Hi Fans! I'm back! I will be reposting all my old stories and adding chapters! Please leave reviews! Thank you to everyone who has waited and who continue to support me despite my bad grammar and spelling. Lol
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Jena Skye
I do not own THE X-MEN in anyway!
Chapter One: The Invitation
She noticed the sign said "No Crosses or Silver Bullets Allowed!" The only reason the X-men got into the high class night club was because they had received an invitation. And one can only get an invitation to a club like this is by someone who is high up. The invitation was not signed.
"Sounds like a trap to me. Ah got a bad feeling about this." Rogue thought. She had tried to tell the others about her suspicions. No one had listened.
Rogue followed her team mates into the glitzy night club
Where creatures of darkness await
In the corner of every shadow
Lusting, wanting, and needing
For what they take can never been given back
Life...
They lay on leather couches and seats...
Drowning in sin...
As heavy metal rock blast in to every crevice of the club...
Rogue walk past all the stares and whispers as she follow The X-Men in her knee high leather tie up boots and black ripped pants with silver studded spiked arms and her fish net shirt. She then pulled her black trench coat over her body, and shoved her gloved hands in to the pockets of her coat.
"I don't want them looking at ma body..." She shivered as the nights cold seeped through her bones.
The young, Goth mutant felt very afraid tonight. Epically because she had to give up her silver cross to get into this club. Even with their mutant powers she knew the X-men, without crosses or silver didn't stand a chance if they got in to trouble.
The team walked to a corner... Full of darkness and betrayal...
She stopped...she hear his voice like liquid velvet...
It made her tremble inside...
No one...
No one but him has a voice like that...
No one but the Devil himself...
Remy LeBeau... also known as Gambit...
She had thought he was dead...
He was dressed in an old 18-th century gothic styled poet's shirt that was red and black shinny pants that look oh so right and leather boots complemented the outfit. His auburn hair was pulled back from his handsome face into a pony tail. And of course, the dark black shades that hid what he was.
A freak...
A thief...
A outcast...
A Mutant...
A Vampire...
He was in the middle of a conversation with a bunch of men in expensive suits Until a rather large "thing" looked up and smiled a rather ugly smile up at the group.
"Hey. Look who has arrived. The freaks...!" He pointed a huge paw at the group.
A handsome yet beautiful Vampire with golden hair that went down to his waist and bright blue eyes looked over at them with a slight amused smile across his face and drawled in a French accent
"Not impressed."
"Oh shit!" Rogue thought.
The group kept silent. Dead still... The X-men were all dressed in white.
Rogue knew that Vampires and Werewolf's liked to be impressed by a person's representation. It was an unwritten, unspoken rule. You just knew it was how things were done. If they were not impressed... well...then you are a walking corpse until they catch you.
And Rogue knew...
They will catch you...
"Double shit" Her hands were trembling in her pockets.
If she was afraid of anything it was Vampires...
Scott noticed her nervousness and asked about it.
"You look afraid. Ohhh..." He teased "Is The Rogue afraid of Vampires?"
She gave him a cold look whispering. "Don't ask me why, they just creep me out."
None of the X-men moved. Rogue did not want to bring attention to her self. She was usually the quite one who kept her self away from the group... The shadowy loaner... The Rogue...
Until you got on her bad side. Then you would get an ear full!
"They were just going to stand here an take this shit? Hey, we were the ones who were invited here! Who came with an invitation in black limousines that were sent to pike us up at the mansion and bring us here. In ma books this is not a way to treat a guest. An if no one else was going to stand up for themselves... then ah guess I'd just have ta do it for them." Rogue thought.
"Excuse me?! Who are ya calling freaks? You shouldn't be one ta talk! Just look at your self!" She said loudly as to get her point across.
"Who the hell said that!?" The large werewolf mans yellow eyes searched the X-men crowd.
"Oh man. Here ah go. Bring attention to ma self. An very bad, unwanted attention to ma self to boot! Ah can usually do that just by my looks an carefree attitude alone. But the moment I open my mouth I just get my self into crap! Ha ha ha ha! We are so going to die!" Her mind was screaming at her to Shut The Hell Up!
She pushed her way to the front of the group.
She gave the Werewolf her best "tough ass glare" and slammed a gloved hand beside his glass as she leaned on to the large round table giving them her "I'm one tough as nails girl, an don't screw with me cause I won't take yer shit" pose. An all the while some little voice in the back of her head was screaming, "Oh dear lord, what am ah thinking?!"
The blonde vampire raised an eyebrow and whistled saying "Consider me impressed."
"Ah guess the whole white and black contrast idea worked out after all." She thought as she smiled to herself. Proud yet still weary and afraid but she was not about to let it show.
She wanted to do a happy dance right then an there but for some reason she got the crazy idea that it would be inappropriate.
"Who is this petite femme?" The blonde Vampire asked Remy who was hidden in shadows.
When he looked at Rogue, his stare was so intense she wanted to run...
"This... gentlemen." He took off his shades and stared into her emerald eyes." Is Rogue."
His voice, peppered with his Cajun accent slid down her spine like liquor being poured over ice cubes.
Smooth... Very smooth...
She looked at the floor... She could not make her self meet his eyes.
She had left him to die in Antarctica... and now... She paid dearly for it.
"Ummm... if ya'll will excuse me." She gave a slightly seductive smile to the creatures pretending to be men in their suits and ties, not and walked past the table.
The Southern bell needed somewhere where she could breathe...
Somewhere she could keep a close eye on the group.
Because if her gut was right, then they were all in way to deep over their heads...
-Jena Skye