FIC: Summer's End, 5/?, PG13/R, W/R
- DISCLAIMERS POSTED IN PART 0
* * *
It was a sentiment she would remember ruefully later that same day, as
she found herself in one of her scheduled "practice" sessions which
turned out to be not what she was expecting at all.
Marie had been expecting that "practice" referred to learning to use and
control mutant abilities. Well, it did but she was used to Xavier or
one of the other teachers (especially Jean or Scott) working with
individuals or small groups in a classroom or gym (or outside, in the
cases of the more incendiary mutants like St. John or Jubilee) on
exercises and even creatively-designed games to hone their skills. (Or,
on a more personal level, her own "practice" sessions with Logan, which
had been not only creative but intensely pleasant and ultimately much
more successful than anything Xavier had been able to come up with in
terms of controlling her frequently-inconvenient mutation.)
And she was also used to the training sessions that Logan habitually ran.
_First you learn to *fight*, and *then* you learn to fight with your
powers. And if you try pulling any of that mutation crap on me before I
say youre ready _ <Snikt!> _ then I go using *mine* on *you*, and
youll have a few scars to remind you next time!_ Not that hed ever
given the speech to Marie he never had to. Between a few scares in her
time on the road and that whole unpleasant
getting-carried-off-by-evil-mutants thing, topped off by the Wolverine in
her head, she already knew how very seriously to take the combat lessons
he had started giving her the previous summer and autumn.
All of which went to say, that Marie was used to various forms of working
with ones powers, and also used to walking into a practice ring or the
equivalent and attempting to pound an opponent silly with fists and feet.
But what she *wasnt* used to, was the command that she had just been
"You want me to *what*?"
"I want you to attack me using your gift," the burly mutant facing her
repeated, with a touch of impatience.
Marie eyed him warily. It was what she had thought he said the first
time, but she had wanted to be sure. "Do you know what my gift *is*?" she
He shrugged. "Ill find out when you try to use it on me, wont I?"
Impatience was transmuting into annoyance.
"And do you have some sort of gift thatll protect you from whatever Ive
got?" She suspected not, judging by the name he had given in response to
her self-introduction as Rogue "Beef." [Looks big but not too bright.
He may be used to getting by on his size but hes probably a mutant, so
watch out for tricks,] Inner Wolverine warned, happily sizing up the
He sneered actually *sneered*. "I doubt Ill need protection."
[Dumbass,] Subliminal Logan growled. Marie agreed. [He knows youre a
mutant, he *knows* youve got a surprise up your sleeve and it might be a
*real* good one.]
[Sugar, I dont think hes expecting that a little gal like me will be
able to take out a big strong guy like him.] She tilted her head to one
side, consideringly. [Wont *he* be surprised...]
Without giving him the slightest warning, she lunged. And with inhuman
speed, he stepped aside. But Marie was thoroughly used to a sparring
partner with enhanced reflexes, and cautious enough especially after
Wolvies warning to have been prepared to find her target replaced by
thin air. Reflex took over, and she leapt aside a fraction of a second
before the contemptuous swat cut through the empty space she should have
been occupying. Which left *him* unbalanced with the unexpected miss, and
she followed up on her brief advantage with a stiff hand to the solar
plexus. As he bent in the middle she made sure that his sinking face met
her rising knee. A foot sweep floored her dazed opponent.
Standing over Beef, she shook her head with mock disappointment. "Why
would I need to use my gift when I can do this well without it?"
Turning on her heel, she stalked out of the gym. Although she deemed it
wisest to leave the scene quickly (before the young man recovered enough
from the physical hurts to become angered by the more lasting injury to
his ego), an overly hasty exit might have appeared to have been motivated
by fear of retaliation. Undignified. Attitude was everything
*especially* when alone in the camp of the enemy.
Besides, she had just thought of someplace shed rather be, with
something she needed to be doing.
Plan A had arrived fully-formed in Rogues overpopulated head, spawned by
Beefs carelessness with an unknown quantity and the implied disdain for
skills in combat on a strictly physical level.
* * *
Dudes, I did *not* make Beef up -- I lifted him from the comics, dumbass
code name and all... ;-D
She Whose Quotations Are Both Exotic and Appropriate
Keeper of his Deadly Startle Reflexes, Guardian and Examiner of the
Adamantium-Revealing X-Rays, and Official Listener for the Occasional
"Getting fired is the best thing that could happen to any of us. That
way, we'd quit treading water and do something with our lives."
-- Tyler Durden, _Fight Club,_ by Chuck Palahniuk
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