Rogue: Fire and Soul by Jade Gretz

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/Rogue-Fire-and-Soul-1046429840

Secrets Beneath the X-Gene:

The night was unnervingly quiet as Rogue walked through the abandoned corridors of an old mutant research facility. Her boots clicked softly against the cold, cracked tiles, the sound echoing ominously through the empty space. The air was thick with dust and the scent of decay, as if the very walls held onto memories best forgotten. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered, casting shadows that danced and twisted with a life of their own. Every nerve in her body was on edge, as if the facility itself was alive, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

Rogue’s gloved hand brushed against the hilt of a dagger she had taken from the X-Mansion’s armory. Its weight was reassuring, but it did little to quell the unease building within her. She had faced some of the most dangerous enemies in the world, yet this place unnerved her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It wasn’t just the silence, or the way the shadows seemed to whisper her name—it was the feeling of something lurking just out of sight, something that was watching her every move.

A flicker of movement caught her eye, and Rogue spun around, her heart pounding in her chest. But there was nothing there, just the empty corridor stretching out before her. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She wasn’t one to spook easily, but this place was different. It was as if the facility was trying to warn her, trying to make her leave before it was too late.

But she couldn’t leave. Not yet.

Professor Xavier had sent her here with a specific mission: to uncover the secrets hidden within the facility’s walls, secrets that could change the course of her life—and the lives of mutants everywhere—forever. The professor had told her that this place held the key to understanding her powers, and perhaps even finding a way to control them. Rogue had always struggled with her abilities, the constant fear of hurting those she loved, the isolation that came with never being able to touch another person without absorbing their life force. If there was even a chance that this facility held the answers she sought, she had to find them.

But as she delved deeper into the facility, Rogue began to wonder if she was making a mistake. The shadows grew thicker, the air colder, and the feeling of being watched more intense. The walls seemed to close in around her, as if the facility itself was trying to trap her, to keep her from discovering its secrets. The flickering lights cast eerie shapes on the walls, and the sound of her footsteps seemed to echo back at her, distorted and menacing.

Rogue reached a heavy steel door at the end of the corridor. It was rusted and battered, but it bore the unmistakable mark of an X. Her gloved hand trembled slightly as she reached for the door, the weight of her mission pressing down on her. With a deep breath, she pushed the door open, the creaking hinges sending a shiver down her spine.

Beyond the door was a large, dimly lit chamber, filled with rows of old computer terminals and equipment that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. The air was stale and thick with the scent of mold, and Rogue could see dust motes dancing in the beams of light that filtered through the broken windows. The room was silent, save for the faint hum of machinery that seemed to come from deep within the facility.

In the center of the room stood a large, cylindrical chamber made of reinforced glass. Inside the chamber was a figure—tall, slender, and draped in a long, flowing cloak that obscured their features. Rogue’s breath caught in her throat as she realized that the figure was not a statue or a hologram, but a living being, suspended in some kind of stasis.

Rogue approached the chamber cautiously, her instincts screaming at her to turn back, to leave this place before it was too late. But she couldn’t. She had to know what secrets this place held, what connection this figure had to her powers, to her past.

As she drew closer, the figure’s eyes snapped open, glowing a brilliant, eerie green. The chamber hummed with energy, and the air crackled with an electric charge that made Rogue’s hair stand on end. The figure slowly raised a hand, pressing it against the glass, and Rogue felt a wave of cold wash over her, as if the figure was reaching out to her through the barrier.

“You should not be here,” the figure’s voice echoed in her mind, cold and hollow, as if it came from a great distance. “You do not know what you are dea
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