Mutant Town X-Men fanfiction
Rogue lounged in the newly renovated conference room, her boots resting casually atop a small round table. She gazed out at the breathtaking view of the Golden Gate Bridge, its iconic silhouette framed by a brilliant blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. The sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow across the room. In the corner, she watched Ororo Munroe sit up straight in her folding chair, exuding an air of calm authority. The anticipation of the new conference table and chairs—ordered by Warren and funded by the X-Men’s bank— is expected to arrive in just a few weeks, adding a fresh touch to their gathering space.
Logan leaned against the wall, watching Wanda put the folders on the table. “This is your meeting, Rogue, you can start us off.”
Rogue took a deep breath, “Yah put me in charge of recruitin’ and findin’ new blood for the depleted X-team.” She opened the top folder labelled Emma Frost.
“She’s powerful and after Jean…” Rogue swallowed the rest of her sentence. No one finished her thought for her.
Ororo reached for Emma’s folder, her fingers gliding over the smooth surface as she flipped through an array of meticulously organized news clippings that showcased Emma’s remarkable rise to billionaire status before she even hit her thirtieth birthday. Each article highlighted not only her financial achievements but also her exceptional intellect, boasting a flawless 4.0 GPA from the prestigious Massachusetts Academy. It was impressive to note that she graduated with a master’s degree in Business from Brown University. On paper, Emma seemed to embody perfection; however, beneath the accolades and impressive qualifications, an undeniable complexity lingered, hinting at untold stories and struggles.
“--doesn’t work well with others,” Ororo mentioned, flickering her eyes up at Rogue.
Wanda shrugged, “Sounds like a perfect match to me.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Logan offered, “But if she starts anything–”
Rogue smirked, “Yer gonna be nice and apologize?”
“Who’s next?” Logan glared.
Logan hates New York City.
Too many sounds. Too many scents. Too much pollution of all kinds. But today, he took one for the team. Desire his disdain for the city—the things he does for the legacy of Xavier’s dream.
When entering the tall glass building, the security guard explained that Ms Frost doesn’t do walk-ins. Logan walked right past him to the elevator. On the 29th floor, he walked out to step right into Frost’s office.
She stood by one corner of the windows, arms crossed in an immaculate white suit. Her icy blue eyes watching each step Logan made.
“The Wolverine.” Emma tilted her head to the side, “I was expecting you to be taller.”
Logan smirked with a shrug.
Walking past him, she slid into her chair behind her desk. I heard about your student, Jean Grey…I’m sorry.”
Logan shook his head, “Don’t be.”
“I should let you know, I don’t do Teams. Especially ones who are looking to replace their prized student and telepath.”
Spunky, Logan can see why Rogue chose her. “We ain’ lookin’ to fill the void, we need a telepath who ain’ afraid to get their hands dirty.”
Emma leaned back into her chair, studying him. “Fine. But know, I’m not Jean Grey. I don’t do hope. I do results.”
“Darlin’, that’s why we need you.”
Rogue opened the folder of a familiar face.
Logan raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched into his features. His thoughts raced as he considered the implications of this choice. It felt wild to think that Rogue would want him, of all people, on the team. But the facts remained: Gambit was agile, quick, and a face they all recognized.
“Are you serious?” Logan’s incredulity rang out as he slapped the folder down on the table. “This clown kidnapped you and used you.”
Rogue kept her eyes on the folder, resolute. “We need him. We need unpredictability on the team. And we all know he is a wild card.”
“That can be an issue for us as much as the enemy,” Ororo pointed out, her voice steady and measured. “But I don’t see why we can’t give it a try. We are rebranding after all.”
Strom arrived in New Orleans just as night cast its rich, velvety cloak over the city. The air was saturated with the sultry essence of jazz, weaving through the streets like an enchanting melody. The thought of swooping down to the bustling chaos of Bourbon Street ignited a flicker of claustrophobia in her chest. Instead, she chose to perch atop a weathered building, the cool brick beneath her offering a momentary refuge, while her thoughts danced along with the vibrant sounds below as Logan reached out to her.
“Intel says Gambit’s runnin’ a job tonight. With an unexpected guest.”
Storm exhaled and took off in flight toward a high-rise museum under renovation. Logan sent her the coordinates. Why is it that nothing she deems simple ends up that way?”
She slipped through the open window, the cool night air whispering against her skin as she settled onto the ledge. Below her, the city buzzed with life, but on the 14th floor, all was calm. Just moments later, Remy and Felicia Hardy glided into the room through another window, their movements fluid and effortless, like shadows weaving through the darkness.
With the grace of a feline, Felicia navigated the intricate web of laser grids that crisscrossed the space, each step deliberate and precise. She approached a luxurious showcase, its glass gleaming in the dim light, and, with a deft flick of her wrist, pried it open. Meanwhile, Remy charged a playing card with his unique kinetic energy, the card shimmering faintly as he held it. With a subtle flick of his fingers, he sent it soaring to the target, expertly turning off the security system and enveloping them both in a moment of triumphant silence.
Tired of watching them work too well together, Storm shattered the window with a gust of wind.
With his feline grace, Remy pointed his bo-staff in Ororo’s direction. “Storm, can’t say I expected a visit from royalty.”
“You said you were joining the X-Men after you helped your father get back on his feet,” Ororo hummed. “It’s been a few years.”
Remy walked in front of her, while Felicia kept her distance, unsure if Ororo’s there to arrest her.
“That’s before. And now, Rogue still hates me.” He shrugged, his expression unbothered as he leaned against the bannister. “CAn’t say I blame her though.”
“That may be, but she did ask for you to join specifically.”
Remy swallowed, “Alright.”
Felicia uncrossed her arms, mouth open in shock, “That’s it? That’s all the convincing you needed?”
Smiling, he pulled his thieving partner into a deep hug, then followed Ororo through the front door out of the museum.
With a voice full of frustration, Felicia shouted after them, “I am not sharing my profits with you!”
Wanda decided to change the subject. She opened the final folder.
Logan and Storm leaned in closer, eager to discern the identity of the last contender. As Wanda read the name aloud, she found herself intrigued by the mystery it evoked: Malakai Winters, a name wrapped in stories of nobility and danger. She was part of a mutation royal bloodline, an heiress born into the Seattle Assassins’ Guild.
Logan arched a brow, disbelief flashing across his features.
“You’re surely joking,” Ororo replied, shaking her head in exasperation, “An assassin? As an X-Man?”
Rogue shrugged, her expression unwavering. “Why not? She’s got leadership, combat, stealth, and strategy training. Ah don’t see why she wouldn’t work.”
As Logan picked up the folder, he whistled lowly, impressed despite himself. “Kid’s lethal with twin blades. Mutation, high-speed agility…could dodge bullets in her sleep,” he remarked.
Ororo sighed, “Very well, we all have our assigned mutant to talk to, let’s get to it.”
Rogue lingered outside an opulent mansion, its walls enshrouded in ivory, towering majestically above a cold, silvery lake that mirrored the overcast sky. A soft drizzle pattered against her leather jacket, creating a rhythmic melody that blended with the serene surroundings. As she approached the grand entrance, the rich scent of damp earth filled the air. Two imposing guards, clad in dark uniforms, parted like the curtains of a stage, allowing her to step forward and raise her fist to knock on the intricately carved door.
Just as she was about to, the doors swung open with Malakai Winters, smiling. Her hazel eyes beamed with joy while she took her duffel bags. “You don’t have to waste your time on trying to give me some speech. I’m in.” She jogged down the porch steps and looked over her shoulder at a confused Rogue. “Are you coming?”
A couple of days after the recruits had arrived, Storm proposed a meet and greet in the gym. She believed it was more authentic to connect with someone while they were sweating and pushing their limits. As the atmosphere buzzed with energy, Rogue lagged, finally deciding to join the gathering. She pulled on her well-worn Ole’ Miss sweatshirt, the fabric soft and familiar against her skin, and stepped into the weight room.
“Now that we’re all here, let me introduce everyone,” Storm said and pointed to Gambit first, who leaned against the wall closest to the window, fixing his black leggings under his black shorts. Kurt moved to give him a piece of his mind, but was stopped by Rogue’s firm grip.
Storm gestured towards Malakai, who was casually perched on a weathered wooden bench beside the squat rack. At the same time, Emma Frost focused intently on adjusting the barbell, her platinum hair catching the fluorescent lights above. “We are going to mix things up today. The New X-Men will select an original X-Man to train alongside them. Any questions?”
Wanda decided to pair up with Rogue. As they approached the bench press, ready to get started, Rogue's phone buzzed insistently in her pocket. Recognizing the caller ID, her expression shifted, and her voice dropped to a whisper, “Gotta take this.”
Out into the cool hallway, Rogue answered, “Ah’m busy, mama.”
“I’m not calling to catch up,” Raven responded, cold as ever. “I hear you’re rebuilding the X-Men, thought you’d like some extra muscle.”
“We’re full. And Ah don’t trust yah or SHIELD gift baskets.” Rogue said dismissively.
Raven’s voice softened, “These recruits aren’t gifts. They’re family. Rowan and Lyla Creed.”
Rogue stumbled some. She hasn’t seen her little sister in, god knows how long. Lyla wasn’t raised with her and Raven.
“If they stay as agents for SHIELD, they’ll eventually turn into weapons.”
The line stayed silent so Rogue could think, “Ah, ain’ brinin’ no Creed here without seein’ them in action.”
“Fine by me. They’re here at the bootcamp.”
Rogue hung up the phone with a decisive click and strode into the weight room, the smell of sweat and determination hanging heavy in the air. She spotted Logan, his broad frame silhouetted against the clanking weights, intently supervising the lifters around him. With a purposeful step, she approached him, her expression serious. “Ah need to talk to yah.”
Logan glanced at her as he shook his head. “No, you don’t. I’ve got great hearing, darlin’. Heard everythin’ already. When do we head out?”
Rogue couldn’t help but appreciate his perceptiveness, even in the midst of his tough exterior. “Now,” she replied firmly.
He nodded. “Alright, I’ll meet you in the hangar bay.” With that, she turned on her heel.
The black bird, after an hour, touched down in the dry heat of Nevada. Home of Area 51. Go figure, mutants would train here. Rogue rolled her eyes, walking down the ramp of the black bird. Red dust blew over her black boots when Mystique, in a deep blue SHIELD uniform, stepped into view. Teh famous SHIELD patch on her shoulder gleamed under the harsh sun of the Nevada desert.
“Mystique,” Rogue greeted a bit coldly. She still, ‘til this day, doesn’t trust her.
Logan stepped off the jet, tipping his cowboy hat so his eyes didn’t strain from the harsh desert sun. he eyed the trench tunnels, the repellign tower, the recruits running, and sparring cages. “Smells like home.”
With military precision, Mystique walked them to an elevated platform overlooking an arena. Rogue put on her emerald green-tinted sunglasses and looked down at Rowan Creed in a circular combat pit, barefoot. Her golden hair shimmered down her back in a long braid while her hands lay loose at her sides.
Playful, calm in her movements, her eyes tracked all five of her opponents.
Rogue and Logan watched her while Mystique watched them.
The first cadet lunged for Rowan. Lazily dodging, she sighed, bored. She tapped him on the shoulder, then tripped him, letting his momentum send him into the sand.
“She makes her enemies believe they’re in control... then snatches it away,” Mystique explained, her voice steady as the tension in the air thickened.
Two more opponents charged at Rowan, launching simultaneous punches. With a quick reflex, she ducked just in time, feeling the thud of one fist collide into her shoulder. The brief moment of pain was fleeting, giving her the perfect opportunity to act. She seized their wrists with lightning speed, expertly twisting and using their momentum against them. In a fluid motion, she flung them into the sand, the grains spraying up around them as they landed.
A confident smile spread across her face, illuminating her determination as she relished the thrill of the fight and thoroughly enjoyed every challenge thrown her way.
“She fights like a fox,” Rogue said, impressed.
“More like hunt like one.”
The fight over, Mystique took them inside the facility. Deep within its cold walls, she opened the door to a viewing gallery. Logan’s nose pointed slightly toward the air. “Blood.” He hummed.
Raven smirked and opened the blinds to the fight.
Lyle Creed, Rogue’s youngest sibling, had wild hair, fists wrapped, sweat glistening. She stood still against a SHIELD mech. No movement from her until the right time, and she tore the piece of machinery down piece by piece. No mercy. At first, Rogue thought it was nothing but animalistic nature, but as she watched closer, she understood.
Logan, arms crossed, leaned on the far wall, whistling. “Kid’s got Creed blood in her for sure.”
Rogue turned to her mom, “And Mystique’s.”
She nodded, standing beside Rogue as she looked at her youngest. “Now you can see why I called.”
If SHIELD saw what they witnessed right now, they would use Rowan and Lyla as the facility did with Logan. Or HYDRA with X-23. For a few more minutes, she quietly observed Lyla animatedly engaging with the other cadets before finally exiting the room. Mystique propped the heavy door open, her vivid, iridescent eyes scanning the hall as she waited for Rogue, a sense of urgency in her posture. Once Rogue joined her, they strode purposefully toward the hangar, the oppressive heat of the day stifling any sense of comfort.
Inside the expansive hangar, a welcome respite from the sweltering outdoors, Lyla and Rowan stood at attention in their fitted all-black fatigues, their expressions sombre and focused.
Rogue approached them, her gaze sharp as she assessed both recruits. “Before we board that jet,” she began, her voice steady but commanding, “do y’all understand who we are? What exactly is our mission?”
Rowan, carefree, shrugged. “Save the world, right?”
Lyla playfully smirked, “Or die tryin’ am Ah rigth?” Rowan gave her a high-five and laughed.
“Hey, this ain a damn game! Lives are at risk, and if you can’t take that seriously, then you are in no position to be an X-Man.” Logan corrected the,m already acting like they’re on the team.
Rogue smirked and turned to her mama, “We got this, mama. Promise. They’ll send a postcard.” She gave a mock salute and boarded the X-Jet, ready to get back home.
The original team, including Kurt and Kitty, had settled into their own offices within the newly renovated X-Mansion. In her corner of the expansive building, Rogue was surrounded by the remnants of her new workspace. Her furniture had yet to arrive, leaving her with just a dark, polished wooden desk and a sleek black computer chair. On the floor around her, gun parts lay scattered, glinting softly as she meticulously cleaned them, her fingers deftly maneuvering over each piece.
A soft knock at her door pulled her attention away from her work. “Can Ah help yah?” she inquired, her voice laced with a warm Southern drawl as Logan and Ororo entered the room.
Ororo, her presence commanding yet gentle, gestured for Rogue to take a seat behind her desk. Without a moment's hesitation, Rogue rose and settled into the chair.
Logan and Ororo navigated the space with care, their movements deliberate as they avoided the delicate array of gun components spread across the floor, each step a dance of respect for her craft.
“Rogue,” Ororo said, her voice steady. “With Scott in Hawaii, trying to cope with his grief, and with Jean’s absence weighing heavily on all of us, Logan and I believe you’re ready to step into the role of a team leader.”
Rogue blinked in disbelief, her mind racing. “What?” she managed to stammer, her heart pounding as she processed the implications of Ororo’s words.
Logan nodded, his expression serious but supportive.
The word loomed over her like a storm cloud, bringing with it a slew of emotions: responsibility, guilt, and an overwhelming sense of fear. As she contemplated leading a team, she knew it wouldn't be about making decisions alone; it would require her to shoulder the burdens of others. If she were to accept this role, she would need a team strong enough to share the weight of those challenges and ready to stand by her side in the face of adversity.
“Do Ah get to choose the roster?” She asked, her brow raised, nervously.
Logan nodded, “And you don’t have to worry about anythin’ here. Yer sole job is to help San Fran PD with mutant-related issues.”
Rogue paused for a long moment, her brow furrowed in concentration as she contemplated the names swirling in her mind. With a determined sigh, she reached for a pen and began listing everyone she envisioned joining her team. The paper felt sturdy in her hands as she crafted the hopeful roster. Ororo, with her calm demeanor, accepted the list when Rogue handed it over, her eyes scanning the names with a thoughtful expression. Logan leaned in closer.
“Are you sure you can trust some of these people on your team?” he questioned, skepticism lacing his gravelly voice.
“That’s what trainin’ is for,” Rogue replied, her voice steady as she leaned back, feeling the reassuring heft of her chair supporting her.
A warm smile spread across Ororo's face. “Congratulations. Now, get started as soon as you can.” With that, she and Logan departed, leaving Rogue to reflect in the quiet of the room.
Rogue swiveled her chair to face the window, the world beyond a blur of colors and movement. A sense of bittersweet anticipation washed over her—a new beginning beckoned. It was hard to ignore the heaviness in her heart at knowing Scott and Jean were absent, but this endeavor was dedicated to their legacy and the true spirit of the X-Men.
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