Thread: Rogue & Jean WHO: Rogue (movies) & Jean Grey (616) WHAT: Heading to the X-Mansion which should be... interesting WHEN: Sunday, June 3rd, evening WHERE: Front steps of the X-Mansion, likely inside WARNINGS: None at the moment. Will update if that changes. STATUS: In progress
Rogue honestly didn't know what to expect when she finally set out using the directions the Professor had given her. It wasn't her Professor, but he seemed to be the same kind-hearted man she knew from her world. Assuming that she was buying into this whole portal thing. She still hadn't decided where she fell on that.
On the one hand, this wouldn't be anything new. She'd woken up in dozens of scenarios in the repurposed Danger Room in an effort to test the limits of her powers. Sometimes she was even given serums to nullify her powers, testing to see whether a mutant could work through the serum and still access their powers. Those were the worst.
This scenario was different, though.
Sure, she'd gone through simulations where she believed she'd been freed or had broken out of the labs. But she'd never met (or, talked to, anyway) other versions of herself. Rogue was still reeling from that. Were they going to look the same? Just look similar? Look absolutely nothing like her? Were their powers the same? Their histories weren't the same, that much was obvious.
The histories of a lot of people here weren't the same. And -- because she was just the luckiest person alive, apparently -- the only person with even some of the same memories as her was someone she wanted to slap.
If she hadn't spent years in a refurbished school turned genetic experimentation laboratory, going to the mansion might have been comforting. As it stood, she was worried about what she was going to find there. But since she had no cash, she couldn't get that cup of coffee she'd been wanting. Or that whiskey. Or much of anything. And it meant this trip was going to be made on foot whether she liked it or not.
By the time she reached the front lawn of the mansion, she was exhausted. She was underfed, under-exercised, and the walk had her pausing, pushing her hair out of her eyes and scanning the mansion critically. There was no Sentinel patrol. No spotlights illuminating the darkest corners. No watch tower. No bars on the windows. The grass was green and hadn't been torn up by battle. It was... well, truthfully, it was the place that she still dimly remembered. That was enough encouragement to get her to head to the front door, pressing the doorbell before leaning back against the side wall to wait.