to the stairs mechanically, listening to her brain without thinking. Because even her thoughts were different now... before, Rogue had been used to fighting ghosts in her head, the ones that scurried haphazardly through her consciousness. Now everything on the surface was very calm, even serene... but there was a maelstrom underneath that she couldn't begin to fathom.

*What the hell have I done?* she wondered. *What'd that old fool do -to- me?*

But there were no quick answers. What was important now, what she *knew*, was this: Guillaume had somehow found in her the imprint of her old Ms. Marvel powers, the ones she'd lost, and restored them. With those, and with her mental shielding now strengthened by whatever the old man had done, she could approach Jono. She could save him. She was the *only* one who could.

Rogue took a step toward the stairs...

"Evenin', cher. What you been up to?"

Rogue froze. Ancient wood creaked as another shape came up out of the stairwell below. She took a step back; Remy LeBeau stepped into the light, clad in his familiar trenchcoat with his staff held ready at his side. She tried a nervous little laugh.

"You look like you're ready for battle, Remy."

"Mebbe I am. You tell me."

She frowned. "Ain't none of your concern. I asked y'all to wait back by Jono. Toldja I'd be along."

"Thought you might need dis ol' Cajun to watch yo' back... like always." Gambit nodded. He reached out to Rogue, but she flinched. He studied her eyes under the light. "Somethin' different. You been to Guillaume."

"Yeah."

"Tol' you, cher, dat ol' man's dangerous. He a better thief than me."

Despite herself, Rogue smirked. "I know how it bruises your ego t' admit that."

"Ain't no shame t' admit what's true. He's a thief... of many things. What he take from you?"

She looked away. "I'm invulnerable again, Remy. It's what we need."

"*Fils de...*" Gambit took a step forward; for a moment, his eyes shone red and bright with a fury Rogue had never seen in them before. "What was his price?"

"Just that I'll never control it. It's worse'n ever, Remy. Power's too strong for me, now. I ain't even me. Not really."

Remy looked at her, his poise faltering, betrayal on the face that had casually betrayed so many in the past. "You did dis... wit'out even askin' me?"

"Wasn't your call. It's my team. *My* responsibility."

His eyes narrowed. "Goin' after Chamber? Or de Slayer?"

"Jono first. But who knows? Maybe both."

Remy cursed. His staff almost slid from his grip. Rogue knew she could have taken him down in that moment. She tensed, in case the opportunity came again.

"Should have trusted us, cher. Trusted me."

"It's my team," she said again. "I can't ask you to take this risk, Remy. Now, get out of my way."

He took a deep breath, held the staff ready. "Can't let you do dis. You ain't a match fo' it."

"An' you're no match for me, so get the hell out of my way or I swear..." Rogue caught herself. Which personality had *that* come from? She reasserted herself, looking at him. "This is sweet, Remy. Really. But I gotta do this on my own. I won't see any more of you hurt."

She took a step forward. Gambit blocked her path.

"You'll die," he said. "I can't lose you, cher."

"Remy..." she smiled, a bittersweet expression. "You lost me already. This is how it has to be. Now stand aside."

"Not happenin'."

"Awright," she said. "You asked for it, babe..."

Rogue looked down, gathered her will... and threw a punch with all her restored strength behind it. Gambit flew across the hall and tumbled down the stairs. She thought that was all... but then she heard him getting up. Red eyes gleamed up out of the darkness.

"Dat all you got, cher?"

She laughed. She couldn't help it. This man always touched something in her, even as lost as she was. Given enough time, he might have brought her back to herself.

Rogue didn't have any time. She leaped down to the next level, and the fight was rejoined.

****

Warren Worthington changed course to the South, Angel wings reflecting the moonlight as he arced closer to ground. He carried Sophie with him, hardly any weight at all for an experienced flier, and could feel the tension in the girl's every muscle. However odd she might have been, she knew the threat of the Slayer better than anyone, and was as nervous as he was about it. Warren didn't know whether that made him feel better or worse.

"There," she said, and pointed to a large building.

Warren nodded. He touched down at the edge of Jackson Square and ran, with Sophie right behind, toward the structure she'd pointed out. He got there in time to see Gambit crash through one of its windows. The Cajun skidded to a halt at their feet.

Sophie frowned. "Are we interrupting something?"

"Jus' tryin' to prevent a lady doin' somethin' she'll regret." Gambit reeled off a string of curses, finishing with: "Ga-la-fa! Dat femme still pack a wallop!"

As he was regaining his feet, out came Rogue through the window-- flying again, without the aid of plasma. Had she absorbed somebody else's powers? Was she under the influence of their mind? Was that why she was fighting Remy?

"Aw, hell," she murmured as she came to Earth. "Thought you might have some sense an' stay down this time."

Gambit spat out a mouthful of blood. "You know me, cher. Ever de *couillon.*" As Warren remembered his French, the word meant 'crazy' or 'fool.' "I even forgive yo' *vilaines manières*..."

"My what?"

"He called you rude," Warren supplied.

Rogue glared, noticing him, but then returned her attention to Gambit. "Shucks. Li'l ol' me? Maybe in New Orleans, Mr. LeBeau, but in *my* part of the South, no gentleman would deny a lady once her mind's made up..."

Gambit laughed. "You no lady, cher, anymore den I a gentleman. *C'est pouquoi je t'aime.*"

"I love you, too, Remy." Rogue took a step forward. "But enough's enough. I gotta go."

"No!" Warren stepped between them. Both parties turned, ready to fight.

Sophie sighed. "Brilliant. *Never* get in the middle of a lover's quarrel, Mr. Worthington..."

"You've both got to stop this," Warren said. "You're playing right into the Slayer's hands."

Remy twirled his staff experimentally. "You'd know, mon ami."

"Yeah, I made some mistakes." He turned to Rogue. "But you'll be making one, too, if you go like this. The Slayer wants this-- for you to challenge him alone. He wanted *me* to make sure it happened."

Rogue waved him away. "Aw, how can you believe anything that sucker said? Mindgames on top of mindgames. Can't assume the Slayer knows everything. I'd rather concentrate on what we're gonna do to him."

"Fine; then let's do it together."

She shook her head. "Don't you guys get it? Nobody else can even get *close* to Jono."

"Which is why he did this!" Warren insisted. "To split us apart!"

"You done a pretty good job o' that yourself," Rogue said. "What're you even doin' here, anyhow?"

"Dammit, Rogue, there's another way! Sophie, tell--"

WHAM. Gambit's staff whistled through the air and crashed into the back of Warren's skull. He never saw it coming. All he knew was, he was on the ground, staring up at his friends from an odd angle, his head almost bursting with every heartbeat. He observed the rest as from a very great distance:

"Go on," said Remy. "Best be quick."

Rogue looked puzzled, as though she expected some trick. "Thought you weren't gonna let me go."

"Gentleman got a right t' change his mind." The Cajun shrugged; the silence turned awkward, and he nodded in Warren's direction. "Seems like right now, de safest thing t' do might be d' opposite o' whatever he says."

Warren winced. He couldn't exactly say he didn't deserve that, but it hurt worse than the staff.

"Even if he mean well, Slayer's prob'ly watchin' him. So we see if we can't surprise de beastie, eh?"

"Thank you." Rogue stepped close to Remy, an inch away, straining very near the point of brushing his lips with a kiss... and then turning. "Give me 24 hours. I don't come back, the team is yours."

"Cher, if you say not t' follow, on my sainted grand-mère's grave, I'll--"

"*What* gramma? You're an *orphan*, Remy!"

"Details. Point is, we follow."

Rogue snorted. "You better. I ain't ready t' die, sugar. Not yet."

She took two steps and soared away-- Warren had to admit it was good seeing her in Ms. Marvel mode again, sort of an indication that all would be well with the world. If the world weren't falling apart, that is.

"*Comme il faut,*" Gambit murmured to himself. 'As it must be.' He crouched beside Warren and titled the other's head up to look at him. "Can't help but notice, yo' not in Richmond, mon ami."

"I only disobeyed Rogue. I'm not the one who loves her and let her fly off to get killed. So which of us is more screwed up, Remy?"

Gambit's lip twitched. He said: "Take it from a good thief: When on probation, you be on yo' best behavior. You got *one* warning, upside yo' head. Healin' factor ought t' tend that in no time. When it does... you go back t' Richmond. You wait fo' my call. Understand, *mon Ange?*"

Warren spat out blood. "Listen, Gambit... you have to go after her..."

"You don' know her like I do, mon ami. Lady gets an idea in her head, strong enough to fight like dat, she got to see it through. So she get de first try."

"And if she fails? What's plan B?"

"You are." Gambit picked up a pebble. "If you play it smart. Now, *homme*, I tell you what happen if you *ain't* smart: I gonna charge up dis li'l pebble here, an' I gonna drop it straight down yo'..."

"I take your meaning," he said quickly.

"You better." Remy sighed and stood, then nodded to Sophie. "Come away, p'tit. Monsieur Ange here got some thinkin' to do... *tranquille*, non? You come back t' de others wit' me."

"One moment," Sophie said. "I'd like to say goodbye."

The Cajun nodded, swung his staff over his shoulder, and walked a few feet away. Sophie crouched beside Warren, smiling. Almost... studying him. Warren didn't like the expression, and wondered what she'd meant when she said he'd be there at the end.

"You could have talked to Rogue," he said. "Explained, like you did for me."

Sophie's mouth formed a little 'O.' "Cat got my tongue, I guess."

Something in her voice... Warren hissed. "That fainting spell before... *which* one are you?"

"Not the one who likes you," she whispered, singsong. As Warren's eyes widened in horror, Sophie-- or perhaps it was Esme-- brushed her hand across his forehead, reached into his mind, and sent something cold and dark crashing through his brain. Warren felt himself falling, endlessly falling...

The Cuckoo stood and brushed dirt and gravel off her dress, then stepped over the blonde man and linked arms with Gambit.

"He'll be okay, now," she said. "Let's go meet the others..."

****

"He's more universally recognized than the President of the United States, the greatest soccer players in the world, or even the Fantastic Four. Women swoon over his pretty-boy good looks, but it's his soulful guitar work, combined with brooding lyrics dredged from the tormented soul of an artist, that has made him a worthy successor to a line of rock and roll icons that traces back to the Beatles. They had to invent a level past diamond to cover the sales of his latest record.

"I am beyond thrilled to have him as my guest here today-- ladies and gentlemen, the one, the only, the man they call Chamber... Jonothon Starsmore!"

They had some of his music playing as he stepped out onto the soundstage, but nobody could have possibly heard it. The screaming-- enthusiastic, wild, *frenzied*-- drowned out any possible sound. From the moment Jonothon Starsmore stepped into the spotlight, not a soul in the crowd had eyes for anything but him.

He sat on the couch, which would photograph magnificently but wasn't really comfortable, beside the ever-congenial host, dressed in his finest, hair impeccable with just that one curl hanging over his forehead that women adored, and smiled the smile that had broken a thousand hearts... and counting.

When at last the applause died down to a roar, the host turned a less renowned but no less brilliant smile in his direction, and said: "Wow, Jono. This is... amazing for me, I have to tell you. I cannot believe I am actually sitting here with you."

He cleared his throat. "Well, actually... erm, yer not. Y'see, yer just a projection of me unconscious mind which this great flamin' villain has dredged up to try ter turn me t' the Dark Side. No offense, luv."

The host laughed, oblivious. "Ooh, Jono, you are *so* bad! But really, now, what's this I hear about you and Sugar Kane? There are whispers of wedding bells..."

"Argh," said Jono, and he pressed a hand to his forehead. "Nothing. There's nothing t' tell."

The audience 'oohed' and 'ahhed.' The congenial host laughed harder.

"Playing it coy, eh? Is it any wonder we love him, girls? Is it?"

The female portion of the audience roared. Jono wished he could find a proper noose lying about somewhere.

"Stop playing games," he said.

"I'm sorry," said the host. "What was that?"

He looked up at her, eyes burning with the energy of his psionic furnace. --I *said*, yer sodding... ruddy... cow... Stop. Playing. Games.--

BOOM. The furnace exploded, catching the congenial host in mid-brilliance and roasting her alive, along with the entire studio audience, the technical crew, and most of what Jono could only assume was supposed to be Burbank, California. But the scent of charred flesh and melting plastic quickly faded, replaced by:

Darkness. Emptiness. Barren rock. The series of caves underneath the Ozark Mountains where the Slayer had been keeping him for... Jono had lost count how long it was. Hours or days or years. It wasn't just the isolation. The place was timeless. The Slayer was inside his head. He'd tried to end it so many times, but it wouldn't let him.

--We have all the time in the world,-- the shadow told him. --If you don't like that game, there are others. Would you like the one with Paige again?--

--No,-- Jono said, sitting on a rock with his fists clenched tight.

--Are you sure? I've been thinking you might like her to be your slave, this time. She's so independent, that one. Wouldn't you like to...--

--NO! DAMN you!-- Jono thought at it, and wished he still had a mouth to spit in its general direction. --Yer wastin' yer time on me.--

A hesitation. The shadow said: --If I expected you to turn, you might be right.--

--What's that supposed t' mean?--

--Something new, then?-- the shadow suggested, ignoring him. --Perhaps... just something where you go shopping. In the middle of a town? Not all wrapped up in scarves, afraid to let people see you for what you are? No longer afraid of the disgust in their eyes when they behold the poor, deformed freak?--

--Damn you,-- Jono repeated, and let it go at that.

The Slayer coalesced, its vaguely man-shaped form only a few meters away now, a silhouette in the light cast by Jono's furnace. --Ah, Jonothon, you begin to disappoint me. You started your lessons so well, but now I have to force you every step of the way. Fortunately, I have no problem with that.--

--Argh! Yer a Yank villain, ain'tcher? Gotta be. It's the incessant bragging, mate. Gives yer away.--

The shadow didn't bother to reply. Jono couldn't have said how he knew but he got the impression of a smile on that featureless expanse.

--Good news. She's coming.--

--Oh...-- said Jono, as he felt the Slayer reaching into his mind again to turn off all the brakes on his power, --...HELL!--

****

At least this time, Rogue reflected, it really wasn't very hard to find Jono at all. It wasn't like there were a *lot* of psionic volcanoes to choose from in Arkansas.

The assault was, if anything, worse than before, but with her Ms. Marvel powers, Rogue had once described such attacks as "kinda tickling." Jono could have been the Juggernaut and she wouldn't have hesitated to follow his trail. (Well, maybe not the *Juggernaut*... but a similar, Juggernaut-like, slightly less bone-shattering critter).

The psionic assault was intense, but somehow, it seemed to just strike Rogue a glancing blow, and then slide right off. Any telepathic attack had to be aimed at the logical or emotional centers of a brain, and right now Rogue's brain was particularly... decentralized. Even *she* didn't know where it was, which when she thought about it, was probably a very bad thing, but she couldn't think about it right now. She could only keep going and pray that she wasn't screwing up so bad in so many innovative ways.

Rogue set down at the mouth to the cave. She rode out a particularly intense burst, but that seemed to be the worst he had; aside from a few boulders and an odd stalactite, easily crushed, no further threat appeared. She eased her way into the cave, feeling the ground tremble beneath her feet.

"Jono? Jono, c'mon boy, it's Rogue! I'm gonna bring you out of here!"

--Go away,-- said his telepathic voice.

"C'mon, Jono, it's gonna be okay. See, look, I can get close now..." She swatted another rock aside, then turned the corner...

It would have been pitch-dark if Jono hadn't made his own light. Instead she could see him, sitting hunched up and forlorn in the middle of a wide, empty chamber. *A chamber for Chamber,* Rogue thought, and cursed whichever idiot she'd ever absorbed who liked dumb wordplay.

"Jono?" she said. She could whisper now, and her voice rattled around the cave until it sounded like a shout. "I'm here."

--Great, luv. Glad ter hear it. Hope you brought yer own body bag.--

Rogue approached him, frowning. His psionic powers were still going nuts, and Jono had his eyes shut tight, sweat pouring down his face, doing his best to exert some measure of control. Didn't seem to be working too well for him.

"We gotta get you outta here," Rogue said, touching his shoulder. "C'mon."

--It's too dangerous. I'll hurt someone.--

"No, you won't. I'm gonna just take a li'l of your power, okay?"

Jono's eyes blinked open. --Er... maybe yer missed the part where I don't have internal organs and would quickly die without my power.--

"I'm not gonna take all of it," Rogue said. "I'm just gonna siphon a bit."

--You can do that?-- Chamber asked.

"Well, not if I touch ya... if I touch ya, you're screwed."

--Good ter know.--

"But I just got a power boost, kinda, and I think maybe I can sorta... absorb some a' this excess energy."

--Sooo... yer idea is to try out this new power yer just nicked, with me fer a flamin' guinea pig, an' if it doesn't work, erm... then what?--

"Prob'ly then your power goes boom, the cave collapses, we die."

--Ah.-- Jono arched an eyebrow. --Can I vote fer a new team leader now?--

"The polls are closed." Rogue sighed. "Look, you said the Slayer's feedin' off your power. Every minute you stay here, he gets stronger. We can't afford that, Jono. You got any better ideas?"

After a moment, he shook his head. --No.--

"Okay, then." Rogue took a deep breath, arranging herself on the ground in front of Jono, and brought her hands up near the place where his chest should have been. She could *feel* the power pouring out of him, into her, just like with Guillaume. With her strange, new reserve, she could almost see her way clear to control it...

--Rogue?-- Jono asked.

"What?"

--He's spent all this time increasing my power. An' now he's got you to increase your power, as well. Seein' a connection there?--

Rogue backed off a little, but the spare energy kept flooding her, forming a circuit between her and Jono, binding them. "What are you sayin'?"

--Well, what if I'm not the only one the bugger wants?--

"That'd be pretty... bad..." Rogue said, and that was the *last* thing she got to say before the darkness all around rose up and swallowed them.

****

24 Hours Later

Sam Guthrie trudged into the room they'd rented, barely able to meet the eyes of Remy LeBeau, Cecilia Reyes, Sophie Cuckoo, or his sister Paige.

"Nothin'," he said. "I got nothin'! There's a big freakin' crater where we found Chamber th' first time, an' that's all. No sign of him or Rogue... no nothin'!"

Paige hissed, bit her lip, but said nothing. Cecilia made a face. Sophie just watched, implacable.

Gambit picked up his deck of playing cards from the table in front of him and slowly shuffled them between his fingers. He didn't meet Sam's eyes.

"What're we gonna do?" the mutant called Cannonball asked. "If he's got all a' Chamber's power, *plus* Rogue..."

"He ain't gon' keepthem long."

"But--"

"He ain't gon' keep them long." Gambit held up a single card in front of his face, a card almost violently red from all the kinetic energy he'd charged it with. His eyes, the same color, glanced at the others. "Get ready t' fly. We got an appointment in Richmond."

"Shouldn't we try New Orleans?" Cecilia asked, "Maybe your friend Guillaume knows--"

"Dat ol' fox is nobody's friend, an' I got no mo' interest in him." Gambit flicked his fingers and the card sailed across the room, toward its fireplace, where a single log sat on a metal grate. "So it's Richmond."

WHOOSH! The card struck the fireplace and erupted into flame.

"It's time fo' Plan B."

END

In Issue #6: The Angel and the Thief
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