DISCLAIMER: I do not own the X-Men, nor do I own the song "Me and a Gun," by Tori Amos off of her "Little Earthquakes" CD. It's a great CD, you should check it out. Also, I think I used a line from the Movie "Practical Magic," and borrowed a lines from another Tori song. Oh well. I use them with style.

FYI- Ororo hasn't discovered her powers yet.

This is an AU featuring Ororo Munroe in an alternative life. It'll eventually lead to Ororo meeting the X-Men. (not for the faint of heart) I guess it's kind of sad story, not only because these actions are heinous and ungodly, but because it's a true story for many people, including some that I love. And for all you people who read this and think it's so unbelievable, and that shit like this doesn't actually happen, open your eyes to the world around you. This isn't the world that Raphael was talking about.

Me and a Gun

"You sure you can handle a drink like that, little Missy?"

Ororo Munroe wearily eyed the scruffy if not crusty bartender that held her drink at an arm's distance, as if hesitating to give it to her. "For God's sake, it's a freakin' Budweiser, and I'm not little, got it?"

The bartender smiled warily as he handed her over the lukewarm two dollar beverage. "I guess not, Miss Henry, I guess not. Here's your ID back, by the way."

Ororo's fingers grasped the edge of her fake Id as she slid it back into her wallet. A smiling picture of herself looked up from its leather prison, with the name "Keisha Henry" nonchalantly written in a few places, as well as a birthday that was just a bit fabricated, but not entirely. Ororo really was born in October, or at least, she always thought she had been.

Putting her wallet back into her large, black backpack, Ororo leaned her back against the wall, so she had a clear view of the entire bar. I'll scout out potential pick-pocketees while I drink my beer, she thought to herself as she took a sip of the foamy head. She held back a wince, but then decided that it was passing.

It was better than a lot of the shit she'd had to drink the last couple of years. Before she got out of Africa, she'd had to drink the local water from the unsanitary river, teeming with run off thanks to an American corporation that had decided to cultivate the land surrounding it. Those first seven years of her life in Africa had been hell. She'd been brought up in Cairo, on the streets along with the dogs and other beggar children, whose lips were perpetually stuck in the cry of "backsheesh". Gramma Fatima had taken her in during her youngest years, when she was too young to make use of herself on the streets, but as soon as she learned how to walk, or to run rather, she'd been set out on the streets, like the other children, to beg passing tourists for "backsheesh" or tips of cash.

Ororo smiled now, recalling the scrappy youth she remembered as herself, complaining to the other children about their menial jobs. "We could be doing so much more," she had yelled in Arabic, in frustration, as she kicked over a nearby carton that still stank of chickens.

Doaud squatted to the right of her, keeping an eye out for any of the local police. "Oh, like what, Peppersand? I don't see you becoming the next Nassau anytime soon."

"You don't understand. We're out on the street every day, for hours, and we're lucky if those fat tourists even notice us while they gawk at the pyramids or dream about pharaoh's gold."

"You may be right, but there aren't many options for us, little one. I'll be turning twelve soon, and I'll be able to go to the Coptic school, but you're stuck like this."

Ororo paced furiously up and down the small back ally that they were hiding in. "I don't care. I'll find a better way to get money. I'll…I'll take the tourists' money from them, before they get the chance to pass us over, clucking their tongues like we are the ones at fault."

"You mean steal, Peppersand?"

"Yes, if I can get more money that way."

Doaud stood up from his squat and brushed off his shorts. "If that's the path you choose, so be it. But I cannot support you, and neither will Miss Fatima."

"I don't care, I don't need any of you. I can survive on my own." Ororo puffed out her chest as she began to leave the ally. Doaud caught her arm before she made it too far.

"Listen, you may believe you are invincible now, but soon God may put challenges in front of you, and you will need others for help."

"I don't have to listen to your stupid horse shit. Your a damned Coptic!"

With that, Ororo had run away from the ally, from Doaud, and from that part of her life. She had been five at that time, and the next two years had been spent robbing from people every now in then, and running, always running. If not from the police, then from something else, from the fears that thrived inside of her small body. Fears of forever being alone.

Ororo's opportunity to leave Egypt, and Africa, came when the Six Day War swept the nation, and the Lower Bank was lost to Israel. Ororo had been there at the time, and she awoke one morning to find that she was a citizen of Israel now, and could easily slip into Iraq, and then Qatar, and at long last, a freighter that carried her to America. Carried her to her life as she saw before her today. Nineteen, living out of a stolen Toyota Camry, drifting from city to city until she wore out her welcome or until it bored her, and always alone. Doaud's words had stuck with her all these years, echoing about through her head late at night, causing her to awake from long forgotten nightmares only to find that the nightmares were real.

Ororo sighed and took a gulp of her beer. She wouldn't steal from anyone tonight. I have enough cash to last me until next Tuesday at least…maybe Thursday if I eat at IHOP a few times.

"Hey, Keisha, we're closing up for the night. Oh, that goes for all you all, too," the bartender called over his shoulders, his hands busily polishing away at a helplessly grimy countertop.

Ororo smiled at the reflection of his bald head. Like owner, like bar. She adjusted the strap of her red tank top and began gathering up her stuff, stopping sporadically to eat the occasional handful of complimentary peanuts. The other patrons of the bar began filing out the door. The cool night air rushed into the dank room as a laughing couple exited, hand in hand. Ororo had chosen them as her victims, until she decided to lay off it for the night. They had looked too easy for words.

The lady, a petite red-haired lady, a few inches shorter than Ororo, had had her share of drinks, so she would be no problem. Also, her purse had very thin straps, making it possible for Ororo to just grab it and tug, gaining not only money but who knows, maybe a few tampons and tubes of lipstick. The man was wearing sunglasses, so Ororo guessed that he was hard of seeing, so that would be no big whoop. He also kept his wallet high in his back pocket, not in the front like smarter men she'd seen. Oh well. No point dwelling on lost opportunities. The rest of the bar had been filled with people that still would have been easy to pickpocket, just not as easy. There were a few men, though, in the back playing pool, that Ororo knew better than to steal from them. She'd done it once and had had a marvelous time on her three mile run, but she had learned her lesson: if the man looks like a bad ass, no big deal. If he jabs a knife between his friends fingers because he want to break, then he is a bad ass.

"You take care of yourself, now Missy. Don't stay out too late. Them folks ain't good company for a decent gal like you."

Ororo smiled at the bartender, as she pushed the door open, being the last one to leave. "I'll keep that in mind. 'Night."

"Good night."

It was one of those nights when, despite of the faint smell of cigarettes, the air was so crisp that it almost hurt to breathe it in too deeply, but at the same time you felt like you had too, or else your body would surely suffocate. There was a good bit of light out, due to the nearly full moon. She took a moment to look up at it, it's hazy blood fog swirling around it, hiding it from the earth.

"Hmm, blood on the moon."

Ororo swung her backpack around onto her side, and began shuffling around in it, trying to find "her" keys.

"Hey pretty, what are ya doing out so late?"

Ororo spun around, hearing the slightly slurred speech coming from behind her. It was one of the men that she had seen playing pool. His oily black hair was slicked back on his head, held down by a dirty red bandanna. His five o'clock shadow looked like it was a few days old, his dark jeans looked unwashed, but his white shirt looked surprisingly clean.

"I'm trying to avoid jackasses, but I guess I just failed."

The man took a swaggering step closer to her, as Ororo took one back, bumping into the passenger's side of her car. "Oh, come come now, let's be nice to one another. It'll work out so much better if we just get along." The man pulled a knife out of his backpocket, as his other hand, raised, looked as if it was going to…God, I'm getting mugged. How funny is that.

"No, thank you. I think I'm just gonna get in my car and call it a night."

Without warning, the man lunged at her, nicking her left upper forearm.

"Holy shit!" Ororo screamed, grasping her arm as it lightly began to bleed. She quickly side kicked him in his gut, which bought her a few precious seconds. Fumbling with her keys, she managed to unlock the doors and she dove in, slamming and locking them behind her. Her attacker, now standing upright, began pounding on the window, screaming obscenities as he jiggled the handle.

"Let me in, you fucking bitch," he screamed, over and over as he brought his elbow heavily against the window. There was a slight cracking noise as the glass began to shatter.

"Oh shit. Fucking shit."

Ororo jammed the key into the ignition and floored it, driving away as fast as she could. She didn't know where she was going, she just knew she had to get away from him. After five minutes of driving, she felt a bit more relaxed. It looked like she had lost him. She looked up in her rearview mirror and her heart stopped midbeat, dangling in her chest like some forgotten Christmas ornament on a dead tree. There were headlights behind her, too close behind me, and the rust coated vehicle looked as if it might try and rear end her.

5 AM, Friday morning, Thursday night's far from sleep

I'm still up and driving; can't go home, obviously

So I'll just change direction, cause they'll soon know where I live

and I wanna Live, I gotta full tank and a bag of chips.

Ororo sped her car up, increasing it to sixty on the small backroad that she had found herself on. The man behind her matched her speed, and soon passed it, although Ororo kept pushing her car farther and farther, until the woods that went past her were in such a blur that it didn't even feel like she was on Earth anymore, just some alien planet where scenery was in an endless loop like a Saturday morning cartoon. A curve in the road came up, one that Ororo hadn't seen, and swerving was all she could do to keep herself from plowing off into the darkness.

The man took his car and met it with hers, driving side by side with her, and ever so gently he gave her car a nudge, first one, then a second, harder one, that sent Ororo into a ditch. When her car had finally stopped bouncing, she undid her seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. Ororo was on the verge of tears, turning and turning and turning the key, over and over, while getting nothing.

"Please, oh please, work. Work. WORK."

She pounded her fist on the dashboard as the car's engine continued to stutter and die. Bright headlights assaulted her eyes as the man parked his car, and slowly crept out of it, making his way to her. He stopped outside her window and gave her a smile.

"You know, you're really an ugly girl, but I like how you play this game with me."

Ororo tried to keep her shaky breathing under control as she looked him in the eye, her blue eyes meeting a brown so deep it was almost black. "Fuck off. Leave me alone. I did nothing to you."

"Oh, didn't you?" he asked, with a glint in those hard, obsidian eyes. He pulled the door handle, but found it was locked. "Oh, Keisha, why lock the doors? Unlock them now."



"Go to hell, where you belong."

His voice took on a smooth, calm tone as he reached into he pocket. He pulled out a lump of shiny metal that, with the help of human technology and our advanced society, had been made into a perfect, shiny gun.

"Do you see this, bitch? It's a gun. Do you see these bullets?" He pulled out a ziplock bag to reveal at least four rounds of ammunition. He slowly and carefully began loading his gun, talking to her all the while. "If you don't open the car door, I will shoot you. If you scream for help, I will shoot you, understand?"

Ororo gulped, but only heard a scratching sound, her dry mouth having nothing to swallow, as he pointed the gun up to the class, letting her see into the barrel.

"I understand."

"Now open the door."

It was me and a gun and a man on my back,

And I sang, "holy holy" as he buttoned down his pants

Yes, it's kind of funny, the things you think at times like these,

Like I haven't seen Barbados, so I must get out of this.

"Get down."

Ororo kneeled on the cool grass, her hands shaking in terror as the man paced behind her, observing her. Looking at her like a wolf looks at a sheep. And that's how Ororo felt; helpless, knowing that no one would come for her, knowing that her sheepdog had been put down yesterday.

"Further, on your stomach," he barked at her.

Ororo complied, slowly easing herself onto her stomach, her face meeting the cool grass. The grass was soon wet, both with dew and the tears that fell from her eyes. She knew what this man wanted from her, and even with the thought of it her very soul seemed to turn ashen dark and die.

"Remember what I said, Keisha, if you make any noise, I'll shoot you, but it's not like it matters. No one would hear you anyway."

All Ororo could do was suppress a cry as she heard the sound of a zipper unzipping, and pants being pulled down.

"Take off your skirt."

There was a pause as Ororo tried to get her fingers to move, to obey her, but they wouldn't listen. They were frozen, stuck in their silent shivering motions, back and forth back and forth, too stiff to move.

"So you want me to do it for you? I can dig a needy bitch."

She felt cold fingers on the small of her back, as her hair stood on edge. They ran up and down her spine, the jagged nails catching on her delicate skin as his breathing became heavier. The black fabric of her skirt began sliding down, past her hips, below her knees, beyond her ankles, until they lay on the ground by her feet.

"You're such a tease," he whispered to her, as his fingers traced patterns on the lacy edge of her underwear. The grass felt too close to her now.

Yes, I wore a slinky red thing, but does that mean that I should spread

For you, your friends, your father, Mr. Ed

It was me and a gun and a man on my back,

but I haven't seen Barbados, so I must get out of this

"Open your legs. Now. I don't have anymore time for your games."

Ororo nodded into the grass as she felt a hand on her knee, pushing her legs open. She stopped when she felt the pull of her groin muscles.


"I-I can't." she whispered, the burn of the stretch making her legs feel warm.

"Don't talk back to me, or I'll kill you."

He hit her with a closed hand on the side of her back, right where a kidney was, and once more in her eye. The grass became stars in Ororo's eyes as he gave her legs more pushes. The pain was getting intolerable. Ororo was a flexible person, but her thighs were perpendicular, now beyond perpendicular with her abdomen. But he didn't listen to her muffle sobs as he kept pushing, pushing, until there was an almost inaudible snap from her right leg. Her groin muscle and tendon had broken. Her leg now moved further up much more easily, as pain flooded every one of Ororo's senses.

"I should of thought of that with the last girl I was with. You'd really think thirteen year olds would be more limber."

Soon the familiar pain flooded in her left leg, Finally, he took his hands off her thighs.

"You slut. You're still a virgin."

And I know what this means; me an Jesus a few years back

used to hang and he said

"it's you choice babe, just remember I don't think you'll be back in three days time so you choose well."

She cried out. She couldn't help it. She didn't know that it would feel like that, like someone stabbing her with a red-hot poker. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she bit her lip, tasting the blood that ran for it. She felt her hymen stretching inside of her, painfully because of the lack of lubrication. The man on her back continued his assail, pushing deeper and deeper into her, until she also felt blood flowing from down there.

He made panting noises as he rocked on top of her, up and down, his hands pinning her shoulders to the floor as she lay lifeless beneath him, staring into the grass while the blood moon stared down at her from above.

Tell me what's right

Is it MY right to be on my stomach in Fred's Seville?

It's me and a gun and a man on my back

but I haven't seen Barbados, so I must get out of this

I want my mother, her mind, carefully locked away inside of itself, told her. My mother that I don't know. She'd never let this happen to me. Never,. She'd know better. She'd never…she'd never let him do this. No one can do this, no one, no one can touch me, it's not allowed, why won't he learn the rules. Oh Mom, please tell him the rules, he's breaking them. Mommy, mommy, please. I'm sorry, I'll be good, I promise.

Tears streamed down her face as he withdrew from her, only to enter again and again.

Do you know Carolina?

Where the biscuits are soft and sweet.

These things go through your head when there's a man on your back

and you're pushed flat on your stomach

and it's not a classic Cadillac.

He got up off of her. Ororo continued to lie as she was, to scared and to incoherent to move.

"You were great," he murmured, half to himself. He leaned down and ran a hand through her hair as he kissed her shoulder.

"It was a fun time, but I really should go now."

He walked in front of her and pulled his boxers and pants back on, tucking his gun into the belt of them.

The blood moon was hiding behind the western trees, as it's sister crept behind the eastern trees. The only witness to her rape, the blood moon, and it was leaving her, forgetting all that it had seen.

"I'll look for you next time you're in town."

Her body shuddered as it heard his car start and drive off on that southbound road that Ororo had been racing on hours before, a lifetime before.

Just me and a gun and a man on my back

but I haven't seen Barbados, so I must get out of this

No, I haven't seen Barbados, so I must get out of this.

A soft rain drizzled, creating something almost like a mist throughout the woods.  Jean Grey-Summers took a moment to appreciate the way the cool moisture met her skin, closing her eyes and breathing it all in. Scott Summers took her hand and continued down the beaten out path that was their favorite for early morning walks.                                                                                                                                     "I'm so happy we decided to walk today, even though it's drizzling," Jean murmured as she continued, fingers intertwined with her husband's.                                                                                                     "Me too, sweetie, me too.  It really is beautiful this morning," Scott replied.  "The weather forecast had said it'd be sunny for the rest of the week, but, I dunno, I kinda like it like this.  It makes me feel a little bit…" he waggled his eyebrows at his wife from behind his visor, "mysterious.  Maybe even a little dangerous."  Jean smiled at his little innuendo and, in response, drew him closer to her.                                     "Who knows what could happen," he continued, with a romantic edge to his voice, as the trail twisted though the woods, "to a beautiful young woman who was out here all alone…maybe a handsome stranger could…" He trailed off, leaving room for his wife to finish his thoughts.                                                        Jeans breathing was becoming uneven.  Even after being with Scott for over three years, he still had the same effect on her as he did when she first met him.  "Could do what?" she asked, turning to face him.                                                                                                                                                                                                         "He could…oh my God, was someone in a car accident?"                                                                             "Huh?" Jean asked, turning around to see what he was looking at.  "Oh my God," she said, echoing his sentiments.                                                                                                                                                            A black car was in a nearby ditch, with most of the windows broken with traces of blood on them.  Scott ran up to the vehicle and squatted down, trying to peer inside.  "Whoever it was, they left their purse in the car.  Do you think I should grab it and we should take it to the police?" he called out over his shoulder.  When he didn't hear a response, he stood up strait and turned around.  "Jean, did you hear me--oh my…" Scott trailed off, his jaw hanging open.                                                                                                                      There was his wife, looming over what appeared to be the body of a young girl, frantically checking for a pulse.  Scott took a grim note that the girl's skirt was pushed up past her hips, and that her bloodied underwear was down below her ankles.                                                                                                    "Is she…?"                                                                                                                                                                                  "No, her pulse is feint but I'm detecting very scattered brain patterns…it's the most unusual thing I've ever seen."                                                                                                                                                                     "Holy Jesus, look at her eyes," Scott whispered, crouching down by his wife.                                                            They were completely white.                                                                                                                     His stomach churned.  "How could someone do that, to a blind girl?"                                                                     His only response was a roll of thunder that seemed to grow louder, trying to consume everything in its path and suck it into its world of darkness and chaos.


Tubes.  That's all that she was aware of.  Tubes leading from her nose, tubes going into her mouth, running from her arms, all of them binding her down and keeping her a captive.  She tried to still her breathing, regulate it, because she felt the beginnings of a claustrophobia attack.  She kept her eyes shut and concentrated, trying to get her mind away from…from these snakes running through her body.  One, where am I, Two, how did I get here, Three, why am I here-it all came to her, but in pieces.  It was like someone was slowly rewinding a video, only Ororo couldn't make it stop.                                                                                          "Jean, what's wrong?" a voice had called out as Ororo felt her body being lifted from one place to another, then taking off on what must have been a gurney.  "We found her in the woods, Professor," a female voice answered back, worry emanating from her voice.  "Involved in a car accident.  Raped and beaten."  That's me.  Shit…raped and beaten.  What the fuck are they talking about?  "Beast is in the Medbay.  Do you think you two will be enough to help her?"  "We should be fine.  I did a mind scan earlier.  She's in critical condition right now, a coma, but she should live, although if we hadn't found her when we did…" "Enough said, Jean.  Just be thankful that you were in the right place at the right time."    Ororo shifted slightly.  That's weird…why do they think I'm a rape victim?  These people must have a screw loose or something.  Just then a throbbing pain caught her attention.  It seemed to rise out of nowhere and was attempting to tear her apart.  She stifled a scream.  It was coming from her groin.  Oh my goddess…what if…the truth…                                                                                                                                                      Ororo coughed and tried to keep the bile and spit from spilling out of her mouth.  A hard rain had started to fall, and she was helpless.  Her mind and thoughts were sucked back.  She was no longer filled with tubes, but she was back to where she had been earlier.  It was all still there.  Even with her eyes closed, she could smell it: her blood in the air, on her skin, and soaking through the earth.  She laid her head against the cool earth once again, and tried to…to anything.  Think, feel, breathe, move…she couldn't do anything.  She wasn't a human anymore.  She was numb.  From her tainted and battered outside to her violated inside to her very spirit, she was nothing but cold.   Only one thought seemed to run through her head, it seemed to not even be a word, but simply the only state in which she had ever existed.  Dirty.  The rain poured down now, soaking her body through to the bone, but she felt none of it.  She was beyond feeling, beyond human.  Dirty.                                                                                                                                       "Hank, something's wrong!" Jean cried out as the beeping of machines awoke her from her light slumber.  She had been catnapping, on and off, ever since they had brought in this young girl, Keisha Henry, two days ago.  She had barely aloud herself to leave the room, keeping a constant vigilance.                  "What is it, Jean?"  Beast asked, coming into the room and immediately immersing himself in the most recent printouts from the machines.                                                                                                                              "Her blood pressure is raising, so is her heart rate…it's almost like she's-"                                              "She's seizing.  Tilt her over and hold her steady.  If she vomits, she'll choke," was the calm response from Hank, as he prepared to remove her intibation tube.                                                                     The girl's slight frame violently shook back and forth, her arms jerking about in an unnatural way.  Jean held onto the young girl's shoulders, trying desperately to keep her still while her body convulsed and shook to a rhythm that no one but her could sense.  Each time her head rolled back, it was almost like the girl's hair, a color that was obviously dyed, seemed to get bigger and bigger.                                                    "Beast, something's-" Jean was cut off as an electrical shock sent her flying back, leaving her to land unceremoniously on her backside.  She took a moment to right herself and then looked up.  All of Hank's fur stood on end, and he slowly backed away from the young girl with a look of fear and fascination on her face.    Jean followed his stare and found her mouth gaping on its own accord.                                     Keisha was there, floating above the bed with fields of electricity snapping and crackling around her.  She seemed unaware of it, yet her eyes were still wide open.  It was her eyes that brought the fear to Beast, and to Jean.  Those unnatural white, blind eyes, that seemed to see everything and everyone all at once.                                                                                                                                                                                      The girl's mouth slowly opened, as her body continued to contort itself in the air, the jerky movements of her legs and arms making her move in small paces around her bed.  The first thing Jean noticed was that all the glass on the windows seemed to have…not cracks exactly, but almost as if a thousand spiders had all started spinning perfect, tiny webs all at once, using the glass as their canvas.  The beeping of all the monitors seemed to die down, and that's when the sound finally hit her.  Her scream.  Keisha was screaming, and it was almost as if everything was screaming with her, trying to share her pain.  Jean winced and reached up to cover her ears, as Keisha's screams echoed throughout the mansion, causing everyone to shudder as a group and wonder what was going on.                                                                              


He was sitting on the ledge of his window, his hands caught up doing their usual ritual that he hardly had to pay them any mind to know that he was doing everything perfectly.  He sighed and leaned against the wooden frame of the window, letting his eyes rest upon the maple tree only a few yards away from him.  It was another lazy day for him, and he had nothing better to do than let this hands work as he zoned out.         Kings on top, then Queens…or should the aces go on first?  He sighed and continued shuffling.  Might as well get the aces on top, would take him a little longer.  Would occupy his time a little bit more.      Remy focused in on one particular maple leaf, a little brown around the edges.  That's how he felt.  Dull and lifeless.  I wish something would happen 'round here.  Who woulda thought the life of young, dachingly handsome mutant like me could end up being so…boring?  Sometimes I just wanna scream.                  It was almost as if diving intervention had taken place, because at that moment, a shrill scream, full of anger, sorrow, rage, so many emotions that Remy's empathy made his stomach immediately cramp up, pierced his ears.  "Mon dieu, what is that?" he cried, looking around to try and find its source.   His eyes scanned the grounds, and finding nothing, he hurridly swung his legs over and back inside.  He intended to find out who was bellowing like a banshee.                                                                                                                The maple tree heard the scream, too.  The only way it could think to show sympathy with it was to let its leaves drop, one by one until only the one with the browned edges was left.  It, too, broke off from its mother, and slowly floated down onto the ground, where it would be forgotten and eventually die, with the only cries of remorse on its behalf coming from the girl who screamed not only for her life, but theft of it.

That's it for now.  You know the drill….REVIEW FOR THE LOVE OF JESUS/MOHAMMED/BUDDHA/KRISHNA/GREEN MAN/ MOSES/ISHTAR!  Many thanks, and I love you all even more for it!