Rogue: The Untouchable by Jade Gretz

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/Rogue-The-Untouchable-1046430900

Moonlight filtered through the gnarled branches of the forest, casting eerie shadows on the damp earth. Wisps of fog drifted close to the ground like restless spirits, whispering secrets of the night. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, interrupted only by the distant hoot of an owl. In this haunted expanse, a familiar figure darted through the underbrush, her bare feet barely brushing the mossy surface, moving with the grace of a wraith. Rogue, clad in her usual green and yellow jumpsuit, felt the familiar surge of power thrumming beneath her skin, a constant reminder of her burdens and gifts.

Her heart pounded not just from exertion but from fear—fear for Gambit, her lover, spirited away by the treacherous hands of Mystique, his former ally turned cruel foe. They had tangled before, but this time the stakes were dire. In her gut, Rogue knew it wasn't just Gambit’s life that hung in the balance; it was their shared future, a dream blurred by darkness and chaos.

Rogue’s mind flitted back to the last time she had seen Gambit. A lighthearted moment tinged with unease, he had flashed her that charming smile of his before vanishing into the shadows to scout out a potential threat. The unease had been palpable, a sense of foreboding that danced at the edges of her consciousness. An hour had passed, then two—a ticking clock etched in her mind. The dread spiraled when the scream echoed through the night, a sound so piercing it could chill the marrow in any bone. It was Gambit’s voice, fading into the distance, swallowed whole by the forest.

Panic had surged in her veins. Racing into the night, Rogue had dropped all thought of caution, every instinct honed for survival focused solely on the man she loved. “Gambit! I’m coming!” she had shouted, her voice cracking the silence. But the forest neither responded nor offered solace—it only deepened the shadows.

Now, beneath the heavy boughs of twisted trees, Rogue moved with a singular determination. Each breath drawn was a reminder of the darkness that lurked within, a power that could save but also devastate. Touch had always been her weapon; it was both her salvation and her curse, a burden she bore with pride. But tonight, the thought of using it against Gambit’s foe filled her with an uneasy dread of becoming what she feared most—a monster.

As she pushed through the dense foliage, the trees seemed to close in around her, their knotted limbs like skeletal fingers reaching out to grasp her. Shadows danced unnaturally, twisting and curling, pulling her deeper into the heart of the forest. The ground became a treacherous path, roots snaking like vengeful spirits, trying to trip her, to ensnare her in their dark embrace.

Suddenly, a flash of blue flickered in her periphery, a tell-tale sign of Mystique’s presence. It was always a game of cat and mouse with her nemesis. Rogue had become all too familiar with the cunning, the duplicity that lay behind those piercing yellow eyes. Mystique, once a mother figure and mentor, had morphed into something darker, clad not just in skin that shifted and blended but in the very sinews of betrayal.

Rogue felt the hairs at the back of her neck stand on end—a primal instinct warning her of the approaching danger. She steadied herself, pulling on the training she’d honed alongside her teammates. Control was vital. Power surged through her, begging for release. But this night wasn't just a fight; it was a battle for Gambit’s life, a fight against the very essence of betrayal that Mystique embodied.

Glimmers in the fog turned into a shape, her silhouette cut from the shadows like a knife—Mystique stood before her, the moonlight illuminating her features briefly before they flickered into a mask of shifting colors. “My dear Rogue,” Mystique purred, her voice velvet but cold, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Where is he, Mystique?” Rogue shot back, her voice steady despite the roiling fear in her chest. “What have you done with Gambit?”

“Your Gambit?” Mystique laughed, a sound laced with malice that echoed through the woods. “He’s mine now. To toy with, to break. Love makes one weak, doesn’t it? You’ll understand soon.”

Rogue’s heart constricted at the thought of Gambit suffering, bitterness swelling in her chest like a vine choking a garden. “I swear, if you lay a finger on him—”

“Oh, my sweet Rogue, you misunderstand.” Mystique tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with a wicked delight. “It’s not just fingers I’ll use against him. I
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