Rogue: Between Life and Lethal by Jade Gretz

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/Rogue-Between-Life-and-Lethal-1260246017

Rogue: Between Life and Lethal ANIMATION

Kiss of the Chitin Queen

Frost crawled up the cracked windowpane of the abandoned hunting lodge, but the true cold was nested deep within Anna Marie’s marrow. It was a shivering, clicking cold. A rhythm of mandibles tapping against the cage of her ribs, right beside a heart that beat far too fast. She gripped the edge of the rotting sink, staring into the shattered mirror. The white streak in her auburn hair seemed to writhe, but perhaps that was only the fever painting illusions over her terror.

"You fight a beautiful design, child," a voice whispered. It did not echo in the empty room; it resonated directly through her teeth. The tone was molasses-thick, carrying the sultry cadence of her own Mississippi roots, yet layered with a wet, insectoid clicking. It was her own voice, echoed through the throat of an alien god.

"Get out of my head," Rogue rasped, squeezing her gloved hands into tight fists until the leather groaned. "I ain't your incubator. I ain't your queen."

"But you are," the voice purred, sending a cascade of warm, euphoric numbness down her spine. "For years, you have starved. You wrapped yourself in leather and denim, terrified of your own flesh. You called your gift a curse. We see the truth. We see the magnificent hunger of your cells, and we have built a kingdom to honor it."

A sharp pain blossomed in her left shoulder. Rogue tore away the collar of her heavy coat. Beneath the fabric, her skin was no longer smooth. It was hardening, shifting into a shimmering, iridescent carapace of emerald and onyx. But the horror did not end in the scales. At the center of the hardened flesh, a fissure opened—a wet, pulsating slit that looked disturbingly like a human mouth, ringed with delicate, shivering antennae.

The Brood parasite had not merely wished to hatch from her. The moment it infected her bloodstream, it tasted her mutant genome. It tasted the void within her, the endless vacuum that drained life, memory, and power. The hive mind had fallen in love with that absolute emptiness. It was replicating her mutation, forcing an evolution.

"We do not need to tear you apart, Anna Marie," the parasite murmured, a seductive lullaby flooding her nervous system with endorphins to paralyze her panic. "Why suffer alone? We will give you a family. A hive that shares your beautiful, empty mouth. We will kiss the galaxy dry."

From the shadows of the lodge, movement stirred. The drones had already begun to separate from her over the past forty-eight hours, birthed in agonizing, delirious fevers while she hid in this remote wilderness. They were not the typical brutish, winged nightmares of the Brood empire. They were slender, bipedal, moving with a disturbing, fluid grace. Their carapaces mimicked the curves of a human woman, crowned with crests of bone-white chitin that cascaded like hair. They had no eyes. They possessed only wide, soft, pale lips stretching across smooth, eyeless faces.

Rogue slumped against the wall, sliding to the floorboards as a wave of vertigo hit her. She was losing control. The Queen persona was weaving its alien consciousness over hers, a heavy velvet blanket of submission that smelled of sweet resin and copper.

The heavy wooden door of the lodge groaned, then splintered inward with a loud crash, followed by the distinctive, crackling hum of kinetically charged air.

"Told the Professor your tracking skills were getting sloppy," a familiar, drawling voice called out into the gloom. "Took me three days to find this miserable icebox. Found three husked wolves on the trail, which told me you were either very hungry, or very busy. You trying to win a prize for the most depressing vacation spot, chere?"

Remy LeBeau stood in the doorway, his trench coat snapping in the bitter wind of the blizzard outside. He held his metal staff casually over his shoulder, a glowing purple playing card dancing effortlessly between the knuckles of his left hand. The soft magenta light cast deep, shifting shadows across his face, highlighting his arrogant, beautiful smirk.

"Remy, no," Rogue choked out, her voice a fragile, broken thing. "Get out. Run."

The smirk faded from Gambit’s lips as his glowing red eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cabin. He stepped inside, pushing the ruined door closed against the howling snow. "Anna? What is this? You sick?"

He took a slow step toward her. The floorboards creaked under his boots.

Instantly, the shadows detached from the walls. Four of the chitinous drones slid into t
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