All right, welcome to my story, X-Men; Extra Guys. This fanfiction starts with X-Men 1, and follows through the plot of the X2 movie. Before you write this off as a novelized version of the movies, please let me tell you there are many differences between this fanfiction and the content of the first two X-Men films. For starters, this story includes Gambit and Jubilee as main characters, as well as an original character. Also, this could be considered a mini-marvel crossover, since Frank Castle, the Punisher, as well as Tony Stark, Iron Man, both guest star in parts. Thirdly, I did not mirror copy the film script. Most of the content, even the parts directly following the movie plot, are changed enough to keep interest.

Also, currently this story has passed the plots of the two films and is going onto a fairly original story arc; if you want, you could just leap forward to chapter 30 or so and skip all the movie-plot content.

Anyway, enough with that. Oh, and I don't own this content, Marvel does, and am receiving no profit for this writing. (Before you ask, yes, I have earned money from writing, though the largest sum was only $100.)

Enjoy the story.

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Washington D.C, the United States Senate, hearing concerning a mutant registration proposal..

If she was nervous, she didn't show it. "Unfortunately, we don't know the exact cause of the x genes rapid changes. Theories range from it being the next stage in human evolution to effects of radiation or possibly even better medicine. It wouldn't be first time notably changes have occurred in our genetic code." She said, addressing the politicians. "For instance; it's a little known fact, but the average human female today reaches physical adulthood almost twelve years earlier than her ancestors did in the 1800's. Is it simply caused by better nutrition in our diets? Or is it genetic?" She asked. "There is still a great deal of knowledge that we lack about the way our own bodies function, and I feel we should keep that in mind as we discuss the x gene mutations."

These mutations manifest at puberty, and are frequently triggered by periods of heightened emotional stress." She flipped over her notes. "Despite what the media would have us think, the real numbers are much lower than originally anticipated. Estimates put the amount of people in the United States with dominant mutant x genes at one hundred thousand or less—the population of a medium-sized city. Due to the nature of genetic mutations, we believe that up to ninety-eight percent of those people will never even realize that officially, they are 'mutants' as they've been labeled." She paused, looking over the crowd, trying to see if she was winning them over. "Studies of the x gene itself suggest that the global population of those with drastic genetic changes—the sort that causes the unnatural abilities we've seen so much news coverage about lately—will not rise over five thousand in the foreseeable future."

"Thank you, Miss Grey!" Senator Kelly said, rising from his seat. "That was quite educational. However, it fails to address the issue which is the focus of this hearing. Three words; are mutants dangerous?" The mask of neutral calm on her face cracked for a moment, nervousness twisting her expression for a second before vanishing as quickly as it came.

"I think that's a rather unfair question, Senator Kelly." She replied coolly. "After all, the wrong person behind the wheel of a car is dangerous. Dozens of innocent people every day pay for traffic mistakes with their lives, yet I'm yet to hear a proposal to ban automobiles." The blond politician looked flustered at the unexpected response, much to the amusement of several of his colleges.

"Well, we do license people to drive," Senator Kelly said.

"Yes, we do." Jean Grey agreed. "We license people to drive, to hunt, to teach, to protect, to marry..." Her gaze swept the chamber, almost pleadingly. "But not to live."

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A short time later…

"Doctor Grey, are mutants dangerous?" One reporter asked, thrusting a microphone at the woman's face. She didn't bother answer, merely walking faster towards her car. The other reporters didn't give up hope on getting a response.

"Is there a mutant plot?" Another shouted. The third lacked some of the blunt rudeness of the others.

"Do you have any statement, Miss Grey?" He asked, sounding notably warmer than the others. Jean paused, turning to look at the crowd that had followed her across the parking lot. Fifteen, maybe twenty? She wondered briefly, turning the key, unlocking the car door.

Towards the back, a teenage boy took an unopened can of soda out of his baggy pockets, hefted it for a moment, and pitched. Several others saw in time to shout. Jean lifted a hand, and the can halted mid-air, several feet from her face. It rotated for a moment, then slowly lowered to the ground, a light tink sounding as it touched the asphalt, standing upright. She looked at the reporter who has asked the last question.

"We are not the ones to be afraid of." She said lightly, getting in the car. The engine revved, making the crowd disperse, and she drove off.

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In a little truck-stop town in Canada…

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer said dramatically, ignoring the fact the none of the women present could be called ladies, much less the males be considered gentleman, "Are you just going to let this man take your money away? Do we have any challengers?!"

"I'll fight him!" A man emerged from the smoky, dim bar area into more brightly lit cage. The onlookers cheered, their feelings towards the night's constant winner soured by lost bets.

"Whatever you do, don't hit him in the groin." The announcer said quietly, covering the mike.

"I thought you said anything goes!" The challenger protested. The announcer shrugged.

"Anything goes, Stu, but he'll take it personal." He replied, stepping out of the cage. A muscular bouncer closed the metal door and padlocked it shut. The other fighter glanced up as if barely interested, took the cigar out of his mouth, and gently placed it in a nook formed by the cages chain-link walls.

"Three, two, one, fight!" The announcer declared. The challenger rushed forward before the other man even stood, smashing him to the ground, then landing a viscous kick to his ribs, making half the crowd cheer. The first brawler suddenly rose, meeting the oncoming blow with his own fist. Stu cried out, stepping back, holding his hand in agony. The next blow slammed him up against the cage wall. The fighter brazenly head-bashed him as he bounced off the metal, and Stu went down for the count.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the still un-defeated champion of the ring, the Wolverine." The announcer declared. The crowd booed. Judging by his reaction, Wolverine couldn't have cared less.

An hour later…

The bartender glanced around once more, then walked back over to the young girl, now the sole person sitting at the bar.

"Find what you want? Or just sticking with water?" He asked. She didn't reply, looking away.

"Beer." A voice said behind her. She turned in time to see the cage-fighter, Wolverine, sitting down, now fully clothed. Their eyes met for a second before she averted her gaze. Two more men walked over, one sporting huge purple bruises on his shaved skull.

"You owe me some money." The defeated brawler growled. "No one takes a beating like that without a mark to show for it." His friend looked nervous.

"Stu, come'on, lets go." He said, tugging at his arm. Stu ignored him, leaning closer to Wolverine.

"I know what you are." He whispered. Wolverine finally responded.

"You lost your money. Keep this up, you'll loose something else." He replied, irritation showing. Stu turned away, mumbling angrily, reaching into his pocket. Chink.

"Look out!" The girl screamed. In one fluid motion, Wolverine stood, knocked the switchblade away, and threw the man up against the wall. Everyone froze, staring. Protruding from his hand, between his knuckles, were two long silver claws, like knives, now embedded on the wall millimeters away from the man's throat. Slowly, a third middle claw came out, stopping just as the blade touched Stu's windpipe.

Ka-Chink! The bartender raised a shotgun, aimed point-blank at Wolverine's head.

"Get out of my bar, freak!" He ordered shakily. Wolverine turned his head slightly, looking at him, his expression turning to an angry exasperation. Sniik! He twisted rapidly, bringing his other hand up, snarling. Three claws sliced through the shotgun, cutting it to pieces. The hand stayed up, and for a few moments he held both men at bay. Wolverine glanced at the girl again, and as if changing is mind, suddenly retracted the claws back into his hand, threw his shoulders back with a huff, grabbed the beer and left. The girl looked around, noticing the angry glares being directed at her. She heaved a duffel bag up where it had been resting and ran out.

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A dozen miles later…

Wolverine groaned and stepped on the brake, bringing the rickety truck to a halt. The door squeaked open, and he stalked to the trailer behind the vehicle. She didn't move, probably hoping she was still hidden. He grabbed the bag and tossed it out on the road.

"What are you doing?" He asked gruffly. The girl finally stood up from her hiding spot next to his bike, the cloak making her look like a little green riding hood. What's she, late teens, maybe early twenties? He wondered. Another runaway.

"I-I'm sorry. I need a ride, thought you could help me." She said sheepishly.

"Get. Out." He said slowly. She hopped down, and he started walking off.

"Where am I supposed to go?" She asked, sounding a little resentful. She looked around, at snow-covered woods as far as she could see.

"I don't know." Wolverine admitted flippantly.

"You don't know, or you don't care?" She said.

"Pick one." Wolverine said flatly.

She was incredulously surprised at his coldness. "I saved your life!"

"No, you didn't." He replied, walking back to the cab. The truck rumbled back to life and started driving off. A hundred yards later it suddenly stopped, and he waved a hand out the window. She grabbed the bag eagerly and ran over, jumping in as though he might change his mind if she waited a second longer. He silently shifted the truck back in gear as she buckled up and they rumbled along in silence for several minutes.

"You don't have anything to eat, do you?" The girl asked wistfully. Wolverine groaned, then reached over and opened the glove compartment. Inside were several candy bars. She quickly unwrapped one and took a bite, hungrily.

"I'm Rogue," she said, suddenly growing a little friendlier. Wolverine gave an acknowledging grunt but didn't speak. Her eyes drifted to the dog tags hanging on his chest.

"Were you in the army?" Rogue asked curiously. Again, he didn't respond. "Doesn't, doesn't that mean you were in the army?" She glanced back at the rear of the truck, which had been converted to a shabby sleeping area.

"Wow." Rogue said, amazed at the squalor he lived in. Wolverine glanced over, finally speaking.

"What?" He asked. Rogue shrugged, still staring at the living space.

"It's just that, suddenly my life doesn't seem that bad." She said distractedly.

"Well," Wolverine said, a slight edge in his voice, "If you prefer the road…."

"No," Rogue said quickly. "It looks great. It looks… comfy." She took her gloves off and started rubbing her hands together, blowing on them. Wolverine noticed and flicked the heat on. "Put your hands on the heater," he said. She didn't move. He reached one arm over and she jerked back as though his claws might come out.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, kid." Wolverine said tiredly. Rogue put her gloves on, shaking her head.

"No, it's nothing personal. It's just that, when people touch my skin, something happens." She said softly.

"What?" Wolverine asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. Rogue shrugged.

"I don't know, they just get hurt." She said, looking out the window. He took the hint that she didn't want to talk about it.

"Fair enough," Wolverine said. "What kind of name is Rogue?"

"I don't know," she replied, half-defensively and half-teasing. "What kind of name is Wolverine?"

"My name's Logan, kid." Logan said, making a turn on the road.

"Marie." Rogue said. She glanced at Logan, and the silent acknowledgement was clear, that they were both mutants.

"Does it hurt when your claws come out?" She asked curiously.

"Every time," Logan replied shortly. She didn't quite know how to respond to that. It dawned on her…

"Shouldn't you be wearing your seatbelt?" She asked.

"Listen, kid, I have been driving this truck since before you could read. That last thing I need is-" WHAM! The truck slammed to a halt, throwing Logan out through the windshield onto the road and making the seatbelt dig painfully into Marie's shoulder. She recovered enough to look out. Directly in front of the truck was a tree trunk. A few yards beyond that, Logan staggered to his feet, then turned, making the girl's eyes widen. His forehead was gouged open, and healing before her eyes.

"Kid, you okay?" He asked, wiping his face off. She froze, unable to respond. "Kid, I said, are you—arg!" A blur suddenly collided with him, sending him through the air, breaking a tree with his impact. The brutishly large newcomer laughed, and chased after her friend. There were snarls, a few muffled thuds, then… silence.

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Okay, hope you liked it. Leave a review if you did, then add story alert so you know when I update. Happy reading!