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<<< Non-Dairy Creamer, Rogue
Kevin Ford
Posted: Jan 17 2011, 09:17 PM


January 10 2010


Conforming came easy enough. After awhile Kevin figured out the routine, what they wanted to hear, what was the appropriate thing to say at a given moment to appease the sovereign leaders in charge. It wasn't too difficult really, appeasing. Basic survival 101, the less attention you garnered for yourself the safer you were. No one really wanted to crack the darker rings of a psyche people would rather go on about their day appeased with an answer of "fine" in response to the general "how are you?" that was so fundamental in generic conversation. If you smiled enough, avoided simmering looks or sullen bouts of silence you could blend in perfectly with the bland harmonized "Heal the world with Hello Kitty band aids and sunshine" student body. With the exception of maybe Laurie he couldn't be bothered if the rest of the sordid lot went the way of used Kleenex, but as stupidity wasn't yet a criminally punishable offense and genocide would be against the conduct of his probation he had no choice but to suck it up and deal with it. Dealing however did not equate to liking so the teen with the destructive touch picked and chose his moments and words carefully and he bided his time till he figured out just what he wanted to do after he was sprung from camp cupcake.

The teen wondered just what exactly he was supposed to be learning here besides the Sesame street mantra of 'mutants come in all shapes and sizes' that seemed to be as prominent a slogan as 'Save the planet' or 'Jesus is coming... act busy'. What he had learned in fact was what he had suspected all along there was no solution for his problem or person and while he was forced to struggle with a power that was all burden no benefit he had to bare being housed with a bunch of other riffraff with crucifying abilities such as feathered wings or the ability to make farts turn into sunshine shit like that. Kids who desperately wanted to believe in the promise of some not separate but equal Utopian society when the law of the land was fuck or be fucked. That was what they didn't tell you in the pamphlet, that was the truth that they were all holding back from. Whether you ended up on the stronger end the genetic spectrum in the larger eye you were an experiment gone awry and like monkeys in space sooner or later somebody would declare an end to the program, and when that happened these jr. X-men would be as capable as wet kittens in a sack. Make Love not war hadn't worked for the hippies and it wouldn't work here either, but then again what did he know he was just an angry kid with a destructive touch and a goddamn nanny cam on his back, or so it felt like. Lacking someone to relate to, someone to get what he was feeling and dealing with was starting to get to hm and he knew it. He was a freak and the worst part of being a freak was he was on a raised vantage point on which he could view the world and eventually that viewing would circle around and bite him in the ass just like he always knew it would.

The arrival of someone struck with a similar burden as him caught him by surprise. Kevin was used to being the main pity party on the block by way of the other sunnier losers of the school. That someone had arrived with problems similar to his and the added bonus of being a recovering mutant terrorist or something like that, well that was just gravy. Though his normal outlook was to greet all people with either contempt or disdain the fact that this newbie was more fucked up on the moral scale than he was was just too great to pass by. Curiosity eventually got the better of him. He finally wanted to know something or at least get a good laugh.

"So your Rogue, huh?" he asked the reformed mutant seeking asylum at the school. "Neat name, very Steel Magnolias. Well i don't know much about welcome wagon but I guess I'll suffice. I'm Kevin and this is Xaviers or as I like to call it 'the happiest place that doesn't serve alcohol you'll ever be forced to have to stay at.'"

He looked her over, nothing appeared down right damaged about her but then again he knew very well that not every face declared the destruction underneath.

"So I hear your mutation sucks ass as well. I feel ya mine isn't a happy tale either. I guess I wanna know what makes you think you'll find absolution here cause I sure as hell haven't. Oh by the way nice to meet ya"

And he extended his gloved hand for her to shake.
Posted: Jan 21 2011, 02:57 AM

Power and Memory Absorption

Group: Inactive
Posts: 303
Member No.: 937
Joined: 22-May 10

Rogue had been at the mansion for a very short while but she was getting the hang of things. There was a certain way that things had to be done. First and foremost, the mansion was a school. The students had their studies to attend to. They had normal classes, mostly, in addition to the classes that allowed them to learn mastery of their powers. It was their job to learn to be productive citizens of the world and an education was a large portion of Charles Xavier’s dream. Students still had to learn history, math and basic skills because what good would they do if they had mastered their powers yet couldn’t function in the world otherwise?

Rogue wasn’t a teacher. She stood in the hallways, in a corner trying to remain separate from physical contact, as the students went along for the change of classes. She was dressed in a grey Henley with the Xavier logo on the breast. Her white cloth gloves concealed the flesh of her hands. The Southern Belle tried to put names to faces as they passed. She had found a yearbook and was trying to match up the identities from the book. There were no powers associated with the lists, seeing as it was partly for the public image. The general population had no idea what kind of things went on beneath the roof of the mansion.

Rogue watched them impassively. She wondered what they were thinking. They all knew of the X-Men despite the public being oblivious. Did they want to be heroes like the grown-ups? Did they want to fly around in the jet and save the world? Perhaps they simply wanted to blend in. That was admirable as well. Some of the students probably just wanted to get by without being hassled by the outside world. They wanted to get a grip on what was making them different and get through life. Well it was too late for Rogue to do that. She had already become embroiled in the war. Now, she was atoning for her past sins. The striped mutant was going to be the best she could be; to atone for all the sins she had made. She was prepared for the hard road.

Rogue was approached by a student with dark hair and a seemingly heaviness in his eyes. He spoke to her with a voice laden with chill. “So your Rogue, huh?”

His name was Kevin and he gave her a greeting that clearly displayed his feelings of the mansion. He didn’t seem to have high opinion of the establishment. As someone who had recently been given a second chance at redemption and experienced the graces of the Mansion, Rogue was a little upset at his seemingly negative attitude. The Southern Belle frowned in slight disgust instinctively but recovered. Everyone’s got a story, Rogue reminded herself.

Kevin explained that his power was a burden as well. Hell, their powers were more than burdens, they were crosses to carry. Rogue hadn’t found a way from under it yet. Deep down inside she knew that she may never be freed from the curse aspect of her powers and was afraid that may hinder her forever.

“Pleased to meet you, Kevin,” Rogue replied.

She looked to his hand. That was something they shared. A disconnect from the human race, forever separated by a layer of cloth. Rogue had chosen to strip that separation at times for the use in harm. What did she think was worthy of absolution. It was a brash thing to ask within moments of meeting someone. “Ah’m as worthy as anyone else, Ah reckon,” she said still holding onto his hand. “May be some skeletons in my closet but ain’t it true that every saint was a sinner? Not sayin’ Ah’m a saint but Ah’ll work my ass off to prove Cyclops right for letting me stay here.”

Rogue looked Kevin in the face, trying to study what he was on about. Was he really so bitter that he hated the mansion that much? Or was he simply trying to throw his weight around to a new adult in some attempt to mark his territory. “Also, ain’t you a little young to be worryin’ about alcohol?” Rogue added as she released Kevin’s hand.

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Kevin Ford
Posted: Jan 24 2011, 12:35 AM


The human condition was one designed fundamentally on touch and contact. From birth on, the ability to feel translated to closeness and love. People required it, thrived on it, it was something basic and in most cases a given. People like Kevin and Rogue were the exception to that rule, and while he couldn't speak for the new Southerner he could for himself. There was a wall, invisible, but always present and it was that wall that separated him from everyone else. Allowed but apart, equal but always separate, a freak on a thrown in a court of freaks. Sure everyone was nice but nice held up with the strength of toilet tissue when faced with the starkness of his reality. Everyday was a reminder that he was a threat and danger and as the rest of the student body traipsed along like singing smurfs; hugging and touching, he was on the outside looking in aware of even the most minute act that would end in utter destruction if he was to engage in it. He wondered if Rogue felt the same, if that vantage point of freak-itude was something she understood as well. His manners weren't sweet or gentle but this was the closest he had ever come to being understood by someone who could understand what it was like to be him and it excited and angered him at the same time. On one hand it would be the first time since his father had died where he wouldn't be truly alone in his mutation on the other his anger and bitterness was the main armor he had, if he loosened it just a little what was to keep it from shattering apart and in the process opening him up to all the feelings he so desperately wanted to avoid feeling. This was a high wire act he wasn't sure how to balance on.

She greeted him back, gloved hand wrapping in gloved hand, the crunch of cloth on cloth announcing more than their words. Her voice dripped in southern twang, a deeper acsent than his own Georgia one. Something else they had in common he thought, something else that only someone who lived with could ever really understand.

"Age ain't nothing but a number sweetheart. Trust me, the numbers on my id don't reflect anything on the life experience I got on my back. You kinda stop worrying about twenty-one when you stop thinking in years and start living in days. How long before something else goes wrong? How long before someone else gets hurt and I'm the one holding the bundle., but you probably understand that one seeing where your coming from"

His gloved hands went out before him showing that he meant no harm in his judgment. Gossip was as prevalent in the halls of Xavier as oxygen. People knew twice as much about Rogue than she even knew about herself seeing as stories grew exponentially from one person to the next. Kevin wasn't concerned with the larger spun out details of the rumors he only wanted to know two things: How did she cope with her powers and how did she cope with the knowledge that she had killed people, involuntarily or not.

"I'm not judging of course. Everybody that comes through here is looking for some sort of second chance as if this was a tent revival at the Resurrection but I can save you the trouble. They can't give it cause they ain't got it. Duplicity of identity. People presenting themselves as one thing when in fact their very self is a contradiction, like non-dairy creamer or gay republicans. When your fucked your fucked, everything else is sympathy and schematics."

His own bitterness even apparent to him he smiled and and shrugged.

"Sorry. I'm the resident grump around here, comes with the uniform."

Again he looked at the gloves on his hands that led to his long sleeves that led to the rest of his covering clothes.

"And that's saying a lot seeing we have a cast of characters around that's more flamboyant than an episode of the Love Boat; superheroes, super-vixens, recovering pop stars who, hand to God, are one lapse in poor judgment from being a contestant on MTV's Teen Mom and those are the top tiers of the hierarchy. Sure they're understanding, sympathetic, compassionate in fact but they do all that while keeping a good foot of distance in between you and them. Because while they say they don't hold what you are capable of against them their fear says something else, but who can blame them really? It's what we do, or what we can do and you can't run from that can you?

He presented his gloved hands for her inspection, turning them over as id he was showing nothing up his sleeve when if fact the danger was right there in his skin.

"Death touch." he said matter of factly, no emotion in his voice he had explained it enough times by now to detach himself completely from the explanation.

"Combustible breaking down of organic material resulting in quick and permanent destruction meaning just about anything that isn't a styrofoam cup ends up dead. dead, dead, dead."

Like my dad, he thought. Like my future

"Anyway that's my supercool neato wonder ability. Whats yours?"
Posted: Feb 2 2011, 01:36 AM

Power and Memory Absorption

Group: Inactive
Posts: 303
Member No.: 937
Joined: 22-May 10

Kevin claimed to have lots of life experience beyond what the numbers on his ID could back up. That was a true statement for a lot of mutants. Some had it easy. They could pass for human and simply skate by under the radar. Others had a harder time of just simply getting by. There were plenty of mutants that had stories that could fill a novel. They had come up through tough backgrounds. They bore the scars of what the human world had tried to force upon them. Rogue had carried that cross. She took the beatings that mankind had dished out on the chin but she didn’t turn the other cheek. From the sound of it Kevin was pretty much the same. He had a chip on his shoulder that seemed to be issued to most when the mutant powers were given out. The more Kevin talked, it seemed like the more a little gray storm cloud would grow above them. It was on the verge of depressing.

Rogue couldn’t help but think that Kevin’s disdain for the staff and student body had festered into something palpable. He explained his power in a quick summation. Death touch. In a way it was much like Rogue’s power. They were both cut off from skin to skin contact; forever separated from the world by a sheet of fabric, plastic or leather. Rogue didn’t offer instant death but if she kept contact for long enough she could drain a person dry, or so she imagined. Rogue had never held on long enough for that to happen. She had hurt people like that before and she feared it would happen at any time. In the end they probably wouldn’t be dead completely. Perhaps a small portion of them would live on forever in the swamp rat’s mind. That would be a fate worse than death. There’d be a shade of them forever trapped inside the segmented prison of Rogue’s mind.

Kevin showed his gloved hands for Rogue to look at. She had held onto his hand and not known what his power was. Even though he was completely covered would she have kept holding on, otherwise? Rogue had built the same walls around herself and looking at Kevin was like looking at herself in some mirror, or a murky pond. Could she become so bitter?

Rogue spread her gloved fingers out flat as well. “Ah can absorb memories and powers from touching anyone. Ah drain their energy. Anything they can do, Ah can do. Little miss copycat,” Rogue explained. “Except maybe when it comes to you, sugah. Maybe you’d burn me out before Ah could even get a little sip of your power.”

Rogue pulled her hands back and hooked them in her jean’s pockets. “Ah reckon that makes up two screwed up peas in an equally screwed up pod, right?” Rogue said.

The Mississippi woman wondered how many people Kevin had killed with his power. Was it one? Was it a hundred? Was the boy harboring such disgust for the world around because he had hurt someone, or because someone had hurt him? Sometimes one was worse than the other. “Ah do have to say, you’ve got me at a disadvantage. Obviously, the rumor mill has spread my reputation to epic proportions. Can Ah ask what it was that made you decide to pay me a welcome call?” Rogue asked thinking back to Jeb and how he had acted like much any hormonally challenged teenage boy would. “Were you looking for something in particular or just wanting to make a girl feel at home?”

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