A pathetically bizarre story about the teenaged X-Men and why Wolverine should be more careful about keeping his stash hidden from blue fuzzy things.
I don't own them, they don't own me (yet, but I'm considering working on a remedy for that), and for the sake of Mutant-kind, it's all ldypebsaby's fault! (Yeah, I put your name in the summary and you have me on author alert, so you better be reading. If you don't believe me, the original title for this was going to be "Elf on Crack," and I must remind you of your review to chapter 2 of xfan2003's "Of Ogres and Wolverines"). Do not ingest contents while operating heavy machinery.
In the words of the great sage Morpheus, "Here we go." (Okay, so he said it in Greek being a Greek god and all, but that other Morpheus said it in English in The Matrix, so it's all good).
BamfbamfBAMFBAMFbamfbamf. bamf times ten to the power of a million.
"Yeeeeeee-hah! Teleporting at 40,000 bamf's per minoot!"
Too many damned bamf's to list
"Logan," whispered Rogue, looking around the foyer of the mansion as more and more sulfurous gas entered it noisily, "did you leave your… you know, stuff – where Kurt could find it?"
"What stuff?" the Canadian asked gruffly.
"You know the stuff I'm talking about. To answer the question you're likely asking yourself,"Rogue pulled a glove off tapped an imaginary figure with her bared hand, made some 'schloop' noises, and then pointed at her forehead.
"Now it makes sense that noticeable amounts of… stuff are missing," replied the Wolverine accusingly.
"Hey, I'm responsible with it, and I always put it away properly. Which is more than you can say sometimes."
A high speed series of bamf's ensued.
"Plus I only ever touched the crack once, and we're pretty lucky the Professor didn't find me out that time when he was purging out the personalities. I'm never touching that stuff again – I almost killed y'all!"
"So that's how that concert thing happened." Logan paused. "You're not touching my stuff again, y'hear?"
Rogue smiled slyly as Kurt teleported through a few thousand more times. "I could just tell the Professor you've got that stuff. You wouldn't want to – what was it? Oh yeah, spend the rest of your days thinking you were a six year old girl with Perkypants braiding your hair, would you?"
"Okay, okay, you've got free reign! Just let's stop your hyperactive brother before he does something–"
He was cut short as Kitty walked into the foyer with Lance, back from their date, and suddenly Kitty was naked. She covered herself quickly with her arms and then squirmed as she realised something disgusting. "Ewww! I'm, like, covered with icky stuff!"
It's only saliva, from like, Kurt kissing her all over, you perverted freaks! Of course I realise the irony of that statement, considering what the author just did….
"Is it just me," asked Rogue, noting a few camera flashes from around them place, "or does that voice over sound a lot like the Prof?" She now was tracking a green blur.
"You're right," replied Logan, "the resemblance is so close, it's – Oh, that's just pure bullshit. Mr. Voiceover is Charles?!"
Yes, it is part of my plot to take over the Universe! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA– I mean, no, what a stupid inference!
Still tracking the blur, Rogue yelled over the top of the constant drumming of Kurt's bamfs, "Lance, Kitty, please y'all don't beat him senseless until after he's come 'round!" When they started to protest she continued, "Think about it, it'll hurt 'im more if ya do!" Then she leapt, and tackled Pietro to the ground.
"I'll take that, thank you," Lance said, taking Pietro's digital camera off him as Rogue absorbed the speed demon. "Hey, these are some pretty good shots," he said as he skipped through the album to the pictures of Kitty naked.
She punched him across the jaw, knocking him out cold, and then phased a hand through the device. "Perverts," she mutter under her breath.
A sped-up Rogue very carefully calculated the trajectory as she predicted Kurt's next incoming port. After the third try, she got him, and he was out cold a few seconds, or about three hundred bamf's later. Rogue dropped easily to the ground.
"Oh no," groaned Logan, his eyes wide.
Everyone still conscious looked at Rogue with the most frightened expression they could conjure. Her eyes were bright, and she was appeared to be vibrating. It shouldn't take a genius to work out the simple equation of absorber speed demon fuzzy blue elf on crack very not good, but what had just happened had happened.
In the interest of preserving the illusion some people may have that Rogue really is an angel underneath, we'll suffice to say that the next 3 seconds of the history of the world were very strange. On the other hand, no, you should face it, Rogue is the devil wi'out a disguise, and you like her that way, you dirty little people. Within those three seconds, every cute boy on the surface of the planet (and likewise with girls, because a significant portion of her new psyches preferred them, and she'd acquired the skills of numerous shape-shifters the the point where she could fake the required anatomy), who hadn't already, lost their virginity, and screaming for food of essence, Rogue reduced the non-comatose population of the world to… her.
Suddenly, the universe felt very silly at its mistake, as Rogue was now ultimately invulnerable, and capable of unaided flight through the void of space at speeds higher than the speed of light, could multiply herself an infinite number of times, and had a plethora of other cool powers, and most importantly, was totally 100 completely and utterly psychosomatic-schizophrenic-manic INSANE!!! That meant that the population of Rogue was spreading at a very fast rate, raping everything of its life force as she expanded out into the universe.
So, it decided to recall the last few hours of history, and start again, reminding Logan to store his stash safely away in the safe under the board under the spare mattress under the bed that only he knew about (and, by proxy, Rogue, but she wasn't a threat without the fuzzy one in her head being on crack).
Let this be a lesson to you. Never leave crack where the fuzzy one can find it.
REVIEW. I dare you. ;-P