… Rogue (Anna Marie)
Rogue walked out of the arena with quick steps, trying to ignore the tight feeling in her chest. It felt like she'd been punched — but, as usual, not physically. It was the kind of thing only she knew how to feel… or pretend she didn't.
No dizziness. No memories crashing into her head. No emotional storm stolen from someone else. Just… nothing. Strangely light, almost scary.
She'd touched Aidan. Skin to skin. No gloves, no buffer, no tricks.
And nothing happened.
He was still standing there, flashing that smug little grin. The kind of smile that should be illegal in at least thirty states. But the worst part wasn't him.
It was her.
Inside, everything was upside down.
"Rogue, you okay?" Kitty showed up out of nowhere, permanently set to worried mode.
Rogue just nodded. Straight-up lie, obviously. But who was gonna argue? Not her.
She didn't even listen to whatever else Kitty said. Just kept walking down the hall, trying not to implode. The sound of her boots hitting the floor was too loud, but still not enough to drown out the chaos in her head.
She could still feel the touch. Warm, steady, real. Like someone had branded her skin with something invisible. Something no one had ever done before.
That's why everything felt like a mess.
The anger came easy, of course. It always did. Anger at that smile, that calm of his, that way he let her touch him like it was nothing. Like he had no idea how much that messed with her head.
But part of her knew he did know. And let it happen anyway.
And still smiled. It was infuriating. It was overwhelming. It was… freeing.
That was the worst part.
She stopped when she saw a shadow at the end of the hallway. All black and purple, hoodie up, face half-covered. And those violet eyes — Raven's — always looking like they were bored and in another dimension.
Great, she thought. Just what I needed: an audience.
Rogue walked over, no attitude this time. Couldn't fake it now.
Raven just watched her, head tilted slightly like she could read people's minds for fun.
"Is that why you warned me?" Rogue asked, voice rougher than she wanted.
Raven raised one eyebrow. Classic.
Rogue took a deep breath, trying to hold it together. "You knew that would happen, didn't you? That I… that I wouldn't be able to drain him."
Raven waited a beat. Then answered, cold as ever: "I figured."
"How?" The word came out sharp, almost desperate. "How can he even…?"
Raven shrugged like it didn't matter. "He's just that weird."
"That's not an answer, you know."
"It's the only one that matters", Raven didn't even blink.
Rogue looked away, jaw clenched in frustration. Her gloves were still hanging from her belt — useless. Her hands trembled. Great. She wanted to punch something. Or scream. Or maybe run back and touch him again just to prove it was real.
But she already knew. She did. The touch had been real, and the silence after it even more so.
"He's gonna mess with me, isn't he?" she whispered, barely audible.
Raven actually looked at her then. For real. And for a second, Rogue thought she saw something in her eyes — maybe pity. Or a silent warning.
"If you let him… yeah", Raven said plainly. "And he'll smile the whole damn time."
Rogue didn't say anything.
She just stood there, staring at the floor like the cracks might offer her answers. Her hands were clenched, her chest full of dumb questions, and her heart pounding like crazy. Desire — of course it was desire — all tangled up with everything she hated admitting.
And on her palm, that impossible touch still burned.
Warm, alive, and real.
Damn it.
… Aidan Quinn
Professor Xavier's office had that classic atmosphere of a man who'd lived more than he looked and read every book you only pretended to know. Thick rug, antique wooden furniture, the scent of paper and authority.
I was sunk into the leather armchair like I had all the time in the world.
To my left, Ororo. Sitting with the elegance of a goddess who, just last night, had moaned my name like a prayer. Her posture was flawless, her expression neutral. But I knew that slow, controlled breathing.
Across from me, Charles Xavier. Calm, measured, but with that look of someone who wanted to dissect me — not to hurt, but to understand. And maybe catalog.
"You're a mystery, Mr. Quinn", he started, hands folded on the desk, voice smooth as velvet.
"I like to think of myself as more of a walking charm", I replied with a grin. "Too much mystery scares people. Charm pulls them in."
Ororo rolled her eyes. Xavier just kept that half-smile. Not the type to be easily impressed.
"So far, your abilities don't match any known pattern. The barrier that blocks physical contact. The extreme perception you call Six Eyes... And the immunity to telepathy", he paused, watching my expression. "None of us can sense your mind. Not even Jean."
"Privacy's a virtue, Professor", I said casually, with that tone that says a lot without giving anything away. "And the barrier? It's called Infinity. Always active — unless I choose to lower it."
Ororo raised an eyebrow. "You can deactivate it whenever you want?"
"Yes", I answered, no hesitation. "But only when I want to."
She tilted her head slightly, as if processing what that implied. I saw her eyes narrow — and there it was. The same tension I saw in Rogue's eyes when she tried to drain me and failed. One thing is not being able to touch anyone. Another is knowing someone can be touched... and chooses not to be affected.
"And why doesn't telepathy work?" Xavier pressed.
"Mental defense", I shrugged. "It's like my mind lives in a place with more doors than windows."
"And Rogue's touch?" Ororo asked, firmly. "She used her power. And nothing happened."
"She tried", I said, slowly crossing my legs. "But I'm... immune. Nothing goes in. Nothing comes out."
Charles leaned back, thoughtful. "That's an extremely rare form of resistance."
"Or brand new", I murmured. "Still figuring out how to classify myself."
Silence settled. Xavier looked at me like he was weighing something deeper. Not just about me, but what I might represent.
"And where do these gifts come from?"
"Gifts?" I smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Nice word. Sounds divine. But... no easy answer. I just woke up like this and decided to make the best of it."
And technically, it was true. I did wake up like this... in this world.
Ororo, next to me, slowly crossed her legs. A move as casual as it was deadly — the kind of control only someone who knew their effect on others could have. The hem of her pants lifted just enough to reveal smooth, firm dark skin.
My eyes followed, unapologetically. And she knew, but didn't look away.
"You present yourself as a riddle, Mr. Quinn", Xavier said calmly. "And I don't usually leave riddles unsolved."
"Well, Professor…" I replied, using my most charming tone, "I'm not usually solved that easily."
Ororo cleared her throat. Xavier smiled. And then came the real reason for the meeting.
"I'd like to ask you to undergo a more thorough analysis", Xavier said — and yeah, it did sound a bit weird. "Nothing invasive. Just technical exams to determine if you're a mutant… or something else."
"Analyzed by who?" I asked, already guessing the answer — and liking it.
"An old friend", Xavier replied. "A scientist. Possibly the brightest on Earth."
"Oh", I adjusted in my chair, already smiling. "You're talking about Mister Stretch."
Xavier nodded. Didn't even flinch that I didn't use Reed's actual alias.
"Reed Richards. He can run the necessary tests. Him and his team."
"Team…?" I asked, casually.
"Yes, The Fantastic Four."
My grin grew like a jackpot win.
"That include Susan Storm?"
Xavier hesitated, "Yes. Dr. Susan will likely be present."
Well, that was all I needed.
Susan Storm, The Invisible Woman.
My wife in at least three parallel timelines of my heart — and Namor doesn't exist in any of them.
"Sure", I smiled, pretending not to care. "I'm in, as long as she's around."
Ororo scoffed, but I saw the corner of her lips twitch, trying not to smile.
"You're impossible", she muttered.
"And irresistible."
"Doubtful."
"You proved otherwise last night."
She turned away in her chair, pretending not to hear — but the blush on her neck didn't go unnoticed.
Xavier ignored us entirely. Wisdom of a seasoned man.
"I'll make arrangements to contact Reed."
"Great", I said, standing up and fixing my collar. "Let him know I'll show up looking presentable. But... make sure Susan's informed. It's rude to surprise a lady with a mysterious and ridiculously attractive man out of nowhere."
"I'll consider sending that exact message", Xavier said.
"Please. With an authenticity seal."
Ororo just shook her head.
And me... I was already thinking about which suit to wear.
Because if I was gonna meet Susan Storm… it had to be legendary.
…
The office doors clicked shut behind us — that elegant sound of expensive wood and sealed-off privacy.
I shoved my hands into my pockets, walking beside Ororo with the casual air of someone who'd just closed a deal in both business and seduction.
"So…" I started, glancing at her with a smirk. "You think Susan would like me better in blue or black?"
Ororo didn't answer, didn't even look at me. Queen-level silence.
"I was thinking about bringing flowers…" I went on, unfazed. "But maybe that's too much. Maybe a canned ray of sunshine with a sexy dedication instead."
Still nothing. Just the click of her heels on the marble hallway and the gentle sway of her hips. Ororo was the kind of woman who could turn not answering into a full-blown emotional martial art.
But I was persistent.
"We're still repeating last night at some point, right? I mean… for the sake of mutant-mysterious-human relations. Gotta keep the peace."
She stopped mid-hallway and turned slowly. Her eyes met mine — steady, gorgeous, and with that pearl-like glow that made me think of both storms and crumpled bedsheets.
"I know you're going for Rogue", her voice was low and measured, but each word cut like a blade. "I can't stop you, Aidan. And you wouldn't listen even if I tried."
I kept my smirk but stayed quiet.
"But listen…" she continued, and her tone shifted — softer, more human. "Don't mess with her feelings. Rogue's been through enough. For who she is, for what she carries. You seem to know that."
I stayed silent for a second, watching her. And for a moment, Ororo looked more vulnerable than I'd ever seen. Not weak — just… genuinely concerned.
"I don't play games, Ororo", I said, more serious now. "I tease. I push limits. But when I touch… it's because I want to take care."
She held my gaze a few more seconds, like she was searching for a lie.
She didn't find one.
"You're trouble, boy."
"I'm honest."
"That's scares me too."
She turned her face and kept walking with that divine grace, like the wind followed her hair out of pure admiration.
And I followed right behind, same smirk as before.
"So… about that repeat?"
"… I'll think about it."
… Maria Hill
The interrogation room was thick with silence, broken only by the soft snap of a folder being closed. Maria Hill stood from her chair with her usual upright posture, eyes cold but sharp. Across from her, one of the captured agents kept his head down — more wrecked than dangerous now, with cuts on his face and a blank stare. But Hill could read the signs. This guy was just a pawn — but even pawns can bite.
Behind the one-way glass, Natasha Romanoff watched quietly, like a shadow waiting to move.
The interrogation had been long. Tough. But just productive enough. No names, not real ones. No mastermind, no formal identity for the cell.
But what they had pulled — with a few well-placed words and just the right pressure from a knife — was something better: a location.
A base. Small, but active. And that… was enough to start a hunt.
Hill exited the room and found Natasha waiting in the hallway, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
"Do we have anything solid?" the redhead asked.
"We do", Hill replied. "Old warehouse outside Jersey. Underground infrastructure, suspicious movement, no official ties to any agency."
"And the plan?"
"We're going in", Hill said simply. "Take a team, sweep everything, and find out what else these people know. If this cell infiltrated this far, I want to know how deep the contamination goes."
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "You're going in yourself? Thought you had a more... noble desk job now."
Hill gave her a sidelong look. "The responsibility got bigger. But if I'm stuck in meetings while this crap festers under our noses, I'm useless."
Natasha gave a half-smile — almost respectful. "And the kid?"
Hill went quiet for a moment.
"Might be a good time to see him in action. We haven't seen even half of what he can do. That restaurant was... too messy. But out there, in the field, with real targets…"
Natasha thought for a beat, then gave a small nod of approval. "Could be useful. Or a complete disaster. Which, with him, feels like the same thing."
Back in her office, Hill picked up her phone. Her fingers hovered for a second before she typed out a message:
Hill:We have an op in Jersey, Friday night. Thought you might want in.
The reply came in under a minute.
Quinn:Friday night? Hmm... tricky. I've got a date. Can we reschedule?
Hill stared at the screen.
A date?
She glanced at Natasha, then back to her phone. A small muscle in her jaw twitched.
But she typed anyway.
Hill:… Alright. I'll reschedule.
Quinn:You're the best <3.
She locked her phone harder than she needed to.
Natasha coughed. "He said no?"
Hill sighed. "We're rescheduling… he said he has a date."
Nat raised an eyebrow. "With you?"
Hill shot her a look sharp enough to cut glass. Natasha held up her hands, amused.
"Hey, worth a shot."
… Emma Frost
The screen flickered softly with a bluish glow in the private chamber of Emma Frost, buried deep within the most secure levels of the Frost Institute headquarters. There was no sound — just the faint crack of ice slowly forming into a cube inside the crystal glass between her fingers. The woman —impeccable as always, dressed in white from head to toe, legs crossed, gaze sharp — watched the data scrolling before her with meticulous calm.
She already knew Charles was hiding something. He always did. Always trying to save the world with gentle ideals, pacifist speeches, and traumatized kids with destructive potential. Admirable… and naive. But this time, Emma could feel it. Something was different.
The name blinked subtly in the corner of the screen.
Aidan Quinn.
There was barely anything official. Almost no records in database, no genetic profile in any global mutant tracking networks. And yet, Charles was investing in him. Ororo's constant presence in their interactions, the spikes in activity recorded in the Mansion's simulation systems. And most suspicious of all: no traceable psychic signature.
Emma pursed her lips.
"Interesting…" she murmured to herself.
Her powers couldn't reach the boy's mind — not even through indirect channels. And Jean Grey seemed affected, if the emotional residue she was picking up remotely was accurate. Jean was usually composed. Emma knew her layers well. But now? Turmoil, desire, confusion...
Charles knew it, and he was hiding it.
She took a sip of her gin and smiled against the glass.
"So… you're special, aren't you, Mr. Quinn?"
Maybe he was just another unregistered mutation.
Or maybe…
Maybe Charles had stumbled upon something not even Erik would've seen coming.
The cameras — one of her personal devices, subtle enough that Charles hadn't noticed. If he had, he would've sent a message. Or worse: paid her a polite visit — had captured a snippet of a session inside the Danger Room. The footage showed Aidan manipulating the field around him with… something. It wasn't telekinesis. It wasn't elemental control.
It was something else.
And more alarming? The next clips showed Rogue touching him, skin to skin. Nothing happened.
Emma brushed her hair back with graceful ease. Her eyes now sharp as blades.
"Immune to Rogue's touch. Shielded from telepaths. Invisible to mutant databases."
She leaned back in her chair and smiled.
"You're not just another strange kid. You're an anomaly. And I like anomalies."
Maybe it was time to pay Charles a visit.
Or maybe… it would be more interesting to let the boy come to her.
Either way… Emma Frost was watching.
And when Emma decided to watch?
It was only a matter of time before she decided to move.