The Vault - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by NicoPony
Last updated: 08/15/2007 08:57:57 AM

Chapter 2

“Hey boy, take a look at me...” Rogue sang, “Let me dirty up your mind...I’ll strip away your hard veneer, and see what I can find...” Her fingers played the cords on her electric guitar, echoing the song’s tag line. Her voice and instrumentation buzzed out of a nearby amplifier. She backed up from the microphone to concentrate on playing the guitar solo. Nearby, her adoptive brother, Kurt Wagner, pattered out the beat on his guitar set. His head bobbed to the music. They were both in the open garage at The Xavier Institute, taking advantage of the time when most of the vehicles and their owners were elsewhere. Music blared out the open garage door and across the front lawn. Rogue stepped forward again to press her mouth close to the microphone. “I know you’re dying to. You can touch me if you want. I know what’s good for you. You can touch me if you want....But you can’t stop.”

Rogue lead the song to its end before turning to Kurt. He grinned a toothy grin and tapped a drumstick against the hi-hats with his prehensile tail. “Zhat was better, wasn’t it?” he asked.

Rogue nodded begrudgingly. “You’re still a little fast coming in off the bridge, but otherwise, not bad,” Rogue replied. It was as close to a compliment as Kurt was going to get.

“What we need is a good bass player,” Kurt said. “Y’know if you asked Lance to join us...”

“What? And have him avalanche my new amps?” Rogue quipped, as she unplugged her guitar. “You know how he gets if things don’t go his way. B’sides, who knows where he’s gone? The Brotherhood up and disappeared, like, a week ago.”

“Well, we can’t very well have a band with only two people,” Kurt said. “Not to mention, we still don’t have a decent band name.”

“Ah’m not having this discussion again, Kurt. We’re just doing this for fun,” Rogue replied.

“Okay, just listen to my newest suggestion...” he went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “I was thinking something with an ’X’ in it. You know a band’s cool if zhey have an ’X’ in zeir name!”

“That really remains to be seen. AnthraX? StyX? They both suck,” Rogue said.

“So how about X-Factor?” Kurt announced. “Cool, right?”

Rogue pulled a face. “Horrible! We’d sound like some kind of heavy metal hair band with a name like that!”

“Kitty said it sounded cool...” Kurt said, hurt. “Hey, how ’bout we ask her to play keyboards?”

“Like she’s got any time for us now that she’s got her new buddy, Danielle,” Rogue griped bitterly.

Kurt sighed and shook his head. Rogue was always so contrary. Apparently, Logan agreed. He paused in sweeping the driveway to glare at the teens. “Y’know,” he began, “it’s bad enough I gotta listen to that racket you’re makin’, but do I have to listen to your constant bickerin’ too?”

“Well, we’re done here,” Rogue said, winding her power cords up. “Let’s move this stuff before anyone comes back.” Rogue dreaded anyone listening in on her practices. Logan was okay, since he didn’t say anything other than to complain about the noise. Anyone else might make a big deal out of it. Rogue dreaded her peers’ cheerful enthusiasm and encouragement even more than their criticism.

Logan leaned up against the push-broom and sniffed the air. “Hm, I think yer runnin’ a bit behind today. Jean and the Cajun are on their way up the drive...at least I think so. Somethin’ about them smells funny.”

Rogue and Kurt didn’t have a chance to ask Logan about his cryptic comment. Jean’s Jeep Patriot roared up the driveway and came to a halt before them with a squeak of tires on pavement. The driver’s side door flew open and Jean jumped out of the vehicle. The door handle on the passenger side jiggled, but the door didn’t open. Remy instead climbed out the open window and hopped to the ground. The door had a huge dent in it, and the side of the vehicle had a streak of bright red spray paint from the front end to the taillight.

Logan, Rogue and Kurt stared for a moment at their newly arrived teammates. The pair looked disheveled; Jean’s green knit top was torn at the neckline, the knees of her capris had grass stains. Remy’s hair stood in stiff spikes on one side, and yellow goo ran down the side of his face and the front of his gray teeshirt. He was also missing a flip-flop. Jean looked especially angry, though Remy’s expression was one of studied neutrality.

“What the hell happened?” Logan finally asked. “Are you hurt?”

“Nothin’ a law suit won’t fix,” Remy said dryly.

“I thought college would be different, but I was wrong!” Jean announced. “I thought I was going to a place where people would be educated. But it’s the same old jerks as every place else!”

She stomped off, but the effect was lost when she stumbled on an untied shoelace. She gave a wordless cry of frustration, then lifted herself off the ground with her telekinetic powers and flew through the front door of the Institute.

They all winced as the front door banged shut with unnecessary force. “Care to elaborate, LeBeau?” Logan asked.

“Not particularly,” he replied with a Gallic shrug. “It’s no big deal. Just some random college hazing.”

“What’d they do, upend a dumpster over your head?” Rogue asked, she waved a hand in front of her face.

“What, does this mean no ’welcome-home’ hug?” he extended his arms to her.

“Not even if you didn’t smell like somethin’ they fished out of the river,” Rogue retorted, as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Geez, I can’t get no lovin’ anywhere,” Remy said as he turned to follow after Jean. “Boy, am I ever looking forward to class on Monday...this has all been a real learnin’ experience.”

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The song Rogue sings is Queer, by Garbage.