[ It's a strange thing being unmade. She'd never experienced anything quite like it before. Sure, Rogue had experienced a great many things, with the strange and unusual being the norm in her life Since her mutation had presented itself, But this... This was something different. No longer was she coming undone simply in her own mind, The stress Of dozens of psyches pulling at the strings of her own sanity. No, this was in body as well, the atoms of her very being splintering apart, vanishing and reappearing all in the same moment. She wanted to scream but she no longer had a voice, and there was no one to hear her regardless. 

But then it stopped. Whether seconds had passed or hours, it didn't matter. She was whole, the ground solid beneath her feet, and she had lungs that could breathe again.

The screech of metal tearing and the echoes of explosions in the distance cut short any reverie, jarring her from her thoughts and sending her into defensive mode. The street she appeared in is full of screaming people running in every direction to escape... Well, probably to escape whatever was going on in the sky. Rogue stares up at it in fascination more than horror, the sight reminding her of Blink's portals but larger and more like shattered glass. She just stands there for a moment, watching as the world tries to fall to pieces around her— 

And then she moves. Into the crowd, moving with the rushing river of people to hide until she can get her bearings. The sea of bodies helps distract from her strange outfit, and it's surprisingly easy to keep her hands tucked into the long sleeves so no one brushes against her bare skin. One block, two, three, away from whatever is causing the chaos and destruction and further into Hell's Kitchen. It goes against every instinct she has to help and protect, but for once in her life, self-preservation wins out. 

She has no idea what's going on or how she'd gotten here. She was supposed to be... not here, not unless their attempt at making things better had just landed them in another bad situation instead. But she also wasn't supposed to remember anything from before, let alone be in the same physical state. Something had gone wrong, but until she finds the others, there's nothing she can do about it. All she can do is survive. 

A scream pulls itself from her throat as an arm wraps around her waist, the sound lost among a dozen others as she's dragged to the side. A gloved hand clamps over her mouth as struggles, her hands coming up to grasp at the arm. It happens so quickly and she's not at full strength, so before she knows it she's pulled into an alley and set loose by the man who grabbed her. Two others appear, all of them filled with enough rage to cover their own fear, both of which are solidly directed at her. 

As they hurl accusations and questions at her, demanding to know how she'd just appeared out of thin air like that, insisting she must have something to do with whatever's happening, Rogue can't help but feel like the universe is laughing at her. She'd gone through literal hell just to end up in this place where she's as persecuted as she ever was at home? ]

I swear, I didn't do this. This isn't my fault! [ Her southern drawl is smooth and thick as raises her voice, hoping that maybe someone might hear her out in the street illuminated by Christmas lights because these men look mad enough to turn to violence at any second. ]