Beyond Evolution

In retrospect, perhaps separating from everyone else consciously hadn't been the wisest move on his part. To make matters worse, the fact that he had dashed back up from the underground levels of the school for, of all things, a book was nothing short of idiotic of him. They had all figured out that something was happening to make people disappear, it had been going on for weeks now, and why exactly Luka had gotten it in his head to head back upstairs -- alone -- away from the very epitome of safety in numbers was beyond him, especially now that he stood in the faculty wing of the mansion with that book in his hands just outside his door. Trying to remember why he had wanted this book was impossible, the answer wouldn't come, and he looked left and right up the extent of the hallway on either side of him as though expecting a great big monster to come bounding around the corner here or there and lunge for him, jaws gaping hungrily.

That didn't happen, of course, but the fact that Luka could have sworn he'd heard something didn't exactly put his mind at ease. Standing there by himself, more than a little intimidated by so much empty space, he couldn't bring himself to move. It was a lose-lose situation, one of those classic conundrums that might have made for interesting discussions in his class. But this wasn't a class, he wasn't a character in a movie, and there were no two ways about it: if he did not actively move from the spot where he was standing, then he would not get back downstairs to the Danger Room. He had to start putting one foot in front of the other and actually get himself underway. There was no way he could magically go from Point A to Point B, no matter how much he wished it was possible. ( Unfortunately his mutation was nowhere near that useful, and so, taking in a deep breath and reminding himself that he was not five years old and therefore not afraid of being by himself, he finally stepped away from his closed door and started walking down the hallway. )

The search for Dominic had been a fruitless one so far, even with a metamorph's enhanced senses in on the hunt. Honestly Deacon had been surprised, and not in a good way, when Harper had come up empty. The three of them -- Deacon, Molly and Harper -- had done a full circuit of the grounds, more than one in fact, and turned up nothing. In the end it had dropped to just two of them again after Harper had needed to leave; Deacon hadn't begrudged her that necessity, had simply nodded his head when she'd told him she was going back to the mansion. Now it was just the two of them again, walking around in the failing light, ignoring everything inside the school in the hopes of finding Dom. Every time they completed a circuit with no trace or sign, Deacon would insist they go round again. And again. And again. Over and over and over they walked the perimeter only to come up empty-handed and for the big Intruder the frustration was starting to show.

His father couldn't be missing. It was absurd. It was laughable and maddening enough as it was that Chris had up and disappeared, one of the Brotherhood, the last person Deacon had expected to fall victim to this... whatever it was. Having one of his parents vanish as well was completely unacceptable. With every fresh circuit of the grounds he checked Molly was still with him to the point of being obsessive, and not subtle about it either. He would stop and look back at her, pause and engage her in needless conversation to check that he wasn't just imagining she was still with him every step of the way. ( It wouldn't have been the first time someone had vanished from beside a partner and Deacon was determined not to fall victim to such tactics himself, or more to the point, have his mother snatched away from under his nose. That was not going to happen. )

They had come out of nowhere, faceless strangers dressed in black and armed with guns, the kind that -- at least according to long-term residents of the school -- had appeared as if from thin air more than once in the past and wreaked havoc. It was Tobias' first experience with men like this; they weren't mutants, seemed to have no intentions other than to make as much mess as possible. The gunfire started on the top floor. They must have landed on the roof and started working their way down. The echoing din began to crack along the ground floor soon after that, disrupting the night and throwing the school into chaos. Was this what they had been building up to? Was this why people had been disappearing?

Did these people have Jo?

Tobias like others had immediately fallen back on training. He didn't have range powers or any kind of defences as a direct result of his mutation, but he was fast and agile, had good reflexes and had trained intensely over the years since he had joined the Junior team so long ago. That was the kind of training that, with regular practise, didn't just fade away. So he'd darted out of his room and engaged the intruders, trying as best he could to shut out the sounds of screaming and what he thought with a ball of dread forming in his stomach was weights striking the ground on the floors above. Bodies hitting the floor. Tobias hoped beyond hope that they were the trespassers and not the students or residents. Everything was chaotic, broken glass and shouting and flares and booms of powers triggering and firing off in every direction. Tobias' ears were ringing before he had even finished fighting, his lungs burning and his limbs tingling with the beginnings of an ache that would soon wear off thanks to the adrenaline pumping through his body; ( he didn't even feel any bodily protests as he jogged through the corridors looking for others, whether they be black-clad strangers or people in need of help. )

Years of surviving the multitude of calamitous incidences at the school combined with a mind that still had wisps of people like Nate Grey and even Logan, had lent itself to what could only be described as an invincibility complex in Rogue. Whatever was going on, it certainly wasn't within her abilities to change it and with people like Rahne snatched up despite being near the very capable hands of Wolverine, she felt silly even trying. She was no longer on a team thanks to her personal demons (though eventually she intended to correct that) but she had just as much training and experience as the people who were, even more so in some cases and with team leaders disappearing at disproportionate rates there was a natural obligation to step up.

She didn't require a uniform or any official approval, not that she'd ask for or expect either, and she certainly wasn't interested in checking in with a buddy. Instead, Rogue ran soft, white fingers through the tangles of her hair and tightened her usual ponytail with a quick tug, more meticulous where her appearance was concerned for reasons she'd never openly admit and were solely for her to mull...and Warren, but he had given her a number of mental images she was not prepared for either so they were kind of even. In any event, there was no plan of action, no marked course for how she was to proceed and so she answered a baser call to patrol the grounds if only for her own peace of mind. Sitting around doing nothing would have been a goddamn crime and she felt almost relieved as she pulled on her much maligned gloves and felt her usual dichotomy of relief and despise. That she was decidedly less deadly with them on was a comfort but they were a hot, sweaty reminder not only for all of the things she could do but also those she couldn't.

It was probably a bad thing that she had a patrol routine, always starting and ending at the same points and following the same winding route which ensured that she could cover the most ground. It could easily have been called a walk, differing only be intention, but feeling useful soothed her some. She was good at brevity, at offering herself up to go first or willingly charging ahead at the front of a battle line, ( so perhaps it was with great irony that her return to reality began on the crest of one of the sweetest sounds... )