The Xavier Institute For Higher Learning.
Salem Center, Westchester County, NY, USA.
A large group of men and women ranging from their forties to their sixties, many dressed in professional attire, walked through the halls of the lavish mansion. Some took notes while others merely soaked in the ambiance of what has been seen by very few people on the planet. The tour was just getting started by the Director of the Xavier Institute, a mutant with blue fur and a simian-like appearance, and his colleague, a charismatic young accountant with brown hair and blue eyes.
“How old is this place?” a man asked in awe, taking note of the Victorian décor and furnishings.
“That's a very good question,” Dr. Henry “Hank” McCoy replied to the tour member. “This estate has been in Charles Xavier's family for over ten generations. However, the mansion itself has only recently been rebuilt with our unique needs in mind thanks to the contributions of Worthington Industries, or X-Corporation as it came to be known. Our facilities now support a boarding school of sorts, several research and development laboratories, and much more.”
“How exciting!” a woman commented with a genuine twinkle in her eye. “What's next?”
Hank looked ahead of the group and frowned at what he saw. A woman with auburn hair and a white stripe down the middle of it was walking towards them, and then past them, with but a nod before she continued on her way. She was carrying a large brown duffel bag over her shoulder.
“Please excuse me,” Hank said to the tour group as he walked after the woman. Some of the group initially took interest in where Hank was going, but Bobby drew their attention back to the tour.
“Hey! Who wants to see where we manipulate stock markets and abuse foreign trade agreements?” Bobby Drake chimed in before the group could get distracted by Hank's departure, trying to keep the momentum of the tour going. “Heh, I'm kidding. I'm just gonna show you our game room... C'mon, check it out. We have life-size holographic Parcheesi!”
A few of the men and women on the tour chuckled as Bobby ushered them down the hall.
“Rogue, please wait!” Hank called out to his longtime friend. “Are you leaving already? I thought we agreed to talk about this some more before you made your decision.”
Rogue stopped and turned around with a sigh, shifting her weight to one side.
“Ah told ya last night, Hank. This here... what ya'll are doing to Xavier's... it just ain't for me.”
“I know that things are a little different than they used to be...” Hank began.
Rogue cleared her throat and put a hand on her hips.
“Alright. Things are very different than they used to be, but I'm convinced that it will be for the better. With the path we're on just imagine the positive influence we can have on society.”
“By influencin' who?” Rogue asked, waving a hand dismissively at the idea. “Politicians? Businessmen? Celebrities? Bratty rich mutant kids?”
Hank frowned. She could tell he was both disappointed and mildly offended.
“Look, ah'm not sayin' you're wrong and it ain’ gonna work, sugah,” Rogue explained as she put a gloved hand on Hank's shoulder. “Ah'm just sayin' this doesn't feel like the place for me anymore. My mind's made up. It's time t' move on.”
The director opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off.
“AHHH!” a woman's disgusted voice screamed.
“Yuck! Oh man, sorry!” Bobby could be heard yelling frantically down the hall. “I forgot to mention the Parcheesi Camel actually spits like, real holographic spit.”
Hank squinted and sighed in response to the unfolding incident down the hall. He closed his eyes and rubbed the tension out of his forehead, then looked back up to Rogue who smiled weakly at him. She hugged him briefly and turned around with her duffel bag, continuing down the hall.
“See ya later, Hankster,” she called back to him with a wave. “Stay blue.”
Salem Center, Westchester County, NY, USA.
A large group of men and women ranging from their forties to their sixties, many dressed in professional attire, walked through the halls of the lavish mansion. Some took notes while others merely soaked in the ambiance of what has been seen by very few people on the planet. The tour was just getting started by the Director of the Xavier Institute, a mutant with blue fur and a simian-like appearance, and his colleague, a charismatic young accountant with brown hair and blue eyes.
“How old is this place?” a man asked in awe, taking note of the Victorian décor and furnishings.
“That's a very good question,” Dr. Henry “Hank” McCoy replied to the tour member. “This estate has been in Charles Xavier's family for over ten generations. However, the mansion itself has only recently been rebuilt with our unique needs in mind thanks to the contributions of Worthington Industries, or X-Corporation as it came to be known. Our facilities now support a boarding school of sorts, several research and development laboratories, and much more.”
“How exciting!” a woman commented with a genuine twinkle in her eye. “What's next?”
Hank looked ahead of the group and frowned at what he saw. A woman with auburn hair and a white stripe down the middle of it was walking towards them, and then past them, with but a nod before she continued on her way. She was carrying a large brown duffel bag over her shoulder.
“Please excuse me,” Hank said to the tour group as he walked after the woman. Some of the group initially took interest in where Hank was going, but Bobby drew their attention back to the tour.
“Hey! Who wants to see where we manipulate stock markets and abuse foreign trade agreements?” Bobby Drake chimed in before the group could get distracted by Hank's departure, trying to keep the momentum of the tour going. “Heh, I'm kidding. I'm just gonna show you our game room... C'mon, check it out. We have life-size holographic Parcheesi!”
A few of the men and women on the tour chuckled as Bobby ushered them down the hall.
“Rogue, please wait!” Hank called out to his longtime friend. “Are you leaving already? I thought we agreed to talk about this some more before you made your decision.”
Rogue stopped and turned around with a sigh, shifting her weight to one side.
“Ah told ya last night, Hank. This here... what ya'll are doing to Xavier's... it just ain't for me.”
“I know that things are a little different than they used to be...” Hank began.
Rogue cleared her throat and put a hand on her hips.
“Alright. Things are very different than they used to be, but I'm convinced that it will be for the better. With the path we're on just imagine the positive influence we can have on society.”
“By influencin' who?” Rogue asked, waving a hand dismissively at the idea. “Politicians? Businessmen? Celebrities? Bratty rich mutant kids?”
Hank frowned. She could tell he was both disappointed and mildly offended.
“Look, ah'm not sayin' you're wrong and it ain’ gonna work, sugah,” Rogue explained as she put a gloved hand on Hank's shoulder. “Ah'm just sayin' this doesn't feel like the place for me anymore. My mind's made up. It's time t' move on.”
The director opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off.
“AHHH!” a woman's disgusted voice screamed.
“Yuck! Oh man, sorry!” Bobby could be heard yelling frantically down the hall. “I forgot to mention the Parcheesi Camel actually spits like, real holographic spit.”
Hank squinted and sighed in response to the unfolding incident down the hall. He closed his eyes and rubbed the tension out of his forehead, then looked back up to Rogue who smiled weakly at him. She hugged him briefly and turned around with her duffel bag, continuing down the hall.
“See ya later, Hankster,” she called back to him with a wave. “Stay blue.”
“THE HOUSE THAT BUILT ME”
Part One
Editor's Note: This issue takes place after X-Men Annual 2008 but before New X-Men #1.
A few days later…
Caldecott, Caldecott County, Mississippi.
On the outskirts of Caldecott, the Mississippi town so named after its county, a black and white Greyhound bus eased to a stop on the side of the road before an intersection. After a moment of stillness, the doors at the front of the bus swung open and a woman stepped out of it onto the dirt roadside. She nodded and waved to the bus driver in thanks as she stepped out, but he seemed to pay little attention to her as he swiveled the doors shut behind her and pulled back out onto the road to return to his cross country route.
Rosemarie “Marie” Charleston, the X-Woman known as Rogue, started down the long dusty road towards her hometown with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder. The sun hung high above her and beat down on her from all angles. Not a single cloud was in the sky that afternoon and the temperature was in the mid-nineties. She wore a pair of dark sunglasses and a straw hat she picked up from a bus stop several counties back along with a yellow tank top, short blue cut-off jeans, and a pair of brown cowgirl boots. It was as comfortable as she could expect to be, all things considered. Mississippi’s hot and humid weather combined to make some of the most uncomfortably muggy weather in the United States.
Still, Marie quickly found herself at ease with her surroundings. For the entirety of her childhood and a good portion of her teenage life, she knew of nothing else in the world but the muggy weather, dusty roads, cornfields, orchards, and rivers of Caldecott County. Its aging antebellum plantations and the scattered hamlets were the embodiment of southern charm. Even if most of her memories there weren’t fond ones her surroundings were nonetheless familiar and welcoming.
Caldecott, 1 Mile simply read the dented and rusting green sign that she walked by on the sparsely populated road. This was as close as the Greyhound bus would get to her hometown, and even then she had to sweet talk the rigged old man driving the bus. No biggie, she figured. It would be nice to stretch her legs a bit and visit the local watering hole.
It wasn’t long before Marie reached the edge of town. A single story building surrounded with a dirt parking lot was the first thing to greet her, though it was still a half a mile or so from the town itself. A maroon truck several decades old was parked in the back and nearly half a dozen motorcycles were parked in the front. The sign on it said, “Bar and Grill,” as if it had no other name than what it was.
When she walked into the bar from the harsh daylight outside, she squinted slightly as her eyes readjusted to the dim lighting and took in the bar. A tiny stage in the corner; a pool table off-center; a couple of dart boards on the wall; and a few tables scattered about. It was about as much of a community center as Caldecott had. Growing up, Marie never knew her father but she imagined that he frequented places like this… or at the very least met her mother at a place like this. It might explain a few things.
A few men in black leather vests, jeans, and boots whistled and hollered at her as she passed by as if their day had suddenly turned around. Their clothes were greasy and torn, and Marie would be willing to bet that stench of musk and booze followed them wherever they went. She gave them as little attention as possible and headed straight for the counter.
“Can ah get a bottle of water?” she asked as she reached into her tank top and pulled out a few bills from her bra. The bartender furrowed his brow and stared indignantly at Marie. It was his only response. Marie shook her head and rolled her eyes. She should have expected that from him. “Ah hell, just gimme a Coors Light if you’re gonna be like that.”
He moved to a small refrigerator to his left and pulled out a Coors Light. He popped off the cap, set the bottle on a coaster, and then slid it over to the peculiar woman.
“Closest thing to water you’re gonna get around here, miss,” he said. “Four dollars.”
Marie tossed the money gently onto the bar and took the bottled beer in her hand, having a swig. It was refreshing in its own right; less because of the taste and more because of the cold. She wasn’t able to enjoy it for very long, though.
“Hey there,” a man’s smarmy voice came from behind.
Marie glanced in his direction and recognized that he was from the group that was cat calling when she walked in the door. Tall, but lanky and sweaty with dirty blonde hair and a three-day shadow. He extended a hand out to her with a smug grin on his face.
“Name’s Boone,” he said. “Mighty charmed t’ meet ya.”
“Ah bet,” was all she replied dismissively before returning to her beer.
A high-pitched laugh came from across the room and Boone’s smug look melted off of his face. He glared at his friends at their table, all of whom were watching intently and whispering commentary to each other. Boone shook off Marie’s initial reaction and pressed on.
“Might I inquire if there’s anything I can do for a beautiful traveler such as yourself?” he asked, that smarmy tone returning to his voice. Marie gave him a quick once over and shook her head.
“Can’t imagine you got much of anything ah need, sugah,” she said with a wink. “Better run along now.”
Laughter erupted from the table behind Marie and Boone, his friends bounding on the table and slapping their knees. Marie smirked slightly herself and turned back to her beer, but Boone was beginning to get riled up. He took her by the shoulder and moved closer to her.
“Trust me, darlin’, there’s plenty I can offer ya – “
Without batting an eye, Marie snapped her arm back and grabbed the man by the back of his head, then smacked his face off of the bar in one swift movement. His hand dropped from her shoulder and he staggered away from her quickly as blood gushed into his hands from his broken nose.
“Fuck! Shit! Goddamn, woman!” he cried, circling back to face her at a safe distance.
The other men sitting at his table scoffed and looked to each other in disbelief, some snickering. Boone shot a sharp look to them, then gritted his teeth and looked back to the woman who had just assaulted him. Marie paid them no mind and simply continued to drink her beer.
“Lady, you done gone an’ pissed off the wrong man,” Boone said as he began to crack his knuckles. Marie noticed that the bartender seemed to slink away just as she heard Boone’s friends sitting up from their chairs and walking towards her. She set down her beer and turned to the group forming around her at the bar, shaking out her hands in preparation for a fight.
“We really doin’ this, fellas? It hasn’t even been five minutes since ah walked through the door.”
The group of men exchanged glances, amused at the idea that a woman – even a spunky one such as herself – would entertain the idea of taking them all on in a bar fight. It would be fun to teach her a lesson, though. Before they could offer her a proper welcoming, the doors to the bar slammed shut.
“What in the hell’s going on in here?” a deputy sheriff dressed in a tan uniform with a blue trim said with a commanding voice. The bar fell silent as his narrow eyes scanned the woman and the men who surrounded her before falling onto Boone. “Boone, what’d you do to your face?”
Everyone loosened up, all but the X-Woman ready to go into battle, and began to subtly give each other some space. Boone took a deep breath and straightened up, rubbing blood from his upper lip.
“Nothin’, deputy. Just slipped is all.”
Boone’s gang restrained their jockish laughter, but only so much.
The deputy put his hands on his hips and shook his head. Before he could dig into the group, the bartender returned from the back room with a grease-stained white bag and a fountain drink in a Styrofoam cup. He set both down on the counter by Marie.
“Out the way, boys,” the deputy said, visibly frustrated as he approached the bar. “You’re messin’ with my lunch break here. And will somebody get that clown cleaned up?”
Boone hid a scowl on his face. He and his friends gave Marie one last hardened look, which she returned with spades, and then they began to disperse as was implied by the deputy’s tone. None of them were afraid of the man, per se, but they had already drawn too much attention to themselves as it was. They didn’t need any extra heat at the moment so they decided to leave.
At the bar, the deputy took out a wallet and flipped through a few bills before shelling some out to the bartender. Marie watched the men go, her blood still pumping and the itch for a fight still in her belly, but she wasn’t quite the type to look for any heat that day, either.
“You alright, miss?” the deputy asked as he paid for his lunch.
“Ah can take of myself, sheriff.”
“Deputy,” he corrected. “Deputy Landry Taylor.”
“Deputy,” she acknowledged with a nod.
“You ain’t from around here, I take it.”
“Not anymore ah ain’t,” Marie said quietly as she sat down on a bar stool and took a drink of her beer, this one longer than the last few. “Just visitin’ for a day or so to bury my mama.”
The deputy did a double-take, his expression immediately softening.
“Your mama ol’ Prissy Charleston?” Deputy Taylor asked. She nodded slowly. “Well, damn. My condolences, miss. I knew she had a daughter but she didn’t quite say much about her.”
Marie just kept nodding her head slowly, holding her beer. The deputy looked to her as if she would expand on their conversation. She clearly had nothing to offer, thought. He thought about sharing something about her or pressing her for something more than a nod, but it didn’t seem right.
The loud revving of motorcycles outside of the bar broke the silence. It was followed by the laughter and hooting of Boone and his friends as they sped out of their dirt parking lot on their powerful hogs.
Marie glanced over her shoulder at the door and scowled, tapping an eager finger on her beer bottle. She took another drink. Deputy Taylor noticed her disposition and cleared his throat.
“You got a ride, miss…?”
“Marie,” she said. “Ah reckoned ah’d walk.”
“Well hey, Marie. I know you say you can handle yourself an’ I believe that, but why don’t you let me give you a ride?” the deputy offered as he clutched his lunch order. “Them boys out there can be a real pain and I got a feelin’ they ain’t gonna go far.”
Marie shook her head. “Ah think ah’ll be alright, sugah, but thanks.”
“How ‘bout for their sake then?” the deputy said, tilting his head with a slight smile. Marie couldn’t help but smirk a bit and resigned to the deputy’s offer. She took a final drink of her beer and stood.
“Alrighty then. For their sake.”
******************************************
On the way to Marie’s childhood home, Deputy Taylor stopped by the local attorney’s office and was kind enough to wait outside for her. There was only one attorney in town: Rufus Williams. He was a round, sweaty, balding, and speckled man who handled all of local estates, even the unclaimed ones. He found her online and reached out to her with news of his mother’s passing, and that’s how Marie found her way back to Caldecott. It was a place she had virtually sworn off until then.
The meeting with him was quick and informal. Marie was her mother’s only living relative and, without a will, the only heir available to her uncontested estate. It wasn’t like there was much to contest, anyway. She signed some paperwork, he offered her his condolences, and she took a manila envelope with a deed, a couple of keys, a check, and some paperwork. They parted ways and Marie was out in mere minutes, back in Deputy Taylor’s police truck and back on the road.
Priscilla Charleston had $134.12 in her bank account, a small farmhouse, and whatever physical property was on the grounds. It was a strange feeling for Marie to think that her mother’s life could be summed up so simply. Her memories of her mother were far more complex.
Marie’s time on the road with Deputy Taylor was short, but quiet and empty. He would look to her from time to time, but she stared outside the passenger window and watched her hometown and the countryside pass by with some reminiscence. Her experiences with the X-Men were far more remarkable, but times had changed and she needed some head space.
Before Marie knew it, they had come to a stop on a dirt road. She was home.
“This is it,” Deputy Taylor said as he put his truck into park.
“Yup,” Marie said with a quiet nod.
Deputy Taylor pulled a business card out of his pocket and offered it to Marie. “I know you ain’t here for long, but you need anything you gimme a call, alright?”
Marie took it with a faint smile and opened up the passenger side door.
“Will do, sugah,” she said as she stepped out of the truck and pulled her duffel bag out with her before shutting the door. Thanks for th’ ride.”
“My pleasure, miss. You have a good one.”
Deputy Taylor put his truck into drive and drove away. Marie slung her duffel over her shoulder and watched the lawman go for a few moments. Then, with a deep breath, Marie finally turned around to face her childhood home for what she knew would be the last time.
It was an off-white colored farmhouse that had peeled and faded into disrepair after years of neglect. The gutters were overflowing with leaves and twigs. One gutter had broken in half and was hanging alongside the house. Some shutters were clearly missing from the windows; others were barely hanging on. Curiously, an old bike and several children’s toys were scattered across the overgrown lawn. Marie suspected that local children had taken to coming and going with her mother’s passing.
This is where she grew up. It may not have been the house that built her, but it was the foundation on which it was laid. It wasn’t long ago that she revisited her home for the first time since she ran away.* After a stint as a mutant terrorist with her adopted mother, then a long stretch as a member of the X-Men, Marie returned home to confront her mother and her past. She left with a deeper understanding of her powers and a renewed sense of self-confidence.
(* Waaaay back in Marvel 2000’s X-Men Omega #23 – Cory)
Marie stepped up the creaky porch and glanced to her right, seeing that one of the chains holding up the porch swing had snapped. The swing was half on the porch and half suspended above it. She opened the ripped screen door and unlocked the door behind it with the keys the local attorney had given her, and then entered.
“Home bitter-sweet home,” Marie mused to herself as she wandered into the rickety old house. She dropped her duffel bag and the manila envelope at the door before venturing further in.
The memories of her past that once haunted her instead flickered in and out of her mind’s eye as if she were browsing a picture book. As she walked through the hallway she thought back to when her drunken mother slipped on some of her marbles and made her throw away all of her toys in a rage. When she passed by the stairwell she recalled when her mama had pushed her down those steps and she broke her foot. The living room was a constant reminder to walk on eggshells when mama was watching her shows unless she dare incur the wrath of her leather belt.
There were times when she would laugh, cry, withdraw for days, or even break something at the thought of her past. Now, having grown and overcome so much with the help of the X-Men, she could recall the details of her childhood like they were names and phone numbers from an address book. The frustration and shame of her abuse had been replaced with solemn contemplation and reflection.
When Marie made her way into the kitchen, her eyes drew to the wall where several knife marks scarred it. The last time she had visited her home, Fabian Cortez had tracked her down and ambushed her in a revenge plot gone wrong. Her mom was the bait, pinned to the wall like a bear rug hanging up to dry. She was only a little surprised her mama had never filled them or covered them, but in hindsight what would motivate her to do? This was a woman who would go weeks without buying toilet paper because she didn’t ‘feel like’ driving into town.
Marie touched the walls and sighed. She could remember the last conversation she ever had with her mother before she passed away.
"Ah suppose you wanna beat the livin' hell outta yer mama, huh?"
"I want to... more than anythin'... but Ah'm not. You just ain't worth it, mama."
"Marie... Rosemarie... please... Ah... Ah'm sorry for the way Ah treated you back then... Ah was goin' through tough times... what with your father leavin' an'... then you go on a date with that Cody kid an' you up an' left... Ah's thought you were a murderer on the loose... poor kid was in a coma ferever..."
"You were just about to rip me to shreds when you found out Ah was a mutant back in the kitchen... that's part of the reason Ah ran away... Ah was runnin' from you. Well, now Ah'm sick o' runnin'.
"Good-bye, mama. Have a nice life."
"Rosemarie..."
Marie found herself wandering out of the kitchen and back into the living room, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically exhausted. She laid down on the couch and pulled an old cushion close to her chest. It smelled of dust and cigarette ashes, but there was a faint smell of something else that she couldn’t quite place. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let her mind drift further into the past. It wasn’t long after that she fell asleep.
******************************************
Marie awoke several hours into the evening to a disturbance: a rattling of tin, light thumps, and the banging of wood. She took a deep breath and peered about the living room from her spot on the couch to try and narrow down the sounds. The house was barely lit from the distant street lights, but her eyes adjusted quickly. After a moment to fully awaken and process the disturbance, Marie determined that something or someone was in the kitchen.
She quietly but swiftly moved off of the couch to her feet. Then she darted with long and soft strides out of the living room into the hallway, and then pressed her back against the wall nearest to the kitchen. Like a security guard trying to capture a cat burglar in the act, she shimmied along the wall and peered into the kitchen from the doorway.
There she was. Inside the pantry was a redheaded, teenage girl with freckles and a ruddy complexion. She wore a denim overalls and a salmon colored t-shirt with a pair of Chucks. She was mumbling something about the power being shut off and not being able to read any of the labels when Marie tiptoed across the kitchen into arms distance.
“Gotcha!” Marie snapped as she grabbed the girl by the collar. She gasped and stiffened up, then began throwing her elbows and arms wildly.
“Get offa me! Lemme go!”
The girl balled up her fists and twisted around in Marie’s grasp, swinging at any part of the woman’s body she could reach. Marie took a few hits point blank and tightened her grip on the girl’s collar. She shook the fight out of her, and then drew her in face to face.
“Hey! Keep them fists down if ya know what’s good for ya, li’l lady,” Marie chided her. The girl stopped struggling, but stiffened up even tighter in defiance. “Who the heck are ya?”
The girl gritted her teeth. “I’m ol’ Prissy’s daughter. This is mah house!”
“Prissy’s daughter? Your house?” Marie shook her head in disbelief. She then dragged the girl out of the kitchen, through the hallway, and into the living room where she pushed her onto the couch, then pointed at the framed picture on the end table. “See that? Ah don’t exactly see the resemblance, ‘sister,’ do you?”
The girl looked at the picture irritably, but her expression quickly changed.
“Oh shit…”
“Yeah, so ya wanna try again?” Marie asked. “What’s your name?
“Callie,” the girl muttered. Marie nodded.
“Alright then. Nice t’ meet ya, Callie. My name’s Marie,” Marie greeted Callie formally, but her tone shifted sharply. “Now what are ya doin’ in mah house?”
“I live here… kinda…” Callie huffed. Marie crossed her arms and stared at the young girl. She didn’t seem convinced. Callie seemed exasperated. “Okay, okay. Some shit happened an’ Prissy took me in a while back. Look, it’s a long story an’ I don’t really wanna get into it, okay?”
“Hmph. Well, ah guess ah can relate t’ that last part…” Marie grumbled as she began to pace briefly in front of the couch. “But mama takin’ you in? That’s a hard frog t’ swallow. Ah was her flesh ‘n blood, an’ she didn’t even want me livin’ here with her.”
Callie snickered and crossed her arms tauntingly. “Jealous?”
Marie rolled her eyes.
“Hardly,” she scoffed and looked around the living room of her childhood home. “Got a lotta memories in this here house. Not many of ‘em that good.”
“How could that be?” Callie asked with a bit of sass. “Prissy was the closest thing in the world to a mom t’ me,” she said matter-of-factly.
Marie frowned and plopped down on the couch next to Callie, laying her head back.
“Funny ya say that. She was probably the furthest thing in the world to a mom t’ me…”
The tension eased between the two as they sank into the couch. Marie knew the girl wasn’t a threat to anyone, and Callie had a suspicion she wasn’t about to turn her into the police, so they settled in on whatever common ground they suspected they had. Marie had a lot of questions she wanted to ask the poor thing. Why would her mama take in a stray when she didn’t even want the daughter she had? Did she have some kind of ulterior motive or did she turn over a new leaf? It was a lot to process.
“Do you miss her?” Callie asked softly. Marie turned to her. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but she couldn’t find the words.
*VRMMM! VMMMMMM…*
“Oh no…”
Callie’s eyes widened and Marie’s brow furrowed. Bright lights flashed into the dark living room, causing the two to squint. Marie turned towards the window behind the couch and bent the blinds down a bit, narrowing her eyes with concern.
Several motorcycles were rolling up onto the front lawn of the house. With the exception of one, all of the men riding in were from the bar earlier. She recognized the leather vests and rat bastard sneers.
“You expectin’ company?” Marie asked calmly.
Callie grabbed Marie by her arm, squeezing as if for life. “We have t’ go, Marie! Now!”
Marie’s brow tightened. She brushed the girl’s hand away and stood up.
“Sit tight, kid. Ah already wrangled with these varmints earlier.”
“No no no no, Marie, don’t!” Callie pleaded with her, but Marie wasn’t hearing any of it. She marched out of the living room and down the hall to the front door, then pushed it open and stepped out on to the front porch to confront the bikers.
“Evenin’, boys. All outta sugar an’ milk if that’s what you’re lookin’ to borrow.”
One of the biker’s hollered with a laugh. “Holy shit! It’s Boone’s girlfriend!”
Marie shifted her weight to one side and put her hands on her hips, glowering at the men. A round of chuckling and heckling erupted from the group of bikers. Marie saw Boone in the back of the group balling up his fists and gritting his teeth. His eyes were blackened and his bruised nose looked a little more crooked than she remembered.
A large man at the head of the pack was chuckling. He scratched the stubble on his chin as he looked Marie up and down, and then glanced over to Boone.
“That the chicklet who kicked your ass, hombre?” the gang’s leader asked with some skepticism. Boone’s nostrils flared and his upper lip quivered. He chuckled some more and turned back to Marie. “Okay then. Hey, sassy pants! Listen up. Just send out the girl an’ we’ll be on our merry way. Got it?”
Marie shrugged nonchalantly.
“Can’t help ya. She ain’t home, an’ even if she was you’d hafta go through me t’ get to her.”
The gang’s leader stared at her intently for a few moments in silence. He similarly shrugged nonchalantly and sighed.
“Ah… Fuck it then. We don’t really got time for this…” he said as he turned to his gang, making a motion with his finger in the air. “Light ‘er up, boys!”
Marie’s eyes widened as every member of the gang pulled out submachine guns and opened fire. She spun about face and dived back into her childhood home onto her stomach as hot lead zipped and buzzed about her. She closed her eyes and tried to think of a defensive power template to access from her absorption catalogue, but several bullets pierced and nipped her legs and torso.
“RUN!” Marie yelled to her mama’s adopted daughter in agony as the bullets continued to fly.
Callie didn’t think twice. She ran from the living room to the back door in the kitchen on Marie’s command, but before she could reach it one of the biker’s kicked it in. Callie screamed in horror, then turned back and retreated towards the living room. The biker sprinted after Callie and caught her by the arm in the hallway. She screamed again and tried to pull away, but then he pistol whipped her across the back of the head.
Marie watched the biker drag her back into the kitchen, presumably to take her out the back door, as the gunfire started to die down. Callie could faintly hear Marie screaming futilely, “Let her go! LET HER GO!” She didn’t see Marie crawling after them, fighting through the pain of her injuries, nor did she see the man burst in the front door behind her wielding a gun.
“Surprise, bitch!” the man yelled as he stomped on her leg wound from behind her. She cried out in pain and stalled right there on the floor. “Remember me?” her attacker said as he moved his foot from her leg and kicked her in the ribs. She rolled over onto her back and grabbed at her side, blood and tears covering her face. When she opened her eyes, she saw someone staring right back at her.
It was Boone.
In that single instant of eye contact, when she realized just who it was that had her dead to rights, Marie’s nostrils flared with rage. She closed her eyes for several seconds, seemingly in deep concentration, and then hocked a bloody loogie straight into Boone’s face. He closed his eyes for a moment and flinched, but then touched his face with an indignant expression.
“Oh, fuck you!” Boone cursed with a twisted laugh as he wiped her blood and spit from his face. He pointed his gun at her head and pulled the trigger without the slightest hesitation, firing a bullet into her forehead. Blood and skull fragment splattered across the floor as her head slumped back with a thud and her lifeless eyes rolled into the back of her head.
Another biker ran into the house behind him with a container of gasoline and began splashing it around the house. In moments every room and hall on the bottom floor was soaked in, including Marie’s body, and Boone had sparked a flame to life from his Zippo.
“Let’s roll, boys!” Boone yelled as he tossed down the lighter and ran out through the front door with an almost heckling laugh. The gasoline burst into flames on contact, slowly beginning to devour Marie Charleston’s childhood home with her in it…
******************************************
TO BE CONTINUED…
******************************************
AUTHOR'S NOTES
This story takes place in the six month gap between the conclusion of X-Men (vol. 2) and the start of New X-Men. It's a story that I've wanted to tell for a while now and there may be some debate as to whether it belongs with New X-Men or X-Men Unlimited, but frankly I didn't want to interrupt the narrative of the current Brotherhood storyline over there. This feels like as good of a place as any for a solo, character driven story. Plus, it's been a while since we've seen an issue released in this anthology, so let's just call it a win-win for both titles!
Any and all feedback is appreciated. Hope you guys enjoy the story!
- Cory Wiegel
December 31, 2016
Caldecott, Caldecott County, Mississippi.
On the outskirts of Caldecott, the Mississippi town so named after its county, a black and white Greyhound bus eased to a stop on the side of the road before an intersection. After a moment of stillness, the doors at the front of the bus swung open and a woman stepped out of it onto the dirt roadside. She nodded and waved to the bus driver in thanks as she stepped out, but he seemed to pay little attention to her as he swiveled the doors shut behind her and pulled back out onto the road to return to his cross country route.
Rosemarie “Marie” Charleston, the X-Woman known as Rogue, started down the long dusty road towards her hometown with her duffel bag slung over her shoulder. The sun hung high above her and beat down on her from all angles. Not a single cloud was in the sky that afternoon and the temperature was in the mid-nineties. She wore a pair of dark sunglasses and a straw hat she picked up from a bus stop several counties back along with a yellow tank top, short blue cut-off jeans, and a pair of brown cowgirl boots. It was as comfortable as she could expect to be, all things considered. Mississippi’s hot and humid weather combined to make some of the most uncomfortably muggy weather in the United States.
Still, Marie quickly found herself at ease with her surroundings. For the entirety of her childhood and a good portion of her teenage life, she knew of nothing else in the world but the muggy weather, dusty roads, cornfields, orchards, and rivers of Caldecott County. Its aging antebellum plantations and the scattered hamlets were the embodiment of southern charm. Even if most of her memories there weren’t fond ones her surroundings were nonetheless familiar and welcoming.
Caldecott, 1 Mile simply read the dented and rusting green sign that she walked by on the sparsely populated road. This was as close as the Greyhound bus would get to her hometown, and even then she had to sweet talk the rigged old man driving the bus. No biggie, she figured. It would be nice to stretch her legs a bit and visit the local watering hole.
It wasn’t long before Marie reached the edge of town. A single story building surrounded with a dirt parking lot was the first thing to greet her, though it was still a half a mile or so from the town itself. A maroon truck several decades old was parked in the back and nearly half a dozen motorcycles were parked in the front. The sign on it said, “Bar and Grill,” as if it had no other name than what it was.
When she walked into the bar from the harsh daylight outside, she squinted slightly as her eyes readjusted to the dim lighting and took in the bar. A tiny stage in the corner; a pool table off-center; a couple of dart boards on the wall; and a few tables scattered about. It was about as much of a community center as Caldecott had. Growing up, Marie never knew her father but she imagined that he frequented places like this… or at the very least met her mother at a place like this. It might explain a few things.
A few men in black leather vests, jeans, and boots whistled and hollered at her as she passed by as if their day had suddenly turned around. Their clothes were greasy and torn, and Marie would be willing to bet that stench of musk and booze followed them wherever they went. She gave them as little attention as possible and headed straight for the counter.
“Can ah get a bottle of water?” she asked as she reached into her tank top and pulled out a few bills from her bra. The bartender furrowed his brow and stared indignantly at Marie. It was his only response. Marie shook her head and rolled her eyes. She should have expected that from him. “Ah hell, just gimme a Coors Light if you’re gonna be like that.”
He moved to a small refrigerator to his left and pulled out a Coors Light. He popped off the cap, set the bottle on a coaster, and then slid it over to the peculiar woman.
“Closest thing to water you’re gonna get around here, miss,” he said. “Four dollars.”
Marie tossed the money gently onto the bar and took the bottled beer in her hand, having a swig. It was refreshing in its own right; less because of the taste and more because of the cold. She wasn’t able to enjoy it for very long, though.
“Hey there,” a man’s smarmy voice came from behind.
Marie glanced in his direction and recognized that he was from the group that was cat calling when she walked in the door. Tall, but lanky and sweaty with dirty blonde hair and a three-day shadow. He extended a hand out to her with a smug grin on his face.
“Name’s Boone,” he said. “Mighty charmed t’ meet ya.”
“Ah bet,” was all she replied dismissively before returning to her beer.
A high-pitched laugh came from across the room and Boone’s smug look melted off of his face. He glared at his friends at their table, all of whom were watching intently and whispering commentary to each other. Boone shook off Marie’s initial reaction and pressed on.
“Might I inquire if there’s anything I can do for a beautiful traveler such as yourself?” he asked, that smarmy tone returning to his voice. Marie gave him a quick once over and shook her head.
“Can’t imagine you got much of anything ah need, sugah,” she said with a wink. “Better run along now.”
Laughter erupted from the table behind Marie and Boone, his friends bounding on the table and slapping their knees. Marie smirked slightly herself and turned back to her beer, but Boone was beginning to get riled up. He took her by the shoulder and moved closer to her.
“Trust me, darlin’, there’s plenty I can offer ya – “
Without batting an eye, Marie snapped her arm back and grabbed the man by the back of his head, then smacked his face off of the bar in one swift movement. His hand dropped from her shoulder and he staggered away from her quickly as blood gushed into his hands from his broken nose.
“Fuck! Shit! Goddamn, woman!” he cried, circling back to face her at a safe distance.
The other men sitting at his table scoffed and looked to each other in disbelief, some snickering. Boone shot a sharp look to them, then gritted his teeth and looked back to the woman who had just assaulted him. Marie paid them no mind and simply continued to drink her beer.
“Lady, you done gone an’ pissed off the wrong man,” Boone said as he began to crack his knuckles. Marie noticed that the bartender seemed to slink away just as she heard Boone’s friends sitting up from their chairs and walking towards her. She set down her beer and turned to the group forming around her at the bar, shaking out her hands in preparation for a fight.
“We really doin’ this, fellas? It hasn’t even been five minutes since ah walked through the door.”
The group of men exchanged glances, amused at the idea that a woman – even a spunky one such as herself – would entertain the idea of taking them all on in a bar fight. It would be fun to teach her a lesson, though. Before they could offer her a proper welcoming, the doors to the bar slammed shut.
“What in the hell’s going on in here?” a deputy sheriff dressed in a tan uniform with a blue trim said with a commanding voice. The bar fell silent as his narrow eyes scanned the woman and the men who surrounded her before falling onto Boone. “Boone, what’d you do to your face?”
Everyone loosened up, all but the X-Woman ready to go into battle, and began to subtly give each other some space. Boone took a deep breath and straightened up, rubbing blood from his upper lip.
“Nothin’, deputy. Just slipped is all.”
Boone’s gang restrained their jockish laughter, but only so much.
The deputy put his hands on his hips and shook his head. Before he could dig into the group, the bartender returned from the back room with a grease-stained white bag and a fountain drink in a Styrofoam cup. He set both down on the counter by Marie.
“Out the way, boys,” the deputy said, visibly frustrated as he approached the bar. “You’re messin’ with my lunch break here. And will somebody get that clown cleaned up?”
Boone hid a scowl on his face. He and his friends gave Marie one last hardened look, which she returned with spades, and then they began to disperse as was implied by the deputy’s tone. None of them were afraid of the man, per se, but they had already drawn too much attention to themselves as it was. They didn’t need any extra heat at the moment so they decided to leave.
At the bar, the deputy took out a wallet and flipped through a few bills before shelling some out to the bartender. Marie watched the men go, her blood still pumping and the itch for a fight still in her belly, but she wasn’t quite the type to look for any heat that day, either.
“You alright, miss?” the deputy asked as he paid for his lunch.
“Ah can take of myself, sheriff.”
“Deputy,” he corrected. “Deputy Landry Taylor.”
“Deputy,” she acknowledged with a nod.
“You ain’t from around here, I take it.”
“Not anymore ah ain’t,” Marie said quietly as she sat down on a bar stool and took a drink of her beer, this one longer than the last few. “Just visitin’ for a day or so to bury my mama.”
The deputy did a double-take, his expression immediately softening.
“Your mama ol’ Prissy Charleston?” Deputy Taylor asked. She nodded slowly. “Well, damn. My condolences, miss. I knew she had a daughter but she didn’t quite say much about her.”
Marie just kept nodding her head slowly, holding her beer. The deputy looked to her as if she would expand on their conversation. She clearly had nothing to offer, thought. He thought about sharing something about her or pressing her for something more than a nod, but it didn’t seem right.
The loud revving of motorcycles outside of the bar broke the silence. It was followed by the laughter and hooting of Boone and his friends as they sped out of their dirt parking lot on their powerful hogs.
Marie glanced over her shoulder at the door and scowled, tapping an eager finger on her beer bottle. She took another drink. Deputy Taylor noticed her disposition and cleared his throat.
“You got a ride, miss…?”
“Marie,” she said. “Ah reckoned ah’d walk.”
“Well hey, Marie. I know you say you can handle yourself an’ I believe that, but why don’t you let me give you a ride?” the deputy offered as he clutched his lunch order. “Them boys out there can be a real pain and I got a feelin’ they ain’t gonna go far.”
Marie shook her head. “Ah think ah’ll be alright, sugah, but thanks.”
“How ‘bout for their sake then?” the deputy said, tilting his head with a slight smile. Marie couldn’t help but smirk a bit and resigned to the deputy’s offer. She took a final drink of her beer and stood.
“Alrighty then. For their sake.”
******************************************
On the way to Marie’s childhood home, Deputy Taylor stopped by the local attorney’s office and was kind enough to wait outside for her. There was only one attorney in town: Rufus Williams. He was a round, sweaty, balding, and speckled man who handled all of local estates, even the unclaimed ones. He found her online and reached out to her with news of his mother’s passing, and that’s how Marie found her way back to Caldecott. It was a place she had virtually sworn off until then.
The meeting with him was quick and informal. Marie was her mother’s only living relative and, without a will, the only heir available to her uncontested estate. It wasn’t like there was much to contest, anyway. She signed some paperwork, he offered her his condolences, and she took a manila envelope with a deed, a couple of keys, a check, and some paperwork. They parted ways and Marie was out in mere minutes, back in Deputy Taylor’s police truck and back on the road.
Priscilla Charleston had $134.12 in her bank account, a small farmhouse, and whatever physical property was on the grounds. It was a strange feeling for Marie to think that her mother’s life could be summed up so simply. Her memories of her mother were far more complex.
Marie’s time on the road with Deputy Taylor was short, but quiet and empty. He would look to her from time to time, but she stared outside the passenger window and watched her hometown and the countryside pass by with some reminiscence. Her experiences with the X-Men were far more remarkable, but times had changed and she needed some head space.
Before Marie knew it, they had come to a stop on a dirt road. She was home.
“This is it,” Deputy Taylor said as he put his truck into park.
“Yup,” Marie said with a quiet nod.
Deputy Taylor pulled a business card out of his pocket and offered it to Marie. “I know you ain’t here for long, but you need anything you gimme a call, alright?”
Marie took it with a faint smile and opened up the passenger side door.
“Will do, sugah,” she said as she stepped out of the truck and pulled her duffel bag out with her before shutting the door. Thanks for th’ ride.”
“My pleasure, miss. You have a good one.”
Deputy Taylor put his truck into drive and drove away. Marie slung her duffel over her shoulder and watched the lawman go for a few moments. Then, with a deep breath, Marie finally turned around to face her childhood home for what she knew would be the last time.
It was an off-white colored farmhouse that had peeled and faded into disrepair after years of neglect. The gutters were overflowing with leaves and twigs. One gutter had broken in half and was hanging alongside the house. Some shutters were clearly missing from the windows; others were barely hanging on. Curiously, an old bike and several children’s toys were scattered across the overgrown lawn. Marie suspected that local children had taken to coming and going with her mother’s passing.
This is where she grew up. It may not have been the house that built her, but it was the foundation on which it was laid. It wasn’t long ago that she revisited her home for the first time since she ran away.* After a stint as a mutant terrorist with her adopted mother, then a long stretch as a member of the X-Men, Marie returned home to confront her mother and her past. She left with a deeper understanding of her powers and a renewed sense of self-confidence.
(* Waaaay back in Marvel 2000’s X-Men Omega #23 – Cory)
Marie stepped up the creaky porch and glanced to her right, seeing that one of the chains holding up the porch swing had snapped. The swing was half on the porch and half suspended above it. She opened the ripped screen door and unlocked the door behind it with the keys the local attorney had given her, and then entered.
“Home bitter-sweet home,” Marie mused to herself as she wandered into the rickety old house. She dropped her duffel bag and the manila envelope at the door before venturing further in.
The memories of her past that once haunted her instead flickered in and out of her mind’s eye as if she were browsing a picture book. As she walked through the hallway she thought back to when her drunken mother slipped on some of her marbles and made her throw away all of her toys in a rage. When she passed by the stairwell she recalled when her mama had pushed her down those steps and she broke her foot. The living room was a constant reminder to walk on eggshells when mama was watching her shows unless she dare incur the wrath of her leather belt.
There were times when she would laugh, cry, withdraw for days, or even break something at the thought of her past. Now, having grown and overcome so much with the help of the X-Men, she could recall the details of her childhood like they were names and phone numbers from an address book. The frustration and shame of her abuse had been replaced with solemn contemplation and reflection.
When Marie made her way into the kitchen, her eyes drew to the wall where several knife marks scarred it. The last time she had visited her home, Fabian Cortez had tracked her down and ambushed her in a revenge plot gone wrong. Her mom was the bait, pinned to the wall like a bear rug hanging up to dry. She was only a little surprised her mama had never filled them or covered them, but in hindsight what would motivate her to do? This was a woman who would go weeks without buying toilet paper because she didn’t ‘feel like’ driving into town.
Marie touched the walls and sighed. She could remember the last conversation she ever had with her mother before she passed away.
"Ah suppose you wanna beat the livin' hell outta yer mama, huh?"
"I want to... more than anythin'... but Ah'm not. You just ain't worth it, mama."
"Marie... Rosemarie... please... Ah... Ah'm sorry for the way Ah treated you back then... Ah was goin' through tough times... what with your father leavin' an'... then you go on a date with that Cody kid an' you up an' left... Ah's thought you were a murderer on the loose... poor kid was in a coma ferever..."
"You were just about to rip me to shreds when you found out Ah was a mutant back in the kitchen... that's part of the reason Ah ran away... Ah was runnin' from you. Well, now Ah'm sick o' runnin'.
"Good-bye, mama. Have a nice life."
"Rosemarie..."
Marie found herself wandering out of the kitchen and back into the living room, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically exhausted. She laid down on the couch and pulled an old cushion close to her chest. It smelled of dust and cigarette ashes, but there was a faint smell of something else that she couldn’t quite place. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let her mind drift further into the past. It wasn’t long after that she fell asleep.
******************************************
Marie awoke several hours into the evening to a disturbance: a rattling of tin, light thumps, and the banging of wood. She took a deep breath and peered about the living room from her spot on the couch to try and narrow down the sounds. The house was barely lit from the distant street lights, but her eyes adjusted quickly. After a moment to fully awaken and process the disturbance, Marie determined that something or someone was in the kitchen.
She quietly but swiftly moved off of the couch to her feet. Then she darted with long and soft strides out of the living room into the hallway, and then pressed her back against the wall nearest to the kitchen. Like a security guard trying to capture a cat burglar in the act, she shimmied along the wall and peered into the kitchen from the doorway.
There she was. Inside the pantry was a redheaded, teenage girl with freckles and a ruddy complexion. She wore a denim overalls and a salmon colored t-shirt with a pair of Chucks. She was mumbling something about the power being shut off and not being able to read any of the labels when Marie tiptoed across the kitchen into arms distance.
“Gotcha!” Marie snapped as she grabbed the girl by the collar. She gasped and stiffened up, then began throwing her elbows and arms wildly.
“Get offa me! Lemme go!”
The girl balled up her fists and twisted around in Marie’s grasp, swinging at any part of the woman’s body she could reach. Marie took a few hits point blank and tightened her grip on the girl’s collar. She shook the fight out of her, and then drew her in face to face.
“Hey! Keep them fists down if ya know what’s good for ya, li’l lady,” Marie chided her. The girl stopped struggling, but stiffened up even tighter in defiance. “Who the heck are ya?”
The girl gritted her teeth. “I’m ol’ Prissy’s daughter. This is mah house!”
“Prissy’s daughter? Your house?” Marie shook her head in disbelief. She then dragged the girl out of the kitchen, through the hallway, and into the living room where she pushed her onto the couch, then pointed at the framed picture on the end table. “See that? Ah don’t exactly see the resemblance, ‘sister,’ do you?”
The girl looked at the picture irritably, but her expression quickly changed.
“Oh shit…”
“Yeah, so ya wanna try again?” Marie asked. “What’s your name?
“Callie,” the girl muttered. Marie nodded.
“Alright then. Nice t’ meet ya, Callie. My name’s Marie,” Marie greeted Callie formally, but her tone shifted sharply. “Now what are ya doin’ in mah house?”
“I live here… kinda…” Callie huffed. Marie crossed her arms and stared at the young girl. She didn’t seem convinced. Callie seemed exasperated. “Okay, okay. Some shit happened an’ Prissy took me in a while back. Look, it’s a long story an’ I don’t really wanna get into it, okay?”
“Hmph. Well, ah guess ah can relate t’ that last part…” Marie grumbled as she began to pace briefly in front of the couch. “But mama takin’ you in? That’s a hard frog t’ swallow. Ah was her flesh ‘n blood, an’ she didn’t even want me livin’ here with her.”
Callie snickered and crossed her arms tauntingly. “Jealous?”
Marie rolled her eyes.
“Hardly,” she scoffed and looked around the living room of her childhood home. “Got a lotta memories in this here house. Not many of ‘em that good.”
“How could that be?” Callie asked with a bit of sass. “Prissy was the closest thing in the world to a mom t’ me,” she said matter-of-factly.
Marie frowned and plopped down on the couch next to Callie, laying her head back.
“Funny ya say that. She was probably the furthest thing in the world to a mom t’ me…”
The tension eased between the two as they sank into the couch. Marie knew the girl wasn’t a threat to anyone, and Callie had a suspicion she wasn’t about to turn her into the police, so they settled in on whatever common ground they suspected they had. Marie had a lot of questions she wanted to ask the poor thing. Why would her mama take in a stray when she didn’t even want the daughter she had? Did she have some kind of ulterior motive or did she turn over a new leaf? It was a lot to process.
“Do you miss her?” Callie asked softly. Marie turned to her. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but she couldn’t find the words.
*VRMMM! VMMMMMM…*
“Oh no…”
Callie’s eyes widened and Marie’s brow furrowed. Bright lights flashed into the dark living room, causing the two to squint. Marie turned towards the window behind the couch and bent the blinds down a bit, narrowing her eyes with concern.
Several motorcycles were rolling up onto the front lawn of the house. With the exception of one, all of the men riding in were from the bar earlier. She recognized the leather vests and rat bastard sneers.
“You expectin’ company?” Marie asked calmly.
Callie grabbed Marie by her arm, squeezing as if for life. “We have t’ go, Marie! Now!”
Marie’s brow tightened. She brushed the girl’s hand away and stood up.
“Sit tight, kid. Ah already wrangled with these varmints earlier.”
“No no no no, Marie, don’t!” Callie pleaded with her, but Marie wasn’t hearing any of it. She marched out of the living room and down the hall to the front door, then pushed it open and stepped out on to the front porch to confront the bikers.
“Evenin’, boys. All outta sugar an’ milk if that’s what you’re lookin’ to borrow.”
One of the biker’s hollered with a laugh. “Holy shit! It’s Boone’s girlfriend!”
Marie shifted her weight to one side and put her hands on her hips, glowering at the men. A round of chuckling and heckling erupted from the group of bikers. Marie saw Boone in the back of the group balling up his fists and gritting his teeth. His eyes were blackened and his bruised nose looked a little more crooked than she remembered.
A large man at the head of the pack was chuckling. He scratched the stubble on his chin as he looked Marie up and down, and then glanced over to Boone.
“That the chicklet who kicked your ass, hombre?” the gang’s leader asked with some skepticism. Boone’s nostrils flared and his upper lip quivered. He chuckled some more and turned back to Marie. “Okay then. Hey, sassy pants! Listen up. Just send out the girl an’ we’ll be on our merry way. Got it?”
Marie shrugged nonchalantly.
“Can’t help ya. She ain’t home, an’ even if she was you’d hafta go through me t’ get to her.”
The gang’s leader stared at her intently for a few moments in silence. He similarly shrugged nonchalantly and sighed.
“Ah… Fuck it then. We don’t really got time for this…” he said as he turned to his gang, making a motion with his finger in the air. “Light ‘er up, boys!”
Marie’s eyes widened as every member of the gang pulled out submachine guns and opened fire. She spun about face and dived back into her childhood home onto her stomach as hot lead zipped and buzzed about her. She closed her eyes and tried to think of a defensive power template to access from her absorption catalogue, but several bullets pierced and nipped her legs and torso.
“RUN!” Marie yelled to her mama’s adopted daughter in agony as the bullets continued to fly.
Callie didn’t think twice. She ran from the living room to the back door in the kitchen on Marie’s command, but before she could reach it one of the biker’s kicked it in. Callie screamed in horror, then turned back and retreated towards the living room. The biker sprinted after Callie and caught her by the arm in the hallway. She screamed again and tried to pull away, but then he pistol whipped her across the back of the head.
Marie watched the biker drag her back into the kitchen, presumably to take her out the back door, as the gunfire started to die down. Callie could faintly hear Marie screaming futilely, “Let her go! LET HER GO!” She didn’t see Marie crawling after them, fighting through the pain of her injuries, nor did she see the man burst in the front door behind her wielding a gun.
“Surprise, bitch!” the man yelled as he stomped on her leg wound from behind her. She cried out in pain and stalled right there on the floor. “Remember me?” her attacker said as he moved his foot from her leg and kicked her in the ribs. She rolled over onto her back and grabbed at her side, blood and tears covering her face. When she opened her eyes, she saw someone staring right back at her.
It was Boone.
In that single instant of eye contact, when she realized just who it was that had her dead to rights, Marie’s nostrils flared with rage. She closed her eyes for several seconds, seemingly in deep concentration, and then hocked a bloody loogie straight into Boone’s face. He closed his eyes for a moment and flinched, but then touched his face with an indignant expression.
“Oh, fuck you!” Boone cursed with a twisted laugh as he wiped her blood and spit from his face. He pointed his gun at her head and pulled the trigger without the slightest hesitation, firing a bullet into her forehead. Blood and skull fragment splattered across the floor as her head slumped back with a thud and her lifeless eyes rolled into the back of her head.
Another biker ran into the house behind him with a container of gasoline and began splashing it around the house. In moments every room and hall on the bottom floor was soaked in, including Marie’s body, and Boone had sparked a flame to life from his Zippo.
“Let’s roll, boys!” Boone yelled as he tossed down the lighter and ran out through the front door with an almost heckling laugh. The gasoline burst into flames on contact, slowly beginning to devour Marie Charleston’s childhood home with her in it…
******************************************
TO BE CONTINUED…
******************************************
AUTHOR'S NOTES
This story takes place in the six month gap between the conclusion of X-Men (vol. 2) and the start of New X-Men. It's a story that I've wanted to tell for a while now and there may be some debate as to whether it belongs with New X-Men or X-Men Unlimited, but frankly I didn't want to interrupt the narrative of the current Brotherhood storyline over there. This feels like as good of a place as any for a solo, character driven story. Plus, it's been a while since we've seen an issue released in this anthology, so let's just call it a win-win for both titles!
Any and all feedback is appreciated. Hope you guys enjoy the story!
- Cory Wiegel
December 31, 2016