A/N: Hello all, this is my first attempt at writing a FF in years, so please keep that in mind. I have a terrible time writing chapters and uploading them, so I have made an extremely long chapter to tide everyone over till the next one. Just so everyone is clear this is an AU from x:men-Evolution however the looks, ages, and such of the characters are based off the cartoon (slight modifications to some); just my own world.
Disclaimer: I own (though I wish) absolutely NOTHING, I make no money from this story. It is rated M/MA for themes, violence, language, etc. If you don't like anything (writing style, the way things are going...) then please don't send hateful reviews; just leave and find something more to your liking. Otherwise please feel free to write any kind of review you wish :) If you have questions I will be more than happy to answer.
The club was packed as usual. The sounds defining upon entering, the lights just blinding enough for you to get disoriented and the girls were more than happy to help you find your way. "Magnetism" was a three story club in the middle of Manhattan. The first floor could only be described as something off the Vegas Strip. Upon entrance into the club, one could choose to enter a neon hallway which led to a mini casino with poker, black jack, and craps in its center and slots and roulette dotting the sides. Show girls wearing silver corsets and booty shorts that seemed to sparkle were seen mingling with the players, serving drinks and dealing cards, making sure everyone was happy and drunk enough to keep pouring their money into the games.
The center, the life blood of the club as you enter, was a large stage, different parts of it stemming off into the crowd. Tables and booths draped in metallic table cloths filled the available space around the stage. Men drinking, smoking, and nibbling h'orderves hooted and cat called the dancers doing their routine; hoping that they would be able to afford or have a chance to take them to the second floor. The second floor was nothing but rooms in which the patrons could live out whatever fantasy that came to them. This is what brought everyone to "Magnetism" the chance to be with a beautiful showgirl for one night and winning big money. The third and final floor was reserved for the owner of the club, Erik Lehnsherr and his private rooms and office. No one was allowed up there without explicit invitation.
Rogue peeked into the club through a little peephole she had made in the supply closet, which really was the pantry of the small kitchen behind the bar. Wishing she could be out there with everyone. She watched people laughing, drinking, eating and willed herself to look away from the happiness that vibrated the club along with the thumping music. Everyone enjoyed themselves, watching the dancers who were currently swinging from the ceiling on fine colorful silk. Some weren't even using the silks, Rogue knew that some of the dancers could fly or float themselves; but they were under strict instructions that anyone having a mutant power should keep them hidden. They were using just enough to make it look like they were flying, a way to further capture the attention of the audience. She wished she could be up there with them; the feeling of weightlessness always helped her escape her thoughts and memories. The feeling of flying made her dream of a different life.
In her musing she didn't notice him watching her, until the metal collar around her neck got smaller cutting off her airway. She felt herself being lifted from the floor and slowly being turned around to face her jailer, and master. "What do you think you are doing?" he questioned her; she could only gag her reply, ripping at her caller trying to relieve the pressure on her throat. Erik floated her closer to him, raising his hands he pulled her hands apart by the small metal cuffs she wore making her spread them far apart. "How many times have I told you not to go anywhere near the club?" he questioned again, not expecting an answer. Tears were rolling down her face as the pressure on her neck continued and she couldn't pull any air into her lungs. He smirked at her, eyes menacing. "You will be punished for your continued insolence." Her eyes widened, fear poured out of her in waves, sending a shiver down Erik's spine in anticipation.
He turned to walk out of the supply room and up to his special room floating his toy behind him. Reaching said room the guard he had posted there growled menacingly at him, "Now now Logan, you remember the last time you growled at me?" He raised his hand and the big man's body flew down the hall and connected soundly with the wall at the end of it ten feet away pinning him a few feet from the floor. "I will be out shortly, make sure I am not disturbed." To emphasize his point he slowly closed his fist drawing a cross between a growl and whimper from the burly man; his body contorting into it-self painfully. The pressure suddenly lifted and Logan fell to the floor hitting his face and grunting with the pain of his body trying to right itself and the smarting of his face connecting with the hard ground. He looked up just in time to see Erik enter his "play room" while floating an unconscious Rogue behind him.
Logan snarled and resumed his post outside the heavy wood and metal door. He wanted nothing more than to rip open the offending door, kill the bastard, and take him and Rogue far away from here. But neither one was allowed to leave; they would be killed almost instantly. They both wore the same metal caller; it was set to explode if it left the premises or if they tried to remove them. Granted, Logan knew that the blast most likely wouldn't kill him, he just couldn't leave Rogue behind, not after everything they both have been through at the hands of their "master". He flinched at the sound of her barley muffled screaming behind him; trying to ignore the smell of her blood being spilt not for the first time that night.
The early morning air felt good against Gambit's skin as he waited for the club to close for the morning. The sun was just peaking over the horizon of skyscrapers draping the streets with a pink light as everyone was readying themselves for the day. Gambit took out his mini binoculars as he caught sight of movement at the clubs front entrance. Spying what caused the disturbance, he immediately identified the bartender of the club heading out with one of the dancers. His file on the club personnel told him that it was Scott Summers and Jean Grey, both managers and both the last ones to leave the club at the end of the day. After locking the front door they kissed passionately before walking down the street together. 'time to 'et to work' Gambit smiled to himself, taking out his bo staff and vaulting from his perch to the grown in one graceful movement.
The silver carpet of the hallway muffled his entrance to the floor via the hole in the window. Still crouching on the ground he cautiously looked up and down the hall expecting to see guards posted at either end of it. To his surprise he saw none. Silently he crept to his right down the hall passing a rather foreboding wood and metal door on his left before reaching his destination. Silent as the master thief he was Gambit took out his lock picking tools. He raised an eyebrow at the low security as the door silently unlocked for him. The door quietly opened fully to an empty office. Lush metallic grey curtains lined the windows from the top pane down to the floor. Rich dark oak floorboards coated the entire office. A silver area rug demanded most of the floor with a metal couch with grey cushions for comfort resting on top of it. The black oak desk drew him forward; he strode over to its call and located the hidden panel in its left side. There resting on a blanket of velvet was his target. In the darkness of the office the substance in the cylinder seemed to glow an eerie pink, which to him seemed to move like a lava lamp. Carefully pulling it from its velvet cradle Gambit took a moment to admire the pink substance before pulling out a padded travel tube from one of his many pockets in his ever present trench coat.
Having put away his prize he silently closed the hidden panel and made his way back out of the office. Before reaching the door something shone dully out of the corner of his eye. Turning his head, Gambit took notice of the dry bar along the wall near a window to his right. Trying to find the source of the glimmer he padded over to the bar and carefully looked the contents over. His trained thief eyes spotted immediately the thing that was out of place. In the center of the seemingly normal tray of bandy glasses, the decanter was solid metal. It was shaped to look like a regular decanter to hold the amber liquor but where crystal is clear this was solid. Carefully picking it up off the tray Gambit was surprised at how heavy the decanter really was. Checking the inside of liquor, Gambit rotated the piece this way and that in the small sliver of light streaming from the window. 'dis is no ordinary pitcher.' The metal in his hands didn't hold a shine like anything he has seen before, it seemed colder than other metal, still smooth and flawless but colder, heaver. Deciding to take it with him, Gambit carefully placed it in his leather satchel with the travel tube, turning the burden to his back to be completely hidden by his trench coat.
Now ready to leave without further distractions Gambit quickened his pace to the office door. Reaching the hall, and silently closing the office door behind him; he heard voices coming towards his direction. His escape route was still about ten feet away from him, making a snap decision Gambit broke for the foreboding wood and metal door opening it and closing it silently, hoping that both the people coming down the hall were heading to the office and that there was a way out in the room he just entered. Listening to the muffled voices outside door, his blood ran cold when he heard a faint whimper from behind him. He quickly turned around hands pulling out a charged card in the same motion; when his eyes finally adjusted to the dim light and focused on the sound he gasped. 'Qu'est-ce que?!'
Rogue couldn't help the whimper that escaped her. She thought it was her "master" coming for another round and when she realized that it wasn't her relief was palpable. She then hoped that the figure was Logan finally able to figure out a way to escape and coming to get her. But when the intruder spun around at the sound of her whimper her hopes fled and fear replaced them. He was holding something small and glowing in his hand looking like he was about to throw it at her. But as soon as his eyes had adjusted to the light, the glow on the cards immediately went out and he gasped and muttered something.
He made his way quickly over to her and stood in front of her to examine her. She tried to flinch away but couldn't move; she tried to say something but no words came out. The man looked at her intently, unsure of how to proceed. She relaxed slightly when he whispered to her "Ah'm not gonna 'urt ya" he soothed. She was fixated on his eyes thought; they were a brilliant shade of red, shining at her with a mix of concern, confusion, and anger which were set in a sea of black. She thought she could just drown in his eyes, never had she thought eyes would hold such emotion for her, only hatred like she was a bug to be squished. So entranced with his eyes she didn't notice that he was reaching up to try and touch her. Her body instinctively gave a violent shake and she tried to move away from him, pain searing every part of her body in the process. The last thing she saw before passing out was his deep red eyes full of shock and confusion.
Gambit didn't know what to do. This situation was completely alien to him, he didn't know what to expect when entering this room but it certainly wasn't this. When he turned around to find the source of the whimper he expected a guard; he was shocked to be met with a body hanging by thick chains from the ceiling. The smell of old blood and burnt flesh clouded his senses, making him want to gag. Refusing to cover his mouth, or react in any way, he moved closer to the figure dangling from her apparently broken wrists in the middle of the room. Once he was close enough to see her properly he was filled with a barrage of emotion that took him by surprise. The most overwhelming emotion he felt was anger; the girl in front of him was naked except a metal collar and covered in what appeared to be her own blood with multiple burns, bruises, gouges, and what seemed to be dried seamen. He saw the fear in her eyes; he almost shrunk away from the sight. The eyes staring back at him put every emerald he had ever stolen to shame. He would have given anything, he realized with surprise, if he could take away the fear that was pouring out of them and replace it with anything else. He tried to sooth her with his reassurance of no harm. It seemed to work sense she wasn't quivering to move away from him.
He noticed that she was staring intently at him, fascinated by his own demonic eyes. He was always just a little self-conscious of his eyes; he waited for her to turn away from his gaze in fear like everyone else. But she surprised him by looking at him unmoving; she didn't seem to notice anything else except his eyes. Using this to his advantage he began to reach up to try and gently take her down from her shackles, he was utterly shocked when she filched away from him so violently that she passed out from the multiple tortured induce injuries.
Now he really didn't know what to do. He could have helped her walk out of there if she was conscious, but unconscious and looking at her now, broken legs he didn't think he could pull it off without getting caught. He needed to leave and he needed to do it some time ago, but the thought of leaving this girl in this room left a foul taste in his mouth. Frustrated, Gambit cursed and promised the unconscious girl that he would come back for her and get her out of here, no matter what it took. He forced himself to leave her there and walk back to the door. He tried to focus on hearing voices outside the door to make his escape. Once he determined the all clear, he glanced back over his shoulder at the battered girl and forced himself to open the door and leave.
"Je viendrai pour vous" he whispered to her as he closed the door behind him.
Logan had been on high alert all day sense they found out. Someone had broken in and stolen something from Erick while the club was closed. He couldn't say that he was upset about it, but he was concerned about him taking his anger out on Rogue. He had just put her on her pallet of blankets that served as her bed and was trying to wake her up. After a little bit of quiet pleading, and gentle shaking, her eyes opened a crack, she blinked up at him trying to focus. Finally seeing him he noted the look of disappointment on her face before it contorted in pain.
"Hold on kid. I got 'ya" he cooed, taking off one of his leather gloves that he was required to wear and gently placing his hand across her cheek, he felt the familiar sensation of his life force being drained away. He was happy to let it go if it meant healing her up a bit after her session with Erik. He watched the pain ebb away from her face the longer he kept his hand on her. He however was starting to fade, he knew if he didn't let go soon she would involuntarily kill him.
She seemed to sense this; she shoved him away from her as hard as she could breaking the skin contact. Logan stumbled backward, breathed heavily, after a moment he tried to kneel back down next to her. She was glaring at him. He rubbed the back of his head apologetically, "Sorry, got carried away." She opened her mouth to say something but no words came out. Instantly Logan reached out and touched her chin with his other gloved hand and gently lifted it to examine her neck. There was heavy bruising under her collar, the welts and the colors her pale skin was making caused Logan to internally flinch.
"Looks like he managed to crush your wind pipe a little this time" he could see the tears glossing her eyes threatening to fall. He examined the rest of her, trying to see what else needed to be healed. It always surprised Rogue how gentle her older friend could be. He had always been there to help after her meetings with Erik; his healing factor saved her life more than once over the years. She desperately wanted to tell him about the dream she had while waiting for someone to come and get her down. It had been a wonderful dream; eyes like onyx set with deep blood red irises, they looked at her with such concern and worry she wanted to sink into it. She knew that for her to tell him her throat needed to work, and with it crushed like it was she was having a hard time even breathing steadily. She knew that it would be awhile before she could fully recover using Logan's healing power.
"Your left leg is still broken, one rib, and your throat" he told her sadly, she couldn't feel it; everything felt like one massive painful bruise. He gave her a muscle relaxer and food he had smuggled with him. "So, Erik had a break in last night" he told her casually watching her eat. She stopped mid bite and stared at him like he grew an extra head. He chuckled at her expression, "Ya, I'm surprised too. Don't know whether to send a 'thank you' card or hurt the thief" he looked at her with concern. "You know he's going to take this out on you" he said mostly to himself noticing her twitch which in turn made her grimace with pain. He wished he could take her away from all this, make her life better. They had been together sense she was first brought to this hell. He looked upon her like an older brother and he tried to protect her as one.
She made writing motions in the air, confusing him. She looked at him more urgently and made the motions again in the air. He looked around; when he came up empty handed on paper and pen she indicated the bottom drawer of her dresser. Finding the instruments and handing it to her she fumbled trying to hold the pen and write with her badly bruised fingers. Finally she managed to scrawl four words that shocked him.
I saw the thief.
Logan raised a slightly bushy eyebrow at her, "Whad'da mean you saw 'em?" he said in a low growl. He waited impatiently while she scribbled her response.
He came into the playroom. I thought it was a dream.
Now Logan was angry and the over whelming overprotective feeling washed over him as he pulled her gently into a hug willing to ask the question he wasn't sure he wanted answered. "Did he hurt you? Did he try to touch you in anyway?" he emphasized the last part hoping that she wasn't going to be more traumatized than what she already was. He relaxed when she shook her head in the negative against his broad chest. She pulled away from him so she could scribble something on the crumpled sheet of paper,
He tried to save me
A/N: And there it is! Let me know what you think :)