X4: The Queen Of Hearts

Disclaimer: X-men is owned by Marvel Comics and 20th Century Fox. I do not own X-men, nor am I making a profit from this work of fan-fiction. So don't sue me! Not that you'd get a whole lot from me anyway ;)
A/N:Hey guys, back with the next chapter. We find out what Remy is up to, see Warren’s press conference, and have some nice, fluffy moments amongst our characters. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Surprises

Remy leaned back slightly in the uncomfortable metal chair, his fingers tapping absently at the stainless-steel table bolted to the floor in front of him.

They had settled back in to the mansion the previous evening, and he’d told Rogue and Sarah he needed to go see Dan in the city. He didn’t tell them exactly what it was about – they didn’t need to deal with this, it had been his idea in the first place.

He’d taken his motorcycle to Dan’s place early in the morning, and received the information his friend had collected for him. He hadn’t quite expected to find the man here, but he’d adapted his plan.

A loud low buzzer sounded in the hallway outside of the small room Remy sat in. The smell of ammonia and other cleaning solvents hid the odor of the place rather well in his opinion: likely, he’d arrived just after the cleaning crew had made its rounds through the visitor’s area.

He looked up, his gaze calculating behind his dark sunglasses, and reached up to straighten the corner of his suit he’d worn, as a uniformed guard tugged a man through the doorway.

He wasn’t extraordinarily tall – Remy had a few good inches on him – but he more than made up for that in sheer mass. It looked as if he would have been the kind of man who had been a star linebacker in his high school years, much of the muscle mass still there but a bit of the years beginning to show with a slight paunch to his stomach.

His dark hair was buzzed close to his head in a crew cut, and his brown eyes stared out at Remy in a curious, confused manner. His appearance had ‘Thug’ written all over it. He looked like the sort of man who would normally be wearing a biker vest, tattooed up even more than he already was, swinging a chain at some victim of a bike gang. In here, however, he seemed rather out of place in the orange jumpsuit, and thick shackles binding both his hands and his feet together with a short length of chain.

The guard pushed him forward, into the seat across from Remy, and pulled out a thick padlock, which he put through the hand-cuff chain and inserted the end of the padlock into a large eyelet in the solid steel table, and then snapped it shut, binding the man to his place at the table.

“Twenty minutes, maximum,” the guard said, nodding politely to Remy before exiting the room, shutting the door of the visiting chamber with a loud clang behind him. Remy had managed to procure the private room for this meeting, rather than the larger, public visitation area which had fifteen or twenty of these tables.

“You’re not my lawyer,” the man in front of him growled.

Remy nodded slowly, studying the man. While brutish looking, the man’s eyes held some sort of spark – of both intelligence and malevolence. This was a smart man, capable of just about anything. Not that that surprised him.

“No, I’m not. I’m just here payin’ a visit. Wanted to meet you face to face – we have a mutual acquaintance,” Remy said, slipping into his Robert Lord accent.

Remy stared quietly at him, his hands twitching, wanting to form fists. “So…. Matt Rushman. You’re different than I imagined you’d be,” he said, slipping automatically into his Robert Lord persona.

Matt rolled his eyes. “C’mon, you interrupted my free time in the yard. I don’t know who it is you talked with to find out about me, but let’s get this over with – what do you want?”

Remy smiled slowly, dangerously. “There’s a lot that I want. I’ve been thinkin’ about this moment for a long time now, what I’d do when I finally met you face-to-face. Usually it involved some variation of pounding your face into a bloody pulp, and leaving you to choke on your own blood. But this…..” Remy shook his head, chuckling slightly. “What was it I heard? Fifteen, twenty years in here – armed robbery? By the time you get out you’ll be an old man. And I know what prison can do to you. This is even better than I could have hoped for.”

Matt leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Listen, pal, I don’t like your tone. You got some sort of beef with me? What, I steal your woman or something? Get over it, you pansy. I don’t need to sit here and listen to this.” He said, and then turned his head toward the door, making to call for the guard.

Remy shook his head. “Don’t bother. I slipped him a hundred bucks before he brought you here. He’s taking a little cigarette break for the next ten minutes. Until then, you’re all mine.”

A hint of uneasiness appeared in the man’s eyes, and he sat back slightly. “Well, what do you want? To beat me up? Some big man you are, coming to beat up a guy chained to a table.”

Remy chuckled. “No, I don’t want to. Not anymore. I don’t need to waste my energy. I just wanted to come here and see you. Look you in the face. See the coward that blamed his little girl for her mother’s death. The coward that beat his daughter, called her a freak, and then abandoned her.”

Matt’s face somehow managed to pale while turning red with anger. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, were we going a little too fast for you to keep up? I’m talking about you – the sick bastard who gets off on hurting his own daughter, and abandoning her alone on the street to fend for herself. Did you forget her name already? ‘Sarah’ ringing any bells?”

The paling of the man’s face seemed to win out over the other colors vying for their place. “How the fuck do you know about Sarah?”

Remy spread his hands. “She’s alive. She survived all of the shit you threw at her, and all that the city had to offer. You left her to survive on her own on the streets with the criminal lowlifes just like yourself – the rapists, the murderers. But she’s stronger than that, and she made it out.”

“And now, she lives with people that understand her, and that love her for who – and what she is. When she first told me about you, I did want to cave your face in. But now, you’re living in prison, while she’s free from you, from what you did to her. You failed. You tried to destroy a precious, innocent little girl because of your bigotry toward mutants. But it didn’t work, and now she’s stronger for all the experiences you put her through.”

“Believe me, I’d still love to shove your nose down your throat, but I’ve got better things to do with my life, and you aren’t worth the prison time.” Remy finished, slowly beginning to stand up.

“Who are you?” Matt asked. “Who the hell are you, thinking you can come in here and lecture me on what I did with that little freak?”

Remy shook his head sadly, his lips twitching in disgust. “The name is Julien Boudreaux, if you must know,” he said, laughing silently to himself at how easily that had come to him. “And I’m the person that’s tryin’ to be the father-figure that little girl has needed all her life. Trying to make up for what a pathetic, small-minded bigot did to her. And no, we’ll never see one another again, in case you were wondering, or getting ideas in your head to come find us in a few decades when they let your carcass out of here.”

“Bastard-“ Matt began, spitting out the word.

Remy raised a hand, cutting him off sharply. “Go back to your pathetic life, Rushman. This is over.” He started moving toward the door, and then paused several steps away.

Remy turned his head back, reaching a hand up to drop down his sunglasses, enjoying the flinch from Matthew when he saw his red-on-black eyes. “Oh, by the way. I’ve got friends with some connections in the prison scene. Right this moment they’re starting to spread the word about you – the things you’ve done, what you did to Sarah. I hear word travels fast in a place like this. I’ll bet there’s quite a few guys out there with little girls back home waiting for their daddies to get out. I wonder how they’ll feel about sharing the prison with a man that beats little girls and throws them out on the street?”

Matt shrunk back in his seat, his hands trembling slightly at what would be in store for him, and Remy’s smirk grew as he cocked his head slightly to the side. “And just a head’s up – I told my friends what you did and they weren’t too happy. I didn’t exactly tell them what to say, so they just might embellish it a bit, make it a little more juicy for the inmates: I hear pedophiles are even more popular ‘round here than child-beaters. Have fun!” Remy called over his shoulder as he opened the door to reveal the guard – who in reality had never been slipped money and had never left the door unattended.

“Thanks, officer, we’re done here,” he said, smiling as he passed the guard, leaving the speechless - and now rather terrified - Matt Rushman behind in the room.

Remy made his way through the prison, needing to show his visitor’s badge several times before he reached the outer doors, and his waiting motorcycle.

He made it several dozen miles, through the countryside on the way to the mansion before he pulled off the side of the road and walked deliberately into the woods, only there letting out his anger that he’d reigned in during the visit.

Several minutes later he was sitting in a small clearing, his knuckles bleeding slightly, panting heavily while surrounded by a dozen splintered and broken trees he’d channeled his powers into through his hands as he punched them. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, and then stood up and walked back to his bike.

***********************************************************************

Remy yanked on a t-shirt, his hair still slightly damp from the shower he’d taken after he’d returned to the mansion. He pulled the door to his bedroom open and found himself blocked by Rogue, who was leaning casually against the doorjamb, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Chére,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her lightly on the lips.

She raised an eyebrow as he pulled back, her eyes running over him, and then walked into the room, and grabbed his hand. “Yah have a nice joyride?” She asked softly, kissing his cheek.

“Oui, it was a nice long one.” He answered hesitantly.

She raised his hand in hers, looking pointedly at the still-healing skin on his knuckles that she’d spotted when he’d come through the garage and headed up to shower. “Remy…..” She said gently. “That was an awful long trip t’see Dan, wasn’ it? An’ who’d you get in a fight with?”

He ran a free hand through his hair and expelled his breath. “I didn’ want you to get worried, Chére. I saw Dan, but I had some business to take care of too – he found some information for me.”

“Business?” She asked, worried.

"Non, not a heist or anythin’ like dat, if dat’s what y’thinking, ma Chére. I…. Dan hunted down Matt Rushman.” He said softly.

She looked at him in confusion. “Who?”

Remy grimaced. “Sarah’s father,” he spat the word.

Rogue felt her eyes widen, and her breath caught in her throat for a moment. “Should… should we be expectin’ people lookin’ ‘round for a dead body?” She asked warily.

Remy grunted, and leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose. “Non, nothin’ like dat, even though I’d prefer dat.” He shook his head. “He’s in prison, an’ I went to pay a little visit. See jus’ what de batard looks like. Make him piss his pants a little too,” he said with a smirk.

“Do Ah wanna know?” Rogue asked, relieved that Remy hadn’t done anything rash – frankly she figured if Rushman and Sabretooth were standing in front of him, it’d at least be a tossup on who he’d wipe the floor with, but Rushman was the more likely bet given that Remy saw the effects of Rushman’s actions every day he spent with Sarah, while Sabretooth’s actions were much more in the past.

“I tol’ him dat pretty soon his buddies in prison wit’ him will hear what he did to Sarah, which’ll make him their new fav’rite punchin’ bag. An’ I mighta hinted dat dey might hear he’s a pedophile,” he said, grinning slightly.

Rogue’s jaw dropped. “Remy! You – are you really going to?” She asked, eyes wide, her expression struggling between shock and a grin.

He shrugged. “Dey’re gonna hear somet’ing. I’m leavin’ it up to Dan – he’s de one dat can get into contact wit’ de people dat’ll get that spread around.”

“What’d he say?” She asked.

“Not a whole lot after I told him why I was payin’ him a visit. De look on his face when I tol’ him de whole prison would know was priceless,” Remy said with a slight grin.

Rogue shook her head, and then ran a thumb over his scraped-up knuckles where her hand still gripped his. “Well, if yah didn’t beat the hell outta him, what happened?”

Remy’s smile faded slightly, and he shrugged. “Had t’get my frustrations out some way. Found a nice place along de road an’ took dem out on a few unfortunate trees. Didn’ want to bottle it up all de ride back.”

Rogue looked up at him compassionately, squeezing his hand. “Mah boyfriend, always beatin’ up on defenseless trees,” she said, teasing him gently – she knew he hated it when he let his anger get the best of him. “So how long’s he in for, Sugah?”

“’bout twenty years. He’s can apply for consideration of parole in fifteen. I’ll make sure I keep an eye on dat – if he does I’ll get de police lookin’ into his past a bit, ‘specially his missin’ daughter. He’s gonna be in a long time.”

Remy released her hand, and then slid the arm around her shoulder, pulling over toward his bed, where a folder filled with a sheaf of papers – which he’d received earlier from Dan – now rested.

“Rushman was jus’ a side benefit, though – Dan happened to find out where he was a little bit before he called me for de main thing.” Remy said and snatched up the folder, handing it to her.

She glanced at him curiously until he nodded to her that she should look inside. She opened it up, and her eyes skimmed over the first page while he watched.

He grinned to himself as he watched her brow furrow – he loved watching her while she tried to figure something out, she just made the cutest expressions. He leaned closer, resting his chin on her shoulder as she read.

She finally looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Remy, this is…..”

He nodded. “Mm-hmm. It is.”

Her expression softened, and she pulled away to reverently set the stack of papers on the nightstand. She turned around, and smiled. “Remy, thank yah for remindin’ me why Ah love yah so much, Sugah,” she said, grabbing his shirt and yanking him in close.

Her lips pressed against his firmly, and he smiled against them. “Guess I should do dis more often,” he mumbled, his hand reaching up to tangle in the back of her hair as she pulled him backward until they tumbled down onto his mattress.

***********************************************************************

Warren walked over to the small podium that had been set up for the makeshift press conference, feeling his nervousness flutter through his stomach as it did any time he spoke publicly. It wasn’t unmanageable, and it was something even the best speakers still got from time to time, but it was there nonetheless.

He glanced around the area set up for the conference – several dozen chairs filled with reporters and journalists from various news organizations and publications. He almost shook his head in amazement at they’d managed to pull together, and the sheer amount of people there.

Lorna had been instrumental in putting together the press conference itself, getting into contact with many of the news agencies represented there and convincing them the announcement would be a story worth covering, and then setting up the area they were using for the meeting itself.

Hank’s friend Trish Tilby, who waved to him from where she sat in the front row when she spotted him, had been just as helpful. She’d been quite willing to spread the word through her contacts at other news stations – of course after she’d been guaranteed an exclusive, more detailed interview after the press conference.

The crowd’s interest was already more than piqued, given that Charles and several of the others who were quite recognizable to them were already nearby the podium, behind where Warren would be standing.

Warren schooled his face, and then cleared his throat, the sound picked up by the microphone and carried around the room. “I’d like to thank you all for taking time out of your day to come here. I’ll keep this short – as you leave you’ll be given a full press packet that gives a more detailed explanation than what I can give up here.”

“Today I’m going to tell you about an organization I have started, called Mutants Without Borders. Like the name suggests, this is a Non-Governmental Organization and charity that is similar in some ways to Doctors Without Borders. We are primarily a humanitarian aid organization, which will provide aid to developing countries and areas experiencing disasters, utilizing mutants across the world and their unique abilities to provide that aid. A secondary goal of Mutants Without Borders is to provide a lobbying platform in the United States political system, as well as the political systems of other countries to attain adequate civil rights for the world’s mutant population.

“ I’d like to thank a number of people for their support of my idea and their funding.” He gestured at those standing behind him. “Dr. Charles Xavier and Dr. Nathaniel Essex, two of the foremost authorities in genetics in the US; Dr. Reed Richards, known for his expertise in Physics, Aeronautics, Cosmology, and of course his participation with the Fantastic Four group in New York City.”

“Dr. Moira MacTaggert and Sean Cassidy and the Muir Island Research Facility in Scotland; Sir Brian Braddock, whose family has been leaders of the mutant political reforms in the UK; and finally Shiro Yoshida who could not make it today – he is the CEO of Yoshida Corporation, a Japanese-based genetics and biotech company.”

Warren took a breath. “Without their help, I would not have been able to start this organization, and without their advice and guidance as the board of directors, it would not have gone anywhere.”

“That’s briefly the outline of what I brought you here to talk about today, and I’d be more than happy to answer questions and expand on what I’ve said at this time, so I’ll open up the floor to you.”

Instantly the reporters began to stand up, hoping to get their questions in. “Let’s start with Miss Tilby, and continue from there,” Warren said.

Trish nodded, and looked down at a notebook she’d been scribbling in. “You mentioned Mutants Without Borders will largely be a humanitarian aid organization – what sort of efforts will you focus on – and do you have employees, or will this be largely a volunteer organization?”

Warren smiled – she’d already told him what her question would be beforehand so he was ready for it. “A large part of the focus will be on getting aid to regions in which mutants are experiencing significant hardships, like the situation in Nigeria, but we are more than willing to help anyone human or mutant, in disaster relief efforts.”

“And I’m glad you asked your second question, because we’re going to mainly be a volunteer organization. Any mutant or human who would like to volunteer and go out on aid missions and relief efforts will be welcome. In fact, a number of volunteers were in the news a few days ago helping the rescue efforts in the Washington D.C. area, so we’ve already begun our work.”

He smiled to himself as he heard the chatter in the group of reporters as the realized what he was referring to. “Tony, your question?” He said, pointing to Tony Engles, a reporter from CNN that he’d come to know over the years.

Tony stood up, and adjusted his glasses, the cameraman he’d brought with him focusing in on him as he began to speak. “Warren, as many of my viewers know from my coverage of Worthington Enterprises, the Yoshida Corporation is one of the company’s biggest rivals in the field of genetics – have you had any difficulties with conflict due to that rivalry?”

Warren shook his head. “No. When I began planning this organization, I withdrew from all my associations with my father’s company, and I have used my own money to help fund Mutants Without Borders, and Worthington Enterprises is not associated with our group, so there’s been no conflict. I’ve spoken with Mr. Yoshida over the phone several times, and he was more than willing to work with me to make this happen.”

He turned his attention to a tall, blond-haired woman who stood patiently in the third row. “What is your question, Miss….” He trailed off, gesturing toward her.

“Madeline Teller, columnist and writer for the New York Times. Do you foresee this being a US based organization, or is this more of an international effort – given that you were inspired by Doctors Without Borders?”

Warren nodded. “Definitely international. Right now our main branch is based here in New York, but we’ll soon be expanding, and we’re registered as an International NGO. Mr. Braddock has been invaluable in organizing efforts to set up our next branch in the UK, and that one should be operational by December. I hope after the announcement I’ll be able to start in talks with other countries to begin setting up smaller branches in other areas around the world.”

“But we are an international effort. I’ve already begun discussions with the International Red Cross to partner up with them on relief efforts and those are going well. The political side will also definitely be international – it is my hope that once we’re eligible we’ll apply for membership with the United Nations ECOSOC council to begin improving mutant rights throughout the world.”

Madeline nodded, and thanked him before sitting back down, her tape recorder still running in her hand as she began to scribble in a notebook on her lap.

Warren turned toward another person, a short man with a receding hairline, who he vaguely remembered covering several of Worthington Industries’ press events. “Your question, Mister… Cooper, isn’t it?”

The man nodded. “James Cooper, from CNBC. Would you mind explaining to us what it was, in particular, that inspired you to create this organization – to work for mutant rights?”

Warren took a deep breath –this was a question he’d been expecting, and had decided it would be the best opportunity to reveal the second thing he’d hoped to announce during the conference.

Lorna caught his eye from the back of the room, and she smiled encouragingly, and he relaxed slightly.

Warren cleared his throat softly, and then leaned closer to the microphone. “The main impetus behind my decision, Mister Cooper, is due to my being a mutant myself.”

He paused for a moment, and the entire crowd was silent, it seemed as if they were waiting for him to crack a grin and say he was just pulling their legs. When he said nothing of the sort, Cooper stood up once more. “Excuse me, I just want to ensure I got that, Mister Worthington – you’re a mutant?”

Warren finally smiled, and then nodded. “Yes,” he said before pulling off the long coat he’d worn to the podium, revealing his large white wings spread slightly away from his back, ignoring a large number of shocked gasps, as if they’d not really believed him when he said it.

“Yes. In fact that was one of the driving forces behind my father’s company and their work for a ‘Cure’,” he said making air quotes with his fingers. “I chose not to take it, but I was one of the reasons so much effort was put into developing it.”

He sighed softly. “I began in the last year or so, to realize that I am a perfect example of how one-sided society is toward mutants and humans. I’m a successful businessman, and quite rich, and got into the best schools as I grew up. And the only way I got here was by concealing the fact that I was a mutant. That’s one of the things I want to change with my efforts with Mutants Without Borders.”

“I want our country to achieve equal treatment, and tolerance of mutants some day, just like we have been able to do in the past with things like the Civil Rights movement, and have come very close to with Gay and Lesbian rights in recent years. Someday I want a little mutant child – like I was when I discovered I was a mutant – to be able to dream about becoming a successful person in society, and not have to think – ‘Well, to do that I’ll need to hide the fact that I’m a mutant’.”

“I realized that I have the ability to start our country, and even the world, moving toward changing the attitudes we unfortunately see with respect to mutant rights, and this organization will hopefully be only the beginning.”

After giving the reporters a bit of time to recover from the surprise announcement, he continued the question and answer session. After several follow-ups about his outing himself as a mutant, he began to open it up to questions for not just himself, but Charles and the others.

The mutant revelation would likely be the biggest news later that evening, he knew, but most of the stories run on that would more than likely have a good section on Mutants Without Borders. In all likelihood, the revelation would get the organization much more airtime than simply the announcement itself would have.

And, as the questioning session went on, he felt like an enormous, heavy weight that had long been part of his life, had been lifted from his shoulders. He no longer had to hide, no longer had to keep such an integral part of himself secret, and at the moment it was one of the best feelings in his life.

***********************************************************************

Ororo stopped as she began near the door to the entertainment room, hearing the tail end of Kurt’s conversation on the phone where he sat on one of the couches of the otherwise empty room.

“Ja, of course, I am looking forward to it…….”

Ororo saw him smile at whatever was said on the other end of the call, and then answer.

“Okay, I vill see you then. Goodbye, ‘Manda.”

He hung up the phone and replaced it in the charging cradle on the table next to him, and stood up, jumping slightly when he saw Ororo standing in the doorway.

“Ororo, I didn’t hear you come in,” he said surprised.

She smiled slightly. “Just got here, Kurt.” She raised her eyebrow, looking at him curiously. “’Manda’?”

Kurt blushed slightly – an interesting sight to her, his blue skin simply becoming darker on his cheeks. His three-fingered hand reached up to rub at the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“Ja,” he said quietly. “You know how I said, vhen I escaped that… SENTINEL, I landed on a farm? Und then I got picked up und met you und the others at the Helicarrier?”

Ororo nodded. “Yeah, I remember that.”

“Vell, the daughter of the owner vas the one that found me, und….. she gave me her number. Ve haff gone out for dinner twice now since then, und I really like her.” He said, shrugging slightly. “Her name is Amanda Sefton.”

Ororo smiled. “Well, good for you, Kurt. You should have told me.” She frowned slightly. “Doesn’t she live quite a ways away from here?”

Kurt nodded. “Ja, unfortunately. That is vhy we haven’t done anything more than those two times. It’s whenever I get a chance to travel down that direction, vhen Charles sends me on one of his errands.”

He smiled slightly. “I like her. Very much,” he said softly.

Ororo grinned at him, and rested her hand on his shoulder. “I’m happy for you, Kurt. After everything in your past…. You deserve something like this,” she said. “So I take it from what I heard that you two are going somewhere again?”

Kurt nodded. “This time she vill be up here, in New York City. She got us tickets to a concert a few days from now.” His brow furrowed. “It’s her favorite singer, but I’m not very familiar with the latest music here in the US. I think she said it vas ‘Dazzler’, or something like that?”

Ororo nodded. “Yeah, it’s Dazzler. She’s sort of a rock/pop singer who’s become really popular the last few years. I think you’ll like the concert. She’s known for the pyrotechnics and light shows that her band does during their performances.”

Kurt nodded thoughtfully. “I guess I should learn a bit more before I go, so I don’t look completely clueless.”

Ororo chuckled. “Probably, Kurt.” A sly look passed through her eyes. “You know, you should bring her here while she’s in the area. Let us meet her.”

He hesitated at that, blushing again. “Vell, I guess I could, but it’s not like we’ve been dating for long…. I vill talk to her and see vhat she thinks. At least you vill not be able to torture me by showing her my baby pictures or anything,” he said, the white teeth in his wide grin clashing starkly with his blue skin.

Ororo shook her head. “I’m sure I could think of something if you wanted,” she offered, her eyes twinkling.

“Nien,” he said quickly. “No need to do that.” He paused for a moment, his expression becoming a bit more serious. “I hope you vill like her, though.”

Ororo squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll get along just fine, Kurt.”

He nodded, and relaxed somewhat. “Vere you coming in here to watch television?”

“If you don’t mind the company.”

Kurt nodded and moved to the side, making sure his tail was curled down next to his leg – he’d learned the hard way, especially with the younger people of the mansion who didn’t pay attention to where they sat, never to be too careful while sitting on the couch.

Ororo settled down next to her friend – she and Kurt had become much closer once he’d started staying at the mansion more often, with Xavier’s errands becoming fewer for him as the year went by. It had started when they’d first met, on the jet as she and Jean flew back from the church they’d found him in, but for several months she’d barely seen him.

He offered her the remote, but she let him choose what to watch. They’d sat there several minutes as he scrolled through channels until he hit on a Pirates of the Caribbean marathon. He was disheartened to find the credits rolling at the end of the third film, and ended up switching over to CNN once it was obvious there was little else on.

They caught the tail end of a piece on Warren’s announcement before it went to the next hour with different newscasters. The opening news was – according to the bottom of the screen – breaking news.

A young reporter stood on a road, the camera angle such that it kept him on one side of the image but left the rest open so people could see what was going on behind him. He stood several hundred feet from an expensive looking house with privacy fences around it, the front drive gated off directly behind him. Behind the gate, half a dozen police cars and several vans and an ambulance, as well as a vehicle labeled “Jefferson County Coroner”, and well over a dozen uniformed men were moving about, in and out of the house as a covered gurney was rolled out and two people began to put it into the coroner’s van.

“I’m reporting from outside the Colorado residence of US Senator Greg Johnson, the incumbent Democratic candidate for this November’s Senate Election in Colorado. Tragically, it appears that Senator Johnson and his wife were murdered late last evening.

“Police have said little thus far, other than confirming that Senator Johnson and his wife were among the ten people found dead this morning. Our sources inside the local law enforcement suggested that the other eight were members of Senator Johnson’s security detail, who guarded him while he moved around the country and provided security for his home.”

“They also said that each person seems to have been killed with a knife or similar instrument, and they’re suggesting possibly professional assassins would have been required to subdue and kill the security team and the Senator.”

“The Senator has made many enemies in his support of environmental safety regulations, and many more in his support of mutant rights, and some are suggesting that the latter may be the motive behind the killing.”

“At the moment, although we have not been able to confirm, our analysts suggest that his Democratic opponent in the primaries will take his place for this November’s election, in order to provide opposition to the Republican candidate.”

“We will bring more to you when we get further information on this unfolding, very tragic event. Several local churches are planning to hold candlelight vigils for the next several nights in remembrance of this much-loved Senator. Back to you, Lisa.”

The newswoman in the main studio appeared on the screen, looking somber. “Thank you, Charles, very tragic.” She said to the man who sat next to her in the studio.

He nodded. “Indeed, Lisa, and this is a huge blow to the Senate – Senator Johnson was the Senate Majority Whip, and well respected amongst his colleagues.”

The graphics on the screen shifted to show a picture of what looked like a tropical island.

“Now, our other top story,” Lisa began, “is the rather odd television takeover that occurred earlier today. Earlier, at one Eastern time, a short, puzzling commercial took over the airwaves. According to reports, the commercial overtook regular broadcasting on every television station in the United States – including cable and satellite stations.”

“And we’ve received confirmations that similar commercials occurred across Europe at nearly the same time. Officials with broadcasting networks are baffled by the broadcast, which appears to have been from an outside network, which essentially hacked into every channel and overrode the regular broadcasts. Here is the commercial itself.”

The screen flashed and then went black for a moment, before slowly gaining color, which focused in on the same lush tropical island from earlier, resting in beautiful blue seas.

The screen flashed back to black, and then white text appeared. “A tropical haven, open to all mutants.”

It went back to a closer picture of the island, which appeared to be taken from the beach, and kept alternating in that manner.

“Remove yourself from the discrimination.”

The screen changed to a picture of one of the Humanity Now! Rallies supporting Proposition X, flashing up to close-ups of the signs calling for mutant population control, mandatory Cure, and restricted reproductive rights.

“Enjoy the protection of our community.”

Fast images of what looked almost like a small city flashed across the screen, the streets empty, as if waiting for people to walk in them.

“Make Genosha your sanctuary.”

The camera panned out to an aerial view of a large island and two smaller ones flanking it, and then faded out slightly for more text to appear, including a website at the bottom.

“Peace, Paradise, Protection: Genosha”

The screen returned to the newsroom, and she continued to speak. “Very little is known about this ‘Genosha’. It appears to be labeling itself a private refuge for mutants, but the website in the commercial provides little more information. It does promise a more detailed broadcast in the coming days, however.”

“The website is paid for by a private company called Magus Enterprises, which is involved in investments pertaining to Gulf and Caribbean oil and mineral resources, and none of our queries to the company have received a reply at this time.”

Ororo chewed slightly on her inner cheek – a habit she’d gotten into when she was deep in thought. She glanced over to Kurt. “Interesting timing,” she commented, “with Warren and the Mutants Without Borders announcement yesterday.”

Kurt nodded “Ja, it is. I vonder if this is real, or some sort of joke….”

Ororo shrugged and stood up. “Well, either way, I think Charles should hear about it if he hasn’t already – I’m going to see if he’s back yet.”

Kurt flashed her a smile as she stood up. “Gud, I will see you later.”

****

Charles wasn’t in his office, so she figured he was still caught up in the opening work at Warren’s office in town.

As she walked back away from the office and toward the stairs she heard a loud rapping at the front door. There was a pause as she walked toward it and then it started up again.

She pulled the door open to find a short, olive-skinned young woman standing in front of the door, her fist raised to knock once more. She had her shoulder-length black hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her brown eyes lit up as she saw Ororo – and Ororo noted a large suitcase resting near her feet.

“Hi,” she greeted Ororo, “I think your doorbell might be broken?” she said, jabbing a finger into the button several times, and no noise entered through the front hall.

Ororo raised her eyes heavenward for a moment. ‘Remy and Logan.’ She thought to herself, and then smiled at the younger woman, who appeared to be in her mid twenties.

“Sorry about that, we’re finishing putting in a new security system, and some of the electrical systems around here are a little on the fritz. I hope you weren’t knocking long.” Ororo said.

She shook her head. “No, just started, after I realized I wasn’t hearing the bell.” She extended a hand toward Ororo. “I’m Xi’an Coy Manh. Am I – is this really the School - Xavier’s school?” She asked. “I mean, I know the sign was out there, but this doesn’t exactly look like a regular boarding school.”

Ororo smiled, shaking her hand. “We get that a lot. It used to be a family mansion, but we’ve converted it into the school. I’m Ororo Munroe, one of the head teachers - how can I help you, Miss….. Manh was it?”

“Just Xi’an is fine. I’m actually here to see Charles. He said to just drop by when I got into town. I’m - he’s hired me as the School Councilor?”

Ororo’s eyes widened. “Oh, yes, he’d said something about that – but he hadn’t mentioned your name. I’m afraid he’s not here right now, but he should be back in a few hours. Please, come in though – you can just leave your suitcase in the entrance here, and once Charles gets back he can tell you where your room will be.”

Xi’an lifted her suitcase by the handle, and pulled it into the Entrance Hall. She set it down on the inside near the door, and glanced around the large space, and the architecture of the ground floor. “Beautiful place,” she said.

Ororo smiled. “It’s actually Charles’ – it’s been in his family for several generations now, and we’ve found it’s a very relaxing, home-like atmosphere for the students.”

Xi’an nodded to herself. “I can definitely see that being the case.”

“Would you like a tour? It takes a bit of getting used to around here.” Ororo said.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Xi’an said.

Ororo led her around the house, chatting with the friendly woman as she showed her the main areas of the Mansion – she’d been particularly enthusiastic when Ororo showed her the library.

“Where are you from, Xi’an?” She asked her as they walked through the kitchen.

“Los Angeles. My mom and dad are from Vietnam, but they moved over here just before I was born. Grew up right in LA, and it wasn’t until I went to college that I got a change of scenery.” At Ororo’s questioning look, she added, “I came out here to the East Coast for school, got my Masters in Psychology in Philadelphia a year ago.”

She shook her head. “Jobs like that aren’t very easy to come by – I’ve been working as an assistant at one of the psychologist practices in Philly, but that’s been part time and rent isn’t cheap there so I was struggling a bit before Charles called me and invited me to talk over dinner about a job opportunity,” she said gesturing around at the Mansion.

She smiled slightly. “This was actually what I wanted to do – counseling – so I jumped at the chance to come here.”

Ororo nodded slightly, leading her out onto the Mansion grounds. “How’d you settle on psychology?”

Xi’an grinned, and tapped her forehead. “It was sort of a mix of my mutant power and my own interests. I’m a psi – I can sort of project my mind out and temporarily take over someone else’s mind.”

“So, getting into people’s heads is something that already came natural to me, and so I was interested in the actual science of how people think, and how minds work. It really helped me get a lot better control over my powers so I wasn’t just possessing random people when I was upset or sad.”

Ororo nodded. “Sounds like the perfect career choice.”

Xi’an laughed. “It definitely is. And like I said, I always wanted to be a counselor, help people – especially mutants like me – with their problems, give them advice, that sort of stuff. And I’ve got three younger siblings back home, so I know how to deal with kids. Is it true that all of the kids here are mutants?”

“Yes,” Ororo said, “so far we’re all mutants. I think the only baseline human that will be in our building is Annie, our school nurse – I’ll have to introduce her to you later. Charles has dreamt of opening up to both humans and mutants, anyone who is gifted, but we’re waiting and attitudes change in the country before we start that. Safety is one of our biggest focuses and until things improve I don’t think we’d be able to keep the school safe.”

Xi’an frowned and nodded. “Unfortunately you’re probably right – I’m hoping the election in the fall will be the start of changes in a positive direction.”

They heard the rumble of a car up the driveway as they neared the back door entrance back to the kitchen. “That’s probably Charles. I’ll take you to meet him – if you want the full tour just find me and I’ll show you the rest of the place. I’ll be down here for supper,” Ororo said, gesturing as they passed the countertop.

“I’ll take you up on that – It’s great to have met you, Ororo, I’m looking forward to working here with you.” Xi’an said, smiling, and shaking Ororo’s hand once more, as they walked toward the garage to meet Charles.

***********************************************************************

“Remy?” Sarah called as she opened the door to his bedroom. The lights near his bed were on so she stepped in further, glancing at the darkened bathroom, and then around the wall hiding her view of his bed.

It was empty, so she sighed, and walked over to switch off the lamp by the bed. She’d have to go searching for him – the last time she’d found him before their little vacation, he’d been somewhere out on the mansion grounds in the forest surrounding the property, setting up the boundaries of the security system he and Logan were installing.

She turned around and started to walk back out of the room, but an open folder filled with papers caught her eye on the dresser. She stepped closer, glancing at it – the top page was some sort of legal document from what she could see.

The words ‘legal guardian’ caught her attention just as she was about to turn away from it - not wanting to snoop into whatever Remy had there - but she froze on the spot when she saw a signature in the bottom right corner, scrawling out the name ‘Matthew Rushman’. She’d never seen her father’s actual signature or if she had it has been too long ago to remember, so she wasn’t sure if it was really his or not.

“I keep tellin’ you y’not a very good spy, petite,” Remy’s voice came from the open doorway.

Sarah let out a strangled squeak, and jumped, whirling to face Remy, who stood in the doorway, a smirk on his face, trying not to laugh at her reaction.

“R-Remy!” Sarah said, blushing. “Sorry, I was just lookin’ for you, an’…. Sorry, I didn’t mean t’snoop.”

Remy chuckled, and walked into the room, ruffling her hair, to her annoyance. “S’alright, petite. I was gonna show you dat anyway.”

“What is it?” She asked quickly, feeling she now had Remy’s approval to get nosy. “Is that my dad’s signature? What’s it mean about legal guardian?”

Remy smiled, and picked up the packet of papers. “C’mon, Sarah, let’s sit down an’ talk,” he said, gesturing toward the bed, “an’ I’ll tell ya.”

She hurried over to the bed, still slightly shaken at seeing the name on the paper, and he sat down next to her with his legs folded.

“First off, dat’s not really his signature. It’s a copy – Y’remember Dan?”

She nodded, recalling how he’d gotten her passport together for her for their trip to Denver.

“Dat’s his work – got dis when I went to see him yesterday. I… found your dad,” he said hesitantly.

Sarah’s eyes widened, and she felt her heartbeat speed up. “You did?” she asked, her voice shaky.

Remy wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Yeah. He’s in jail. Gonna be locked away a long, long time. You don’ have to worry ‘bout him anymore, ma mignonne.”

She closed her eyes, and nodded against his arm. “Thanks for tellin’ me, Remy.”

“So, I wanted t’talk to you ‘bout dese papers – Dan’s been workin’ on dem for a while now.”

She opened her eyes and looked down at the folder. “What are they? Why’d you need his signature.”

“Well, petite… dey’re an application I’m gonna file wit’ de government if you agree. I… I wanna…. Dey’re adoption papers, petite,” he said softly.

Sarah’s mouth fell open, and she stared at him for several long moments, before looking down at her lap. “You… you want to adopt me, Remy? You don’t have to do that…” She said, her voice unsure.

He slid a finger under her chin, making her meet his eyes. “I want to, Sarah. I… you’ve changed my life. I’d still be a t’ief, runnin’ round stealin’ things if I hadn’ met you. You made me realize dere’s more to life den jus’ dat. I love you so much, Sarah, an’ you’re practically my daughter already – dis’ll jus’ make it official. I want to be a real father for you – you’ve missed out on dat all these years an’ I wanna make up for dat de best I can. All I gotta do is file dese an’ dis happens, so I want to know if dis is what you want too. D’you want me to adopt you?”

Sarah threw her arms around him, squeezing him so tightly he began to wonder if she’d somehow gotten Rogue’s powers. She nodded against his chest over and over, before finally pulling back, tears streaming down her face.

“Of course I do, silly,” she said with a choked laugh. “I- thank you, Remy.”

He leaned his head down, forehead against her own, the small spikes from her bones not bothering him as they poked against his skin, and he felt a few tears of his own drip from his eyes.

“Y’don’ know how happy I am to hear dat, ma mignonne. I’ve been plannin’ it for a while now, hoped you’d want it as much as I do.”

She sniffled, and put her arms around his neck, keeping them in that position. “I do.” She said again, her expression the happiest he’d seen on her face, even more than when he’d first told her he loved her.

He shifted slightly to kiss her cheek, and set the folder to the side. “I’ll send dese in as soon as I can den.”

She finally released him, and reached up to wipe at the tear tracks on her face. “Do… do I get to call you daddy?”

Remy smiled. “You sure can, petite.”

She grinned. “Okay…. Daddy.”

He felt his throat tighten, as she said it, and pulled her into another hug.

She frowned slightly, and then looked up at him, a twinkle in her eyes. “Or maybe I’ll call you Pére,” she said, hesitantly using the word she heard him always use for his own father.

He chuckled, and kissed her forehead. “Dat would work too, petite. An’ you’re my Fille.” He said. “Whatever you want t’call me. Y’can still call me Remy if you want, too.”

She beamed up at him. “I’ll hafta think ‘bout it.”

She gasped a moment later. “We hafta tell everyone!” she said excitedly, jumping up from the bed and grabbing his hand.

He laughed and let her pull him up after her. “Alright. Let’s tell Rogue first. She knows I got de papers, but not dat I talked t’you about dem.”

She smiled back at him, and surprised him by stopping and getting up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Remy. You’re the greatest.”

***********************************************************************

Kitty drew a heavy sigh. “Y’know, I love my mom to pieces, but sometimes she can just be so frustrating! Sometimes I just wanna, I don’t know, whack her over the head so she’ll listen to me.”

She and Piotr were sitting on the grass of the large Chicago park they’d met at for the afternoon. Piotr was resting with his back against a low decorative barrier near the edge of the park, and she sat with her legs folded slightly in front of him, Buckingham Fountain roaring in the distance behind her.

The Buckingham Fountain, an enormous and elaborate multiple-nozzle fountain set in the center of a large decorative pool, was one of the centerpieces of Grant Park, considered the ‘front yard’ of the city by most native Chicagoans.

They’d passed it often during the summer, usually going to the Chicago Art Institute or one of the other museums in the area, but this was the first time they’d just relaxed and hung out in the park itself.

Piotr chuckled slightly at her statement, and looked up from the sketchbook he had resting on his lap. “What is she doing now?”

Kitty shook her head. “It’s this school thing she brought up before summer. She’s still trying to talk me into leaving Xavier’s and into going to one of the schools around here to finish my degree. This morning I went back to my room, and she put a brochure for one of the community colleges on my bed!”

Kitty threw her hands up in the air. “It’s like she doesn’t listen to a word I say. Or she doesn’t realize I want to stay where I am, with people who I know, with my friends.”

Piotr shrugged his shoulders. “Have you sat her down and really talked about it?” He asked.

“Yeah – that’s the thing. Even when I’m completely straight with her, and we have a conversation about it for a half hour, it’s like she’s hearing what she wants to hear instead of what I’m actually saying.”

Piotr grimaced. “Do you think it’s something because of the divorce? Trying to keep hold of you because of it?”

Kitty sighed. “Probably, it’s been ever since she finally told me about it.”

“Maybe she’ll take the hint when we head back to New York in a few weeks.”

Kitty nodded, and rested her chin in her palm. “I hope so.” She sighed again. “Anyway, ‘nuff about that – anything new with you? any dysfunctional family tales?” She asked teasingly.

Piotr laughed, and shook his head. “No, sorry, no family problems. Illyana’s getting antsy about heading to New York though. And…” he trailed off slightly, looking over to her.

“What is it, Pete?”

“You know how you came over to my place over Spring Break, and we talked about Art School? Well… at the beginning of summer I sent in a few applications to some colleges, and yesterday I just got my acceptance letter for the New York Academy of Art. I can start in January after I finish up at the community college.” He said.

“Really? Pete, that’s great! Congratulations,” she said, startling him with a tight hug. “You should have said something.”

Piotr shrugged slightly, blushing. “Well, I wasn’t sure if I’d get into any of the programs, so I decided to wait until they actually responded.”

“They would’ve been dumb not to accept you,” Kitty said seriously.

“Thanks.”

She put a hand on his arm. “So? Where is this place? You’re still gonna stay at the Mansion, right?”

Piotr nodded. “Yeah – I only applied to places nearby. Illyana would have killed me if I went and moved away after her first semester there,” he said grinning. “It’s in New York City, so it’ll be a bit of a drive, but they’re pretty flexible in their schedules, so I’ll be able to just cram all of my classes into three full days, and only have to drive then.”

Kitty smiled back. “Good. I – I’m glad you got in, Pete – you’ll do great.”

Piotr sighed. “I hope so. I had to send them some samples of my work, and they said they liked it.”

He set down his pencil, letting his sketchpad drop slightly onto his lap. She’d noticed that ever since they’d talked over spring break, she’d seen him more often with it, and he had begun to draw and sketch more openly. It was a rare day over the summer when he didn’t have something with him.

“Can I see it?” She asked, nodding toward the pad on his lap.

He hesitated for a second, and then nodded, tilting it as she scooted over to sit next to him and look at the drawing. It was a rather detailed sketch given that they’d only been there a half hour, and it showed the fountain and the green park area surrounding it, and even had the skyline in the background. And in the foreground there was a small sketch of her sitting like she had been moments before.

She grinned. “I like it.”

He looked over at her thoughtfully for a moment, and then folded it against the perforation of the spiral-bound sketchpad, and carefully tore it out of the book and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said softly, settling the piece of paper down in her own lap, looking down at it.

She glanced over to him. “Hey, looks like I’m popular,” she said teasingly when she saw the next sketch in the pad, with her and Illyana standing in front of one of the big tanks at the aquarium, looking in at all of the various species of sharks.

Piotr flushed slightly. “Well…. This is my summer book, so you’re in a lot of these. We’ve been hanging out together pretty much every other day. And you’re a good subject.”

It was Kitty’s turn to blush then, and she glanced away, a slight flutter in her heart. “If you say so,” she said softly. “I’ve definitely liked hanging out with you all summer, keeping my mind off of things with the divorce – I can’t thank you enough… or Illyana,” she finished lamely.

“You’re welcome. I’m glad we’ve been able to spend so much time together – I hope we can still do it this semester.”

Kitty grinned. “Definitely, Pete – you’ve become my best friend…” She wrapped her arms around her knees, and laid her head against his shoulder.

“Kitty, I –“ He was cut off when her phone rang loudly from her pocket.

She shifted so she could pull it out easily, and glanced at the text. She sighed, and looked apologetically at Piotr. “My dad,” she said in explanation. “He got off work early and he’s ready to pick me up on the other side of the park. Now I get to head off to a weekend of awkwardness with him and Anna. Sorry for flaking out early on you,” she said, biting her lip.

Anna, her father’s girlfriend, was not the easiest person to get along with, although a part of it Kitty knew was that she blamed Anna for her parent’s breakup, at least partially. She was still feeling her out, trying to figure what sort of relationship she was willing to have with Anna. Definitely not mother-daughter, but perhaps eventually some sort of friendship.

Piotr smiled, hiding his disappointment. “It’s alright. I’ll see you in a few days anyway, if you still want to go with Illyana and me to hang out at the mall.”

“Yeah, definitely, Pete. And I might call just to talk for a while I’m at dad’s place.”

Piotr stood up, and then reached out a hand and helped her to her feet. “I’ll walk with you to your dad’s car,” he offered, and smiled to himself when she not only agreed, but also seemed to forget to remove her hand from his as they walked toward the fountain and the other end of the park.

***********************************************************************
Remy relaxed lazily on the couch, a hand slowly massaging Rogue’s shoulders as she leaned against him while they watched TV. At times he had to strain to hear it over the background sound of Sarah’s voice. He glanced over to where she was sitting on the other side of the room on a chair.

She had his cell-phone up to her ear, and had been chatting animatedly with Rahne – aside from the letters they exchanged, they’d kept in contact over the phone a few times each month – for the past half hour.

She had, just like she’d said, pulled him around the mansion earlier the day before, proudly telling everyone they ran into that he was adopting her. Remy smiled with amusement as he remembered her high level of hyperness that had continued well into today. She’d taken his phone to call Rahne and tell her the news as well, and they’d been talking since then.

“Yah made her one happy kid,” Rogue said softly, noticing his gaze.

Remy nodded, and then rested his chin on top of her shoulder. “Made m’self pretty happy as well. But she deserves it. More’n deserves it. She had so much time taken away from jus’ bein’ a kid, growin’ up normally.”

“You’re a good man, Remy LeBeau.” Rogue murmured, turning her face to rest her cheek against his for a moment before she felt her powers begin to kick in. She reached a hand up to grab his where it dangled over her shoulder, and entangled her fingers with his. “You’ll be a good dad.”

He shook his head slightly. “Hope so. Still feels weird, thinkin’ about it like dat.”

The landline of the mansion rang from the corner of the room, and kept ringing for several moments before Rogue sighed and reluctantly pulled away from him, standing up. “Ah better get that. Probably another parent callin’ about what to send with their kid when school starts.”

Remy sank back further in his seat, watching her walk over to the corner and pick up the handset.

“Good Afternoon, this’s Xavier’s,” he heard her say over the other noise in the room.

His eyes flicked back to the television, and he grabbed the remote and started scrolling through the TV guide that popped up at the bottom, when he heard the next part.

“Yes, this’s Marie….. Oh, hi, what’s……”

She was quiet for a long moment, and he glanced back over. He straightened slightly in his seat when he saw her posture stiffen as she listened to the person on the other end.

“What- w-when?” He heard her ask faintly.

He watched her posture remain rigid, and became concerned when he saw the hand not holding the phone trembling against her leg, and the side of her face that he could see paled dramatically.

Remy couldn’t hear most of the rest of the conversation, she’d lowered her voice dramatically as she continued, so he stretched out tentatively with his empathy. He snapped his head back reflexively, yanking back the empathy probe as he felt an overwhelming wave of sadness, guilt, and pain hit him like a sack of bricks.

He gasped for breath for a moment, trying to shake the feeling, remind himself it wasn’t his own, and yet it was almost worse, because it was what Rogue was feeling right then.

“Alright, thank yah for c-callin’ me,” he heard her say, tears evident in her voice even with her back turned to him. There was a short pause. “Alright, Ah’ll be there, if yah’re sure….”

He finally saw her nod slightly. “Okay, Ah’ll see yah then,” she said softly, and then hung the phone up on its cradle, and turned around, her expression twisted into grief, face sallow and pale.

“Chére, what’s wrong? What’s got you so upset?” Remy asked, standing up and moving toward her.

“Cody’s dead,” Rogue replied with a choked whisper, staring at Remy with a lost, helpless look in her eyes.

A/N: Hey everyone, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Yes, I know it’s an evil cliffhanger, but I was originally going to make it more evil and just have her say “He” is dead, without a name, and make you wait on that so just remember it could have been worse. :D So Creed got his assassination wish, and Pete and Kitty are awkwardly moving toward a relationship together – don’t worry it won’t be too long now. And yay, Remy’s finally adopting Sarah!

Hope you guys all had a good Thanksgiving (those of my fellow Americans who had it ;) ). I went home and celebrated with my family, and probably gained a few pounds just on Thanksgiving, LOL. I hope the next chap comes out quick – I’ll try to get it done in the next week, otherwise it’ll be two weeks or so (finals is week after next).

Quite a few nods to the comics (especially to the characters – Xi’an with the library, and Kurt with the Pirates of the Caribbean mention) here for all my fellow comic readers reading this.

Next chapter we of course find out about Cody, and it will be largely a Rogue/Remy centric chapter. Also a bit more with Sooraya and Alex that I had to drop to make the chapter length of this chap manageable, and some more on Genosha, and Logan returns from his trip with Jamie. And probably more that I’m forgetting right now!
Anyway, have a good week, and see you soon!