Summary: What if there had been more mutants during the three X-men movies, with their own stories, their own roles, and their own interests in the story? What differences would they have made to people's lives? Would it be for the better, or for the worst?
Set-out for story: First in a trilogy. Currently set in X1.
Pairings: Just so that people don't go asking for certain pairings, I have made a list of them. However, I'm not telling! There will be romance, but I want it all to be a surprise! I'll also have a few love triangles up my sleeve.
Important Note: I have not read the comics, and so I will only follow the plot of the movies. However, I have gathered, from various fics and the internet, information on other characters in the comics, information which I might consider using in this story. I might even include several characters who sound interesting (such as Gambit, got to love that guy!), but this is not confirmed. However, be ready for a whole cast of OC's, all made from the top of my own head! I hope you like them as much as I do, and I hope you enjoy my story.
Genre: Drama, Romance, Action/Adventure, somewhat Supernatural.
Disclaimer: X-men: the Movie doesn't belong to me. I only own the OC's; characters you wouldn't find in the comics, TV show or movies if you looked a million years (unless I 'accidentally' created a character exactly like one which already exists. If I did, and it's plagiarism, then I'm deeply sorry for the misunderstanding and coincidence). Nor, by the way, do I own many of the quotes in this chapter. I was just too lazy to write my own, sorry.
Okay, with all that said, PLEASE REVIEW! Whether you like it of not, at least give me advice on how I can improve it. I might die if I don't receive a single review! And if someone looks to be becoming a Mary-Sue or Gary-Stu, PLEASE tell me so that I can change it.
Now that I've calmed down, let's roll!
Chapter One: Companions
Rogue sighed as the man who had given her a lift walked off. It was another one of those days, as usual. She would take a ride with someone who would drop her off somewhere, and then she'd look for another one. Then, he or she would ask why she was always wearing gloves, and so much clothing, and she'd have to make up a pathetic excuse which many would not even believe.
Why had this happened to her? Eight months ago, she had been a normal girl named Marie D'ancanto, living in Mississippi. She'd had plans for her future, to finish school, go to college, and become a respectable woman in high society. The dreams of any living person, they were.
And now, it was all going to go to waste.
All of it, and Marie had known it. Only seconds after she and her first boyfriend, David, had shared their first kiss, she'd broken off, as he fell to the bed gasping for breath. He'd fallen into a coma for three weeks, waking up but … she could still feel him. A part of him was inside her head, forever. It simply wouldn't leave her.
After that fateful day, she hadn't been able to touch someone again. She could but, knowing that she somehow absorbed their energies into her own body whenever she so much as brushed her fingers against theirs made it so different. Touching hadn't felt the same again. And then, her parents had slowly grown distant from her. They had been, and still were, afraid of her and her powers. Her curse, and she often called it. And she had become Rogue, a beautiful, defenceless looking girl on the outside, when, deep down, she had the power to kill anyone easily, without even the use of a weapon.
So here she was, standing outside a small building inside a closed wire fence. Laughlin City wasn't as much a town as she'd expected, let alone a city. Just a small construction of bricks and mortar in a great, cruel world as this was.
Shrugging, she slowly entered the building. As the chatter reached her ears, she realised that she was in a tavern of sorts. Crowded with people, probably all men except her, and many of them drunk. She moved slowly and carefully around them, until –
'Ooof!' Rogue dropped her bag, which contained her few remaining belongings – in surprise.
'Oh – I'm so sorry!' gabbled a hurried voice suddenly. 'Please, let me help you.'
An arm reached down and grabbed her bag, lifted it up and offered it to her. She accepted it, and looked, in surprise, at the person she'd bumped into.
He was a boy, only about her age. His eyes were bright green against a pale complexion, and looked remarkably gentle. His hair was platinum blond and, she noted with interest, grown to shoulder length, which was unusual for a male. Strangely enough, although he wore a long-sleeved shirt, it couldn't have been very thick. Nor were his … jeans?! He, too, had a bag slung over his shoulder, although it wasn't quite as big as hers was.
'Are you alright, miss?' he asked the question so politely that she stared at him. He also had a British accent, she noted. 'I'm …sorry.' He muttered again. He seemed to think that he'd offended her.
'No, no, it's alright,' she said quickly. 'Ah mean – thank you.'
'It's alright,' he said softly. Then, he turned his head to what looked to be a giant cage, with two men in it.
'What … what's that?' gasped Rogue.
'A cage-fight,' answered the boy grimly. 'Two fighters get locked into a cage and fight until one of them hits the floor, or ...dies.'
The boy continues. 'The winner get's the losers' money, and the loser walks away with what he has left. The audience either keeps their own money, if they bet on the right guy, or they hand it over to the guy who beat the one they supported. Barbaric, if you ask me.' He shook his head. 'If I were betting, though, I'd go for that guy.' His gaze wandered to the middle-aged man who was leaning against the cage, a wine flask in his hand. His brown hair was combed up by either side of his head. It looked like a couple of furry wolf's ears.
She followed his gaze. 'Him? Why him?'
'Because he can't be beaten.' Was the simply answer. 'Watch.'
He seemed to be right, because, as Rogue watched, the bald man who seemed to have been giving the other one a beating had brought his leg upon his opponent's balls. Rogue cringed, and the crowd, which had been cheering the guy on, fell silent.
A random voice in the crowd suddenly called out, 'You idiot!' at the bald guy. She heard the boy beside her cringe.
He had to have been right, because, only moments later, the brown-haired man had gotten up and, raising his fist, slammed in into the other man's own. Suddenly, the bald man gripped his hand in shock and pain. But the burly man wasn't finished yet. He seemed to have taken the blow to his groin very personally, because he was on an anger rampage. He was beating the other man up until the 'idiot' dropped to the floor of the cage. As the MC announced the man, apparently called 'The Wolverine', the winner, he was met with booing and displeasure.
'Honestly, people always blame the one who takes their money,' sighed the boy in a hushed whisper. 'They shouldn't have voted against him, really. I feel sorry for the idiot who's in pain, though.'
'Right,' said Rogue uncomfortably, not sure she could really agree with that idea. She didn't like violence. However, watching the man fight, she had felt some sort of … admiration, she supposed it was, for him.
'OK, so what's your name? I'm Alan, by the way.'
She didn't wasn't to answer his question. Her name always brought questions.
'Well, do you have one, or do I need to call you 'Girl'?' Alan asked sarcastically. 'Or, I don't know, 'Gloves', because you seem to be wearing them even in a fairly warm place.
Suddenly, she relaxed. For a moment, she been afraid that the boy … no, young man, she corrected herself, didn't have a sense of humour. She said, softly, 'Ah'm Rogue. Jus' Rogue.'
He frowned. 'Rogue? That's an unusual name.' He then half-smiled. 'Be that as it may. Would you like a drink?'
'I – what?' she gawped at him. No-one had offered to buy her a drink before in a long time.
He repeated the question with a smile, but slowly this time, as though he were talking to a six-year-old child.
Rogue blushed, suddenly glad that her hair wasn't red. 'Yeah. Thanks Alan.'
'No probs.' Taking her hand, he led her to the bar, ordering a glass of water for her and a light wine for himself. Rogue was barely able to drink, however. She was wondering why this stranger was being so kind to her when they'd only just met. He didn't really have any reason to be so nice, especially if he learned her secret. He'd probably hate her if, or when, he learned what she was. As nice as he was, he wouldn't like her if he knew the truth. Nobody ever did.
Rogue attention turned to the TV, on which there was a news report about some sort of UN meeting on Ellis Island, in New York City. She avoided Alan's gaze, eventually catching sight of the cage fighter who'd won a minute ago – Wolverine, she recalled – sitting not too far from them. He was now wearing a shirt and jacket, and was drinking a beer. He seemed to have a small level of his attention span towards the TV, but he turned when the bald man he'd beaten tapped him on the shoulder.
'Hey, you owe me some money,' the said man stated in a hard voice.
His friend didn't seem as confident. 'C'mon Stu, let's not do this –'
The man called Stu persisted, though. 'No man takes a beating like that without a mark to show for it.'
'You lost your money. Keep this up and you'll lose something else,' said 'Wolverine' coldly, barely turning away from his beer.
Stu leaned in close and whispered something to Wolverine, then turned away. In a flash, however, he'd drawn a knife and aimed for the seated man's neck.
Rogue screamed, 'Look out!' as the man attacked.
This didn't deter Wolverine, who, quick as flash, pinned Stu to the wall. Rogue gasped as three long, metallic claws drew themselves from between his knuckles, poised to cut the man's throat. Beside Rogue, Alan gasped. His eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open with shock. For a moment, Rogue almost screamed.
Wolverine was a mutant.
That explains it all, she thought with realisation. The great strength, not having any bruises … everything. He's another mutant, like me.
Another voice suddenly caught her attention. 'Get outta my bar, freak!' With a loaded gun at Wolverine's head, the bartender had left his position behind the bar and loaded the shotgun. His face had that same look of hatred Rogue had seen so often recently.
Wolverine slowly turned to him, breathing heavily. His uneven breaths sounded inhuman. Almost … like a wolf.
In a shockingly swift movement, the mutant had drawn the claws from his other hand and sliced the gun in half. The bartender held the two halves of his weapon in shock, whimpering and trembling in fear. Wolverine's claws were now pointed at both the men, as though ready to attack them. His gaze slowly travelled from one, to the other, and then the next. His narrowed eyes were wary.
Finally, he lowered his arms and, sheathing the claws, he turned to leave, the whole tavern trembling in his wake.
That is, except for Rogue and Alan. Whilst the former had a look of awe and admiration, the latter had watched everything in silence, his expression curious and somewhat fearful. He just barely noticed the girl – Rogue – take the same path that Wolverine had taken. Her bag was slung over her shoulder and she hurried out.
Picking up his own pack, he followed her until he was in the driveway. 'Rogue! Hey, wait Rogue!' He grabbed her arm.
Unable to pull out of his grip, the girl turned to him. 'What is it, Alan?'
'What are you doing?' he asked seriously, all traces of humour gone from his face.
'Ah'm followin' him,' she replied curtly. 'What's it matter to ya?'
He guffawed. 'What?'
She sighed. 'Ya barely know me. We only just met, and yer followin' me. Ya pick up mah bag fer me, ya buy me a drink … what do ya want? We don't even know our pasts, Alan. So why are ya doin' all this.'
'I was trying to be nice,' he said coolly. 'Rogue, that man's dangerous. Didn't you see what he did to that guy in there? You can't go with him.'
'Ah can and ah will,' she snapped, pulling her arm out of his and striding to a camper van. She pulled her bag up and hurled it into the trailer that was attached.
Alan shook his head. 'You have a death wish, woman,' he muttered.
'Nah. Didn't ya see? He wasn't gonna hurt 'em; just frighten 'em.'
'Hey!' they both turned to see the Wolverine striding towards them. He turned to Rogue. 'What the hell are you doin'?'
She sighed. 'Ah'm sorry. I needed a ride.'
'And you?' his gaze turned on Alan, who sighed.
'I was only trying to warn her not to,' he muttered. 'She didn't listen to me.' Rogue glared at him.
Wolverine pulled the bag back out. 'Find your own ride, why don't you? You might as well go with your little friend here, Kid.'
Marie sighed. 'Ah don't wanna. He ain't ma friend; ah jus' met him.'
'Not like I have anything to take you in, anyway,' added Alan somewhat sheepishly. 'I just … hitchhike, myself.' As he said this, Rogue noticed, with interest, that he still hadn't put on any warmer clothing. He seemed fine, though.
''Sides, where am ah supposed to go?' continued the girl.
'I don't know,' Wolverine replied curtly.
'You don't know or you don't care?' asked Alan rhetorically.
'Pick one, why don't you,' grunted Wolverine, turning away and walking to the driver's seat of the camper.
'I saved your life!' Rogue called.
'No, you didn't,' called back Wolverine, getting into the driver's seat and closing it briskly.
Alan watched him start the engine. 'What now?'
'Ah dunno,' said Rogue. She was looking back in Logan's direction the camper started to drive off. 'Is it true, though, what ya said?' she asked Alan.
'Hmm?' he turned to her.
'That you're a hitchhiker, ah mean.'
He sighed. 'I don't have a home, if that's what you're asking. I'm not really a hitchhiker, though; I travel on my own' Rogue blinked as she looked at him; his eyes were a deep blue, she noticed. But they were green! Ah just know they were green! And how does he 'hitchhike', as he calls it, in them clothes?
'Hey, look!' Alan's voice broke through her thoughts. 'I think that Wolverine guy's stopping for us!'
Rogue looked in the direction where Wolverine had left and, sure enough, the camper had stopped moving. She felt rather relieved that he'd decided to stop for them. If she hadn't been in such a critical point in her life, she might very well have gloated about it to Alan. He seemed to think that Wolverine had no heart at all.
Pushing all these thoughts aside, even the curiosity about Alan, she followed said boy to the camper van.
In the back of the camper van, Alan felt like hitting himself on the forehead. God, did Rogue have a big mouth. First she'd started to press the matter of Wolverine's dog tag until he tucked it into his shirt. Then, she stupidly made an insulting comment about his living space. She had an incautious tongue if he'd ever seen one. Not even Lily had …
He didn't want to think about her, not in the least. She had been the reason he'd … done all this. He still hadn't found her, and probably never would. Tristan probably wouldn't have any better luck than him. He sighed, and pulled himself back into the conversation as Rogue asked Wolverine something.
'When they come out … does it hurt?'
The burly man sighed. 'Every time. By the way,' his eyes flicked over to them in curiosity, 'what kind of a name is Rogue, anyway? Alan's a normal one, but yours isn't.'
'Ah dunno,' answered the girl. 'What kind of a name is Wolverine?'
Said man sighed again, a look of understanding crossing his face. 'Wolverine's only my cage-fighting alias, Kid. My name's Logan.'
Logan, thought Alan with satisfaction. The girl had obviously not offended him this time. He'd also felt a pang of sympathy for the man when he'd mentioned his claws giving him pain. Alan was like that.
Rogue then spoke a name she hadn't said in a long time: 'Marie. Mine's Marie.' She directed this answer to both of them, since she hadn't told Alan this, either.
After a moment's silence, she added, 'Ya know, you should wear yer seatbelt.'
'Look Kid,' Logan growled, 'I don't need advice on –'
'Watch out!' Alan had noticed the falling tree and, quick as a flash, had thrown himself over from the back and landed his foot on the brakes. Unfortunately, it was too late. The car had still hit the tree. Not as hard as it might have, but hard nonetheless.
Alan felt the wind knocked out of him as he and Logan were chucked out of the camper. Alan landed back-first on the glass, causing it to crack, but Logan flew head-first, shattering the windscreen and rolling off the bonnet.
Alan pulled himself up, his eyes flashing blue-green suddenly, to Rogue's amazement. She wasn't given time to question this, but one thought came to her mind.
Alan was a mutant, too.
'Logan!' he shot up quickly, pulling himself up and crawling carefully onto the bonnet. What he saw shocked him into submission. 'Oh, by the sky and earth,' he breathed. (AN: Alan's an atheist.)
Logan's face was cut and bleeding; it looked like something out of a horror movie, like one of those corpses that was severely damaged as well as killed. There were cuts that looked like they'd leave scars once they healed. If they healed. Logan looked as good as dead.
'Alan, what's goin' on?' called Rogue. 'Is Logan alright?'
'He's …' Alan's voice caught in his throat as Logan suddenly stood up, '… fine.'
To further their amazement, Logan's cuts and scars seemed to be closing up rapidly. Rogue's expression displayed wonder, whilst Alan's was one of comprehension and understanding.
'You … you can heal yourself,' he managed to stammer.
'Yep,' Logan bent his neck to each shoulder until it sort of cracked. 'You alright, Al?
'Yeah, I'm fine. Just don't call me that, OK.' He shrugged, his eyes suddenly grey. Then he turned to the third occupant 'Rogue! Are you right there?'
'Yeah, mostly,' she groaned. 'But ah think ma seatbelt's jammed.'
Logan groaned. 'Dammit! I'll have to have that thing replaced. Alan, you got anything to cut that belt with?'
The boy immediately flew into action. 'Hold on, I should have a pocket knife around here somewhere …' he felt around in his pocket until he found the knife, but then froze as Logan started sniffing around. 'Logan? What's up?'
'There's someone here,' growled the older mutant, unsheathing his metal claws.
'Where?' Alan's head flashed about, searching.
'I don't know … quick, get the kid and get out of here! Someone's here!'
'What?!' he gasped in confusion.
All that ended as, out of nowhere, it seemed, a great man leapt out of the thick trees and jumped on Logan, knocking him down. Before the attacked man could get up, he was picked up and hurled across the snowy fields by the giant.
Alan took a moment to study their attacker's features. He was definitely a mutant, judging from his claws, pointed teeth, wild long blond hair and inhuman strength. He wore a great many furs, and his snarl was savage and inhuman, sounding like a tiger or lion. The next moment, Alan watched in both fascination and horror as the great mutant leapt across the field to Logan, who was just getting up, and hurling him into the camper so hard that Alan had to roll out of the way to avoid being hit. He only just stayed on the bonnet.
However, he'd seen enough. With a new resolve, he pulled out his pocket knife and crawled back inside. 'Rogue! Cut yourself loose!' he ordered briskly, tossing the knife to her.
She caught it, but looked at him questioningly. 'What're you –' but Alan already turned away, only just catching a glimpse of the fire that was starting in the back of the van. He pulled himself out of the vehicle, and turned to face the rapidly approaching mutant. He was going to fight, not cower. He was a mutant, not a weak, defenceless human.
The opposing mutant growled. 'What do you want, brat?'
'That's the same thing I was about to ask you,' retorted Alan. 'Who the heck are you?'
A feral grin crossed the man's hideous features. 'Sabretooth. What's your name, whelp?'
'Al …'he started, then remembered something he'd heard of, and that he'd fought about, long and hard. He looked Sabretooth hard in the eye, and stated firmly, 'Hurricane. My name is Hurricane.' Meanwhile, he was thinking, Sabretooth, huh? Fitting, for such a fine example as this … man.
'Hurricane, huh? You fancy yourself a mutant, whelp?' snarled Sabretooth. 'Get outta my way.'
'No,' Alan's eyes flashed, and Sabretooth's own ones widened in some degree of surprise. 'I won't do that, Sabretooth. You'll have to get through me, first.'
'Fine,' growled the mutant. His readied his claws, and leapt.
Alan gritted his teeth, clenching his fist. It was hard to stop it from shaking, due to the power it was beginning to generate. Wind began to gather around it. Then as Sabretooth began flying down upon him, face and claws coming first, 'Hurricane' pulling his fist back and, with all his might, launched it, hand outstretched, in Sabretooth's direction. A strong gust of wind unleashed itself upon the unsuspecting mutant, who only had a moment for his eyes to widen in shock as the great gale of wind began to push him away.
Alan gasped; it was hard to control the power, but he had to use it effectively. Then, in a swift movement, he pulled his fist up, then down again. The 'hurricane' followed his lead, pulling a snarling Sabretooth down with it, into the snow. Alan gasped as the wind quietened down, falling to his knees in exhaustion.
'Alan!' Rogue ran up to him, pocket knife in hand. 'Are ya alright?'
'Yeah, just … my power's very draining,' he grunted. He pulled himself up, groaning. 'So, you got out, huh?'
But she had no time to answer, because, at that moment, they both noticed Sabretooth approaching them.
'What on Earth?' gasped Alan. 'What is this guy? How's able to keep going after that?' Fear began to creep into his being.
Sabretooth grinned maliciously. 'Thought that'd stop me?' he growled in some sort of sick amusement. 'Hah! You're not powerful enough to stop me, brat!'
Alan was breathing deeply by now, the aftermath of his power release starting to take it's toll. 'Darn. That arrogant git. If only I'd been stronger than –'
Alan suddenly shot up, Rogue still supporting him, as a red beam of light seemed to come out of nowhere and hit Sabretooth, causing him to fly off into the distant yonder. Alan and Rogue, both amazed, looked in the direction of the beam of light.
There were two people approaching them. As they got closer, Alan got a better glimpse of them. They both wore a tight-looking outfit. The woman was quite the beauty, with long white hair that contrasted greatly to her dark, African skin. The man was tall and brown-haired, and he wore an odd sort of red visor over his eyes. They were both approaching rapidly.
Alan watched them cautiously, a difficult task owing to his present state. 'Who are you?' he croaked. 'Stay back, you hear me?' Although he had a suspicion that they had caused the red blast,
The woman approached, nonetheless. 'Take it easy, alright? We're not enemies. Besides, if Cyclops hadn't blasted that mutant away, you'd probably not be breathing right now. Being mauled by Sabretooth isn't a painless way to die, I can assure you.' At this, Rogue paled and Alan gulped.
'Cyclops?' he looked towards the man with a nod. He tried not to grin, but was failing miserably. 'I can see where you got a name like that, though I think it's a bit odd.'
'You're not the first person to joke about my alias,' said the man called Cyclops, looking a little put out. He probably had to put with that joke a lot. 'My real name's Scott Summers, and that,' he indicated to the woman, 'Is Ororo Munroe, codenamed Storm.'
'It's a pleasure to meet you, Alan,' said Storm politely. 'You too, Marie.' The girl gasped in shock, but Alan's eyes turned wary.
'Alright,' he said a little uncertainly. 'But, first thing's first: what are you doing here? And how,' he took a defensive step forward, 'do you know our names?'
What do you think? Please review! And by the way, don't worry if some of you are confused about Alan: his story will be revealed later on.
But please, for the sake of story writing, REVIEW TO THIS STORY!