The Blackbird soared away from Detroit, its sleek frame slicing through the night like a silent predator, the thrusters humming in a steady rhythm as it ascended higher into the atmosphere. Rogue sat near one of the side windows, her gloved fingers resting lightly against the armrest as she watched the lights of the city below shrink into a sea of distant, glowing dots.

On the ground, Storm, Wolverine, and Beast had already begun their mission, their figures now nothing but small specks against the urban sprawl. Rogue found herself staring at the shrinking view for a little longer than necessary, her thoughts caught between admiration and apprehension.

A sharp voice pulled her back.

"We’re on the move. ETA one hour," Cyclops said from the cockpit, his voice calm, direct. The mission was far from over.

Rogue sighed, rolling her shoulders as she settled back into her seat. A few seats down, Gambit leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him, his trench coat draped lazily over his lap. He let out a satisfied sigh before tipping his head back.

"Gambit will get some shut-eye, non… bonne nuit, mesdames," he muttered toward Rogue and Jubilee before closing his red-on-black eyes.

Jubilee, curled up in her seat with her knees pulled up, was already pulling out her phone, the blue light from the screen reflecting off her face as she scrolled.

"I’ll check X or somethin’… or TikTok," she mumbled, then grinned, turning toward Rogue. "You wanna watch funny TikToks, Roguey?"

Rogue gave her an unamused look, arms still crossed.

"No, Jubes, Ah don’t wanna watch TikToks, thanks."

Jubilee shrugged, her attention already back on her screen.

"Suit yourself."

The cabin settled into a dull quiet. The humming of the engines, the occasional beep from the instrument panels, the soft rustling of fabric as Gambit adjusted his position—Rogue felt the weight of it pressing against her.

She sat still for a few moments before pushing herself up from her seat, brushing some loose strands of hair behind her ear. Jubilee barely noticed, too absorbed in whatever chaotic whirlwind of content had taken hold of her phone.

Rogue stepped lightly through the cabin, heading toward the cockpit where Scott and Jean were engaged in quiet discussion, their voices barely above a murmur.

Jean’s red hair caught the dim light from the control panels as she adjusted something on the holo-display in front of her. Cyclops, still monitoring the flight path, glanced sideways at her, shaking his head slightly.

"If only he learned—" Scott muttered before stopping mid-sentence as Rogue stepped in.

Jean turned her head slightly, offering a warm, knowing smile.

"Rogue."

Scott adjusted his posture slightly, clearly switching from whatever conversation they were having to focus on her.

"Hey, Boss," she greeted, feeling a little sheepish.

Jean turned slightly in her chair, her expression gentle but attentive.

"Anything you need, sweetie?"

Rogue hesitated for half a second before shifting on her feet.

"Nah, it’s fine… Ah was just wonderin’ if y’all could give me a tad-bit of advice on, y’know."

She trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

Jean tilted her head, studying her for a moment.

"Look, Anna Marie, me and Scott will be here all the way through. If you need help, we’ll come. X-Men help each other."

Rogue exhaled, nodding slightly, but Scott’s voice pulled her attention back.

"Protect the people, Rogue," he said, his tone firm but reassuring. "They’re your family down there. No matter what happens, a leader must be willing to defend their team with their sweat, blood, and tears. We know you’re new at this, and we understand why you might be nervous. But remember—no mutant is weak together. You have a team, and if you take care of them, they’ll take care of you."

Rogue swallowed.

"Thanks, Scott."

Jean gave her a soft look, nodding.

"We’re here for you, Rogue. All of you."

Rogue let that settle in, her fingers tapping absently against her thigh before she nodded again.

"Thanks, guys… It’s just that y’all have been doin’ this fer so long, Ah ain’t sure—"

Jean cut her off gently, her voice steady.

"You will do great, Rogue. Remember—protect the team first, second the mission, third—stick to our protocols. Avoid senseless violence. If you encounter armed people, try to de-escalate if possible. Protect the civilians…"

She paused before adding, "You trained for this, Rogue. You know what to do."

Rogue took a slow breath, absorbing the words, rolling them over in her mind.

"Got it. Thanks y’all."

Jean gave her a reassuring smile before lightly squeezing Rogue’s arm. The touch was brief but grounding, a simple, silent way of saying You’ve got this.

"You’ll be fine, Anna Marie," Jean said softly.

Rogue’s green eyes met hers for a moment.

"Ah’ll try."

Jean smiled at her, but Scott had already turned back toward the controls, eyes scanning the flight data.

Outside, the clouds rushed past them, illuminated faintly by the glow of the moon. The Blackbird pushed forward, carrying them to Orlando, to whatever awaited them in the dark.

As Rogue made her way back to her seat, she cast one last glance toward the cockpit. The Blackbird was dimly lit, the soft glow of the control panels flickering against the faces of Jean Grey and Scott Summers, who were now speaking quietly amongst themselves. It wasn’t their conversation that caught Rogue’s attention, though—it was the way Jean’s hand slid into Scott’s for a brief moment, a small, intimate gesture shared between two people who had years of trust and understanding between them.

Rogue exhaled, feeling something inside her chest tighten unexpectedly.

She hadn’t expected to feel this—not this soon, not in the middle of a mission, but there it was.

The familiar ache of longing. The feeling of wanting to touch, to hold, to be held.

But that wasn’t a luxury she had.

With a sharp breath, she pulled her gaze away, forcing herself to shake it off as she settled back into her seat.

Jubilee was still hunched over her phone, grinning at the screen, her yellow coat bunched around her shoulders. The glow from her screen flickered against her face as she tried desperately to contain her laughter.

Rogue arched a brow.

"Jubes, what are ya watchin’?"

Jubilee didn’t answer immediately—she just turned the screen toward Rogue, her face lit up with pure amusement.

"Look!"

Rogue squinted. On the screen was a video of some poor guy attempting to do a backflip off a car… only to fail spectacularly and land flat on his face.

The sound of a thousand air horns and distorted meme sounds followed, and Jubilee cracked up, slapping the armrest as she doubled over.

"Jubes, ya worry me sometimes."

"Nah, this is therapy."

Rogue rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked just slightly at the corner before she leaned back into her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

The quiet of the cabin lasted only a few minutes before Scott’s voice came through the comms.

"Rogue, we’re landing. Get the team ready."

The air in the jet shifted.

It was time.

Rogue immediately straightened, reaching across the aisle and shaking Gambit by the shoulder.

"Remy."

Gambit grumbled something incoherent, shifting slightly but refusing to open his eyes.

"Remy, wake up."

Another groggy mutter.

"Remy, Ah swear to God, if Ah have to—"

"Ah… Dang… I-mmm… Let’s go," he finally muttered, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm before dragging himself up.

Rogue turned her attention to Jubilee.

"Jubes."

Jubilee clicked her phone off, stuffing it into her coat pocket before giving a quick salute.

"I’m here."

The descent was smooth, the Blackbird’s thrusters shifting as it lowered itself toward an open field near the Everglades—far enough from Orlando itself to avoid unwanted attention, but close enough to where they could move quickly to their objective. The land was flat, stretching outward into open marshland, fog rolling in from the tree line, carrying the distinct scent of wet earth and cypress.

"Rogue, there’s a property nearby—down the road," Scott said over the comms. "We believe it’s a meeting ground for Friends of Humanity activities. Seize every piece of information you can find."

Rogue exhaled sharply, nodding.

"Will do."

"We’ll see you soon."

The ramp of the Blackbird lowered, and the humid air of Florida rushed in, hitting them immediately. It was sticky, the kind of heat that clung to your skin and didn’t let go.

Without hesitation, Rogue reached out, grabbing both Gambit and Jubilee by the collar before lifting off, her powerful flight propelling them forward above the trees as she carried them toward the property.

The wind whipped around them, the marshland below sprawling into a patchwork of grass, water, and twisted roots. The moonlight reflected off the murky pools beneath them, broken only by the occasional ripple of movement—alligators, most likely.

Jubilee shuddered.

"I hate the swamp," she muttered.

"Then don’t fall," Rogue replied dryly.

They finally spotted the property.

It was just off the main road, a large ranch-style compound, but built like a bunker rather than a home. The perimeter was surrounded by chain-link fencing, the kind topped with barbed wire. A handful of spotlights lined the area, casting harsh, sterile beams across the yard, illuminating a few vehicles parked in the gravel lot out front—mostly SUVs and trucks, nothing military, but certainly not civilian either.

Rogue descended quietly, landing just behind a thick tree line where the fence line was partially obscured. She dropped Gambit and Jubilee carefully onto the soft moss-covered ground before pulling back behind the thick trunk of a tree, scanning the property carefully.

From this distance, she could make out two armed men standing by the front gate, rifles slung lazily over their shoulders, talking amongst themselves. Another two men were stationed near a side entrance, one smoking a cigarette while the other leaned against a vehicle. The rest of the compound was quiet.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

For now.

"Do you believe they have hostages?" Gambit murmured, keeping his voice low.

Rogue’s green eyes narrowed.

"Wouldn’t discard it," she admitted. "But unlikely. They’re more into execution than imprisonin’ people."

Jubilee sucked in a breath.

"So what’s the move?"

Rogue adjusted her gloves, her gaze locked on the gate guards.

"We get closer," she said simply.

She crouched slightly, shifting into stealth mode, her teammates following suit as they began moving quietly through the underbrush, using the dense foliage and tall grass for cover.

As they neared the fence line, Rogue motioned for them to stop, pressing herself against a tree as she observed the patrol routes.

Jubilee’s fingers sparked briefly with plasmoid light, readying herself. Gambit, always cool under pressure, palmed a charged card, his fingers rolling it between his knuckles.

The first stage of the mission had begun.

No turning back now.

"Let’s move."

The night air was thick with humidity, the swampy musk of the Everglades lingering even this far from the water. The faint rustling of palmetto fronds whispered through the air, blending with the sound of boots scuffling on gravel as the Friends of Humanity desperately moved crates, trying to erase their presence before it was too late.

From above, Rogue hovered like a specter in the night, her sharp green eyes scanning the compound. The FoH grunts were panicked, their movements hurried as they struggled to load what little was left onto the black SUVs and trucks parked haphazardly in the yard. They knew they were out of time.

"They’re movin’ things," Rogue muttered, her brows furrowing.

Below her, Gambit stood half-hidden in the shadow of a twisted oak tree, his red-on-black eyes flickering as he observed the same thing. His fingers idly shuffled a deck of cards, the telltale pink glow of kinetic energy faintly illuminating the edges.

"Dey’re burnin’ de trail," he murmured, flicking a glance toward Rogue.

Jubilee, crouched nearby, chewed her gum loudly, cracking a bubble before exhaling sharply.

"What do we do, Roguey?"

Rogue’s gaze hardened.

"We stop ‘em ‘fore it’s too late."

She turned her head toward Jubilee, a smirk playing at her lips.

"Jubes, light ‘em up."

Jubilee grinned, already stepping forward.

"With pleasure, mon capitaine."

Before the FoH knew what hit them, a blinding burst of fireworks erupted in the air, bright pinks, blues, and golds exploding in chaotic brilliance, the strobing lights temporarily blinding the men loading crates.

"The hell—!" One of them stumbled back, covering his eyes.

The moment of confusion was all Gambit needed. With a quick flick of his wrist, he tossed a single charged playing card toward a stack of wooden crates, landing just inches from their boots.

BOOM.

The explosion was controlled, not deadly, but enough to send the men scattering like roaches.

"Good job, y’all," Rogue called, already in motion.

A handful of FoH soldiers opened fire, their rifles barking in the humid night air, but they were too slow.

Before the bullets could even reach their target, Rogue was already on them.

She dropped from the sky like a missile, her arms extended, barreling through three of them at once. The impact sent them flying like ragdolls, their bodies hitting the dirt with heavy thuds.

One of them groaned, struggling to push himself up—only for Rogue to grab his collar and yank him off the ground like a sack of potatoes.

"Sugah, ya’re rusty."

"KILL THE MUTANT!"

"KILL HER!"

Rogue sighed, shaking her head.

"Now that ain’t no way to talk to a lady, y’all."

One of the FoH grunts fumbled for his rifle, trying to get a bead on her, but she was already moving. With a swift swoop, Rogue snatched the rifle right out of his hands.

She gripped the barrel tightly and crumpled the weapon in her hand like it was made of tin foil, bending the steel barrel as easily as one would bend a drinking straw.

"No toys fer y’all, ya’re bad boys."

Another soldier, desperate, reached for his sidearm—a 1911 pistol. He barely had time to aim before Rogue turned to him, arching a brow.

"Sorry, sugah. Ah don’t recall orderin’ anything."

The man’s lips curled.

"You wh—"

WHACK.

With a single casual backhand, Rogue smacked him across the face, sending him spinning before he collapsed in a heap.

Another grunt rushed forward, blade in hand, shouting in rage.

Bad idea.

With almost zero effort, Rogue sidestepped him, grabbed his wrist, and squeezed—forcing the knife right out of his hand with a pained yelp. The weapon clattered to the dirt, and he barely had time to react before Rogue’s grip shifted to his collar.

"Do me a favor and tell your friends not to do this, will ya?"

The grunt spat at her feet, eyes blazing with hatred.

"What? Fuck you!"

Rogue gave him an unimpressed look before gripping his shirt and launching him straight into a wooden fence post. The impact shattered the wood, sending splinters flying.

"Your cornbread ain’t done in the middle or somethin’," she muttered, watching him crumple to the ground. "That’ll teach ya some manners, corn-fed boy."

Another explosion caught her attention.

Up ahead, Gambit’s cards were detonating midair, sending plumes of sparks and concussive force toward the incoming FoH reinforcements.

Rogue smirked.

"Not bad, Remy."

Gambit twirled another card between his fingers, his smirk lazy but confident.

"Gambit aims to please, cher. Ya’re not so bad yourself, bon suave mademoiselle."

Before she could reply, two more men appeared with rifles, aiming straight for them.

"Get down!"

Jubilee moved fast, flicking two plasmoid bursts directly into the barrels of their guns. The reaction was immediate.

BOOM.

Both rifles exploded from the inside, the force knocking the FoH grunts back onto the dirt. They scrambled to toss the useless weapons away, their hands slightly singed but otherwise unharmed.

Jubilee clicked her tongue.

"You guys are lucky it ain’t one of those big sniper rifles," she teased, blowing a bubblegum bubble. "If it blew, it’d rip your faces clean off."

One of the soldiers barely had time to respond before Rogue flew forward and decked him square in the chest, slamming him to the ground so hard the dirt cracked beneath him.

A brief silence settled over the field.

Jubilee stretched her arms.

"How many?"

Rogue scanned the area, counting the scattered, groaning bodies of FoH grunts around them.

"This oughta be eight."

Gambit let out a low whistle.

"Well, well. Ain’t even breakin’ a sweat."

Rogue exhaled, placing her hands on her hips as she eyed the remaining crates. The Friends of Humanity had been trying to burn their evidence—now it was time to see what they were hiding.

"Alright y’all," she said, cracking her knuckles.

"Let’s see what these sons of bitches were up to."

Jubilee smirked.

"Sure, General Roguey."

The air was thick with gunpowder and burning debris, the distant crackling of small fires and the heavy groans of defeated Friends of Humanity grunts creating a cacophony of war-torn tension. Rogue stood amidst the chaos, her sharp green eyes narrowing as she scanned the remnants of the battle. The scent of oil and scorched metal lingered in the humid Florida night, mixing unpleasantly with the swampy musk of the Everglades.

The battle was nearly over.

Nearly.

She turned, her gaze landing on one of the FoH grunts, a middle-aged man with a sweat-slicked face, his eyes wide with the kind of pure terror that came from knowing he had been on the wrong side of history. His hands trembled, his uniform stained with dirt and blood, though none of it seemed to be his.

Rogue grabbed him by the front of his vest, hoisting him up effortlessly until his boots dangled inches off the ground.

"Look, sugah, ya can tell me what Ah want... or ya can let me take it," she said smoothly, tilting her head as she pulled off one of her gloves with deliberate slowness.

Though her voice was laced with confidence, inside, a pang of guilt tugged at her. She hated using her powers like that. Every time she did, she could feel them—their memories, their thoughts, their emotions violently flooding into her like an uncontrollable tidal wave.

The man’s face drained of color.

"NO! NO! I DON’T WANNA DIE!" he screamed, his voice breaking. "LOOK—LOOK! THERE ARE FILES IN THAT VAN! COMPUTERS! EVERYTHING! JUST—JUST DON’T TOUCH ME!"

Rogue studied him for a moment, then let out a low hum of approval.

"Thanks, ya’re real kind, sugah," she purred mockingly, reaching out to lightly caress his cheek with the back of her fingers. The touch was gentle—an act of feigned affection, but mostly a reminder that she could take everything from him in a matter of seconds if she wanted to.

But she didn’t.

And that, more than anything, made her feel a little bit better.

She released him, letting him collapse onto the ground as she turned toward the van.

"Alright, let’s move—"

The words barely left her lips before the explosion hit.

A deafening boom tore through the night as a shockwave of heat and metal sent them reeling. Rogue barely had time to react before her instincts kicked in—she lunged, grabbing both Jubilee and Gambit, shielding them with her body as a storm of debris, shrapnel, and fire rained down around them.

Jubilee let out a cough, dust clinging to her jacket.

"What the hell was that?"

Rogue already knew.

The heavy, mechanized voice confirmed it.

[MUTANT DETECTED. ALPHA THREAT IDENTIFIED… TERMINATION SEQUENCE INITIATED… HUMANITY SHALL BE PROTECTED.]

The air thickened with static as the dust began to settle, revealing the monolithic shape of a Sentinel emerging from the wreckage.

Towering. Metal. Unforgiving.

A gleaming mechanical behemoth, its red optics scanning the field, its arm-mounted cannons priming for another strike.

"Dang it," Rogue growled.

Gambit rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck.

"Well, dis just got interestin’," he muttered.

"Stay behind me, Remy, Jubes," Rogue ordered.

"No way, cher—we’re a team," Gambit shot back, already charging a card.

Rogue turned sharply.

"Remy LeBeau, listen to me—if these—"

Before she could finish, the Sentinel lunged forward, its massive metal hand wrapping around Rogue’s waist, lifting her into the air like a child’s toy.

She grunted, twisting against its unforgiving grip.

But Rogue wasn’t just any mutant.

With a fierce yell, she grabbed onto one of the Sentinel’s fingers, using her raw strength to pry herself free. The metal groaned, joints straining under her pressure before she tore herself loose, flipping mid-air.

BOOM.

She came swinging back with full force, her fist colliding into the Sentinel’s head with the force of a freight train.

Metal shrieked and tore as she punched clean through the right side of its face, sending sparks flying as its optical sensors flickered wildly.

Before the Sentinel could recalibrate, Gambit was already in motion.

"Time to dance," he murmured, tossing three charged cards at its joint connections.

KA-BOOM.

The explosions rippled through the mechanical beast, disabling part of its shoulder rotation.

It tried to grab Rogue again, but she was already ahead of it—twisting in midair, she brought both fists down on its neck, ripping its head clean off with a sickening metallic snap.

The Sentinel collapsed, its limbs twitching before falling completely still.

"How many more—" Rogue started, but her words froze in her throat.

More Sentinels emerged from the smoke.

A wave of them—older models, their designs slightly outdated but still deadly, their optics glowing in the dark like mechanical reapers.

"Alright, y’all. Follow my lead," Rogue called, shifting into a combat stance.

"Jubes, Ah need ya to blind ‘em—any exposed fuses, blow ‘em up."

"Gotcha, Roguey!"

"Gambit—joints, sensitive spots, sensors—y’know the drill."

Gambit smirked.

"Oui, cher. Let’s dance."

As the first Sentinel charged, Rogue took flight, barreling straight into its chest, cracking the metal armor on impact.

"These are ‘90s models!" she shouted, throwing a punch that dented the chest plate. "Older than we are!"

Jubilee ducked under a laser blast, sprinting forward.

"Not older than Gambit," she teased.

Gambit smirked, dodging another Sentinel strike.

"Petite, Gambit not old… Gambit experienced… Gambit has savoir-faire, non?"

Jubilee snorted.

"Shut up, old fart."

"Focus!" Rogue snapped.

She drove both fists into the Sentinel’s torso, creating a gap in its armor.

Gambit seized the opportunity.

A charged card slipped into the opening—BOOM.

The machine lurched, sparks exploding from its internal wiring as it convulsed wildly.

Jubilee wasted no time.

"Buh-bye, tin can!"

With a blazing plasmoid blast, she fried the exposed circuitry, sending electric surges rippling through its body.

Rogue grabbed its flailing limbs, twisting it mid-air before hurling it into another approaching Sentinel, sending both crashing into the dirt.

But more kept coming.

As they pressed forward, energy blasts rained down, cars exploded, and even the FoH nearby screamed and scattered.

Rogue gritted her teeth, watching the destruction unfold.

She hated this.

But she had to finish the fight.

She cracked her knuckles.

"Alright, y’all," she muttered, flexing her fists. "Let’s end this."

The battle raged on, but Rogue felt something shift inside her.

A spark of pure anger, the kind that sat deep in her chest, the kind she usually kept under control. But seeing the destruction around her, the way the Sentinels moved like cold, calculating butchers, the thought of what could’ve happened if they’d arrived just a few minutes later—

She had had enough.

With a snarl, she slashed her forearm clean through a Sentinel’s arm, the impact shearing metal apart like aluminum foil. The massive limb collapsed to the ground, sparks and exposed circuitry spewing from the severed joint.

Before the machine could react, Rogue grabbed the detached arm, the sheer weight of the thing nothing to her enhanced strength.

She spun on her heel—

SWING.

The Sentinel’s own arm became a club, and in one clean, devastating arc, Rogue knocked its head clean off as if she were swinging for a home run. The mechanical skull flew through the air, crashing into the side of a truck, denting the frame beyond recognition.

More Sentinels advanced, their optics flashing as they recalibrated strategies.

Gambit, ever the showman, flicked his wrist, sending a cascade of charged cards into the legs of another machine, detonations ripping through the weak points of its joints.

But Jubilee wasn't about to let them have all the fun.

"People kinda underestimate this," she muttered, stepping forward, her fingers crackling with energy behind the dark gloves of her black-and-pink bodysuit. Her yellow techwear jacket flared slightly as she raised her hands, her signature fireworks dancing between her fingertips.

Her smirk deepened.

"But no show is ever good without lights."

Her hands flashed, her fireworks exploding in bursts of golden streaks, temporarily blinding two approaching Sentinels.

"Remy! Hit that one, in the chest!" she called out.

Gambit arched a brow.

"Wat?"

"Do it, Gumbo!"

With a shrug, Gambit twirled a charged card between his fingers before flicking it with deadly precision.

BOOM.

The card hit the Sentinel’s chest plate, tearing a small hole into the armor. The machine lurched, its exposed core glowing faintly through the damage.

Rogue, meanwhile, was locked in another brutal grapple—a Sentinel’s hand clamped around her arm, trying to restrain her, but she had already wrapped her legs around its torso, forcing herself upward until she was positioned above its head.

Then—

RIP.

With pure strength, she tore its head free, the mechanical spinal column sparking wildly in her grasp.

As the Sentinel collapsed, she dove into its chest, her fists hammering against the plating until she found its core.

Below, Jubilee was already waiting.

Her plasmoid energy burned bright blue, crackling like fireworks compressed into a lethal payload.

"And this will be the cherry on top!" she declared, aiming her hand directly at the exposed core.

She grinned—

But then—

BOOM.

The Sentinel's upper half detonated violently, a massive plasma explosion launching its entire torso skyward like a missile. The burning husk arched into the night, disappearing into the sky before crashing down with a resounding THUD.

The ground trembled from the impact.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Jubilee’s eyes were wide, her hands still charged—but she hadn’t fired.

She blinked.

"Was dat you, petite?" Gambit muttered, stepping closer.

Jubilee’s lips parted.

"Remy… that… that wasn’t me."

Then they heard it.

The sonic boom.

It ripped through the sky, a deep reverberating shockwave, the kind that made the air itself shudder.

A streak of blue light tore across the battlefield, moving too fast to see, the crackle of plasma following in its wake. The momentum alone sent Sentinel parts flying, the residual force making the remaining machines hesitate, as if calculating the unknown variable.

And then—

More plasma shots rained down from above, tearing through Sentinel chassis with surgical precision. One of the machines was mid-swing when it suddenly lost its entire arm, the energy blast having vaporized the joint before it could even register the impact.

Another Sentinel took a shot directly through its optic sensors, its head rupturing in an instant before collapsing in a heap.

Rogue barely had time to react before she felt the shift in the air, the presence of something—or someone—moving faster than she could track.

She shot toward her team, landing between them protectively.

And then she saw it.

Or rather—

She saw the blur.

A blue streak, a plasma trail cutting through the sky, moving at impossible speed.

Her breath hitched.

Jubilee practically jumped on the spot.

"Is that—?"

Then she grinned, eyes shining.

"THE ALAMO!"

Gambit’s head snapped toward her, his Cajun accent thick with disbelief.

"Wat!?"

Jubilee’s voice was almost frantic with excitement.

"IT’S HIM, HE’S HERE!"

The blur circled the battlefield, the plasma residue still crackling in the air—but they still couldn’t fully see him.

Just movement.

Just the speed.

But Rogue and Jubilee knew what they were seeing.

They’d seen it in Arkansas.

They never saw him then.

But they were about to know him now.