like a sucker punch outta left field that pulled a 180
Rogue had been her new equivalent of shopping, which was digging through the clothesbox for stuff she could altar or pull off, or would have happily worn when the clothes were fashionable, that she could stomach to wear now. It put her in a good mood, because it was both amusing and fruitful. She'd stopped off at her room to deposit her new finds unceremoniously on the bed, since the floor was taken, changed into her Daisy Dukes and an over sized, faintly pinstriped men's work shirt which made the shorts basically a moot point since the shirt dropped a good four inches below where they stopped, thrown on her boots and headed upstairs to look for some reading material or a decent movie.
She scanned the reel selection, disappointed by a bunch of titles she didn't recognize- Cinderella Man, In America, The Bourne Ultimatum- and moved to the bookshelf. She started to drag a copy of Crimes of the Heart off the shelf, when a much slenderer, glossy shift of paper shooted into view, obscuring the play's cover. A bunch of familiar faces met the cover- Wolvy, Jean, Scott, Nathan, Jubilee in the background and Warren- she turned it over where the image was continued on the back and blinked. It was her, in her old uniform. He rfirst uniform. From the brotherhood.
She turned it over in her hands, looking at each illustrated face, and moved to curl up in one of the recroom's chairs.
Endangered species? And how. She flipped it open.
The X-Men have just returned from CABLE's island home PROVIDENCE, where they were seeking medical attention for squad leader ROGUE, who has been infected with the potentially fatal STRAIN 88 virus. While there, they fought HECATOMB, a sentient alien weapon that destroyed a planet by siphoning the minds of its population. With the prospect of victory fading, Rogue exploited Hecatomb's only obvious weakness, absorbing its source of power, the essence of its victims.
Now she has eight billion minds trapped inside her.
She turned the pages slowly, read each panel carefully, a tense frown pulling at her features the whole while.
Her power is out of control. In a 'one-touch-and-you're-stone-cold-dead' sense. Some panels, she had to stop at.
"Oh, no, Robert Drake, you did not just sleep with my momma," she muttered. She turned the pages a little more quickly.
And then there was Remy. And then there was one betrayal piled on top of the other. And then...
She was on her feet before she'd realized it, teeth gritted, knuckles white and creasing the paper of the book.
"No," she said, feeling something like a growl in the back of her throat and a sting in her eyes. "Not that like that, I couldn't- Oh- you- Two timing sonovabitch!" she screamed and hurled the comic back at the wall, its pages flailing desperately and pathetically. She rounded on the pool table and slammed her fist into the felt with another sound of desperate frustration and rage.
She could go for punching through a wall or mountain or two.
[She's punctured, she just...got a glimpse at the future. ...Um... Open to all! :D]
She scanned the reel selection, disappointed by a bunch of titles she didn't recognize- Cinderella Man, In America, The Bourne Ultimatum- and moved to the bookshelf. She started to drag a copy of Crimes of the Heart off the shelf, when a much slenderer, glossy shift of paper shooted into view, obscuring the play's cover. A bunch of familiar faces met the cover- Wolvy, Jean, Scott, Nathan, Jubilee in the background and Warren- she turned it over where the image was continued on the back and blinked. It was her, in her old uniform. He rfirst uniform. From the brotherhood.
She turned it over in her hands, looking at each illustrated face, and moved to curl up in one of the recroom's chairs.
Endangered species? And how. She flipped it open.
The X-Men have just returned from CABLE's island home PROVIDENCE, where they were seeking medical attention for squad leader ROGUE, who has been infected with the potentially fatal STRAIN 88 virus. While there, they fought HECATOMB, a sentient alien weapon that destroyed a planet by siphoning the minds of its population. With the prospect of victory fading, Rogue exploited Hecatomb's only obvious weakness, absorbing its source of power, the essence of its victims.
Now she has eight billion minds trapped inside her.
She turned the pages slowly, read each panel carefully, a tense frown pulling at her features the whole while.
Her power is out of control. In a 'one-touch-and-you're-stone-cold-dead' sense. Some panels, she had to stop at.
"Oh, no, Robert Drake, you did not just sleep with my momma," she muttered. She turned the pages a little more quickly.
And then there was Remy. And then there was one betrayal piled on top of the other. And then...
She was on her feet before she'd realized it, teeth gritted, knuckles white and creasing the paper of the book.
"No," she said, feeling something like a growl in the back of her throat and a sting in her eyes. "Not that like that, I couldn't- Oh- you- Two timing sonovabitch!" she screamed and hurled the comic back at the wall, its pages flailing desperately and pathetically. She rounded on the pool table and slammed her fist into the felt with another sound of desperate frustration and rage.
She could go for punching through a wall or mountain or two.
[She's punctured, she just...got a glimpse at the future. ...Um... Open to all! :D]