Second Chances and Bad Advances

[eloquentnovelist]

Vagrant.

Noun.

Definition: A wanderer without a home.

If the shoe fits...

Back at the mansion, she was known as Rogue when she was a mutant. Marie was her human name. Marie was an optimistic human girl who had thought that she could coexist with her past and manage just fine...


Her burn in the alley with Pyro proved her wrong.

Rogue died when she too the cure. And Marie? Marie's light at been doused by the fire manipulating mutant, and rising from the ashes was a completely different woman. There was no fear there, no holding back from her. Anna was a woman released from her gift and past. That encounter with Pyro had opened her eyes and given her the courage to take a step forward and seize the day, seize her life and make it what she wanted it to be.

But what she wanted was something she would never be. Normal.

There was nothing normal about the girl who came back to Mississippi to tell her parents that she was cured. White streak in her hair, she still stood out like a sore thumb. Her parents wouldn't have her. Her life in the past would only spit her back out. The best she could do was start over. And start over she did.

It was in a rundown bar that Anna hung her hat and kicked up her boots, only it was behind the counter, serving up drinks. Pretty girl like her? She took home big tips, especially since she had a strict rule of not handing out her phone number to the regulars. The more elusive the woman, the more the man wanted her.

But that wasn't her play. Anna had a lot to accomplish before even considering getting involved with anyone. She had to build a life and a home.

The sound of billiard balls smacking against each other cued up another round of drinks for the bikers in the corner. They were placing bets on who would win, which was all in good spirit. Give them a little too much liquor, and sometimes the place got rowdy. Anna knew exactly when to cut them off, and half the time, he patrons would get angry about it, to which she would dial up the charm and say something so sweet such as "Sugah, ah'm only worried for ya. What if somethin' happened to ya if ah didn't cut ya off? It'd break mah heart. After all, ya are my favorite regular" and finish it off with an emerald eyed wink.

Anna swung past the counter with a tray full of beers in frosty mugs, maneuvering around the tables, she made it to the gentlemen having their little competition and presented them with the cold beverages. "Now Ah'm warnin' y'all, ya keep this clean and fun and we won't have a problem. If ah hear any threats or see any shovin', Ah'm gonna just deny ya'll any more liquid courage. Do ah make myself clear, fellas?"

Yea, she served beers and made drinks for a living. But that didn't mean she was gonna let anyone walk all over her. Those days we're behind her. The days of a mousey school teacher just begging for acceptance were through. This was her life now, and it was gonna be exactly how she wanted it.

[skullofbalerion]

Remy had been sitting in the corner of the bar, keeping his red-eyed self to himself. It'd been a rough few days, a chance encounter with his former wife, Bella-Donna, had not done much to lift the Cajun's spirits. He was happy that Bella-Donna was doing well for herself, now being the leader of the Assassin's Guild back in New Orleans, she would be set up for life. The city had been mostly calm and peaceful, with a truce between the Guilds ensuring no more blood would be shed, both of them agreeing that the banishment of  le diable blanc was 'just what the city needed' for true peace. Bella-Donna had made that opinion quite clear in their chance meeting, and without sentiment. The meeting had been playing on the Cajun's mind, and he'd decided a few drinks in a run-down Mississippi bar would help raise his spirits.

Taking his mind away from Bella-Donna and New Orleans, Remy glanced around the darkly-lit, smoky bar. In the corner were a bunch of bikers, appropriately dressed in their leathers, the look complete with big beards and mustaches. Remy had seen them come in and give the pretty bar-girl some cheeky banter when ordering their drinks, and head over to the corner where they seemed intent on laughing and sneering as loud as they possibly could. Turning from them, Remy noticed a few other people in the bar; a couple of old-timers playing dominoes, another reading a newspaper. Peering at the front page, Remy had to squint to read the headline. 'MUTANT THREAT STILL OUT THERE' was what the big, black wording on the front of the paper exclaimed. Remy chuckled to himself as he turned his eyes away from the paper, agreeing with what the words had read. 'Mutant threat? I guess some folks would call us that,' Remy thought. 'Ah mean, we can be threatenin', that's for sure.'

Taking another sip of his bourbon, Remy checked inside his pockets for a pack of cigarettes, took one out and lit it up. As he did so, his attention was pulled back across the room to the biker gang, who now were being told well and truly by the young bar-waitress who was the boss. For some reason, Remy thought the girl looked familiar, but the Cajun couldn't quite put his finger on why? He watched as she finished her rant at the biker gang, swallowed down the rest of his glass and headed over to the bar to order another.

[eloquentnovelist]

Hell, half the team back at Xavier's was composed of men. Growing up around Logan had taught her a thing or two about handling men. First off, ya had to set a clear tone, one that was all about no nonsense when it came to serious business, and when it came to the safety of the bar and the patrons, Anna didn't joke around. She might have been pretty, but she had a firm tongue with guts and sass and a mean left hook to back it up. Well, maybe not everyone knew about that left hook, except for the man that had attacked Wanda. But she was certainly classified among her regulars as a tough cookie. That's what happened when ya grew up rather tomboyish. When she vacated her past life, she left that behind as well. No powers meant she could wear whatever she wanted and in the south, it meant she wouldn't bake with extra layers of clothing. But it didn't mean she was a fan of those little shorts that rode up your behind. She was still a lady. Growing up, she was always taught "Wear clothes tight enough to show you're a woman, but loose enough to show that you're a lady". Priscilla and Owen D'Ancanto did a decent job of raising her, until her gift blossomed. It was like Logan took over for them. Looking back, she was actually glad that he had somewhat hijacked her upbringing. She was even fond of it.

The men at the pool table kept in check when Anna spoke, agreeing to her conditions. For now at least. Logan himself would have been proud. If anyone from the mansion saw her currently, they wouldn't believe it was the same woman. Sure, she was outspoken, but never like this. She was like a southern rose in full bloom now that she was back in Mississippi. And although Westchester, New York was where her friends were, it wasn't a place she was fully able to be herself, not when her powers were present.

So why was the past lingering on in her head tonight? It had to be because of that mutant woman she met a few nights ago... Wanda. The two had gone out after a bar brawl gone wrong for a relaxing cup of tea in the early dawn. It was a reminder that mutants and humans(even ex mutants) could coexist. Now if only she could spread the message to the rest of the thick headed country bumpkins in the area, then she could make a difference. For now, she was just Anna, the sassy bartender who served drinks at this shady little bar.

"Anna, sweetheart! Dance with me!"

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to face the man, stepping out of his reach and politely shrugging it off with a sweet smile. "Oh honey, ya know ah would but someone's gotta keep these drinks comin'."

With her empty tray in hand, she noticed someone at the counter. Swinging by to the other side, she set down her tray and let her hands rest at her hips. "Ya lookin' mighty thirsty there, Sugah. What'll it be?" He might have picked up on that twinkle in her green eyes. Hell, he should have expected it. The man was not typical of the men that usually came through her bar. As Jubilee would have put it, this gent was more like U.S.D.A. certified grade A man meat.

[skullofbalerion]

Leaning on the bar, facing outwards to watch the cute little bar-girl deal with the locals, Remy caught the sound of her voice. He recognised that too, the drawl was definitely local, she was definitely a southern girl. But there was something else to her, something strangely familiar. The girl dealt with a drunken local, whose hand was firmly dislodged from her shoulder with a smile that would illuminate a light-less room.

"Oh honey, ya know ah would but someone's gotta keep these drinks comin'," she politely told the man, who stumbled away laughing, trying to perform some kind of two-step dance as he headed back over to his friends by the pool table. She was a popular one, this bar-tender girl. Her hair was long, with a white flash through the middle which stood out and gave her a unique style that seemed to appease the men in the bar no end.

Heading back over to the bar, Remy offered a smile and a tip-of-the-hat to her as she set down an empty tray and swung to the other side. Remy, maintaining his view of her as she moved, turned in unison, his red-eyes focused squarely on his hostess.

"Ya lookin' mighty thirsty there, Sugah. What'll it be?" Remy smirked a little, being called 'sugah' by a pretty little thing like her, it would make most men blush. But Remy had a thing with women, or so he believed.

"Sure, I'll have another whiskey, s'il vous plait," he gestured with his hand, as he spoke. "And whatever you're havin', chere." Looking to his left, the Cajun grabbed hold of the unoccupied bar stool and plonked himself down on it, leaning with his elbows on the wooden bar, staring up at his new friend.

"Looks like you gots a' lotta devotees in dis place, petite. And it's easy ta see why, ah must admit..." Eyes twinkling red, Remy continued, his deep voice just about audible over the music and other sounds of the busy bar.

"I'm lookin' for someone, an old man, a friend," Remy's voice thinned even more quietly. "His name is John, John Greycrow. He's a mutant..." The Cajun stopped, hoping that nobody heard him use the 'M' word. He didn't want to start a ruckus. Not right now anyway. "I heard he was livin' round these parts. It's important that ah speak to him, in fact, it's pretty urgent."

John Greycrow, aka Scalphunter, was a member of Mister Sinister's Marauders, a team that Remy had been a part of for a short while years and years ago. He was searching for Scalphunter to complete some unfinished business from back then. What some might call, dirty business. But he didn't want this innocent bar-girl to know that.

[eloquentnovelist]

Anna looked over her shoulder, feeling rather accomplished at shrugging off that last drunkard. She ran a hand back through her locks, the white instantly falling back into place along the sides of her cheeks and temples. They were as stubborn as she was most of the time. There were times that the debate arose of whether to dye them the same color as the rest of her hair, but they were all she had left of the past and the people she called home and family. It was the only thing that made her special now that she didn't have any powers. And out here, no one made the connection between her and the girl in the papers years ago, the one at Liberty Island that had been a part of Magneto's terrorist act against all humans.

Taking her eyes off the men by the pool table finally, Anna caught a glimpse of that devil waiting for her by the bar. That smile and that spirit around him, it seemed contagious. It reminded her a lot of home, or at least, what home use to be. Although her parents had brought her up in a strict house hold, Anna Marie was just always that girl that walked the fields barefooted just about every night, dove into the water with all her clothes on, and fell asleep out on the rooftop just so she could be woken up by a sight so precious as the dawn. Was it just her or was he actually staring? She might have been a looker, but she was also modest.

Anna couldn't help the wink she threw his way when he brandished that Cajun French at her, and quickly produced a fresh cool glass in front of him to pour the amber liquid in. He had somehow thrown off her rhythm with his next comment. Fortunately, she recovered quickly, chuckling at his indirect invitation to have a drink with him. Instead of giving him the typical shoot down, she opted for a different response. A smile blossomed on her face as she slid his fresh drink forward. "Ah'm flattered, but... Ah gotta keep mah eye on those ruffians over by the pool table." It wasn't a no, but it wasn't a yes either. "An' don't go thinkin' about manipulatin' me with any puppy dog eyes. Ah'll have ya know that it doesn't work on me." She might have said it with a firm tone in her voice but something in her eyes reflected a playfulness about the conversation.

Now he was just trying to make her blush. Normally, flattery got her patrons nowhere. But this guy? He was just so damn charming. Anna crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side. "Ya ain't so bad lookin' yourself, Sugah."

His voice was getting quiet... If this was the part where he lured her in for a kiss... He would be hurtin' somethin' fierce in a few minutes. Anna leaned in to hear him better, eyes focusing on him and losing peripheral vision of the group by the pool table. But surprisingly, that wasn't where this was heading. The name didn't sound familiar... And then he dropped the bomb. Anna's smile faded. In fact, she blinked a few times while she processed the word.

Mutant.

Noun. Someone born with the X-Gene.

Anna was a former mutant. And who was this guy? Was he hunting them or was he one of them? Either way, she knew trouble was heading in her direction. "Never heard of him. And watch where ya say that word." Anna knew from personal experience. She had gotten lucky already that the knife went in Wanda's attacker and not herself.

So who was the bad guy? This Greycow fella, or tall, dark, and handsome? Was he a mutant too? Did she even want to find out? Anna's right hand started to fidget, her fingers running over the burn scars on her palm that Pyro had inflicted on her during their confrontation. Without being able to absorb Logan's healing, her hand had remained scarred. It was an instant reminder of the events that happened in that alley. "People around these parts ain't too fond of us."

"Them."

Just like that, Anna had given herself away.