One of the things about being wanted mutant terrorists was that it severely limited one's places to stay while traveling. It was for that reason that they all ended up in a small little Missouri town, about twenty miles away from the nearest city off a state highway designated by a letter.

They were spending the night in the Holiday Inn, one of two hotels in the town. The other had an hourly rate and a sign that said, "Cash only."

"We're not that wanted," Mystique muttered, her appearance changing into that of a nondescript young black woman as she went in to procure them rooms. Rogue might have argued with that—they were on the FBI's Most Wanted list, and possibly Interpol—but she'd rather stay at the Holiday Inn, too.

"Holiday Inn always reminds me of that movie Poltergeist," Gambit said, shivering a little in the cold night air.

"Why?" Pyro asked, in all seriousness.

Gambit sighed. "Trop jeune," he said, shaking his head sadly.

"I knew what you meant. Because of the television," Rogue answered, grinning. "Pyro's just dumb."

"Ha, ha. Hey, nice sign." He pointed over to a small marquee, adjoining the hotel's parking lot, which was right next to a church "God loves all his creatures, even mutants!" proclaimed the sign.

Pyro flicked his lighter, a speculative look on his face as he gazed at the little church, a clapboard building topped with a green roof.

"As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, let's leave buildings standing when we leave. It's only a stopover." Magneto narrowed his eyes at the sign. "Though it's tempting."

Mystique returned and handed out the room keys, then looked expectantly at Mesmero. He inclined his head and walked in through the hotel, murmuring under his breath, and all the hotel employees looked away as they walked through the lobby, suddenly finding themselves concentrating on other things.

Rogue shouldered her backpack and stifled a yawn as the elevator carried them up to their floor. She was tired, and hungry, and happy to be out of the car. They were traveling in two vehicles, and she'd been riding with Pyro and Gambit who spent a lot of time either being incredibly cute or incredibly annoying. She was also really sick of listening to My Chemical Romance, since Pyro had been driving the last four hours. They had a rule in the car about whoever was driving picked the music, and it was Gambit's Zydeco music (which all sounded the same to her) followed by Pyro's emo band.

She thought fondly of her Johnny Cash CD, which she'd not heard since somewhere a few states over. They'd just listened to that to be nice—no one ever let her drive except Magneto, whose excuse was he could control the car.

She followed Magneto down the hallway, amused that he could open the door without using the room key. Once inside, she tossed her backpack on the chair and collapsed face first on the bed. "Do they have room service? I just want to go to bed," she mumbled, turning her head to look at him.

He snorted. "Unless you count vending machines, I'd say no."

"So what are we going to do?" She sat up, pulling her hair back and twisting it up into a loose ponytail.

"Do you have any change?"

She laughed. "No. I had to give it to Pyro to buy his five-hundredth Dr. Pepper." She stretched languidly. "What kind of fine culinary offerings does this town provide?"

Smiling, Magneto tossed the phone book at her. It was about the width and thickness of a brochure. "I don't know. Find something."

Rolling her eyes, she began looking through the list and making a few phone calls. "Looks like we're left with the Chinese Buffet," she said at length.

"Oh? What's it called?"

Rogue grinned. "Chinese Buffet."

Magneto sighed. "I suppose it's better than a vending machine."

oooooooooOOOOoooooooo

Except that, really, it wasn't.

The Chinese Buffet was almost laughable. The building quite obviously used to be something else—Rogue thought maybe it was a Pizza Hut—and the buffet was four sections long and had a strange assortment of food. Some of it was Chinese—or, rather, American Chinese—and some of it was…not.

"Please explain to me how this is Chinese," Magneto muttered to her, looking dubiously at a tray labeled "Crab meat with cheese." The crab meat was extraordinarily red in a way Rogue didn't think was natural.

"I can't," Rogue informed him, shaking her head. She piled her plate with Lo Mein--because how could you mess up noodles?—and a few egg rolls. She was daring and tried some pineapple chicken, and noticed both Pyro and Gambit had some rice and very little else on their plates.

It was just the four of them at the buffet. Mystique and Mesmero had opted to order a pizza. Rogue was thinking perhaps that had been a better plan. She moved over to another one of the stations, where Gambit and Pyro were examining the offerings. Neither looked very pleased.

Pyro was pointing to something in one of the trays. "I'll give you a dollar if you eat that," he said under his breath to Gambit.

"A dollar?" Gambit, who was wearing sunglasses to hide his distinctive red eyes, elbowed Pyro in the ribs. "Non. That is hardly worth it."

"All right, how much would it take to get you to do it?"

Rogue moved across the station from them, peering down at whatever it was they were talking about. It appeared to be an oyster in the half-shell covered with…cheese?

"More than you got, mon boule de feu," Gambit murmured, and Rogue started giggling at the pet name, which—if she was right—meant my fireball.

"I could offer non-monetary rewards," Pyro reminded him, scooping some General Tso's chicken onto his plate.

Gambit grinned. "I'll get that anyway, oui?"

Pyro grinned back. "Yeah. Well, they say they're an aphrodisiac, oysters, don't they?"

"I think all you'll get from eating that is sick," Rogue informed him, moving over to the next station. Gambit and Pyro followed her.

Many of the bins were empty, but one held small, rounded, fried…things. Rogue prodded them with the prongs. "What is a chicken ball?" she asked, reading the label aloud without stopping to think about it, and Pyro started laughing so hard he had to rest his plate on the station so he didn't drop it.

"Bossman's glaring at us, mes amis," Gambit warned, and Rogue looked over at Magneto, who was indeed glaring at something, but she shook her head.

"Nah. He's not glaring at us. I think he just saw the salmon." She finally decided to give up on the food and went to fill her glass, wrinkling her nose when she saw they had Pepsi products. Sometimes she really missed the South.

The booth where they were sitting was directly across from a small display of "Genuine Chinese Artifacts"—Rogue highly doubted that—and some sort of game involving a moving tray and quarters, where apparently the object was to insert more quarters, forcing others somehow to fall down through the slot.

A steady stream of locals ended up next to the quarter machine, even though she did not think they could possibly win an amount greater than a dollar fifty. She kept hearing the disbelieving cries of those attempting to win the game, who were apparently shocked by their inability to make the quarters spill over into the tray.

"I think maybe I'm just going to eat those golden sweeties," Pyro said with a wince, pushing his plate way, and Rogue choked on her pineapple chicken.

"I thought you didn't like—" she started, the shrieked as he threw a fried dumpling at her. She batted it away with her chopstick.

"It's a donut, moron," Pyro said, and then scowled at her as she laughed harder. "What?"

"You should have stuck with the chicken balls," she said, pushing her plate away as well, completely unsatisfied with everything on it.

"I should have stayed and had pizza with Mystique and Mesmero," Pyro muttered, standing up, presumably to go get his donuts.

"I think we're all in agreement on that. You may blame Rogue, she selected the restaurant," Magneto said, giving her an evil smile. Rogue made an affronted sound at that.

"I heard that," Pyro called over his shoulder, picking up a plate and heading to the dessert bar.

Rogue rolled her eyes and then looked again at the machine as another man began feeding quarters into it. She heard him curse, then mutter, "Unbelievable. It's right on the goddamn edge. Something must be wrong with this damned thing."

Something occurred to her, and she looked up at Magneto. He was smirking. "That's mean," she chided, biting back a smile.

He gave her an imperious sort of look, one eyebrow raised. "I have no idea what you're referring to," he said calmly, taking a drink of water. There was something amusing about watching one of the world's most dangerous men drinking water out of a blue plastic Pepsi glass with a straw, but Rogue knew better than to laugh. She didn't fancy being left behind here.

Pyro returned with a plate piled high with donuts. Rogue, Gambit, and even Magneto all took one. The donuts were cold, the top encrusted with too much sugar, and no one found them particularly appealing.

"I think it's time to go," Magneto said, standing up. He handed Gambit the ticket and some money and nodded towards the cash register.

Magneto paused by the coin game, and then lightly touched his hand to the slot, as if depositing a quarter. Suddenly, there was a great deal of noise as the quarters began falling like magic into the tray.

"Hey!" One of the formerly unsuccessful patrons walked over to the machine and peered at Magneto. "You won! What'd you do?"

"I suppose I'm just lucky," Magneto said seriously, as the coins continued to fall. Rogue turned her face away, hiding a smile. The man walked away, mumbling something about out-of-towners.

"Why'd you do that?" she asked him, sighing as he scooped up the coins and deposited them in her hands. She shoved the money in her pocket. She'd been wrong—it was considerably more than a dollar fifty. At least six dollars, which was a lot heavier in change than she would have thought.

"For the vending machines," he informed her, and she grinned at him.

"Oh."