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02 November 2006 @ 01:21 am
 
Characters: Rogue and Pyro
Location: Over the phone then in person
Time: Early evening, several hours after his escape
Description: John phones a friend

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If anyone ever told John that you couldn’t make a good living by robbing people they could go get fucked because it was only thanks to a casual brush with a stranger in the street that afforded him this phone call.

“C’mon Rogue, pick up.” He muttered harshly as he practically slumped against the payphone, hoping and praying that it held him up because he sure as hell couldn’t carry himself for that much longer.

He crammed in a little closer, turned away from any and all light and just clutched at the receiver.

The fight was well over and instead of watching Magneto systematically destroy the sentinels, she now watched over the mangled terrain of the school's campus. Large craters peppered the scene accented by robotic limbs. Magneto had retreated within the school to discuss things with Xavier, she wasn't needed at the moment, so she reclined against the building, her knee drawn up beneath her.

When the first note of the 16 bit tune sounded she didn't recognize it, it was only after a few bars of the ring tone did she realize that was indeed, her phone. She padded her body down, locating the cell phone in the inner pocket of her leather jacket, thumbing the answer button on the outdated technology; she held it to her ear. Her brows furrowed, "Hello? Who's this?"

“I’ll give you three fucking guesses but you’ll only need one.” John muttered down the line as he exhaled a harsh ragged breath. It was good to hear her voice because all that time behind bars and he hadn’t known if any of them had made it out alive. Believe it or not but John gave a fuck.

"John!" Surprised as ever to hear that he was alive himself and that...he was calling her. Her grip hardened around the phone, resulting in the plastic thing slipping out of her gloved hands. It clattered against the stone pavers of the porch, but she dove after it, and quickly held it up to her ear again. "Hello? Hello? Y'still there? Are you okay? Where are you? What's going on? Are y'hurt?" Was the next barrage of questions.

“Wow, twenty questions.” John blinked a little as his head spun then focused on Rogue’s southern drawl. “I’m still here.” He swallowed hard and tugged at the sleeves of his dark top. “Okay is …well, let’s just say it isn’t me and I just escaped.” Man that sounded dramatic and something you’d see in a movie, John took this moment to rub at his temple. “Hurt, yeah I’m hurt. You okay?”

Ignoring his own inquiry, she immediately busted out, "Where are you? Ah'm coming to get you."

“Um…” John glanced around himself then gave what he hoped was the right street name including the name of seedy looking bar just across the street.

She was unfamiliar with the coordinates, but that wasn't about to stop her, "Are y'safe? Ah'm gonna come get you, just stay put. Was there anyone on yer tail?"

Rogue swallowed, she was going to need a car and better yet an excuse as to why she needed a car.
“Hell if I know, I just ran.” There was an almost there tremor to his voice that suggested he was scared but it was gone a moment later. “I don’t think so, I didn’t see anyone.”

"Just sit tight, Ah'm comin'." She dropped the phone to her side, disconnecting the call. She exchanged the mobile for a pack of cigarettes, "Smoke 'em if y'got 'em, girl..." she muttered to herself, before turning and entering the school heading towards the garage.

That was exactly what John did; he sat on the ground and hunkered down because his legs were not longer able to support his weight. Fingers slipped beneath the collar and rubbed along the naked skin that had chafed from wearing it all this time and he just kept his eyes opened.

The attack left the school's security for the most part disabled, accessing the garage wasn't as difficult as it was sneaking around the teachers, the students and more importantly the telepaths. Come to think of it, now she remembered why she left. She gripped the knob of the door that led to the garage and gave it a twist, nothing, the door must have jammed during the altercation. Slamming her shoulder and body weight into the door resulted in a desired outcome: entrance. For the most part the interior was fine, maybe a little disheveled, but the automobiles that lay dormant within were in tip top shape. "Keys," she whispered and began opening and closing doors to cars in search of one that left the ignition primed. Bingo. Fucking Iceman and his hunk of junk. Long strides led her to the garage door that was easily rolled up with a quick thrust. Then back to the car, she turned the keys and the engine roared into life. The pedal was pushed to the floor and Rogue peeled out of the garage, skid marks and all. She turned the corner, in a spray of gravel exited the campus.

Using her teeth to tear the glove off her hand, she grabbed at her phone. "Operator..Ah need the number for Fast Eddies on Groesbeck and 10th street. No Ah don't know what fucking city it's in," she snapped back. "Fucking New York..." Eventually the listing was found and Rogue was connected. Despite the attitude she was able to get directions.

She pounded her naked fist against the steering wheel as she zigged in and out of traffic, driving wasn't really one of her strengths, but she was able to do it well enough not to arouse any suspicion, well, maybe she assessed that to soon, because as she was pulling the car up to the pay phone, she bumped into the curb....

John felt like he’d downed about ten cups of coffee because it seemed like he was on tenterhooks, just waiting for someone or something to drag him back to where he’d come from and no fucking way, over his dead body.

It was only when the car he vaguely recognised (it couldn’t be, could it?) bumped into the curb that he was slowly rising to his feet and inching forward out of shadow. That really could not be the car he thought it was, could it?

She was trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, parked there, probably illegally, in front of a payphone....

Nervous fingers drummed on the steering wheel.

Yeah, yeah, it was the car.

Without much further ado, John peeled open the passenger side and dropped into the seat. “Smooth, Rogue, real smooth.” No one could mistake that sarcastic voice for anyone else but given his appearance John might let you off if you did.

"Holy shit!" She sprang to attention as the door opened and slamming on the gas as soon as it shut. Once they were in motion she turned to look at it and cursed again, "Holy shit!" She took in his battered appearance, but said nothing, although there was something curious...

"What's this?" She immediately honed in on the collar encircling his neck, naked fingers flicked over the inducer.

“Don’t touch it whatever you do.” John insisted vehemently as he instantly shrunk into the corner of the seat. “It’s a control collar, basically I can’t do jack shit with this thing on and if someone presses a button on a remote it hurts like hell.” He rubbed at his hair which by now had matted together with the likes of blood and sweat.

One would think she was used to people pulling away from her touch....

"Oh my God," she muttered, feeling sick to her stomach about this whole ordeal and not feeling generally talkative. What do you say to someone that looked the way Pyro did?

She mulled over his words, then her eyes finally slid around to peer at him, "Is it...electrical?"

John averted his eye because it was better than looking at Rogue because he had some idea of how he looked.

“Yeah, it’s definitely electrical.” He remarked with a nod of his head. “Not that I know a lot about this but it sure felt like a couple volts when they hit the button.”

"Magneto," she hissed her reminder and urged the car faster.

John’s eyes slid on over to Rogue, “Wonder if he could work his magic because this thing weighs a ton.” Play the nonchalant card, pretend like none of what had happened mattered and hope no one asked questions – it was the way that John worked.

"Yeah," she said, just answering his question.

The remainder of the trip was made in silence, but there wasn't something right about where she was going, it wasn't in the direction of the HQ...or the sewer's access point...it wasn't until they reached the Salem Center that their destination became obvious.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” were the exact words that escaped John when he took in the sight looming in front of him.

Well, this should be interesting.

"Yeah," she said, with the same unamused tone that crept in her voice.

"I know."
 
 
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