Far Away From Here Who: Rogue OTA When: New Year's Eve night Where: Gymnasium What: Working out of course
Very few things could be said about Rogue that everyone knew for certain to be true. One was that she was short. Another could be that she had a very distinct accent. The other was that the girl knew how to clear a room. The problem was that she was not a human and therefore, despite her elevated status, not someone any human wanted to be around. On the same token, she had more power than any other mutant had ever had on the island, making her no longer quite one of them. Countless times she heard some of them complain about how alone they were, and it irritated her. Not one of them was alone that didn't chose to be. They had peers to turn to, it just took some looking. Rogue was alone, and right now, it was pissing her off.
She was dressed in black capri exercise pants and a light purple sports bra, her long hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her hands were wrapped in tape and she was sparring with a speed bag in one of the corners of the large work out room. There had been several mutants in there when she'd arrived about an hour ago, and amazingly enough, they all quickly found they were done with whatever they had been in the middle of. Rogue watched them go with bitter green eyes as she wrapped her fingers and wrists. It was a grave of her choosing, or at least that was how she saw it.
With the room to herself, she was free to put on whatever music she wanted. Rolling her head to one side and then the other, she plugged her iPod into the dock and turned the volume up loud. In mere seconds the heavy guitars and screaming lyrics of 30 Seconds to Mars flooded the room, and Rogue finally felt ready to work. She liked the speed bag the best because it was something to hit. Anyone could lift weights, press and pull, breathe like they were in the middle of hard labor. The speed bag represented an enemy, a contender. It was a faceless body to inflict as much damage upon as possible. She liked the zing that shot up her arm when her fist made contact. She enjoyed the feeling of fully flexed muscles when she kicked and spun to hit it again with a roundhouse kick.
"I won't suffer, be broken, get tired, or wasted. Surrender to nothing, or give up what I started and stopped it, from end to beginning. A new day is coming, and I am finally free." Her jabs and kicks had somehow started to match up with the beat of the music. "Run away, run away. I'll attack." Five punches and two kicks. She was sweating strands of hair falling into her eyes but she couldn't stop. Her body was on auto now and it would take someone coming in and disrupting her somehow to stop her.