Categories > Cartoons > X-Men: Evolution > That Stupid School Project
John wandered along, next to the scowling Rogue. This would be the perfect opportunity to find out more about the broody Goth girl. There seemed to be an unwritten list of rules somewhere that said what you could and couldn’t say to Rogue. Since he didn’t have access to it, the way all of her other friends did, he was going to have to observe her and find out.
Her group of friends all seemed to have a set of words that set them off. He knew from the conversation that he had eavesdropped on that you did not say the word crazy in Pietro’s presence. You never made fun of Lance’s Jeep, or Freddy’s weight. He didn’t have a handle on what set Todd off, but of the group he seemed to be the most easy-going. Rogue was the enigma, things set her off alright, but he didn’t know which things.
They walked into the run down part of town in a heavy silence. Rogue was kicking at some pebbles that were unfortunate enough to end up near her booted feet. John was looking at his notebook cover, which he had brought with him. Rogue turned down a side street and entered a shabby bar. John stood outside for a while in surprise, but then went in after her.
There was a smoky haze in the bar, but to John’s relief it smelled more of cigars than cigarettes. He didn’t think that he would have been able to stomach the stench of cigarettes at the moment. He was already shocked at his partner’s behavior.
Rogue slid into a booth that had a man slumped over it. The guy was obviously drunk, and John’s nose wrinkled as he slid in across from Rogue and the man. Rogue shook the man, but very gently, John noticed.
“Here, you can’t sit there,” a tough looking girl walked up out of the gloom. She wore a canvas apron that was stained with God knew what and a grim scowl, “Oh, it’s you Marie,” her expression softened, slightly, “Who’s the stud?”
The rag that she had been using to polish a beer mug flicked in John’s direction. He felt suddenly hot, but Rogue laughed. She seemed freer here. He had certainly never seen her act so lose around anyone, not even her gang of friends.
“This is Sin Jin, Ah asked him ovah for dinnah bah accident.”
“How do y’do that?” the girl looked incredulous.
“We’re partnahs on a school thing. We needed tah work out th’ details of th’ project and I made th’ invite without thinkin’,” Rogue shrugged, with the closest approximation of ruefulness that she could make.
“That’s for sure,” the girl gave John another steely glare, “you’ve gotta get rid of the stupid sense of politeness that Irene ingrained into you.”
“Whatevah. You got your ways, Ah got mahne. Speakin’ of politeness, Sin Jin, this is Xy, we jus’ call her Exie.”
“How d’you manage to get a name like that?” the question burst out of John’s mouth before he could stop himself.
“That what happens if your father is so drunk he can’t write your name straight on a register,” Exie shrugged and turned to Rogue, “Speaking of the old reprobate, you’d better wake him up. He’d be right pissed if he missed his daughter’s visit because he was too busy consoling himself today.”
“Ah thought he’d gone off of th’ stuff,” Rogue looked at the man sitting on the bench next to her with worry, forgetting her partner, who was trying to sort all of the information out at once.
“He has. Just, well, things happen,” Exie didn’t meet Rogue’s piercing emerald gaze.
“What thin’s?” the question was forced out with deadly menace.
“Nick died,” the reply was short.
“Uncle Nick! Why wasn’t Ah told? When did this happen?” Rogue looked furious.
“We found out on Labor Day. Dad didn’t want your concentration to slip from school. Well, that and he became so sauced after he found out.. It was a two day binge.
“Today was the funeral, and that just started the ball rolling again. It’s only him and Creed left now. It was so sad, us three, we were the only mourners. We didn’t tell Irene because she’d insist that you go, and you’d insist that you go, and we really didn’t need you and Creed trying to clobber each other with the coffin.
“Besides, you know Fury; he never liked to inconvenience anyone, and taking you out of school today.. Well for starters that would have ruined my chance to mock you and your date,” the girl grinned maliciously at John.
“Wait a tic,” John was doing speed calculation, “You two are sisters?!”
“Yeah, we got the same Dad. The lazy wretch that Marie is trying to coax awake,” Exie’s tone was soft even though her words were harsh.
“Who says that I’m not awake already?” came the growl from the supposedly sleeping man, “So, you goin’ out with my daughter, bub?”
“No, Logan, it’s not lahk that, Ah swear. An’ Ah’d lahk it if y’all didn’t give Sin Jin ideahs, he’s got enough comin’ out of his head without mah family tryin’ tah turn them in an amorous direction,” Rogue glared at the grinning people who bracketed her.
John blushed, and began writing things down feverishly. He flipped to the page that he had done on himself and put down that he had a habit of writing things down when he was under emotional distress. Displacement activity? He wrote, and then added a second question mark.
“So, how’s your mother?” Logan asked.
Exie began to polish the beer mug feverishly. Rogue clenched her jaw, her face suffused with red. This was visible, even under her customary ten layers of make-up.
“How th’ Hell should Ah know?’ her voice was quiet and threatening.
“How ‘bout Irene?” Logan looked unperturbed.
“She’s fahne, Ah guess. Wants me tah move away from the crowd Ah hang with, as per th’ usual. She doesn’t get it,” Rogue broke off biting her lip.
“She’s right,” Logan growled, “I don’t mind that wannabe rocker boy, Avery, or whatever, but I don’t think that you ought to be hanging around with that little Toady.”
“Todd’s a good person,” Rogue defended hotly.
“He’s a pickpocket,” Logan said, his manner was outwardly calm, but John could see the angry flush on his cheeks.
“He’s a loyal friend. Better than some Ah could mention,” Rogue managed to give the illusion of drawing herself up while still keeping in her seat.
“Yeah, that sneaky white haired freak being one of them. He’s been doing everything he can to drive those parents of his to the insane asylum. That boy is nothing but trouble,” Logan commented sourly.
“Yah don’t know him, Ah do,” Rogue said quietly, drawing rings on the table in stale beer.
“What I do know is that he’s been shop lifting,” Exie interjected forcefully, Rogue looked up, startled.
“Pietro? Yah gotta be kiddin’ me. Todd, yeah, Ah can see him makin’ th’ step, but Mr. God of th’ Athletic Scholarship Program himself?” both John and Rogue were incredulous.
“Yeah, well, he tried to get in here on a fake ID about a day ago. Look, you know what they say, like father,” Exie cautioned.
“Lahke son. Yeah, Ah know. Funny, the last tahm Ah heard that little phrase was when Pietro blew up at everyone,” Rogue mused.
John quickly flipped to the page underneath the label of Pietro Maximoff.
“What Ah’d lahk tah know,” Rogue mused, “Is why everyone always uses that phrase when ‘Tro’s around,” both girls turned to look at Logan sharply.
He shrugged, “I was off in Arizona, or somewhere in the mid west, or maybe in Ontario. I don’t know. But everyone steps carefully where the Maximoff boy and his real parents are concerned. Everyone knows that poor couple isn’t his real parents, and of course you get all of the stories associated with why they aren’t his parents. You girls are right; it’s always the father they speak darkly about. Creed could tell you more than I can. He actually knew the kid’s father.” Logan inspected his glass to see if there was any beer left.
“We are not askin’ Creed for information. It doesn’t matter that much tah me if Ah don’t know. An’ Ah won’t involve some low down, dirty, evil bastard in what mah friends won’t tell me.”
“You sound like I did when I was younger,” Logan grinned, “It’s funny that you two hate each other so much. I can’t really understand it. You’ve never seen the things about him that made me hate him, and the first time he met you, nothing happened. Maybe there is such a thing as hate at first sight.”
“Maybe,” Exie looked at Logan, as if he was opening up an old argument, “But I don’t think that--,”
“Oh, don’t start that old argument again!” Rogue exclaimed.
“What argument?” John spoke up now that they were on solid ground conversation wise.
“They like tah argue over philosophical points of view. Last year it was truth versus beauty. This year it’s been love at first sahght,” Rogue shifted her weight on the bench and glared at both Exie and her father with exasperation.
The door opened letting drafts of air that sent the cigar smoke filling the room moving. Exie looked up, her face creased in a frown.
“Hey, we’re not open for another half hour,” her face softened as she recognized who was in the doorway, “Oh, it’s you. Sorry, I should have remembered that you were coming. You already know me and Logan. This is Marie; she’ll be the other waitress. She only comes every Monday. You’ll be working the supply shift under Logan. What you have to do is.. Hey I’m trying to tell you about your job here!” Exie’s frown snapped back into place.
The new comer was staring at Rogue who was tense and growling. John could immediately see the resemblance between Logan and his Goth daughter.
“What the Hell are yah doing here?” Rogue’s voice was low and menacing.
“Ro- Ro- Marie! I didn’t know that you were here,” John looked at Lance Alvers, who stood paralyzed by Rogue’s baleful glare.
“Same here,” she said, “but Ah do know someone who does. Avery indeed. I’ll get yah for this Logan,” Rogue threatened without taking her eyes off of Lance’s pale face.
“Didn’t want you to be running off if you knew that one of your crowd was going to be here. And he will be working here, no matter what you want to say to the contrary,” Logan looked up from his beer glass, which he had been gazing wistfully at, once again.
“Whatevah,” was Marie’s only response.
Exie led Lance on a grand tour explaining what he would be doing. This seemed to consist of make sure that the beer nuts never ran low. He also had to make sure that the right alcoholic beverage was given to Logan in case of a fancy order, but those weren’t common, and when they were ordered it was usually Fuzzy Navels that were asked for. Lance memorized where the bottles of orange juice and peach schnapps were kept and then was declared fit to do his job.
Exie handed over a clean apron to Rogue and got a marginally more presentable one for herself. John was taken out of the both and was put into a corner barstool where he could converse with Marie and not disturb the other customers. Logan slid out of his seat grumbling, and went behind the bar to prepare for the first wave of customers.
John watched everything curiously as Exie and Marie swiped the tables clean.
“Uh, ain’t there some sort of law against children working in a bar?” he asked Logan tentatively.
Logan grinned, “Yeah, but in this section of Bayville the cops don’t come around unless they’re off duty. Nobody’s gonna try and close down the only cop bar in town. The other bars won’t have it because the cops will just invade their ‘establishments’ and scare away all the regulars, and the town council won’t have it ‘cause I’ve got the dirt on every single member. So Exie stays and helps me out and Marie does waitressing on Monday nights.”
“What d’you mean, ‘cop bar’?” John asked, his note book open to a new section entitled ‘Logan’.
“Simple, this is where the cops go if they are off duty. This bar is like a second precinct for them. There’s a couple of ‘Nam vets that come here, too. And one little old lady whose been coming here since it was the Rose Tea Shop. It’s pretty somber in here for the most part. Cops are serious drinkers, vets are serious drinkers, and little old ladies have mean ways with umbrellas if things get too loud for them.”
“By serious drinkers you mean?” John gestured with his left hand as his right scribbled madly.
“They come looking for enough beer to drown out everything that they have ever seen. It’s, how does that quote go? Oh yeah, ‘They drink with the clear intention of never seeing sobriety again.’ Why are you writing all of this down?” Logan looked at John suspiciously.
“For that English project that I’m working on with Marie, mate. I’m looking for atmosphere and ambiance. That and this place provides good character insights.”
“Yeah,” Logan replied with the tone employed by every person who has no clue what you are talking about but will agree to anything if you will only shut up.
John knew this tone well. He shook his head and bent down so that he could attempt making his hand writing neater. Why did people always ask for information if they didn’t want it? Oh well, just one of life’s little mysteries, like why no one else liked to watch the pretty pictures that fire created.
“Hey,” Rogue’s shadow fell across his paper, “What have yah got for ideas so far?”
“Well, I think that we ought to include your father. He’d make up for the total lack of character in Scott. More than make up for it, the guy has charisma.”
“No. No way! We are not draggin’ anyone else intah this. Ah don’t want--,” Rogue cut herself off.
“You don’t want people to know about him,” John said, one pale orange eyebrow raised.
“Yah’re damn right. It’s bad enough that mah best friends are tryin’ tah test the limits of th’ law with out haulin’ all of mah problems for everyone to peer at in a school project!” her emerald eyes flashed in anger.
“We don’t have to write the same relationships that everyone has. Also, you’re not even in this thing yet. I’m writing him in, it’s a done deal,” John closed his notebook with what would have been a snap if he had been using any other implement, because it was a spiral bound notebook it closed with a soft thwap. Not as final or impressive as a snap but it still got the point across.
“Fahne, but Ah get tah write th’ entire plot for th’ first chapter,” Rogue hissed back.
“OK, and we’ll do the character’s powers together. See how easy things are when you compromise sheila?” John seemed to be back to his usual smiling self.
“Comprmise! Ah’ll compromise with you when--,”
The door swung open, cutting off what Rogue was going to say.
Her group of friends all seemed to have a set of words that set them off. He knew from the conversation that he had eavesdropped on that you did not say the word crazy in Pietro’s presence. You never made fun of Lance’s Jeep, or Freddy’s weight. He didn’t have a handle on what set Todd off, but of the group he seemed to be the most easy-going. Rogue was the enigma, things set her off alright, but he didn’t know which things.
They walked into the run down part of town in a heavy silence. Rogue was kicking at some pebbles that were unfortunate enough to end up near her booted feet. John was looking at his notebook cover, which he had brought with him. Rogue turned down a side street and entered a shabby bar. John stood outside for a while in surprise, but then went in after her.
There was a smoky haze in the bar, but to John’s relief it smelled more of cigars than cigarettes. He didn’t think that he would have been able to stomach the stench of cigarettes at the moment. He was already shocked at his partner’s behavior.
Rogue slid into a booth that had a man slumped over it. The guy was obviously drunk, and John’s nose wrinkled as he slid in across from Rogue and the man. Rogue shook the man, but very gently, John noticed.
“Here, you can’t sit there,” a tough looking girl walked up out of the gloom. She wore a canvas apron that was stained with God knew what and a grim scowl, “Oh, it’s you Marie,” her expression softened, slightly, “Who’s the stud?”
The rag that she had been using to polish a beer mug flicked in John’s direction. He felt suddenly hot, but Rogue laughed. She seemed freer here. He had certainly never seen her act so lose around anyone, not even her gang of friends.
“This is Sin Jin, Ah asked him ovah for dinnah bah accident.”
“How do y’do that?” the girl looked incredulous.
“We’re partnahs on a school thing. We needed tah work out th’ details of th’ project and I made th’ invite without thinkin’,” Rogue shrugged, with the closest approximation of ruefulness that she could make.
“That’s for sure,” the girl gave John another steely glare, “you’ve gotta get rid of the stupid sense of politeness that Irene ingrained into you.”
“Whatevah. You got your ways, Ah got mahne. Speakin’ of politeness, Sin Jin, this is Xy, we jus’ call her Exie.”
“How d’you manage to get a name like that?” the question burst out of John’s mouth before he could stop himself.
“That what happens if your father is so drunk he can’t write your name straight on a register,” Exie shrugged and turned to Rogue, “Speaking of the old reprobate, you’d better wake him up. He’d be right pissed if he missed his daughter’s visit because he was too busy consoling himself today.”
“Ah thought he’d gone off of th’ stuff,” Rogue looked at the man sitting on the bench next to her with worry, forgetting her partner, who was trying to sort all of the information out at once.
“He has. Just, well, things happen,” Exie didn’t meet Rogue’s piercing emerald gaze.
“What thin’s?” the question was forced out with deadly menace.
“Nick died,” the reply was short.
“Uncle Nick! Why wasn’t Ah told? When did this happen?” Rogue looked furious.
“We found out on Labor Day. Dad didn’t want your concentration to slip from school. Well, that and he became so sauced after he found out.. It was a two day binge.
“Today was the funeral, and that just started the ball rolling again. It’s only him and Creed left now. It was so sad, us three, we were the only mourners. We didn’t tell Irene because she’d insist that you go, and you’d insist that you go, and we really didn’t need you and Creed trying to clobber each other with the coffin.
“Besides, you know Fury; he never liked to inconvenience anyone, and taking you out of school today.. Well for starters that would have ruined my chance to mock you and your date,” the girl grinned maliciously at John.
“Wait a tic,” John was doing speed calculation, “You two are sisters?!”
“Yeah, we got the same Dad. The lazy wretch that Marie is trying to coax awake,” Exie’s tone was soft even though her words were harsh.
“Who says that I’m not awake already?” came the growl from the supposedly sleeping man, “So, you goin’ out with my daughter, bub?”
“No, Logan, it’s not lahk that, Ah swear. An’ Ah’d lahk it if y’all didn’t give Sin Jin ideahs, he’s got enough comin’ out of his head without mah family tryin’ tah turn them in an amorous direction,” Rogue glared at the grinning people who bracketed her.
John blushed, and began writing things down feverishly. He flipped to the page that he had done on himself and put down that he had a habit of writing things down when he was under emotional distress. Displacement activity? He wrote, and then added a second question mark.
“So, how’s your mother?” Logan asked.
Exie began to polish the beer mug feverishly. Rogue clenched her jaw, her face suffused with red. This was visible, even under her customary ten layers of make-up.
“How th’ Hell should Ah know?’ her voice was quiet and threatening.
“How ‘bout Irene?” Logan looked unperturbed.
“She’s fahne, Ah guess. Wants me tah move away from the crowd Ah hang with, as per th’ usual. She doesn’t get it,” Rogue broke off biting her lip.
“She’s right,” Logan growled, “I don’t mind that wannabe rocker boy, Avery, or whatever, but I don’t think that you ought to be hanging around with that little Toady.”
“Todd’s a good person,” Rogue defended hotly.
“He’s a pickpocket,” Logan said, his manner was outwardly calm, but John could see the angry flush on his cheeks.
“He’s a loyal friend. Better than some Ah could mention,” Rogue managed to give the illusion of drawing herself up while still keeping in her seat.
“Yeah, that sneaky white haired freak being one of them. He’s been doing everything he can to drive those parents of his to the insane asylum. That boy is nothing but trouble,” Logan commented sourly.
“Yah don’t know him, Ah do,” Rogue said quietly, drawing rings on the table in stale beer.
“What I do know is that he’s been shop lifting,” Exie interjected forcefully, Rogue looked up, startled.
“Pietro? Yah gotta be kiddin’ me. Todd, yeah, Ah can see him makin’ th’ step, but Mr. God of th’ Athletic Scholarship Program himself?” both John and Rogue were incredulous.
“Yeah, well, he tried to get in here on a fake ID about a day ago. Look, you know what they say, like father,” Exie cautioned.
“Lahke son. Yeah, Ah know. Funny, the last tahm Ah heard that little phrase was when Pietro blew up at everyone,” Rogue mused.
John quickly flipped to the page underneath the label of Pietro Maximoff.
“What Ah’d lahk tah know,” Rogue mused, “Is why everyone always uses that phrase when ‘Tro’s around,” both girls turned to look at Logan sharply.
He shrugged, “I was off in Arizona, or somewhere in the mid west, or maybe in Ontario. I don’t know. But everyone steps carefully where the Maximoff boy and his real parents are concerned. Everyone knows that poor couple isn’t his real parents, and of course you get all of the stories associated with why they aren’t his parents. You girls are right; it’s always the father they speak darkly about. Creed could tell you more than I can. He actually knew the kid’s father.” Logan inspected his glass to see if there was any beer left.
“We are not askin’ Creed for information. It doesn’t matter that much tah me if Ah don’t know. An’ Ah won’t involve some low down, dirty, evil bastard in what mah friends won’t tell me.”
“You sound like I did when I was younger,” Logan grinned, “It’s funny that you two hate each other so much. I can’t really understand it. You’ve never seen the things about him that made me hate him, and the first time he met you, nothing happened. Maybe there is such a thing as hate at first sight.”
“Maybe,” Exie looked at Logan, as if he was opening up an old argument, “But I don’t think that--,”
“Oh, don’t start that old argument again!” Rogue exclaimed.
“What argument?” John spoke up now that they were on solid ground conversation wise.
“They like tah argue over philosophical points of view. Last year it was truth versus beauty. This year it’s been love at first sahght,” Rogue shifted her weight on the bench and glared at both Exie and her father with exasperation.
The door opened letting drafts of air that sent the cigar smoke filling the room moving. Exie looked up, her face creased in a frown.
“Hey, we’re not open for another half hour,” her face softened as she recognized who was in the doorway, “Oh, it’s you. Sorry, I should have remembered that you were coming. You already know me and Logan. This is Marie; she’ll be the other waitress. She only comes every Monday. You’ll be working the supply shift under Logan. What you have to do is.. Hey I’m trying to tell you about your job here!” Exie’s frown snapped back into place.
The new comer was staring at Rogue who was tense and growling. John could immediately see the resemblance between Logan and his Goth daughter.
“What the Hell are yah doing here?” Rogue’s voice was low and menacing.
“Ro- Ro- Marie! I didn’t know that you were here,” John looked at Lance Alvers, who stood paralyzed by Rogue’s baleful glare.
“Same here,” she said, “but Ah do know someone who does. Avery indeed. I’ll get yah for this Logan,” Rogue threatened without taking her eyes off of Lance’s pale face.
“Didn’t want you to be running off if you knew that one of your crowd was going to be here. And he will be working here, no matter what you want to say to the contrary,” Logan looked up from his beer glass, which he had been gazing wistfully at, once again.
“Whatevah,” was Marie’s only response.
Exie led Lance on a grand tour explaining what he would be doing. This seemed to consist of make sure that the beer nuts never ran low. He also had to make sure that the right alcoholic beverage was given to Logan in case of a fancy order, but those weren’t common, and when they were ordered it was usually Fuzzy Navels that were asked for. Lance memorized where the bottles of orange juice and peach schnapps were kept and then was declared fit to do his job.
Exie handed over a clean apron to Rogue and got a marginally more presentable one for herself. John was taken out of the both and was put into a corner barstool where he could converse with Marie and not disturb the other customers. Logan slid out of his seat grumbling, and went behind the bar to prepare for the first wave of customers.
John watched everything curiously as Exie and Marie swiped the tables clean.
“Uh, ain’t there some sort of law against children working in a bar?” he asked Logan tentatively.
Logan grinned, “Yeah, but in this section of Bayville the cops don’t come around unless they’re off duty. Nobody’s gonna try and close down the only cop bar in town. The other bars won’t have it because the cops will just invade their ‘establishments’ and scare away all the regulars, and the town council won’t have it ‘cause I’ve got the dirt on every single member. So Exie stays and helps me out and Marie does waitressing on Monday nights.”
“What d’you mean, ‘cop bar’?” John asked, his note book open to a new section entitled ‘Logan’.
“Simple, this is where the cops go if they are off duty. This bar is like a second precinct for them. There’s a couple of ‘Nam vets that come here, too. And one little old lady whose been coming here since it was the Rose Tea Shop. It’s pretty somber in here for the most part. Cops are serious drinkers, vets are serious drinkers, and little old ladies have mean ways with umbrellas if things get too loud for them.”
“By serious drinkers you mean?” John gestured with his left hand as his right scribbled madly.
“They come looking for enough beer to drown out everything that they have ever seen. It’s, how does that quote go? Oh yeah, ‘They drink with the clear intention of never seeing sobriety again.’ Why are you writing all of this down?” Logan looked at John suspiciously.
“For that English project that I’m working on with Marie, mate. I’m looking for atmosphere and ambiance. That and this place provides good character insights.”
“Yeah,” Logan replied with the tone employed by every person who has no clue what you are talking about but will agree to anything if you will only shut up.
John knew this tone well. He shook his head and bent down so that he could attempt making his hand writing neater. Why did people always ask for information if they didn’t want it? Oh well, just one of life’s little mysteries, like why no one else liked to watch the pretty pictures that fire created.
“Hey,” Rogue’s shadow fell across his paper, “What have yah got for ideas so far?”
“Well, I think that we ought to include your father. He’d make up for the total lack of character in Scott. More than make up for it, the guy has charisma.”
“No. No way! We are not draggin’ anyone else intah this. Ah don’t want--,” Rogue cut herself off.
“You don’t want people to know about him,” John said, one pale orange eyebrow raised.
“Yah’re damn right. It’s bad enough that mah best friends are tryin’ tah test the limits of th’ law with out haulin’ all of mah problems for everyone to peer at in a school project!” her emerald eyes flashed in anger.
“We don’t have to write the same relationships that everyone has. Also, you’re not even in this thing yet. I’m writing him in, it’s a done deal,” John closed his notebook with what would have been a snap if he had been using any other implement, because it was a spiral bound notebook it closed with a soft thwap. Not as final or impressive as a snap but it still got the point across.
“Fahne, but Ah get tah write th’ entire plot for th’ first chapter,” Rogue hissed back.
“OK, and we’ll do the character’s powers together. See how easy things are when you compromise sheila?” John seemed to be back to his usual smiling self.
“Comprmise! Ah’ll compromise with you when--,”
The door swung open, cutting off what Rogue was going to say.
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