Prologue: First Blood


Killin ‘s easy.

It’s been a part of my life for so long, I can’t remember a time when my hands weren’t dirty from it. Then again I got a problem rememberin’ much in the first place.

But ya always remember that first one. That first time yer soul’s been tainted. A little bit of ya becomes alive for the first time as well as a piece of ya, that little sliver of innocence ya tried to hold on to that dies.

At first ya become disillusioned; believing there has to be another way. That maybe this jerk in front of ya probably has a wife and kids somewhere and who are you to play god?

That’s the fear talking, the inexperience... And it’s a sure fuckin’ way to get killed.

The only true way I’ve found is simple. That it ain’t you who’s playing god, but God who placed him in yer path. There ain’t no good or evil, just shitty luck that placed the two of ya in the same room.

It gets easier after that. Or maybe it just was for me.

Sometimes I’d wonder why it’s so easy fer me, that the strikes seemed almost natural, like I’ve done nothing but it. But that becomes dangerous. To think, to allow a brief hesitation still yer hand. They always coin the phrase, ‘mindless killer,’ but if ya ask me, not thinkin’ ‘bout it is what gets you through the night.

Like I said, killin’ ‘s easy. It can be almost second nature if ya let it. But livin’…

Now living, that’s the real bitch…

Chapter 1: The Beast

Canada Rockies
Many years past


He can hear the echoing sounds of his breathing as his bare feet trots through the ice and snow. Crisp cool air whips around his body with every step he takes. He doesn’t know how long he’s been running or where he’s been running from, but the notion; the need to flee won’t leave him…so he runs.

Flashes of images, memories, emerge in sporadic jolts, dragging him into zigzag paths through the trails. He remembers the flames, he remembers the screams, but most of all he remembers the overflowing stench of blood. Rumbling a mixture between a grunt and a roar, he pounds his legs into a furious sprint. Almost as if the visions, as if the horrors he was trying to run from were right behind him, nicking at his heels.

With powerful legs, he bursts through a pine brush; a thousand needles erupt in his wake. Dozens of tiny bristles pierce his naked flesh but as seconds pass they are all soon expelled. His lungs rage from the exertion almost as if he were in danger of them exploding from his chest. He doesn’t question why, in his nudity, that the cold climate doesn’t chill him to the bone. In fact his body seemed to be burning an inferno the longer he moves, each of his breaths causing a mist of fog with every exhale.

His hand snatches out to this left, whipping his body around a mighty larch tree as he rounds the bend. For a moment he finds himself in error. His feet slip on a rogue piece of hard ice. Breathless he finds himself as he fumbles with his footing, sliding down the hilly snow bank beside him. Cloudy debris of wind and ice flows around him during his decent. His eyes scan up ahead only to see the edge of the cliff he was rapidly approaching.

He has only one attempt in preserving his life, but that was more than was needed.

With the grace that would have humbled a mountain lion he leaps. Wind sails around his body as he soars. For brief seconds the murderous visions abandon him, for just a moment he truly feels free.

He reaches the other side in a hard crouch. With less than two breathes he’s rolls to his feet, heedless from his sudden brush from death he continues on to move, each stride grander than the last till he reaches the canyon edge.

His massive chest rises and falls with every breath as his gaze continues to reach. His sharp eyes glance over the various mountain ranges, the thick brush of green trees and rocks. For a moment his eyes close as he takes in a long breath. The air around him was rich, clean, almost purifying, easing the animal lurking inside of him, cooling his pulse.

Then from up high at the top of the world, the Beast lets all along the horizon know of his presence with a mighty roar.

*Thump! Thump! Thump!*

“Wolverine! Wolverine!”

OoOoOo


The Rumble House
Laughlin City
The not too distant future…


The thunderous pounding on the bathroom’s door, breaks him from the cavernous calm of sleep. His eyes swim around the low-lit damp room of the bar’s men’s room. His elbow budged, knocking the bottle of whiskey that still had a swallow left to the floor.

His mind mixed-in bits of now from bits and pieces of his dream. It was a memory, probably the first honest one he could cling to from his wretched mind. His hand raked over his face trying to right the direction of his thoughts, but still the dream lingered. It was as if he concentrated just hard enough, he’d still be able to recapture that scent of crisp clean air, the vastness of the mountainside. That opened breath of freedom.

“Wolverine, ye in t’ere?” the voice called again through the door, “Wolverine, ye’re up next!”

His steel gray eyes narrowed in recollection as his name was uttered. More of the world comes to him, fading away all traces of his sleep. His hands fumble across the sink he was slumped over, turning on a mild stream. After a few splashes of water, he rises up. Tough dark eyes, forged from so many years of a not so pretty lifestyle stared back at him. “Why do ya keep doin’ this bub?” he asks the reflection, but just like all the other times, he again didn’t have an answer.

He suddenly feels the familiar dark prickling sensation along the back of his skull. His eyes sharpen instantly as well as his pulse starts to burn. The dark entity that was lying dormant inside of him was awakened. It heard its siren call for blood.

He knows there will be chaos. He knows there will be pain. His life as far as he’s known it has been a conjuncture of the two that honestly it’s all he’s ever known, but for a single fleeing moment he wanted to enjoy this instant of peace for just a little longer. But just like that the moment passes.

It was time to go to work.

OoOoOo


The Rumble House, if there ever was a coliseum of shit holes of all the world, it would have been there.

It was a rough joint where the lowest of the low always seemed to flock to. ‘Specially Friday nights, where any two assholes that had guts enough; got to step into that steel cage to the cheerin’ shouts of the crowd to show e’erybody what you were made of.

Three minutes of mayhem. Three minutes of pain, ya were given. And at the end of it if ya were lucky ya’d be the bastard that walked out of there. Yer head’s held a little bit higher cause for a moment ya thought that ya were worth something, that maybe even you could be a champion.

OoOoOo


He doesn’t budge when the blows rain. He doesn’t flinch he simply embraces it.

His body holds, allowing the maniac from the other side of the ring wail on him for all he’s worth. Dozens of frenzied spectators stand-up and shout from outside of the steel cage, each of them anxiously waiting for that first shred of blood.

None of them, caring who’s…

For a split-second a grin crosses his harsh features in dark humor, through the dull haze that a half drunken a bottle of whiskey brings, because in this hell, in this chaos, he’s in his element. The steel reinforced foundation is his kingdom.

Brief flare-ups of pain ignite around his rib cage as his opponent continues his assault. Left, right, LEFT, right, RIGHT, that last one nearly buckles him, bringing him down to a knee.

His eyes start to flare dangerously. He feels the other him growling, the darkness whispering to him, pleading him, begging him for release. Like a bright red poker, scraping at the back of his skull, he feels it. The destruction, the fury, the rage inside of him, spectators call it the Wolverine; he simply knows it as the Beast.

The Beast starts to call for blood it craves it. He feels its claws inching behind his knuckles. It starts eyeing the poor jerk’s body like a whimpering doe. It would be so easy, it whispers, so simple. Its voice always low always seductive. Always seeking release, always seeking its freedom… But the man resolutely keeps it in check.

His eyes start to focus as he begins to scrutinize his opponent for the first time. Bald and broad-shouldered, half head taller than him with a chin that looked like it could break concrete. He’d chuckles to himself briefly, wondering how well it would fare against a knuckle-full of adamantium.

His opponent eyes him strangely, hearing the laugh. For all the jerk knows he’s been winning this fight. The infamous Wolverine hasn’t delivered a single blow, hasn’t even attempted to fight back what so ever. But his opponent, a pro in his own right, quickly shakes it off and comes at him again. Two quick strides with his long limber legs bring him into the Wolverine’s corner and the doom, which the act brings.

As soon as his opponent’s foot lands, the Wolverine is on him like a storm. He drops his shoulder sliding inside the bald brawler’s guard, where his large fast fists make murder on baldy’s rib cage. And the funny thing about the Wolverine, his fist don’t just pound or bash, they simply pulverize with every blow that lands as if each knuckle was dipped with steel.

The Wolverine’s nostrils flare with each attack as his fury builds. He doesn’t simply strike to dispense pain the Wolverine strikes to disable. After ten-seconds of mayhem, Baldy’s ribs are all but destroyed, making each attempt at breathing a Herculean effort. A right cross-left hook-uppercut sends Baldy to the ground in a crumbled heap, with everyone in the crowd on their feet in a frenzy.

The combination he dubbed, ‘The Works,’ was something he was known for, because after ‘The Works,’ you didn’t get up.

The Wolverine then stalked away from his latest win as the announcer proclaimed his victory. His eyes scanning for the next would be sucker that decided to dethrone the Wolverine.


OoOoOo


They drag what’s left of his last opponent out of the ring. The guy was still breathing, which meant he’d wake up…someday.

The Wolverine’s eyes the trail the stream of blood that followed behind the poor bum as they took him away. He had to be more careful. He almost lost control that time. He could feel it within himself; the Beast seemed to be gaining another foothold every day.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself as he bit into his cigar. He had to go grab tonight’s winnings.


OoOoOo


When he gets to the bar the other patrons instantly give him a wide-breadth. He likes it that way he enjoys the space. It doesn’t allow anyone to get too close. It doesn’t allow anyone to ask him questions. It doesn’t allow anyone in.

He barks out an order to the bartender asking for a drink. His lip curls around, biting into his burning Cuban cigar. His dark eyes scan over the room glancing over the late night lowlifes and drunks that always hung out till last call, his sharp ears picked up pieces of all of their conversations.

There would always be a sob story somewhere. Some poor bastard’s wife left him. A fella got laid off today with his girl expecting. Or someone owed a bit more money then they ever hoped to get. Just as always he wrote them all off just as the barkeep slid a frothing mug in front of him.

For a brief moment, big chocolate brown eyes draw his intense dark glare. A young girl, that couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen, was staring at him from across the bar as if he was the devil incarnate. He’d seen girls that young around her before, most of them runaways, some of them doing a bit of ‘night work’ in order to survive. He would have written her off as another streetwalker, but it was her eyes that betrayed her.

Her eyes, large and brown, were too innocent and too pure for a shithole like this. A small part of him wondered sadly what she had done or even who’d she done to get to a place like this. But just as quickly he shrugs the thought away, returning to his beer. It wasn’t his problem; he already had a truckload of his own.

He turns away from the girl, already putting her innocent stare out of his mind. He briefly scans at the television not really caring what was on. It wasn’t till the word, “Mutant” comes across the Newscaster’s lips did he even glance up.

The U.N. seemed to be having more talks about the growing Mutant issue that was facing the world. There were talks of forcing government assigned registration for all Mutants in the United States; the driving force behind this movement was the newly elected Senator Kelly. But as Kelly’s goal seemed to be burning with a strong resolve, there seemed to be a growing number of political figures that were trying to find a less conservative solution.

“In related news,” the Newscaster continued, “Psychologist and world-renowned Mutant sympathizer Professor Charles Xavier spoke at the University of Winnipeg this evening on his views for Mutant civil and political rights.”

The report then switched to a live recording piece from a part of Xavier’s speech. A shot of the campus audience that attended, as Xavier’s rich voice was heard echoing in the background. “Mutation: it is the key to our evolution. It has enabled us to evolve from a single-celled organism into the dominant species on the planet. This process is slow and normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But every few hundred millennia, evolution leaps forward.”

The camera then shifted to a viewing of Professor Xavier. His clear blue eyes peered into the distance. A warm smile adorned the older man’s face as he began again, “Be not afraid ladies and gentlemen for the next stepping stone in the evolutionary process of man is upon us. It is with my hope that together we all will be able to witness the bright horizon that tomorrow can bring.” It was briefly silent when he concluded. The camera briefly then panned around to the auditorium. Hundreds of faces stared back to the Professor then slowly one by one people started to climb to their feet in thunderous applause.

The Wolverine cut his eyes away from the television show, his keen ears picking up somebody approaching from behind. A second afterward his nose picked up his scent; the guy reeked of High Karate and whiskey. There was a third scent that accompanied the guy; this one was far more subtle than the other two and far more bothersome. Trouble.

“My fighter’s busted up pretty good,” the Wolverine heard the guy grumble over his shoulder. The slight slurring of the guy’s words told it took a quite a bit of liquid courage before the guy decided to get the nerve to come over here. “He’s gonna get laid up in the hospital for weeks because of you.”

Strike one. The Wolverine slowly removed his Cuban from his lips, in order to speak. “I’d be sure to send ‘im a ‘Get Well’ card,” he gruffly shot back over his shoulder while returning to his drink.

“I saw that beating he gave you,” the drunk continued, “but there ain’t no marks. No man can take that much punishment without showing.” His teeth gritted as he leaned in close enough to whisper, “I know what you are…”

Strike two. The Wolverine’s head whipped back his dark eyes pouring deep into the agitated drunk. “Yer man wound up in the hospital, ‘less ya wanna end up in the morgue, I’d keep walkin’…” His eyes rose to get a good look at the guy; late forties, maybe early fifties, brown hair thinning and about twenty pounds overweight. He held himself pretty well on his feet, meaning he’d probably seen a few brawls in his day. He’d see one more tonight, if he kept it up.

The two stared at each other long and hard. The drunk started to notice that the Wolverine was actually smaller than he thought, although he didn’t look any less dangerous. The fierce gleam in his eye set the drunk retreating back a step and in another moment the Wolverine turned his back onto him returning to his chair.

And the guy was about to make Strike three. Because what his eyes and ears didn’t pick up, his nose always fell into place. And in this instance his nose picked up a whole lot. Besides the bad cologne, stench of whisky and the hint of crisp leather from the guy’s jacket, he could smell the clean metallic steel of the switchblade that was firmly tucked under the guy’s hand.

But most of all he could smell the subtle shift in the man’s natural scent from mild fury and bubbling rage. The type mindless rage that tended to make men do stupid things; such as trying to attack a guy that just demolished eight fighters in the steel ring, with a simple switchblade.

So even before the young girl screamed, “LOOK OUT!” the Wolverine was already on the move. With almost a leap he rounded the plunging knife to his back, finding himself on the outside of his attacker’s reach. The Wolverine’s hand shot out with a massive fist checking the drunk in the jaw so hard the defying sound of a bone cracking could be heard. His hand then jabbed out again this time driving lower. There was a faint metallic glint, accompanied by sleek sound of steel escaping steel from a metallic chamber that followed by a soft plunging hiss as his fist pressed keenly alongside the guy’s ribs.

“Ya feel that?” Wolverine grunted into the guy’s face giving his fist a jagged twist, “That’s one good reason, not to piss me off, bub.” A choked up bloody gurgle was the guy’s response, before he fell lifelessly to the floor. A pool of blood freely flowing from a gapping wound to his ribcage.

The Wolverine’s heated gaze, leveled on everyone within the bar. Just like always, everyone present head seemed to look the other way, as if the ceiling and floor was the most amazing thing they’d seen this century. He started to turn to the exit when his eyes met to those same pair of fearful brown eyes from before. This time before the girl seemed rooted to the spot. For reason’s he couldn’t explained his face softened the longer he looked at her. But just like that he looked away. Wordless he finally stalked outside.

The Bartender then looked up as if noticing for the first time shouted, “Someone get this piece of shit out of here!” he ordered while pointing at the body on the ground, “I’ve got a business to run.”


To Be Continued…

Diary Entry: Invincible

I was invincible.

No one ta worry ‘bout but myself, I was great.

Men shook when I walked into the room. Eyes were always on me when I entered the place. I could smell their fear; I could smell their respect. With, these two fists I could bring the proudest of men to their damn knees.

I ain’t the best at what I do fer nothin’.

And women, bub, I had my pick. The only thing that was better than bettin’ on the Wolverine was spending the night wit ‘im.

I was a god.

It didn’t matter that it was all meaningless; it didn’t matter that I ain’t have no one ta really care, I was indestructible.

But one woman reminded me I was human and there was one girl that reminded me, I had a heart.

 
Chapter 2: Humanities

 
The Rumble House
Laughlin City


A chilling late night breeze fell through Laughlin as the
Wolverine cupped his hands to his face to relight his cigar. The brief flame of
the match flickered red in the night air before he tossed it to the ground. He
viciously bit down onto its end as a small grunt pierced through his lips. The
Beast was awake, still angered from dealing with that jerk inside.

A long drawn creak echoed from behind him as the door to the
Rumble House opened again. Its sound instantly twitched his ears in attention
as well as his pulse quicken. The Wolverine briefly wondered if that drunk he
dropped inside might have had friends inside that may have been a bit sore
about what went down. He brought his fists up, briefly cracking his knuckles.
The Beast might get its wish after all.

But he suddenly paused.

The scent was all wrong. Instead of the usually stench of
sweat and liquor, he detected the faint hint of sunflowers and fresh green
grass. Confused the Wolverine whirled his head around expecting to see one of
the typical Rumble House bums. What he wasn’t expecting was to see a young
brown-eyed girl, the one from the bar he recalled. Her knit gloved fists
knotted tightly at her sides as she stood before him.

His dark eyes briefly glanced over her. She was a young
girl, maybe even younger than he originally thought. A long dark green cloak
wrapped itself around her slender body letting only her face being bare. She
was a cute girl; probably put a whole mess of boys in the wringer, where ever
she came from. A wild flare of white bangs fell over her eyes irritating her
before she brushed it back into its neighboring stock of auburn hair. It was an
unusual hairstyle, but he didn’t know what the kids were into these days.

She continued to stare at him for a full minute, totally
speechless. His eyes flicked over her again before turning away. He didn’t know
what her game was, but he wasn’t in the mood and he wasn’t buying. 

Seeing his disinterest the little lamb found the nerve to
speak, “Ah saved ya life!” she shouted suddenly as if surprised at her own
voice.

His steel gray eyes leveled a look to her from over his
shoulder. The girl looked as though she was ready to bolt at a moments notice
but still something in her was keeping her rooted to her spot. Inwardly he was
a bit impressed, not too many people had the nerve to stare down the Wolverine.
Not too many smart people that is. 

“No, ya didn’t kid,” he dismissed easily. His hands shoved
into his black leather jacket’s pockets, the Cuban still burning from his lips.
He drew a long drag and dispelled it in an ash colored cloud.  

Crestfallen the girl’s brown eyes looked away. Not as sure
as she had been a moment before. “Ah, thought maybe ye could help me,” she tried
again weakly her eyes rising to him.

The Wolverine’s eyes narrowed darkly as he regarded the
little whelp before him, “Look kid, I don’t help anybody,” he barked out
harshly. “Ya don’t know me. Ya don’t know me at all. Do yerself a favor, get
yer ass home,” he finished while taking another drag. 

“Ah, don’t have a home…” she whispered back softly. Another
moment passed between them before she silently turned away and went off in a
direction. The words were spoken so softly that he almost missed them, but he
heard. The Wolverine openly regarded her for some time, watching her retreating
form huddle itself within the folds of her cloak against a sudden breeze as she
headed towards the interstate.

The Wolverine looked at her for another moment. He snorted
audibly before stomping off in the opposite direction.

OoOoOo

The Wolverine continued to busy himself with preparing his
beat-up old camper. His well-worn Stetson placed precariously on his head, the
remaining short stub of his stogie still held in his lips, but yet his mood was
somewhat darker than when he first left the bar.


For some reason two brown soft doe eyes kept reappearing in the back of his
mind halting his work. It was the look that was in that girl’s eyes, he’d seen
that look before; it was the look of someone had when they had constantly been
pushed to the edge of a cliff and all they could hope for when they’d finally
fell that someone somehow would catch them.

The Beast inside him raged at such thoughts. It was angered
he held such ‘weak’ feelings for a simple useless stray. The girl was a
liability. She would only slow him down and get in the way. He needed no one
and he damn sure didn’t need to help any one.

Its temper flared and blazed until finally he had to get a
hold of the reins to its fury. He let out a frustrated groan as his eyes went
skyward, as if some divine answer was written along the stars. He then paused
noticing the dense formation of clouds developing. He then raised his nose up
to the air taking a deep whiff. The sudden hints of moisture in the wind, told
him a storm was a brewing, a nasty one at that.

His thoughts again returned to the young girl. She threw her
dice in with him with hardly even knowing him. Then despite seeing what he was
capable of, still had the brass to want to accompany him. Stepping into his
truck, he spit out the remainder of his cigar as the engine revved, in one
singular moment his mind was set.

This fight, the Beast had lost.

OoOoOo

White flakes of snow fell around Marie D'Ancanto as she
continued to walk along the interstate road. A chilling night wind cut through
her full wool cloak and jeans, seemingly right to the bone. This wasn’t what
she thought it was. This wasn’t how her ‘Grand Adventure’ was supposed to turn
out. She thought bitter sweetly of a week ago, when she in her room dreaming of
such a marvelous trip. All the sights she would see, all the interesting people
she would meet, all the experiences all the fun. How naïve she was. How
stupid.  

This was a nightmare, a nightmare that she had no hope to wake from.

She’d almost welcome the trailer park opposed to this hell.
But then images of what else she was running would reappear and Marie kept on
moving.

A dull ache burned deep in her stomach, a bitter reminder of
the few dinner mints and beer nuts she ‘acquired’ from a few truck stops ago.
The glass of water she nursed in the Rumble House did little quell the blunt
pains of hunger she was feeling.

For a moment her mind flashed to that brawler, the
Wolverine. Marie honestly surprised herself when she approached the scary
fighter guy. She couldn’t believe what she was thinking. “That was so stupid,”
she admonished herself. She saw how easily he took care of that guy in the bar.
It was probably pure luck he didn’t do the same to her. But some reason,
something inside her heart told her he wouldn’t have hurt her. Even more that
she could trust him. But again she was wrong.

The illuminating headlights of another sixteen-wheeler
bathed over her as she continued walking. She had given up on the hitchhiking
idea after the lewd heated looks the last guy that picked her up gave her. She
knew her skin would ultimately protect her, but she didn’t feel like fighting
for her life. She just didn’t have the strength. And she didn’t want some
pervert’s thoughts dancing around in her head either. She already had his
thoughts in there.

“Some adventure…” she muttered to herself, watching the
muddled grays and flakes of white that surrounded her on the open road. A few
more pairs of blaring white lights accompanied by the roaring sounds of engines
washed over her as she continued to walk. The last road sign she passed had the
British Columbia at five hundred and twenty kilometers. Still, she refused to
give up. ‘It was jus a few moah steps,’ she kept telling herself, ‘Keep
walkin’ Marie.’ But honestly she was cold and so tired. 

Another pair of white lights roamed over her. She waited
patiently for them to pass, but strangely the vehicle started to slow down.
Marie paused noticing the beat-up old blue camper that was coming into view.
The girl briefly wondered if she would have to make a run for it. The sudden
vision of her being dragged into the back of the camper, never to see the light
of day, came to her. But yet for some reason she held her ground, till a
familiar pair of steel gray eyes rested on her. "Hey kid,” his gravelly
voice said.

Marie continued to stare at the burly older man. Her
hollowed eyes looking over the brown Stetson draped on his head and the stern
frown on his face. She looked on, not knowing his intention. Another moment
passed between them, the only sound was the distant cool wind blowing softly
and the muffled sounds of snowfall. She noticed some internal debate was being
waged behind those coal colored eyes of his, but then he came to a decision,
“Come on get in…” he finally said, then slid over to open his passenger side
door to her. 

She nearly cried, not believing how much relief those simple
words brought.

OoOoOo

The moment the girl stepped into of his truck, the Wolverine
noticed its space was instantly filled with the scent of fresh green grass and
sunflowers. The scent along with the sudden hints of the southern twang in her
voice, pegged where the girl was hailing from.

“You got a name kid?” he asked. Small flakes of snow hit his
windshield; his eyes fixed on the road but ever so often would stray over to his new passenger.

“Rogue…” she answered him softly; her southern drawl’s
illuminating each of the word’s syllables.   

His thick eyebrows frowned slightly, “What kinda name is
Rogue?” his eyes darting from the road, settling on her.

A small crooked smile formed on her lips, as she smirked at
him, “Well, what kinda name is Wolverine?” she responded, perfectly mimicking
his curt drawled out manor.

His eyebrows rose slightly while cutting another glance to
her, slightly amused at her response. But even more surprised she didn’t shriek
away or even averted her eyes from him. She leveled a stare back to him that
was equal to the one she was given. The girl had spunk he had to admit. To that
he allowed a sly grin to cross his face while looking at her, “Logan…” he
responded honestly.

Another easy smile founds its way to her young face,
“Marie…” she supplied. A comfortable silence fell upon the two of them. Marie
then pulled off her gloves, briskly rubbing them together.

The man named Logan frowned, noticing the slight shiver that
trembled through her body. Automatically he switched on his heater to full
blast. “Here…” he offered guiding her forearm to the stream of the vent.

At his touch the girl winced visibly while snatching her arm
away from him. Logan frowned in confusing, noticing the displeased hiss that
pressed from her lips. She glared at him, her face a mixture of the darkest
anger and surprisingly a little bit of shame. “You a’ right kid?” he asked
surprised at his own concern.

The sincerity behind the words seemed to strike something in
her. Her guarded expression lessen, “No,” she dismissed, while shaking her
head, “It’s not that it jus when people touch mah skin somethin’ happens,” she
added while sheathing her hands back into her gloves. 

Interested, he cut another glance to her, “What kinda things?”

“Ah, don’t know,” Marie answered honestly, “People jus get
hurt,” she simply ended with that. Logan took a moment to process the
information. Truthfully, he was the last person to explain how mutant powers
worked, so he couldn’t offer an opinion about it either way. He simply accepted
what he was given and allowed the subject to drop.

He also decided he wouldn’t comment that the part of her arm
he touched was completely covered with fabric; yet she shied away from him as
if he hurt her somehow. There was pain there; he realized that didn’t involve
him touching her bare skin. But again it wasn’t his business, so he allowed
that to drop as well.

OoOoOo

The next twenty minutes was driven in silence.

Marie found her eyes falling on the strange ridges that
aligned themselves on the back of his knuckles. Instantly her thoughts drifted
back to the Rumble House when Logan was up against that guy in the bar. She
knew see saw a faint metallic glint of something pass, but he moved so fast she
wasn’t sure. But there was one thing she was sure of. “Ye killed him didn’t ye,”
her question was more of a statement than an inquiry.  

His gray eyes stayed on the open road, never flinching while
he answered her, “Yea…” he confessed, feeling no need to lie.

“Why?”

 The simple single word inquiry triggered something inside of
him. At this the Beast’s ire briefly flared, irritated that it had to explain
his actions to anyone. “He had shitty taste in cologne,” the Wolverine
barked out, “What didja think? Ya come after me I put ya down, plain and
simple,” he growled, daring her to question him. 

A tense air filled the small compressed area of the camper.
The strain was such a tangible thing that it seemed like another person
suddenly accompanied the duo. “I’ll take ya outta Alberta,” he stated, “After that
don’t come lookin’ for me,” he grumbled, eyes never straying from the road.

Biting back any response she might have had, Marie accepted
this with no comment and the silence continued.

For the next few minutes her eyes constantly darted over to
his stoic face. She felt like she should have to apologize but she didn’t know
how to begin. “Logan…” she started, but her words were overridden by a loud
groan that rumbled deep from in her belly. Her eyes instantly widen in
mortification, “Oh, god!” she laughed, her face beet red from embarrassment, “Ah’m,
sorry.”

For some reason that seemed to melt the ice between them
because he chuckled a little to himself as well, his hand reaching for his deep
glove compartment. “Here, help yer self,” he offered revealing a stash of beef
jerky, an assortment of dried fruits and trail mix.  

Seeing the proverbial Fort Knots of food presented before
her, Marie attacked the supply with ravenous vigor. Yums mixed with long
pleased moans filled the girl, causing Logan to cut more than one glance to his
passenger. Despite the fact he was always real good at healing, he still didn’t
want to risk his hand getting caught in the girl’s feeding frenzy. The poor
Slim Jims never had a chance.

His eyes continued to give the girl the once over, another
thought drawing his attention. “How long ya been on the run kid?” he asked
reaching under his seat retrieving two bottles of water. He tossed it to the
girl that looked at him, like he was a godsend.

She unscrewed the top and nearly drained a quarter of the bottle in one go. “Not
long really,” she answered while taking another long swig, “Ah've jus been
kinda up for tha last two days.”

Logan shook his head. “Shit, ya look like hell on two legs,” he commented, noticing
the bags around her eyes and her blotchy complexion. Although she probably was
slender naturally, she seemed unusually thin, probably missed more than a few
meals while running.

She paused while leveling a glare at him. “Ye really know
how tah flatter a girl, Logan,” the girl muttered while rolling her eyes.   

Logan could only smirk, ‘Smart ass,’ he thought while
turning back to the road. Another twenty minutes passed before Marie’s war on
his food supply ceased. Not a sesame seed survived, but the girl seemed more
than content. After she finished, he noticed her eyes started drooping as she
fought to stay awake. Sighing, he decided to go easy on her. “Hey, ya get some
sleep it be a few more hours of driving till we leave Alberta,” he suggested.
She probably more than needed the rest.  

“Wake me when we get there,” she asked him. He started to
say he would but she was already fast asleep, nestled deep within the folds of
her cloak, a flash of the white bangs of her hair falling over her face.

His stare lingered on her resting form for a minute, he
sighed again before turning back to the road. His eyes bored into his
reflection through the rearview mirror, his piercing gray gaze meeting their
equal, “Whatcha doin’ with this kid, Bub. This ain’t you,” he grilled while
shaking his head. ‘Just drive,’ he said to himself, ‘Just drive.’

And he did.

OoOoOo

After another hour of driving the snow slowly started to pick up. Logan tried
to stick to the main route but the chilling temperature and ice was making the
roads slick. He continued to look at the starlit sky with dread they had about
another two hours till they’d hit the British Columbia, but he didn’t know with
this how thick the storm was building. 

His eyes then widened as the headlights of his truck
illuminated something ahead, “Oh Shit!!” he shouted, slamming hard on the
brakes. Instantly the truck shifted and slid to the side. The vehicle rocked
back and forth, fishtailing from the slick grip on the road. The truck’s brake
squealed in protest as Logan cut the wheel back and forth. He then let off and
alternately pumped the brakes till they ultimately slowed to a stop a few dozen
yards afterward.

The abrupt shifting of the vehicle woke Marie from her deep slumber. “What’s
wrong?” she said in a drowsy voice, her hands rubbing her eyes, “We there?”

“No,” he frowned unbuckling his seatbelt, “Damn trees fell in the way.” At his
mention, Marie looked out the windshield her eyes mirroring his astonishment.
The truck’s duel beam headlights bathed over a massive pathway of ruptured and
broken trees that littered the road. It wasn’t just a single tree, it was at
least half a dozen or more that were crisscross over the small narrow road like
a timbered catastrophe. 

Logan’s door popped open as he went to investigate the
scene. He tipped his Stetson deep over his eyes as an instant chilling wind hit
his face the moment he stepped out. His eyes narrowed at the scene before him,
he had been monitoring the radio stations for any type of accidents or road
closings but he hadn’t heard anything like what he was witnessing right here.

Failing debris of snow fell on his shoulder as he crept
closer. He approached the disrupting heap trees cautiously. His dark eyebrows
further frowned as he glanced over the stumps. The branches were still rich
with fresh green pine bristles, a fact that puzzled him. These all appeared to
be strong young trees, he noticed, it didn’t make sense that they’d fallen from
the storm, the winds blowing now weren’t even close to causing this amount of
damage. He peered closer looking at each of their breaking ends, the frown on
his lips deepen. All the rupture points appeared to come from the bottom-line
of the stumps. They didn’t have numerous breaks or tears.

The more Logan looked at them the more it seemed the trees
were ripped from out of the ground, opposed to just snapping under serious
strain. Something in his instincts was telling him that someone or something
probably caused the collapse, but it wasn’t the storm and whatever it was it
was strong enough to rip a group of full grown trees from their stump. Things
didn’t add up and the Wolverine didn’t like it.  

Suddenly a strong gale wind blew through the air carrying
the frosty hint of the ice on it’s currently as well as another scent. When he
took another step closer, instantly a startling tremor ran straight through his
body, halting his movement. His nose twitched instantly, as well as the hairs
on his neck rose. His nostrils were suddenly filled with the musky scent, a
scent that started to make his blood quicken. Then he realized... 

He knew this scent.

Instantly, the Wolverine stance parted evenly as his head
turned to either side. His breathing increased as his sharp eyes continued to
scan, his hands rhythmically clenching and unclenching into tight iron grip
fists at his side. He knew, he knew this scent but he didn’t understand where. He
also noticed the Beast was in full alert, watching and waiting just like he
was. The scent was filled with a dark taint to it, one that was mixed with
blood. It had a deadly air to it, something that would make anyone’s skin
crawl. It made a part of him run want to run and hide in the furthest reaches
of the world, but another part, a part fueled by the burning rage of the Beast,
wanted to go chase after it and give it a real reason to fear.

He almost fed into the impulse taking a hasten step forward,
but there was a brief thought that ignited in the back of his head and he looked
over his shoulder back to the camper. Marie’s big brown eyes stared back at him
watching his every move. All thoughts of venturing out to find the scent, paled
in comparison when an unusual air of protectiveness rose from him. He had to
get her out of here and away as fast as he could.

He quickly stepped back into truck and peeled it into
reverse. “What’s wrong?” she asked him but he remained silent.

He swirled the truck around on the road and headed back the
way we came. It was only after she asked her inquiry for the third time did he
finally answer her. “It’s nothin’ kid,” he lied to her, “Ain’t gonna be
possible to get through that way, it’ll take hours and the way this snow is
hittin' us, the worst will be on us in an hour tops.” He quickly switched on
his truck’s HAM radio to call in the tree wreck on the road.

He seemed restless she noticed, there was something going on but he wasn’t
saying. “What'll we do now?” she asked when he completed his call, a slight
frown found its way to her lips from having to put the brakes on the trip.  

For a long time he didn’t answer her as his mind was at work. He knew that was
no accident they just run across, someone deliberately caused that wreck. That
and the scent he caught was putting him on edge, making his claws itch.
Frowning he finally answered her, “I got a place not too far from here, we can
stay the night, wait out the storm and head out in the mornin'.”

Having no better idea, she agreed to the suggestion.
Although the thought of spending the night in one place with him drew all sort
of alarms in her, Marie trusted him this far and she decided she would continue
to do so some more.

OoOoOo

Forty-five minutes later down the road from the wreck, the
two pulled up into a small rustic log cabin. The truck’s light’s washed over
the front door, which was already buried in a foot and a half of snow. They
made good time getting to the cabin, which they were fortunate because the
brunt of the snowstorm seemed to be in full swing just as they arrived. The two
quickly ran inside, shutting the door behind them.

The small room they stood in was filled with darkness. Marie
heard Logan moving about. “Stay put,” his voice muttered, while stepping into
another room. There was a brief snap and long hum, and then the whole cabin
suddenly brightened. The room she stood in appeared to be a small living room.
It was lightly furnished with a nice couch, a small love seat and a fireplace.
She heard Logan rustling in another room but decided to wander around to get
her barrens. Further in the back she spotted a small kitchen with a stove,
cabinets, and a dining table.

There was another small snap followed by a small hum as a furnace
started to pump heat through the small home. After another five minutes Logan
came back clapping his hand together. “I ain’t got much here, wasn’t plannin’ on
comin’ back fer ‘nother week. But make yer self at home.” The young girl stared
at him wide-eyed with what he could only describe as open appreciation. Logan
just simply grumbled while brushing pass her stretching his shoulders. “I got a
shower in the room in the back if ya want, I’m gonna go out to get some wood fer
a fire. The bed in there is mine, you got the couch. Got it?” Marie nodded her
head, her eyes watching him as he went back to the front door. “See ya in a
bit.” 

OoOoOo

Forty-five minutes later Marie exited the steamed draped
bathroom of the log cabin. Dressed in a spare set of undergarments and one of Logan’s
large towels, the southern girl felt more than refreshed, she felt totally
rejuvenated. She didn’t mean to take such a long shower but it had been a
nearly a week since the last time she had access to hot water and all the filth
and grime that clung to her body made her feel she was wearing a second skin. She
relished in the feeling of being clean again, it almost made her forget about
her current troubles.

While she was in the bathroom Marie also spent a lot of time
examining them again. They were still sore to the touch, but if she
didn’t agitate them she would be ok. It would probably take a few more days
before they’d go away, so she still had to be careful. Thinking back, she
almost wanted to die when Logan touched her from before, she still felt bad for
reacting like that. He didn’t know. And if he did figure it out, he didn’t call
her on it.

The girl cleared her thoughts as she stepped back into the
main living area. Looking around Marie noticed that Logan still hadn’t returned
from outside. She briefly wondered if he was ok, but then realized he probably
was taking so long to allow her the time needed to bathe without an audience. Seeing
the opportunity given, Marie quickly went to the couch to go through her things
to find something change into. She didn’t bring many sets of clothes with her,
wanting to travel as light as she possible, only thing she could settle with
was the sweat pants she usually wore to bed and an oversized t-shirt. 

Her thoughts briefly went to the man that had taken her in
and she automatically wished she brought something better with her, something a
bit more grown up. It was a silly notion but she felt as though since he did so
much for her already, she wanted to do as much as she could to please him. She
briefly thought of making something for him to eat when he returned, but
decided against it. She didn’t want to take too many liberties with his
hospitality.

Marie briefly looked over herself as she returned to the
bathroom to brush her hair. Her eyes continued to look over them as she
moved. She would have to get her gloves again before he got back or he would
see them and she didn’t know what he’d say if he saw. Once she was finished she
hurried back to the living room, she had to be fast she didn’t know what time
he would get back.

Just as soon as she sat down onto the couch again, suddenly
the door burst open. Logan stomped his feet down while towing in a half a dozen
cut logs for the fire place. His head then whipped around facing her, “A’right
kid, I’m hittin’ the hay,” but the words on his lips stalled when he looked at
her, namely her arms. Several dark purple and black patches of discoloration
adorned all up and down the girl’s forearms. He faltered in his step falling
back against the wall behind him; his eyes went from her the bruises on her
arms to her widen-eyes back to her arms again.  

And Marie…She did the only thing she could do. She laughed.
Her light airy voice filled the cabin, its sound the only one in existence. “Ma
an’ Pa didn’ take too kindly to their lil’girl bein’ born a bit differently,” breathless
she grinned again between laughs. But then her voice caught in her throat, when
she saw the look in his eyes. The deep soulful sorrow that breathed in them, proved
too much for her and she broke.

Logan stared at her as she sob and not a moment after the
tears fell. He never heard so much pain so much anguish before in his life as
that little girl cried her heart out. In all honesty he didn’t know what to do.
He felt like he should run out into the night and beat something senselessly
for her pain, for the horror she had to go through, because he couldn’t
understand how anyone could hurt a child so beautiful. Instead he kicked off of
the wall he was standing behind, “Here take the bed,” he said while flicking
his thumb behind him.

His sudden impulsive words shocked her, she just started at
him, “What? Logan…” her voice found her again.

“Save it kid,” he grumbled already making his way to the
couch. “I’m tired an’ yer sittin’ on my bed. Go get some sleep.” Her rich brown
eyes bore into him for a long time then defeated Marie got up and made her way
across the room heading to the bed room. Stripping down to his jeans and a
tank-top, Logan unceremoniously plopped down on the couch stretching his legs
out to its end. Marie moved passed the couch drying her eyes and slowly walked
towards the bedroom area. “Hey kid,” he called to her. Marie looked back to him
as he rested comfortably; his massive arms were folded behind his head, his
rimmed Stetson still on his crown leaving a small sliver of space that his
piercing gray eyes rested on her. “As long as I’m around, ain’t no one’s ever
gonna lay a hand on ya again,” he said softly. 

Through her teary eyes, she smiled at him honestly, “Does
that mean, ya not dumpin’ me once we leave Alberta?” she hoped, wiping her
eyes.

“Maybe kid, maybe,” he dismissed, while tipping the rim of
his hat over his face, “Good night.”

 “Good night, Logan. Pleasant dreams…”

“Yea, yea…” he returned his hand waving her off.

 Instead of heading to the bedroom, Marie spent a moment
observing him. The young girl’s head titled to the side as noticed that despite
his rugged appearance, he was actually a kind decent man. She also allowed
herself to admit he actually was undeniably sexy in a dangerous sort of way.
The guy had a wild look to him. Dangerous steel gray eyes that always seemed to
be piercing right through you, long unruly streaks of black that seemed almost
as untamed as he was. Her eyes even lingered over his massive chest that had
thick patches of hair all over it, finely sculpted that each muscle looked as
though tremendous power rested in each sinewy line.   

She remembered their brief touch from before, he was gentle.
It amazed her that a big scary guy could be so gentle with her. She briefly
wondered if he would be that gentle with his woman.

“I don’t hear yer southern fried ass scamperin’ to bed,
kid,” his voice rang through the cabin, disrupting her thoughts. 

Embarrassed a giggle rang from the girl’s lips at being
caught. “Night Logan…” she said sweetly, while turning around and closing the
door behind her.   

 
To be continued…

Chapter 3: Dreams

University of Winnipeg
Alberta, Canada
Six hours ago

Scott Summers looked on from backstage of the auditorium as Professor Charles Xavier’s rich voice filled the large room. Summers’ ever-attentive ruby lens shielded eyes continued to monitor the large auditorium for any potential threats, but ever so often he’d allow the Professor’s resonant words to pierce his ears. Listening to Xavier speak Scott instantly felt he was transported fifteen years ago into the past. Back then he was simply a pimple-faced youth that had no life and no direction who had just walked through the doors of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. Despite all the debates and the liberal treaties that Xavier participated recently, it still seemed like older man’s first home still lied in teaching.

Summers was the head of Xavier’s security team. He was also the leader of the Professor’s personal task force the X-Men, an elite squad of formally trained mutants devised of Xavier’s former students. So when the Professor informed Summers that he had been invited to the college to speak, naturally all sorts of internal alarms set off inside of the young man making him voice his doubts about the many potential dangers that having such a public appearance could bring. But now witnessing his speech and the open and insightful responses from the students, Summers believed the Professor made the right decision. 

Here these students, these baseline humans and some mutants in hiding, listened on with open ears and more importantly open minds to the possibilities and ideas that could arrive within the future if mankind just was willing let go of its past insecurities and embrace the opportunity that this era has presented.

“He seems at home out there.”  A hushed melodious voice from behind Summers spoke.

An easy grin spread through the young man’s lips as he turned to his friend. An African beauty stood before him, nearly reaching his height. Soft mocha colored skin with looks that could easily rival any dozen of the models that dared to cross a runway, her thick hair was of the purest white that flowed down to her waist, this day wrapped in a simple ponytail but usually she allowed it free reign.

Her eyes the natural color of blue sapphires stared into the crimson lenses of Summers’ glasses as he spoke. “I’d say,” he agreed, that same boyish smile on his face, “You know teaching has always been his first passion. It’s like he never left the school.” At this his friend laughed softly, thoughts of their earlier days at Xavier’s school coming to both of them from his words. She had started at the school a few years after he did, but that still didn’t stop the two of them from becoming fast friends. Scott’s face then turned reflective as another thought came to him,“Speaking of which, Ororo how are things back home?”  

Ororo Monroe full lips curled into a lopsided grin as she regarded her friend. ‘Typical Summers, never one without worrying,’ she thought. Although she was the one to talk, she just came back from checking in on the school herself. Since the three of them were in Alberta and Jean was in Washington with Kenneth, they had left Peter in charge back at the school. Granted she had great faith in the young man. His responsible and stoic nature was second only to Scott, but she knew how easily Kitty tended to influence the young man’s favor.

“Well the school has not burned down, flooded or being held in the grips of an explosion,” she informed him easily. To anyone else the comment might have been in jest, but in a school full of adolescent mutants the words were often too close to home. A mischievous grin found its way to her
lips as she added, “Although some of the students most likely will be still cleaning out the Science labs when we return.”

A great sigh exited from Summers’ lips. ‘It was too good to be true,’ he inwardly groaned. “Let me guess,” He began again, his forefingers pinching the bridge of his nose, “…John and Bobby.”

“And Jubilee too it seems,” she supplied, that grin still not leaving her face, “…the ringleader.”

Summers just shook his head; ultimately believing another
ten years had just been added to his life. “Were we ever that bad?” he looked to her, hoping.

Ororo laughed lightly. “From what Charles tells me, we were worlds worst then them,” she informed her friend, not holding back in the slightest.

Surprising enough a soft chuckle rang from him. A bright
smile present on his face, as a few episodes of their unruly misspent young played through his mind.

To outsiders Scott Summers appeared always stoic, even
unyielding, basically your straight-arrow or the proverbial stick in the mud. But to his friends, the people that truly knew him, Scott Summers was all those things because Xavier, the school and the X-Men were his family, essentially everything he held dear. And the young man would do everything he could to keep his family safe.

A peaceful silence continued between the two of them as they observed Xavier’s speech. Periodically, Ororo eyes would stray to Scott’s face, surprised to see the honest smile that crossed his lips. She remembered Scott was a little more than hesitant for the Professor to participate in such an open proceeding, but probably for the first time since they all arrived, something akin to hope was evident on his face.

Her sapphire colored eyes traveled away from her friend and drifted across the auditorium floor glancing over the many young faces that were enthralled by Xavier’s words. It wasn’t the fact everyone was in accordance with what was said; in fact there were many students and instructors
that had some questions, even some objections. But what truly surprised her was the fact, despite not all of Xavier’s words might have pleased everyone, his responses were still measured greatly instead of dismissed immediately. It
seemed people were willing to listen now, which was a feat in itself. 

Through the proceedings one of the students stood up from
her seat. Her outbursts were vengeful and filled with outright hatred. But Xavier, instilled with an insurmountable amount of patience from many years of teaching and debating, remained calm and allowed the young woman to voice her opinion.

His eyes then directed to her as a calm aura placed it self
on him. He responded with a simple comment, “If it was your brother, your neighbor, your love one, would your passion be so blinding? Would you be equally quick to subjugate them? …To persecute?” Several moments passed and as the woman reflected on his words. When it looked like she was about to dispute him with another vengeful comment she paused reconsidering. Quietly she
apologized and returned to her seat, her mind still toying on Xavier’s response.

The Professor’s stern face then easily formed a gentle smile while bowing his head in acknowledgment to her, letting all know that he held no malice towards the young woman for her words. He then looked around to the
hundreds of faces as he continued, “It is easy to point reticule against nameless numbers or faces, but when the opposition is someone we know. Someone that is dear to us, the dilemma takes a new personal light. Believe me when I say that what I am suggesting is no mere quick fix or overnight solution, everyone. For anything with any potential to be rewarding must first be hard sought after and relentlessly pursued,” he stated before continuing.

Ororo continued to listen to his words. Although she had
heard his speech the night before and others like it, it still invoked something in her, a drive that renewed her will to continue the fight. This was the final night the three of them would be present at the University. She remembered a few of the University’s student expressed some interest in Xavier’s schools if not for themselves for they’re loved ones.

And then the time seemed to flow by as each eye was held in the grip of the discussion. It slowly dissolved from a formal lecture into an impromptu open forum with students and instructors voicing their honest opinions about the subject. Any confusion was met with patience and honesty. There were no answers that were sugarcoated, for there was no easy solution to be dealt out, only through hard work and understanding would the goal be met. The energy from Xavier’s words seemed contagious, spreading through out the crowd, leaving not a person untouched. And none of the interaction was lost to the two watching the proceedings from backstage.

“Scott…” Ororo’s voice was light and promising as she looked to her long time friend. Hoping he was witnessing the same scene she was.

“I know…” he said passively, not trying to miss a word being
said.

“This is amazing…” she continued.

“I know…” he grinned in earnest to her.

“Charles must be pleased. Its like all of the hard work we’ve been doing these years are finally showing results.” Without word Scott agreed with her.

It was sometimes hard to keep in perspective, through all the years of battle and loss to the madness of day-to-day life, what it was they all were fighting for. But they both realized here it was the beginning. The first tremendous leap towards they’re shared dream.

“I think we’re witnessing it Scott, what Charles was speaking of when we first arrived here.”

“We can only hope…” he returned, as a thunderous applause marked Xavier’s closing.

OoOoOo

Alkali Lake, Canada
An Undisclosed Facility
Many years past

There was a place in Alberta, Canada that officially did not exist.

In this place there were dozens of scientists and doctors that should not have been there.

They were all drawn together to an event that should have not occurred.

In the center of this confusion, in the center of the festivities, in this cold dark pit, it is here where the Wolverine waits.

He could not trust his eyes for they were blinded and mislead. They were fed thousands of false images through the visor strapped to his head.

He could not trust his nose for it was muzzled and distracted. It was fed obnoxious sweet fumes that tried to soothe and sedate his body.

Despite the soothing voice that played along with the subliminal messages that tried to betray his hearing, he still could trust his ears. With them he could still hear it all. The dozen rhythmic clicks of keyboards being pressed, machines and monitors beeping and humming, the murmurs of dialogue being spoken, they were talking about their current subject. They were talking about him.

A horror was about to be committed here and he would be its victim.

He could feel too. His sense of touch was very active. For instance, he could feel the cool liquid that was slowly flowing into his tank. Never ceasing till his whole body was fully submerged. The sub-arctic temperature of the coolant slowly chilled his body. It started as a thousand tiny pinpricks that fell along his spine agitating his nerves. Slowing those nerves responses dulled in their active duty, till finally he was able to feel nothing.

Unfortunately, the sensation would not last long. 

It has been a proven that in dire states of emergency the human body can often reach a hyper sensory state of awareness. Adrenaline pumps through the body pushing it to its very limit. The synapses that trigger thoughts and impulses through the human mind start to fire rapidly, which speeds up the brain’s ability to process information. In relation to someone that can neither see nor smell but yet hear, it amplifies this sense to its highest state. 

So when the agreed signal to ‘Commence the Procedure’ was called. Through the sounds of the machines signaling, above the keyboards clicking and the voices murmuring, he could hear each millisecond pass by inside the hollow tubing as the liquefied adamantium coursed through the pumping apparatus into the siphoning needles which pierced his skin, muscle and lead directly to his skeletal structure.

And then all he knew was pain.

His world was a light with flame as the searing metal pillaged his core. His agony was blinding as it molded and forged. His voice rang out till one scream could not be differentiated from the next. His hands clutched to his sides, desperately trying to rip the flesh off from his body, anything to make the pain stop.   

Release me…

Then he could hear it, in a raspy voice it called to him. Through the weeks he felt it building underneath, inside of him. Through the numerous nights of experimentation, through the humility of having every section, every orifice of his body being picked and prodded. Through having all that made him human stripped away from him, he could feel it growing. It was all the darkness, all his pain, all his rage; it boiled under the surface, behind his non-responsiveness and vacant stares. The slim foundation that remained of his humanity fought daily to keep it caged, to keep it contained. But now it was all coming crumbling down. 

The darkness demanded for release. The darkness had the answer. It knew how to make the pain go away. All he had to do was give in. All he had to do was let go. And in his agony, in his pain, in his weakness, he unleashed it. With a roar that shook the heavens the Beast was born.

And soon the whole world was screaming.

OoOoOo

Outskirts of Alberta,Canada
One hour ago…

In a cold sweat the Wolverine awakens from his nightmare. Rivers of perspiration fall from the desert that is his brow. His breaths are strong and harsh. His nostrils flare as if enraged. His heart races as if in a marathon. His cool steel eyes continue dart around the room searching for anything to vent out his rage. A soft sigh echoes from another room drawing his attention. In two breathes he bolts to the source, hardly making a sound.

A little more than a shadow marks his presence as he creeps into the bedroom. The Wolverine stares with foreign eyes at the young girl that’s peacefully away from the world slumbering on the bed. Her thin lips part as a small breath escapes her, a white bang of hair falling over her face. His hands ball tightly into fists. He could feel them inching, aching to be let out. Flashes of her covered in blood comes to him. A low growl rumbles from him as he takes another step forward.

Suddenly the scent of fresh sunflowers and the green grass assault him. It is a small subtle detail, nothing that would hinder the Beast from its progress, but something in the part that identifies with Logan the man, rises up in protest. The Beast thunders a roar inside of him. It craves blood. It does not want to be denied. Ultimate supremacy is its wish. But the objection will not cease. Slowly the Beast crawls back into its cage and Logan comes back to his senses.

OoOoOo

Marie D'Ancanto awakened from her peaceful sleep, believing she heard a noise in her room. With sleepy brown eyes, the young girl gave the room a once over looking for any life. Only darkness stared back at her and she’s puzzled, she could have sworn someone was just with her, but the continual vacant darkness is all that is there. Satisfied she snuggled back into the warm comforter, unaware of the departing shadow that fell from the room.   

OoOoOo

The man named Logan breathed in the crisp frigid air as he softly closed the door to his cabin behind him. His boots made soft compacting crunches as he walked around in the knee deep snow; his mind examining the episode that had just occurred.

It has been many years since the night of blood and screams, the night that the Beast first awakened in him. But every time he sleeps he seems to revisit that night. His thoughts then drifted to the innocent girl inside that slept blissfully unaware of how close to the edge he had been. His fingers raked over his face to the realization.

He had been lucky, very damn lucky.

His sights soared to the midnight stars that were now are clear from the cloudy formation from earlier. “Ya gotta get rid of this kid bub, ‘fore ya hurt her,” his warning grave and true. The animal in him could not be trusted.

OoOoOo

Calgary International Airport
Alberta, Canada
Two hours ago

Charles Xavier sat peacefully in his comforted chair in deep mediation. Sounds of the Blackbird hummed and buzzed in the background as Scott and Ororo started the procedures to begin taking off. The older man stared off into one of the aisle’s windows watching the faint snowfall. It was a brief moment of peace from the hectic weekend they all had endured and it was the first time this weekend he was able to spend a few moments to reflect on his trip. Although a mask of deep furrowing concentration was adored on his face, truthfully Charles was deeply pleased.

He had been surprised at first when he received the invitation to speak at the University. In the States he had attended various smaller conferences from time to time. For the most part the largest role he had in working towards his dreams was from behind the scenes and through his work with the school. It was only in the more recent years as Mutant Issues become more prevalent in the world that he decided to step into the limelight to spearhead his goal. They had been making slow but genuine progress both politically and socially, yet still not much ground was being made. Those actions plus the everyday actions of running the school as well as his role in commanding the X-Men placed a precarious weight on Xavier’s shoulders.

Though ever tenacious Charles Xavier refused to give up or give in. He would fight and give his last dying breath to make his dream a reality for the whole world, but at what cost?

Xavier’s eyes shifted to the cockpit. He watched as Scott radioed to the control tower waiting for the runway to clear. Xavier remembered so many years ago when the young man found his way to his school. Lost is what Scott would tell him how he was feeling during that part of his life. But Charles saw none of the lost little boy in the man now. All he saw was the strong proud man that was able to take the reins as leader for his X-Men. Honest and dependable, he was a true model of what it was to be an X-Man.

Sitting beside him awaiting the runaway reply was Ororo. He too remembered the day when she arrived at his school. Young, beautiful, and proud she was. Daring this older white man to say she a ‘goddess’ was mortal and in fact a mutant. It seems like such a long time ago and if ever brought up, she would only be embarrassed by her behavior from then. She too had grown in so many ways since when they first met, but the pride, beauty, and inner-strength she held never left her in fact it seemed to reinforce the woman she was today.

Looking over his two students, his children, Charles could never be anything but proud for the people they were today. He had total faith in them and they in he, which often times laid his own inner dilemma. They would never know how often he questioned his own beliefs. Was he driving the people that he loved to the brink or beyond? Was sacrificing the comfort and care of the people he loved, worth the chance of achieving his dream? They’ve had countless battles in the past and experienced tremendous loss.

Some loss seemed almost too much to bear.

That was why the University appearance held so much weight for him. It was the first monumental step towards the day when the life of the X-Men would pass and they could all live their lives as normal people should.

He hadn’t realized when his beliefs had changed but that was his new goal. That was Charles Xavier’s new dream.

To Be Continued…

Chapter 4: Rivals

Outskirts of Alberta,Canada
Now…


He knew this scent…

The Wolverine nose flared as he inhaled deeply. His blood
suddenly raced. He hoped that leaving the highway would have put some distance
behind what ever it was that was hunting them. But now he could smell it that
familiar strong musk and it was close. One brief thought brought him back to
the girl. He had to get her out now!

Logan turned to make a mad dash back to the cabin, but it
was too late.

Suddenly it was like a wall of the forest exploded from
behind him as a giant of six and a half feet stood before the Wolverine, silver
eyes gleaming in its wake. All Logan had was a single moment to take in the
sheer sight of the creature that looked more beast than man, before he felt a
thundering CRACK! He then fell away from the world as his body hurtled
back over fifty feet into the air, crashing through trees, snapping branches,
till he lay deep in a bank of snow. Darkness met him before he even landed.

OoOoOo

The savage mutant grinned while admiring his handiwork; he
looked over the pathway of destruction the runt had left. “Heh, easier than I
thought,” he chuckled to his himself while dropping the battered remaining stub
of the log he had just used. The mutant’s head then automatically snapped into
attention, his big nostrils sniffing deeply. He then whipped his gaze back to
the cabin as the door slowly creaked open.

A young girl no more than fifteen or sixteen dressed in
little more than a t-shirt and sweat pants peered out. “Logan?” she whispered
searching for her traveling mate that was before her brown eyes fell on the
towering beast. 

It was only for a second that their eyes met but it was
enough for him to forever haunt her nightmares. The Savage stood at a
staggering six and a half feet, thick patches of blonde hair escaped from his
massive chest as well as the wild mane that was his hair. An avalanche of
animal furs draped around his sinewy frame, all except his hands which remained
bare, but no less formidable. Each one of his fingers ended in dark razor sharp
three-inch long claws.  

The Mutant took an equally appreciating look at the young
girl. His blonde eyebrows then wriggled suggestively to her as his lips curled
into a mocking puckered position slowly blowing the girl a kiss, “Ah, nice…” he
grinned while stalking towards her. 

Marie was frozen solid with fright. It took the girl a few
moments to realized what she was seeing wasn’t a dream but dreadful reality.
Her brown eyes searched franticly looking for any sign of Logan but he was
nowhere to be found, “Logan please…” she whispered to herself, her whole body
trembling. Marie’s eyes then locked onto the savage Mutant who was still moving
slowly, purposefully towards her, a lecherous grin on his face.

The girl screamed as everything seemed to snap into place.
Her knees gave out making her fumbled backwards, but she managed to kick the
door close behind her while she scrambled away.

Outside the Mutant only grinned, his silver eyes flashing,
“Ooooh, I love it when they play hard to get…” he chuckled while advancing
forward.

OoOoOo

‘Where is he? Where is Logan? He said he'd protect me. But
he's not heah. He's not heah!’ Marie’s mind frantically shouted while she fled.
On her hands and knees she crawled back into the bedroom. For a brief moment
she slid under the bed to hide, but after seeing the door to the closet open,
she ran non-stop to the room, locking the door behind her. She huddled in the
dark, her knees drawn up to her face, her eyes shut tight. Almost as if she
closed them hard enough she could somehow wish the monster into oblivion.

For several seconds it was only quiet in the darkness. The
only sound Marie could hear was the constant drilling of her own heart beating
in her chest. She didn’t say a word, she hardly even breathed.

Everything was so quiet.

Then suddenly there was a crackling explosion as the
cabin’s front door was ripped from its hinges. The sound snapped the girl’s
eyes open. She almost screamed again but she desperately threw her hands up
clamping her mouth shut. She didn’t want him finding her. But she could still
hear him thundering through the cabin, ripping doors open and tossing furniture
over in his way. Each sound hammered into the girls mind, quickening her
heartbeat, heightening her fear. Every so often she could her him whisper in a
raspy voice, “Where are ya girlie? Why dontcha come out?”

 OoOoOo

He knew exactly where she was the moment he stepped into the
cabin. He could smell her. And she smelled just sweet and innocent. He could
have found her in a moment, but that wasn’t how the game was played. That’s not
how he liked it. He wanted to build up the suspense to add to her fear, which
was already so thick he could almost drink from it. And it was so delicious.

“Come out girlie,” he taunted again, “I promise I won’t hurt
ya,” he drawled out the last word to his obvious lie. But hell, if the fawn
were dumb enough to believe him she’d deserve what he had in store for her. He
continued to move around the cabin making as much noise as possible for another
few minutes till he grew tired with the play. It was time for the main event.

He crept as silent as a whisper to the bedroom door. He took
one silent breath waiting a few moments so she’d believed he left her alone.
Then with one foot the bedroom door burst into a thousand pieces. He could hear
the girl wailing from inside the closet. “Heh, heh, heh,” he chuckled to
himself, as he dashed to the closet door and wrenched it open. He stared down
to the girl, her brown innocent eyes wide with terror, “Scream for me girlie.
Scream for the whole world to hear…”

OoOoOo

The skies of Alberta, Canada
Meanwhile…

“Oh mah god, please someone help me!!”

The emotional projection was so potent in its strength that
the echoes from its burst could even be registered to the mediating Professor
Charles Xavier that was aboard the Blackbird. A deep frown crossed the older
man’s face from the disturbance. For a moment he considered what he just picked
up was someone else’s stray nightmare that sometimes drifted into his psyche.
But ever-cautious Xavier allowed his mind to reach out, hoping to find the
person in distress.

For a moment he could sense nothing. But then his mind found
it. His awareness then drifted from outside of the Blackbird, plummeting into a
freefalling to the ground below. It then raced along the horizon rolling over
the darken hillside, till it passed a broken heap of ruined trees, snow, and
timber. His perception continued on as it flew over a beat up old blue camper
into the darken log cabin that was behind it, through the bedroom door which
held a small teenage girl hiding in the closet. 

Charles could feel the girl’s fear as she huddled in the
dark, desperate not to make a sound. He could also hear the eruption of devastation
echoing in the other rooms of the cabin. His heart then leapt as the door to
the bedroom shattered into debris. A scream that was not his own; sprang from
the girl as a face of pure horror stood towering over her, asking her to scream
for his sadistic delight.

“Scott!!!” Charles’ urgent voice rang through the
corridors of the stealth aircraft. 

Instantly Scott Summers was at Charles side while Ororo took
over piloting. “What is it Professor?” his face-harden as the persona of
Cyclops slid into place. Ready for any sort of trouble.

“Turn the Blackbird around,” Xavier ordered, “Someone is in
trouble...”

OoOoOo

Outskirts of Alberta,Canada
Five minutes prior…

It hurt to breathe, ribs were probably broken. Logan groaned
loudly as he fought to stand, unsure feet supporting him. His vision swam for a
few seconds probably due to a mild concussion, but as usual he could shrug it
off. Those ribs were already healing right this moment. Besides there was a son
of a bitch out there that was in desperate need of getting gutted. He shook his
head; yeah he was far from out of this fight.

He put his nose to the air to get a general direction of the
fucker. But a high-pitched scream whipped his head back around, one name in his
thoughts, Marie!

OoOoOo

Marie scurried through the legs of the towering Beast. She
could hear the raspy echo of his laughter above her as she slid under the bed.
He gave a half-hearted grab for her legs but she pulled them in close to her
chest. But her shelter was quickly uprooted as both the mattress and the frame
was ripped off of the support. With nowhere else to hide, the girl could only
stare up into the beady silver eyes of the Beast.

Rows of razor sharp teeth grinned viciously at her defeat.
“End of the line cutie…” he said his talon like hand reaching for her. “Remember
it only hurts the first time…” his raspy voice whispered to her.

He was almost within an inch of touching her that was before
he was wrenched back viciously. “YA SONAVABITCH!!!” a gravely voice
rumbled spinning the towering savage Mutant around. The Savage had only a
second to register the ballistic black haired wild man before the guy’s massive
fists flew. Two quick wrecking straight punches sent the Mutant stumbling back.
A full strength haymaker soon followed the blows, which was so jarring that it
had him crashing back demolishing through the bedroom wall into the living
room. 

The killer Mutant narrowed his eyes setting them on the dark
haired burly man that was nearly a foot shorter than him, who stood defensively
between him and the girl. The shorter man’s eyes flashed in rage, his nostrils
flared, “Hey bub, since yer finished scarin’ little girls, why don’t cha come
pick wit someone yer own size…” he growled, his two massive fists raised.

The towering Mutant raspy voice simply chuckled to him self,
“Been a long time, runt…” then with surprisingly cat-like grace the towering
Killer smoothly slid to his feet, showing no signs that the thundering punches
he was just delivered hurt in the slightest. His grin was a row of razor sharp
teeth as he regarded the shorter man, “Have tah say yer gettin’ a bit sloppy,”
he continued to taunt, “In the old days, I’d never get the drop on ya so
easily.”

For a moment Logan ignored him. His eyes never leaving the
Mutant in front of him, but he still was able to do a quick sniff. He didn’t
detect any of the girl’s blood so hopefully Marie hadn’t been hurt. He then
drew his full attention back to the stranger whose presence was still a
mystery. Traces of his familiar musky scent assaulted Logan’s senses. The way
the stranger stood. How he spoke and moved. It was all so damn familiar to him,
but Logan simply couldn’t figure it out. So instead he decided to ignore it.
“Buddy, I ain’t never seen ya before in my life. But it don’t matter, ‘cause ya
ain’t walkin’ out of here alive.”

“HAHAHAHAAAA!” the towering Stranger whipped his head back,
his broad shoulders shaking. “They really did a number on you didn’t they,” he
grinned almost wiping away a tear. His grin then turned feral as his patience
worn off, “But one thing that ain’t changed, yer still all talk.”  

“We’ll see ‘bout that tough guy,” Logan then raised his fist
in front of him, his steel eyes flashing dangerously, “Let’s go.”

And then he called them. A simple pulsation from his brain
set off a chain reaction that directed their release from their guard. They
soared along the muscles of his forearm till they tore through the blood,
tissue piercing through his flesh that was aligned behind his knuckles. Each of
his hands was now armed with a set of gleaming, twelve-inch long razor sharp
adamantium claws. The Wolverine’s lips curled as the Beast in him started to
step in for command.   

Marie’s eyes widen at seeing the metal claws that erupted
from each of Logan’s hands, but he was not ashamed.

The night he was grafted with those claws, he christened
them with the blood of their creators. Ever since then he promised himself that
every time they drew light, that it would be a big “FUCK YOU” to the
assholes that did this to him. That he was still here. That he wasn’t going
anywhere.

He was the best at what he did.

The most dangerous mutant alive!

He was the mother fuckin’ Wolverine!

Issuing a roar that seemed fit for a lion, the Wolverine
lunged forward impossibly fast. He was all but a bullet of six blades of
adamantium steel that slammed deep into the large Mutant’s chest, drawing first
blood. The Mutant unleashed a howl of pain, momentarily stunned by agony from
the vicious attack, while the Wolverine snarled vindictively. The larger Mutant
then snapped into attention, a sneer on his face as his massive hands then
wrapped around the Wolverine’s sides. He hurled the shorter mutant completely
off of him into the splintered remains of the couch.

The toss temporarily upset the Wolverine’s balance for but a
moment, but that was all the time the killer Mutant needed. As soon as the
Wolverine turned, he was instantly broadsided by nearly three hundred pounds of
hurtling might. The momentum and sheer power behind the drive sent both mutants
crashing through the cabin’s wall into the frigid snow outside. 

As soon as they touch the earth, both the mutants scrambled
away. Wolverine smoothly rolled back to his feet then deftly flipped a few
paces back, while the giant mutant simply drew back into a deep crouch. In low
evenly centered stances they circled each other like two prowling lions
battling for supremacy.

The killer Mutant came in fast, his talon like hands raking
across the Wolverine’s chest. Blood spilled from the wound as the torn remains
of the tank top he was wearing started to stain crimson. Wolverine tried to
counter with a wild crossing swipe, but the towering mutant threw down a guard
halting the Wolverine’s claws. But the Mutant didn’t realize his mistake till a
moment afterward, when a closed adamantium laced fist rocked him right across
his jaw nearly felling him. The Wolverine then pivoted sheathing his other
claws, his other fist smashing into the Mutant’s ribcage. The Wolverine then
let his fists go out to do their grizzly work, with such closed-in proximity
his bare fists would have better maneuverability than his claws.

His battering ram like fists was little more than blurs as
they pummeled and bashed into the taller Mutant’s body, a smashing right cross,
a colossal left hook, and a reeling uppercut, sent the Mutant stumbling a few
steps back. The ‘Works’ usually dropped grown men to the pavement but it only
staggers this one for but a moment. The Wolverine had stopped pulling his
strength in his blows a long time ago. This guy wasn't like the bums in the
Rumble House. If he let up in any sort of way he'd be a goner and Marie would
be at his mercy.

The taller blonde mutant wiped his mouthful of blood away
and issued a sharp-toothed grin, “Heh, heh, heh, just like old times, eh?” he
taunted, his talon-like fingers flexing.

The Wolverine’s thick black eyebrows frowned fists still
raised, “Were you a shitty fighter back then too?”

The killer Mutant snarled in protest, nearly outright
charging again but he paused thinking, “You really don’t remember anythin’ do
ya?” his face scrunched up in mild curiosity, “Do you even know who yer
fightin’?”

“An asshole that gets off on scarin’ defenseless girls,” the
Wolverine quickly shot back, “After that pal, I don’t’ give a fuck.”

“Oh I think ya should,” the mutant commented easily, “Ya
could almost say it was destiny, you and me. But since ya don’t remember I’ll
give ya a freebie. The name’s Sabertooth.” To this the Wolverine didn’t
comment. Honestly he didn’t care to know who the mutant was. The moment he
tried to lay a hand on Marie, signed his death warrant. “So tell me runt,”
Sabertooth began again, “did you get a lil’ bit o’ payment ‘fore ya let
that frail stay wit ya. She sure is a sweeeet one, a bit young but still
sweet.”

The Wolverine’s response was growling roar of protest. A
flex of his forearms and the faint hiss of ‘SNIKT!’ summons his claws to
his fists. “AAAAARRRRRRRGGHHHH!!!” he howled while charging. Sabertooth grinned
just as darkly, beginning his own charge.

OoOoOo

Marie quietly crept from out of the demolished wreckage that
used to be the log cabin’s living room. The cold night air was all around her,
assaulting her thinly clothed body, but her mind wasn’t aware of it. She just
continued to look at the ongoing brawl between Logan and the mutant Sabertooth.

The battle was horrid to look at from the savage brutality
of it all, yet so oddly amazing the girl just couldn’t turn away. The two at
times seemed like they were equally matched. Both were a flurry of slashes,
snarls, fury and yet still deadly graceful. But then somehow Logan would turn
any disadvantage he had into getting the upper hand. Whenever Sabertooth was
quick, Logan was quicker. Whatever smart tactic Sabertooth would try, Logan
would be cleverer. They were like mirror images of each other, in their fight,
in their dance. Sabertooth seemed to be all ruthlessness and cruelty. And Logan…well
he wasn’t no saint either.

“Ya ain’t layin’ a finger on her fucker!” she heard
him shout, moments before he unleashed a vicious continuous barrage of attacks
that seemed endless. Sometimes Sabertooth was able to dodge or even guide
Wolverine’s claws away but most often he couldn’t. And Sabertooth was laid
victim to each adamantium claw that was biting like metallic lightning.

Still unable to turn away from the carnage in front of her,
Marie’s mind still reeling behind the passion and the fury behind Logan’s
words. “He’s fightin’ fer me,” she said to herself, “He’s fightin’ fer me…” The
realization brought an unusually amount of warmth that erupted in her heart. As
she looked on she prayed that he’d be ok and that he would come back to her.

OoOoOo

The onward fray of the Wolverine and Sabertooth continued.
The pair continued to circle and strike, adamantium slashed, bone claws tore.
Each of them was sporting several fresh wounds, yet each of them looked far
from tiring. But through the fighting the Wolverine was slightly distracted.
His mind kept buzzing through how familiar this all seemed to be. Who ever this
Sabertooth asshole was, he had a healing factor that was just as good as his
own. ‘I have to end this fast and get Marie out of here,’ he said to himself
while advancing.

Wolverine came from low, a straight raking claw attack
whizzed to Sabertooth’s mid-section, but at the last second the savage mutant
rolled his shoulder down, dropping it underneath Wolverine’s fierce attack.
Five three-inch claws found their home into the Canadian feral mutant’s gut,
instead of simply slashing or tearing his claws out, Sabertooth dug them
further into Wolverine’s belly; he then started pumping his feet underneath him
pushing the Wolverine farther back. Sabertooth continued driving Wolverine
backwards till the mutant slammed him into a large pine tree. Wolverine’s
adamantium laced spine cracked against the pine, but regardless of its strength
a tree would not break adamantium-reinforced bone. Sabertooth then slammed the
Canadian mutant again against the tree this time uttering a thundering grunt as
he burst through the pine’s foundation and then used all of his might to hurl
the Wolverine away.

The feeling of weightlessness surrounded Logan till he
crashed against the ground sliding almost thirty feet from where he started.
Wolverine then quickly slammed his claws into the ground underneath him, tucked
his head towards his shoulder then rolled to his feet halting his momentum. He
looked up just in time to see Sabertooth launch him self from above. Sabertooth
looked like a nightmare of razor sharp fangs, claws and powerful rage. The type
of stuff that made grown men wet themselves just thinking about it.  

But if the Wolverine looked worried, he didn’t show it.

Logan just set in his stance, releasing a set of claws to
his leading hand. He then stepped forward into Sabertooth’s pathway; his
retreating arm reaching up to grab the taller mutant in mid-air by his
collarbone, Logan’s leading hand then came up digging its claws into the
mutant’s abdominals. With a movement that was as smooth as a wave washing
against a beach, Wolverine continued with Sabertooth’s momentum, rolling his weight
around and slamming the mutant hard into the ground blasting the air from his
lungs.  

Less than a breath later the Wolverine was on him like a
hurricane! Metallic claws whirling around, digging and slashing at Sabertooth’s
chest, unearthing stream after stream of blood. The taller mutant flung his
arms up catching the Wolverine by his wrists but that didn’t stop the
berserker. A cranium reinforced with adamantium steel slammed down onto
Sabertooth’s skull nearly caving it in. Concentration broken the savage mutant
released Canadian feral’s arms, Wolverine then quickly used the opportunity to
stab down, stapling the killer Mutant’s hands above his head.

Sabertooth tried to wriggle his way out from under the
powerful vice grip Wolverine’s legs had him under, but a quick disrespectful
slap from Logan’s meaty hand stopped him. Sabertooth tried to whip his head
back, his row of sharp teeth snapping but three metallic claws, that were
placed an inch away from his nose, halted him. “End of the line, asshole…”
Wolverine growled; his voice had a killer’s edge to it.

Sabertooth growled in rage, while Wolverine drew his arm
back for the killing blow. Then suddenly the skies above them were filled with
a blinding array of white lights. The thunderous hum of twin turbine engines
roared as a sleek black aircraft floated above them. The jet dipped then raced
to the side, the humming of its engines decelerating as it was looking for a
place to land. 

“What the fuck?” Logan questioned, but the distraction was
just what Sabertooth ordered. The savage mutant quickly tore his hands free. A
vicious backhand ripped Wolverine from on top of him. Momentarily stunned, the
Wolverine scrambled to his feet just a moment before his ribs were blasted a
second time this night. The hefty timber splintered into pieces from the impact
of it crashing into the Wolverine’s sternum, rocking him back towards his blue
camper.

Logan crashed through the windshield, over the seats,
through the cabin, settling in somewhere near the transmission. There is a
brief calm that occurred as he tried to pull himself free, but then he heard
it. The faint, *snap, snap*, for a mild moment he cursed, then the camper is nothing
more than a ball of flame as truck’s fuel line caught the spark.

OoOoOo

Muttering a slew of curses, Logan drunkenly stumbled from
out of the fiery wreckage that used to be his blue camper truck. The few shreds
of clothing he had on were still burning and smoking, there was a gash on the
side of his head from a deep shard of glass from when he went through the
windshield and he was sure some of the carbonator was lodged in his back.
Besides all of that, he pretty much felt like shit. Healing factor was going
into overtime.

He then turned around briefly, blurry steel gray eyes
regarding the burning steel frame that was left of his truck, “Still had a
payment left…” his voice slurred before he dipped off to the side, falling into
a heap on the ground.

The faint southern cry of  “Logan! Logan!” called out to him
but in his exhaustion the calm of darkness claimed him first. So he doesn’t
feel the soft-gloved hands that effortlessly try to shake him away. He doesn’t
feel that tears that poured for him from the young girl, the first person
that’s ever truly cared for him since he could remember.

Logan is unaware of all these things because in the darkness
nothing could reach him.

OoOoOo

“What the hell happened here?” Scott Summers shouted as he
approached the scene. Dressed in his dark navy blue form fitted suit of the
X-Men, he cautiously continued to inspect the area that pretty much looked like
a war zone. The still burning fiery wreck that appeared once to have been some
type of vehicle, the log cabin that had two of its four walls completely
demolished, leaving pieces of chinking and timber falling. There were signs of
an animal fight all over the place from trees being slashed, to rocks wielding
deep claw marks.

“Cyclops!” Storm’s voice broke him from his investigation.
He jogged over to the general area where his teammate went searching. Rounding
the bush he paused as he spotted Storm crouching near a young teenage girl. The
girl was hysterical: tears streaming from her eyes, her arms desperately
holding onto the beat up and bleeding body of a stocky full grown man as if he
was her only link to this world.

“Its ok child,” Storm’s smooth soothing voice spoke to her
softly, “we will not hurt you. You are safe.” A genuine smile adored the
African windrider’s face as she reached her hand out to girl. After a moments
hesitation the girl’s gloved hand reached out and she collapsed into Storm’s
arms. Bits and pieces of words flowing from the girls mouth as she was trying
to come to grips with everything around her. But Storm was there her voice warm
and comforting the girl, telling her that the worst has passed and she was with
friends.

OoOoOo

Various images come to Logan as he drifts in and out of
consciousness. His mind lingers along the surface of light and darkness to
where he wasn’t sure which was real and what was fantasy. Various voices speak
around him in a cycle, a medley at work till even they are calm and all is
quiet. 

Soon there is a weightless sensation, followed by a rumbling
roar that sounded like thunder. He feels his strength returning but it comes in
small bursts. Through one of the stronger moments, he concentrates his strength
towards to his vision. An eternity’s worth of concentration is needed but
eventually he is successful. His eyes open for but a crack but that is enough
for his sights to be instantly enveloped by white.

The white is piercing and overpowering, so much that he
cannot decide if it was better in comparison to the dark. Eventually the white
dulls and shapes start to form. His eyes peer around but nothing is familiar,
nothing he recognizes and the white hasn’t left him. ‘Is this Heaven?’ he
briefly wonders, but no one answers his call. 

Suddenly a vision takes notice of him. She like everything
else here was draped in white, so much that even her hair was the color. The
vision had almond eyes the color of cool sapphires and skin of smooth caramel.
Her lips were full and luscious as if kissing were the only activity they were
meant for. To say she’s beautifully is an understatement because till this
moment, he realized he didn’t know the meaning of the word till he saw her.  

He didn’t know if this was heaven or not, but it couldn’t
have been that bad if it had a goddess like that here.

Another burst of strength comes to him and his hand moves
from his waist. In an instant the vision clasps his hand within the gentle
touch of hers. Those eyes that were like falling into rich cerulean pools of
water settled on him. “The girl…?” he asked, his voice is cracked and weak.
He’s surprised that was the first notion to come to him and even more surprised
how natural it felt.

The vision smiles at him. The sight is more beautiful than
all the sunrises he can remember seeing in the Canadian Rockies. “She’s fine…”
the vision assures him, the rich velvet of her warm voice is soothing.

Her words invoke a world of satisfaction to him. For the
first time in a long time he did the right thing for once. For the first time
in a long time he could feel something near to content. He could rest now. He
did all that he could.

And Logan falls away from the world again, this time in
peace.

OoOoOo

 Outskirts of Alberta,Canada

Nearby two figures watch as the black stealth jet lifts up
from the ground, there is a momentary pulse of blue flame from the boosters
before the jet is nothing more than a dot in the midnight sky.  

The first figure then turns to the second. “Have you finally
gotten that out of your system?” the deep trembling voice asked. The faint
flapping of a thick cloak fluttering around his body could be heard as he
waited for his companion’s response. The second figure a towering giant of six
and a half feet simply snarled a deep roar of irritation, but his partner was
hardly impressed. “Careful of your tone Creed,” the voice warned
dangerously, “Remember I was the one against you tracking him down.”

Victor Creed aka Sabertooth grumbled under his breath. “I
thought he’d make a new addition to yer brotha’hood,” he lied, knowing that was
the exact last thing on his mind.   

And apparently his companion clearly saw through the deceit.
“For that I’m sure,” he commented, a smirk adorned on his face, “And when
exactly where you going to mention it, in between mauling him or the several
times he skewered you?” the voice sarcastically inquired, not an instant before
a haunting laugh escapes him. Creed remained silent knowing well that he had
been beaten. The figure then tossed his cloak over his shoulder commanding his
mutation to levitate him to the sky above, “Come, we have real work to
be done.”

Reluctantly Victor Creed followed below.

 
To Be Continued…

Diary Entry: Firsts

People always be talkin’ ‘bout tha important o’ firsts.

First time at the ball game, the first time ya had a yer first beer. Hell, even the first time ya got laid. Simply e’eryday shit normal people take fer granted.

Frankly speakin’, ‘firsts’ that’s one of the luxuries I don’t got. That’s the pr’blem when ya got people playin’ scrabble wit yer head.

Ya forget the simply things in life. Tha stuff that makes a man be proud of tha guy he turned out to be, gives him a reason to hold ‘imself up when the whole world is tryin’ to tear ‘im down.

But I got one, first, one that nobody can take from me.
Tha first time I saw her...

...Too bad I acted like a complete ass.

Chapter 5: First Impressions


Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Early Morning…


“I need to go to the Bahamas…” Dr. Jean Grey muttered to her self as she watched the sun kissed bodies dancing across the sand during the advertisement. Television commercials were a wonderful thing, for a brief instant they could make it appear that all the joy and the excitement that you were missing in your life could be found if you bought their product or joined their activities.

After a brief look to the stocky unconscious body on the cool medical slab that was surrounded by the dull sterile grays of the observation room, she honestly was having second thoughts about her present choice of profession. Jean gnawed on her bottom lip as a sudden idea hit her. She always was good at writing; perhaps she could just say “Screw the doctrine,” move out to a tropical island in the middle of nowhere and start writing romance novels like the ones Kitty loved so much.

She then briefly wondered if it would be considered abusing her powers if she simply convinced, Scott to suddenly take her on a trip to the Bahamas. Not a moment after the thought was conceived that the quiet mental voice of Professor Xavier echoed to her, ‘Yes, it would be.’ The woman pouted at her hopes dashed.

“Looks like the Bahamas is out…” she said to herself. She smiled to herself, hearing the Professor chuckling in the back of her thoughts. The young women sighed while pushing a lock of her scarlet hair out of her face. After wishing the Professor good night, she decided her present state of mind was probably due to sleep, or lack there of to be honest.

The young Doctor had flown in from Washington earlier that day after spending the weekend in conference with Kenneth Jacobson, a young politician that the Professor had made acquaintances with a few years ago. The two of them were paired up against long time conservative Senator Kelly, over the Mutant Issue that was growing more prevalent each day.

After two days of heated debate, the two parties still were not able to come to a resolution. She did take pleasure in noticing that the political voices that used to be behind Kelly have been reducing in numbers. Either they now were undecided on the Mutant Issue or they had fully joined her search to find an alternative solution. Armed with that small victory, she and Kenneth made the plane trip home.

That being said, after going over their notes while on the plane and the long exhausting, (traffic-filled) car ride from the airport, Jean was looking to her’s and Scott’s king size bed like a starving man looked to a steak dinner. She soundly decided that she would sleep in late the following morning, especially since the first of her classes didn’t start till after noon anyway.

The flame haired telepath managed to get four full hours of REM sleep, before she received the Professor’s emergency call to prep the medical bay. Inwardly she wanted to grumble and throw a fit, but the severity of the injuries Charles revealed to her stamped down any inner protest, the mantle of Doctor falling into place. …And she was having one of the nicest dreams too.

An hour later the Blackbird arrived back to the school but the state of emergency was reduced because it seemed during the duration of the flight most of the patient’s wounds seemed to heal themselves, which lead to the theory that their mystery guest had an accelerated healing ability. Jean then saw to the young girl that accompanied him. After a full examination, not to mention a few questions asked about the origins of the injuries she did have, they settled the girl in one of the girl’s suites with Kitty and Jubilee for the night and then everyone turned their attention to the still recuperating mutant.

They had found out from the girl that Sabertooth had ambushed the two of them in the night, but her companion, a guy she only knew as Logan, fought him off and brought the fight to Sabertooth toe-to-toe. Apparently Logan would have finished him off if it weren’t for the Blackbird’s untimely entrance. Scott didn’t hide his amazement at the feat. They’ve all had run-ins with Sabertooth at one point or another, to actually turn the tides on the sadistic mutant after being taking off-guard was an affirmation to this Logan guy’s skill.

Jean managed to perform a brief examination, through which the patient still remained unresponsive. Ororo mentioned that during the take-off, he had regained consciousness temporarily, but then passed out for the remainder of the flight. Jean’s examination revealed an alarming discovery; it seemed Logan’s whole skeletal structure was grafted with adamantium an alloy that was virtually indestructible. Whether or not the adamantium was an addition mutant power was still debatable, but from the readings she was able to perform, Jean doubted that seriously.

After her brief examination was concluded, Jean promptly ushered both Ororo and Scott away since they had morning classes to teach and it wasn’t necessary for all of them to be up. Instead she decided to stay up the night and watch over their new guest. Now the young doctor sighed again while rubbing her eyes.

Jean wondered now what the heck she was thinking, abandoning her lovely dream for observation duties. If she tried really hard she could still remember bits and pieces of the fantasy. She was laid out on a tropical island, drinking Pina Coladas that were swerved by a Swedish god named Sven. There Jean was being waited on hand and foot, enjoying the sun while watching two of her favorite actors, Hugh Jackman and James Marsden fight to the death for her honor, wearing nothing more than a loincloth, sweat and the skin they were in. Although she would have admitted Logan was kind of cute in a roguish sort of away, but he was no Hugh Jackman.

“I’m in desperate need of more coffee,” she grumbled to herself, rubbing her tired eyes for the umpteenth time this morning. Her green eyes took one quick glance towards the still resting mutant and shrugged. Taking five minutes to get another caffeine rush couldn’t hurt. Switching off the television the redhead hurried down the hall to the elevator.

OoOoOo

His nose was the first thing active.

He’s in a room that reeks of disinfectants and the stench of artificial cleaners. A hospital. He hated hospitals. The Beast in him grumbles. He briefly catches the brusque metallic scent of instruments and surgical equipment. His palm then feels the cool metal slab of the examination table beneath him. The combination of the two causes him to snaps his eyes open in alert. For an instant the effervescent florescent lightning is overwhelming, blinding his eyes, but his pupils quickly adjust dimming the intensity.

His steel gray eyes dart around clean swept room. He spots the various scanners, medical instruments and an assortment tray of surgical tools. The scene is sickly all too familiar. Suddenly he’s transported to that night many years ago. He doesn’t know how any of them managed to survive the Beast’s wrath, but this time he plans on finishing the job.

He notices his captors were negligent enough not to restrain him to the bed. An error or judgment he plans to exploit.

His limber legs swing over the edge of the table. He lands in a crouch on the balls of his feet, muffling the sound. His ears twitch trying to catch the faintest sound of an alarm being tripped but all he hears is silence. His nose then flares trying to catch a whiff of any enemies that might be hiding in wait. As far as he knows, he’s alone, meaning a lax in surveillance; he’ll exploit that too.

He dashes; two quick steps bring him to the nearby wall. He presses his body close as he peers into the hallway. More of the metallic gray corridors, although it seemed in the middle of this hallway there was an exit. A chrome convex panel wheels around unveiling an elevator door, which in that instant had swung open. He darts by quickly falling against a glass case that held different variations of sweats and t-shirts, all adorned with the letter “X” as their label.

For a moment he considers donning one, but the rhythmic clicking of high heels draws his attention. He sees a crimson haired woman returning to the room where he just fled. He briefly considers taking her down now lessening their numbers, but at the last minute he refrains. He’s in foreign territory with an unknown enemy. Evasion and escape are his best options.

Instead he waits till she rounds the corner before he approaches the elevator. He manages to slide inside the pathway, just as the door closes. A quick jab to the panel lifts the elevator to the ground floor.

OoOoOo

“Professor!” Jean Grey mentally cried when she returned to the empty sickbay. She swore herself she would only be gone five minutes, how can a grown man completely vanish in five minutes.

‘I know Jean,’ Xavier’s calm mental reply returned, ‘it would appear our guest is slightly disorientated from his ordeal. ’ She noticed although the Professor’s tone was relaxed there was slight hint of warning in his words.

‘What do we do?’ she inquired.

‘I will lead him directly to me,’ Xavier quickly continued before Jean could protest the rashness of his decision, ‘Notify Scott and Ororo and standby,” he instructed, ‘I’d like a word with him for a moment, then the three of you come to my office.’

OoOoOo

The Wolverine continued to prowl around the strange location. He was little more than a shadow in the doorway, the darkness in the dawn. All the while the scent of youth and innocence paraded around the place that it almost made him light-headed. Logan, a man that was used to all the rough and dirty dives that Canada had to offer was puzzled by such purity.

The Wolverine continued through a long corridor that opened out to a grand staircase, which appeared to lead to the upper levels of the facility. He briefly considered venturing up, when he felt a strange presence emerge from behind him. Relying on instinct more than his senses, he quickly whirled on his heel, six adamantium blades summoned to his side in an instant.

Standing before the Wolverine was a simple old man, six feet tall in height. He was bald, clean-shaven and immaculately dressed. It seemed everything he was attired in was tailor made, from the Armani suit he was wearing to the dark John Lobb shoes on his feet. The older man smiled. His clear blue eyes bore the weight of many years of patience and something that the Wolverine wasn’t very familiar with, kindness. His was a face that had known years of sadness and even more years of joy. “Good morning Logan,” the old man’s rich voice began, “I am Professor Charles Xavier.”

For the time it took the old man to recite his name, the Beast nearly sprung into action against the stranger. But Logan, the man keenly held it in check, a strange vein of curiosity taking over him, “I ain’t smell ya comin’ or heard a footstep,” he rumbled, “What tha hell is this?”

Xavier continued that honest smile never leaving his face, “I’m speaking to you directly to your mind,” the older man then raised his arms motioning to himself, “What you see before you is a mental image I am projecting of myself.”

The Wolverine’s lip curled as his dark eyebrows furrowed. “Git outta my head!” the Wolverine grunted, six blades of indestructible adamantium fanning his side, preparing if he had to strike.

Xavier paused, a frown adorn his face for the first time, “I’m sorry if my appearing to you this way upsets you. But please understand, you’re currently in my school for children like ourselves, a school for Mutants. I just didn’t want needless bloodshed over a simple misunderstanding.” At this the Wolverine’s temper eased a bit. “I’d like to talk to you face-to-face, if you wouldn’t mind.” Logan considered the offer for a minute. He then merely shrugged, the sound of ‘SHAKT!’ echoed as he sheathed his claws. He saw no reason to refuse. Worst came to worst, it wouldn’t have been the first time he’d have to fight his way out of a place.

Xavier instantly brightened from his decision; “Very good, now just follow my image to the door to your right.”

OoOoOo

The red oak door opened to large room of the headmaster. A small fire was burning from a fireplace. The room was evenly lit giving it a cozy somewhat comfortable feel. Mounted around the room was an expansive library of books and various degrees. In the center of the room was a large oak desk where Charles Xavier patiently waited.

Xavier’s nicely groomed suit and tie was a stark contrast to Logan’s attire, whose hairy broad body was bare to the waist. Only a dark pair of loose sweat pants adorned his frame with bare feet sprouting from the pants cuffs. Despite his drab state of dress, the older man didn’t cast any ill-favored looks his way or cast his vision aside.

“Hello again Logan,” the old man greeted, he then moved from behind the desk. A powered wheelchair guided him out till he was placed beside a small table. “Would you like some breakfast?” the older man offered toward the steaming plates that had a plethora of eggs, waffles, sausages and various other morning dishes.

Logan regarded the table briefly, but his steel gray eyes instantly returned to Xavier, not bending in the slightest. Accepting the refusal for what it was; Xavier decided to move along. “Logan, I know you must have many questions and I hope to answer as many as I can. I would also like to introduce you to some associates of mine.”

The door behind Logan creaked open again. At the sound he turned on his heels, eyes sharp and ready, fists clenched to his sides out of pure instinct, ready to face whatever awaited him. Instead what he saw were a pair of warm green eyes that welcomed him.

The green eyes were a prelude to the voluminous locks of her scarlet hair. Instantly he recognized the redhead from before. The faint clean hint of the chemicals she usually worked with mixed in with her natural scent of vanilla. A dark blouse clung to her chest with a gray skirt entrapping her slender legs that seemed to flow around her as she walked. The sharp click of her pumps echoed through the room as she moved. She was a knockout, that’s all he had to say, slender and soft in all the right places.

They briefly made eye contact, but her green eyes quickly looked away under the strength behind his stare. He chuckled silently to himself from the implications. That one might be a little bit of fun later on.

Following closely behind her was young man with dark brown hair. He stood tall, a few inches above six feet. He had a stiff walk that spoke of determination and pride. A crimson pair of sunglasses hid his eyes, but honestly Logan wasn’t interested. His face was boyish and clean-shaven, dressed in a light sweater over top of a navy blue polo shirt with khakis slacks, the shirt tucked in and khakis neatly pressed.

The young Sport looked like if he weren’t here at the school, he would be in a ritzy high-rise apartment somewhere in Manhattan, lounging back in a recliner, sipping lattes as he watched his 401k flourished. The guy probably ironed his boxers. Logan shook his head; already telling the two of them wouldn’t be getting along.

His attention drifted away from ‘Junior’, finding the redhead far more feasting on his eyes. That was till he caught the scent of rain.

Logan turned then fell into an ocean of blue.

OoOoOo

An easy smile brightened Xavier’s face as he welcomed the three new comers. “Logan, I would like to introduce you to Jean Gray the doctor that was attending to you while you were recuperating. Scott Summers also called Cyclops and Ororo Monroe also called Storm.” The words of the Professor seemed to drift into the background till they were nothing but a distant memory.

Logan had forgotten about the redhead, had even forgotten about the school. Everything else seemed to disappear the longer his eyes were on the woman before her. Her hair was a pure white that fell into thick tendrils that continued to flow below her waist. Her eyes were almond shaped and held the sheerest set of blue sapphire eyes he ever seen in his life. Her skin was flawless, as if it all was dipped in a bottomless well of caramel. His eyes dropped noticing her full lush chocolate lips. Falling further down her slender neck into the white blouse she was wearing whose top two buttons were undone to allow generous viewing of tantalizing cleavage.

Rain and sandalwood, identified as her scent and yet there was a third fragrance that he could not name but its presence brought an unusual amount of calm to him. There was something about her hair. Her soft looks, her mocha colored skin, her shimmering sapphire eyes, even her scent that spoke something to him, triggering a wild fire inside of him that even the Beast in all its infinite influence couldn’t begin to control.

His eyes swam wanting to continue, but he was suddenly drawn back to the sight of her eyes. Unlike the redhead who later he would be reminded was called Jean, the woman before him, this Ororo Monroe didn’t shy away from his gaze. If anything his intensity was equally met. Fuller and fuller he fell into her spell, and she too seemed to be drawn to him on some level. It was like lost souls being reunited after a thousands years absence, a sort of connection that neither of them could explain.

OoOoOo

Xavier stopped talking sometime ago, taking an interest the interaction between the two. Logan seemed completely mesmerized by Ororo presence. Although there were strong mental barriers that barred a lot of the feral mutant’s thoughts from him, Charles didn’t have to be a psychic to notice the obvious attraction there. And to be equally honestly in all the years that he had known Ororo, Charles had never seen her so enthralled by anyone she just met also.

Feeling a need to continue Charles tried drawing both Logan and Ororo back to the conversation, after a few attempts he gained no success. Seeing this as a slight of rudeness from the newcomer, Scott Summers decided to step in. He moved behind the stocky shorter man to give him a slight tap on the shoulder to get his attention. Such a simple act would set into play a series of events that absolutely nobody foresaw.

Scott’s tap from behind, in one instant raised all the hairs on the back of the Wolverine, triggering a basic self-preserving instinct which called for a reaction that based on primal impulse more than thought. There was an explosion of motion that slammed Scott back, followed quickly by a faint metallic hiss. In less than three breaths, the Wolverine had both of Scott's arms pinned down with his elbow to cycloptic leader’s throat. Three adamantium blades were within inches of his face; the Wolverine’s cold as steel eyes and a deadly snarl daring Summers to make a move.

Everyone stared wide-eyed at the scene but it was Xavier who was the first to react. “STOP!” his voice thundered through the room as if it held the combined might of all the heavens, “There are a few things I will tolerate, but violence amongst each other is not one of them,” the Professor instructed sharply.

The Wolverine’s steel gray eyes fell away from the tense sunglasses draped man, looking over his shoulder to Xavier. Logan’s claws slowly retracted as he took a few steps back letting the young leader go. Jean instantly went to Scott side, while the Wolverine stood by. “You won’t find any enemies here, Logan. So please be at ease.” Xavier continued while taking a breath that looked as though that incident alone took ten years off of his life.

The Wolverine snorted angrily before crossing his thick arms in front of his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the faint sight of Ororo’s stare. Her blue almond shaped eyes narrowed to thin slits to him, in anger and disgust. For some reason he thought he caught a faint hint of ozone in the air, but he quickly shook off the notion as impossible. He then whirled back to Xavier, “Whatcha bring me here for Chuck?” Logan barked out, his steel eyes drilling the old man.

Xavier paused briefly at the liberties taken with his name but decided to ignore it. “I thought to offer you sanctuary from those that seem to pursue you,” the Professor extended.

The Wolverine briefly paused in thought. ‘That bastard Sabertooth was still out there,’ he considered, while slamming his knuckles into closed his fist, his mind already racking over the next time when he would get his hand on that savage bastard. “I don’t need yer charity,” he grunted returning to Xavier, “I can take care o’ my own.”

“Perhaps you can,” the Professor conceded, while his wheelchair moved him back to his desk. He then steepled his fingers on the desk while his eyes returned to him, “but what of your traveling companion, the girl that was accompanying you.”

At the mention of her, Logan’s eyes widened. ‘Marie…’ All thoughts of Xavier and his school completely left him again, his priorities shifting. ‘Where is she?’ he wondered. His eyes then took a hard edge, ‘If that bastard Sabertooth hurt her…’ With that train of thought Logan turned, almost storming out of the door.

“I assure you, she is quite well,” Xavier called after him. The older man paused while making a pondering gesture, “I believe right now she’s preparing for her classes.”

“Classes?” one of Logan’s thick eyebrows popped up as if catching on for the first time, “What classes?”

“This is a school…” a voice that seemed draped in the softest velvet spoke. Logan turned back to the mocha-skinned beauty with the shimmering eyes. He could still sense the thin veil of anger that brewed under the surfaced as she continued to address him, “…if you haven’t noticed,” she finished coldly, the two azure colored daggers that were her eyes setting on him. Logan’s steel eyes narrowed nearly rising to the challenge.

There was a tense silence that inhabited the room. A tension that was so evident that no one dared to utter a word. Logan looked as he was about to speak but a rap pair of knocks sounded behind from the door, drawing everyone’s attention. “Enter…” Xavier announced, welcoming the distraction.

Filling almost the entire width of the door stood a towering young man. His massive body was encased in a loose “X” labeled t-shirt, leaving his strong forearms bare. He had a short crop of black hair, clean cut but the boyish face on him pegged him several years younger than Summers. Probably just on his journey to adulthood. He wore an honest smile that graced everyone, even the new comer in the room.

“Logan this is Peter Rasputin,” the Professor introduced, while Logan gave the giant young man a critical eye. The guy was in good shape and held his stance pretty evenly. Logan instantly pegged him for a scrapper. “Peter was a graduate from last year that decided to remain among us to continue his training.”

Logan’s eyebrow raised again in interest, “Continue his trainin’ fer what?”

“Well if you decide to remain among us, I’ll be more than happy to explain.” Xavier finished, allowing that thought to weigh in Logan’s mind before he turned to address the young Russian, “Peter, can you escort Logan around. Show him a little bit about the school. I’m sure the two of you will run into Rogue along the way,” the Professor included hoping that would appease Logan’s concern.

“Of course Professor,” the younger man accepted with a brief nod. He then turned to the bare-chested shorter man with an extended hand of greeting. Logan with that same eyebrow cocked just stared feigning indifference. Peter then paused as if confused as he looked down to the smaller man. When he spoke the thick tenor of a Russian accent took center stage, accentuating each of his words, “I am sorry. I’m not familiar with all American customs.” He informed Logan, while looking down to his extended hand, “Is this not the way to properly to greet a friend?”

Logan eyes went up to the kid. Although the young man’s face was contorted into a neutral expression, Logan could see the inner grin held behind the young man’s lively eyes. It seemed contagious because the barest hint of a smirk graced his chiseled face as well. The feral Canadian slowly clasped hands with the younger man. Instantly he noted the marvelous strength within the grasp. “Nice grip,” he admitted while nodding, “Name’s Logan.”

“And I am Piotr Rasputin,” the young Russian eagerly greeted, “but you can also call me Colossus.”

“Colossus huh?” Logan asked while following in step with the younger man, the door to the headmaster’s room closing behind them. “What is it thatja do?” Not a moment after he asked was there the sound of rhythmic metallic clanking and chiming echoed in the hallway. “Cool…” Logan responded sounding impressed. “Hey Pete, know where I can find a shirt ‘round here?”

OoOoOo

No sooner did the door to the headmaster’s room close, did both Ororo and Jean close upon the Professor’s desk in righteous fury. “Charles are you mad?” Ororo shouted her natural blue eyes were wide and angered, “You can't possibly be considering, to allow that man to stay here?”

“And if I was?” Charles responded calmly, already expecting the energetic charge.

“Professor…” Jean followed behind her longtime friend, “I’m sure you can tell the various levels of mental barriers Logan has in place, but despite the density, before I could still tell his intent,” her green eyes leveling on the Professor, “Just then he was ready to kill Scott,” she concluded hoping to drive home the issue of how potentially dangerous the feral from Canada was.

Charles Xavier simply closed his eyes while shaking his head, “When I open this school many years ago, it was for the sole purposes of having a safe haven for all mutants,” he began, allowing his stare to fall on both women, “I cannot renege on that offer for every mutant that appears rougher around the edges then most.”

Ororo’s blue eyes instantly widened with fury and rile, “Rough around the edges?” she repeated incredulous, “Charles he’s an animal! Why can't you see that? He's a danger to us all, especially the children.”

Hearing her response Xavier’s face wore a deep frown, “Ororo you bring shame to yourself for such words.”

The African beauty equally leveled a stare on him, refusing to admit an error. “If it seems I have spoken out of turn it is only because everything I hold dear and love is under this roof,” she expressed honestly.

For a time the two continued battled stares neither side wanting to admit defeat. But suddenly Charles tore his gaze away from Ororo, taking notice of the one remaining member in the room who hadn’t voiced an opinion. “Scott,” Xavier interjected, while looking over to the auburn haired man, “Your thoughts? And furthermore are you all right?”

“Yeah,” the young X-Men leader muttered while rubbing his neck another time for good measure, “Guy's fast and got a hellavah grip,” he spouted off, saying the first thing to mind. He then drifted off in thought as he pondered his own reaction to the whole event. After a minute of deep consideration he spoke, “I think the Professor is right.” The honesty and genuinely of his reply surprised both of the woman. “Face it,” he said, feeling the need to explain, “None of us came to this school under the best of circumstances. And even if he is one of the more extremes, it’s within everything we stand for as X-Men and as well as faculty of this School to at least offer him a chance.”

Charles nodded agreeing, “My thoughts exactly.”

Not trying to allow the matter to be closed both Ororo and Jean strongly protested, but Charles in a calm clear voice called, “Enough,” his eyes directed to the two women, “For the next forty-eight hours I will be closely monitoring him. If anymore problems arise from his presence here I will ask him to take his leave,” Xavier ended.

After some brief looks that were exchanged around the room everyone started to make their way out. Ororo was the last to exit, she turned briefly back to the Professor one last thought on her mind, “And what if he refuses, Charles?” Ororo ended while closing the door behind her.


To be continued…

Chapter 6: Day One


Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Mid morning…


“Charles, he's an animal!”

The corners of the Wolverine’s eyes forked into tight slits as he listened to the African woman’s emotionally charged statement. “Frosty bitch…” he grumbled to himself, his supersensitive hearing transcended through the walls, clearly picking up all of the argument from the room he just left. For reasons he could not explain, her words struck a deep chord in him making his whole body tense. His hands reflexively clench and unclench into tight fists as he fought the urge to storm back into that room and show that woman just how much of an animal he could really be.

His traveling companion, the giant Peter Rasputin stared across the empty room noticing his new friend’s sour demeanor. “Something wrong comrade?” he asked while looking over to the smaller man. The two of them were currently in one of the empty rooms down the hall from the Headmaster’s suit. After finding Logan a spare Xavier’s School tank top shirt and his cowboy boots that were in rugged condition, he gave the Canadian a few minutes of privacy to change. They briefly talked during the walk across hallway, but even Peter could tell this Logan had been slightly distracted with something.

Logan frowned, while briefly shaking his head, “Eh…it’s nothing,” he muttered while sliding the loose “X” label tank top over his head. His mind was still echoing that woman’s voice, ‘…he's an animal!’ He didn’t know why it mattered or even why he cared. So what if she was a looker, it didn’t give her any damn right to judge him. He was his own man. Not some spoon-fed prissy boy that she was probably used to.

Letting the conversation and whatever the results of it fade into white noise, Logan turned to the Russian. “Come on, lead the way Pete.” He remembered that younger man mentioned something about a two level working garage earlier. He might as well get his barrens here, however long he was allowed to stay.

OoOoOo

“And that’s when she was like “Nah-uh.” and I was like “Yah-huh.” Then she was totally like “For real!!!”

Marie as walked down the voluminous halls of the X-Mansion, she continued to stare wide-eyed and amazed at the person next to her, the phenomenon that was Jubilation Lee. The girl had just finished revealing the events of last semester in under five minutes flat. Marie was certain this was the girl’s fourteenth sentence spoken without taking a breath. Polite as she tried to be, Rogue couldn’t always keep up with the mall-hoping motor mouth, who at all times would spout out names to dozens of people who she assumed Marie met in the twenty-four hours that she spent in the mansion.

The southern newcomer, who told everyone to call her Rogue, had only been briefly introduced to the young Asian American girl yesterday. But just a few words spoken and a single name was all the younger girl needed. Soon after all the excitement with the new arrival died down, Jubilee, who happened to be two years her junior, took one look at the ‘new girl’ Rogue and complimented her on her hair. Marie who always had been self-conscious about the unusual coloring of her white tresses took the compliment graciously. That topic soon blossomed into a two hour discussion about all the failures Jubilee had while trying to dye her hair in the past.

Marie honestly hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time and instantly felt welcomed. Last night went a long way in quieting the fears she was having being in such a big new place, also not knowing whether or not Logan was ok or not was weighing heavily on her mind as well. It was only in the middle of the night when her terrors started to begin.

“Don’t forget what happened with Professor McCoy our old biology teacher,” a light voice chimed in. Jubilee, who instantly paled at the notion she almost let a detail unrevealed, instantly seized on the new topic with vigor.

That was when Rogue looked to the girl on her right. A waiting bright smile marked the gifted Kitty Pryde. The young girl seemed like a polar opposite to Jubilee. Where Jubilee seemed vibrate and always in your face with everything, Kitty was more reserved, polite, and methodical. Heck she was the same age as Marie, but the girl was already taking college level courses along with her regular curriculum at Xavier’s School.

Even their state of dress was exact opposite. Where Jubilee’s clothes seemed to flourish with her bright yellow jacket, hot pink mini-top, and ripped low-rider jeans, not to mention her trademark violet tinted glasses, which bobbed up and down on her head. Kitty wore a simple ensemble of Capri pants, a wool green sweater and some comfortable Doc Martens.

What also amazed Rogue was the fact that every so often Kitty would chime in, on all of Jubilee’s various topics. She was quite certain the Jewish girl hadn’t caught half of what Jubilee was saying but she seemed to be able to follow nonetheless. Maybe there was a class in Jubi-talk Rogue could take up later on.

Anyway…

The young trio with Jubilee in lead soon entered the X-Mansion’s courtyard. This was a meeting area outside of the mansion that the students at various times liked to meet up and hang out at in between classes. The courtyard gave a lovely view of the open green lawns that flourished around the mansion. For Marie, it was a breath of fresh air from the weeks she been on the road and the cold climates of Canada.

The three of them stood by trying to spot if anything interesting was going on today. Kitty and Jubilee spent some time pointing out some people to Rogue. But typically it was a usual boring day that was till Jubilee started to shake in her sneakers. “Hold up!” she cried, her dark brown eyes then darted over to her girl-genius friend, “Hey Kitty, hot babe alert!” the assortment of bracelets on her hands dangled as she pointed over to the tower of Russian muscles that was Peter Rasputin.

Wearing a loose fitting “X” label t-shirt and some snug jeans that displayed the most fabulous rear ever, Peter Rasputin was almost a walking god among many of the young girls of the Xavier school, Kitty Pryde especially. “Would you shut up!” the young girl cried her face a terrible flush of red. What she wouldn’t give to make her gift phase Jubilee down into the ground…forever.

Jubilee, a Cheshire cat-like grin not leaving her fluorescent yellow painted lips, always had to be an instigator, moved behind the young Jewish girl. “Hey go on!” she encouraged giving the girl a playful push from behind, “Talk to your man...” she instructed a little more forcefully, while continue to push the girl forward.

Rogue continued to watch the exchange between the two comical friends, all the while trying to figure out the answers to some of the questions from her homework. She never thought in a million years, she’d welcome the sight of bookwork ever again. But life on the road, not to mention nearly being killed by some half-crazy hairy mutant, made someone appreciate some of the simpler things life had to offer.

“Jubilee shut up!” Kitty cried as she spun out of the reach of the neon-clad teen. Rogue turned her head back to the unraveling events of ‘Kitty vs. Jubilee 2008.’ Kitty’s small cute face balled up into a frown, which would have been threatening if the red as tomato complexion didn’t ruin the effect. “I keep trying to tell you,” the brown-haired girl began, “Peter was just tutoring me. I needed some help with my trigonometry homework.”

Jubilee regarded her friend for a long moment and sighed. “Chica, this is Jubilee you’re talking to, I have that class with you,” she mentioned while admiring her lavender nails. Her eyes then locked onto the Jewish girl, “You’re freakin’ making straight A’s in trig!” she shrieked with all the power in her mighty lungs.

“Well…” Kitty drifted off, the wind knocked out of her sails. Her eyes lowered to the ground, “Peter’s work paid off,” she mumbled meekly.

The mallrat merely rolled her eyes at her friend’s pathetic come back. “Next time, you get him alone you should have him ‘tutor’ you in something a little more interesting,” the Asian girl then grinned her brown eyes flashing mischievously, “Like French…”

Both Kitty and Rogue’s jaws dropped at the suggestion. Kitty then leveled a deadpan look to her ‘friend’, “You are so demented…”

“HEY!” Jubilee cried, taking offense for the first time. She ran forward trying to rush her ‘friend.’ Only problem was she didn’t realize her mistake till she fallen completely through the girl. Kitty giggled despite herself while looking down to Jubilee, who at the moment only had daggers firing from her eyes at her long time friend. “Kitty, you are soo dead,” she warned while scrambling to her feet.

The brown hair girl just continued to laugh while looking back in the direction of her beloved Russian. She frowned while taking in another sight, “Hey who’s the guy in the tank top with Peter?”

“What?” Jubilee growled thinking it was a ploy from Kitty to save herself. Only when the girl point, did Jubilee turn and look. Her brown eyes automatically fell onto the shorter, bulging bicep-clad man with the six-pack you could literally eat off of. “Oh my god, he’s gorgeous!” Jubilee cried, not caring if she might have drooled a little bit while looking at the shorter dark hair man with the wild look. “Now that’s what I call a real man,” she openly declared, “Not one of those sissy pretty boy types you go for Kitten. I mean a real He-Man type that’ll drag you off into a cave and screw you like a lamppost!”

At this Rogue decided to look up from her homework as well, trying to see who the newly dubbed ‘Hottie” was. Marie’s eyes widen when she took in the new comer’s appearance. “Logan?” she whispered softly. But somehow he must have heard her because instantly his head snapped up looking in her direction. In two seconds flat Marie was on her feet brushing past her new friends, “Logan!” she cried rushing over to the burly Canadian man diving into his strong arms, she laughed and cried as well while looking at him.

Meanwhile Jubilee just stared at the unfolded scene; her mouth almost broke a world record how fast it hit the ground. “Sorry Jubes,” Kitty said while sliding up next to her, “Looks like Rogue already staked her claim into him.” She tried to soothe her friend with a comforting pat on the back.

Clearly out done Jubilee just glared while crossing her arms in front of her. She then cocked her head back indifferently, “See Kitty, take notes,” she advised, “That’s what it’s like when you actually go after your guy,” she returned.

“Again Jubilee…please shut up.”

OoOoOo

Marie could barely contain herself, as she continued to look up to Logan. She hardly slept the night, her mind constantly worrying about him. Miss Monroe said his mutant ability would heal all the wounds he received, even still Marie worried. But now he was here, in her arms. ‘Where he belonged,’ a silent part inside of her voiced, but she decided to ignore it for now. “Are ye ok?” her brown eyes scanning all over his body, “They didn’t hurt ye none, did they?”

An easy smile found its way to Logan’s lips as he set her down. He playfully tousled the white bangs of her head while grinning, “Nah, I’m ok kid. Sorry for worryin’ ya.” A warm feeling started to radiate through the Wolverine’s body, it was unusual for someone to show so much concern for his wellbeing. Was this what it was like to have someone care about you? If it was he realized it was a feeling he could grow to get used to.

“Charles, he's an animal!”

The Beast growled within his thoughts, his mind still ringing echoes from the woman’s words from before. Hours had passed since he heard her, yet why couldn’t he get her out of his head? He couldn’t remember one woman that ever had such an effect on him in his life. He paused, his steel gray eyes drifting to Marie, he then amended that thought; there currently were two women that could affect him so.

“Petey, I can show ‘im ‘round a bit?” Marie asked the sentinel Russian, who had been quiet during the whole exchange.

The gentle giant that was Peter Rasputin stared down to the green-cloaked girl. He smiled briefly while nodding his head, “Da, o’ course, I’ll just inform the Professor.” He nodded again, and went back into the mansion while Rogue took Logan by the arm and decided to introduce him to her two new friends.

OoOoOo

Meanwhile…

The lovely pair of Ororo Monroe and Jean Grey wandered through the expansive halls of the Xavier Mansion. The two women were currently on a small break from their morning classes and found time to converse amongst them selves. Of course the topic of the hour was the mansion’s newest feral arrival. It had been on the lips of both women since the Professor openly declared earlier that day that he wasn’t going to send the Wolverine away at this time.

“I cannot understand Charles’ point of view in this,” Ororo openly stated. The blue flames in the statuesque African woman’s eyes still hadn’t died down from the explosive argument in Charles’ office hours ago and it looked as though it had a long way from falling. “The man nearly maimed Scott and for what?” she turned to Jean and asked rhetorically, “a mere tap of the shoulder,” she answered herself obviously appalled.

The scarlet haired Jean Grey, who had been strangely quiet for the last few moments, looked as though her mind was weighing on something tremendous. Ororo had assumed that her friend was just as upset about the development as she was, but decided to be less vocal of her thoughts. Oh how wrong she was when she heard Jean suddenly blurted out, “Intense!”

Ororo paused in her tirade to turn to her friend. One thin white brow from her lovely eyes rose up high as she regarded the psychic questionably, “Pardon me?”

A deep flush spread through Jean’s face, she really, really didn’t mean to say that out loud. The young doctor had been trying for hours to find the perfect word to describe the mansion’s latest guest. She honestly didn’t realize the level of her concentration till her slipup. Jean then mentally shrugged; the cat was out of the bag now. “I mean I didn’t think much of it when he was just lying on the medical bed,” she added suddenly, “but when he gets those eyes on you…” she broke off nearly swooning. The thought of those piercing gray eyes alone and the heat they caused was enough to get her heart racing.

“Jean!” Ororo shouted completely shocked from her friend’s outburst, “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. What about Scott?”

The young Doctor frowned while giving the weather goddess a panned look, “‘Roro, you know me, I love Scott,” she stated believing there hadn’t been any question to that fact. “But just because I’m in love doesn’t mean I don’t have eyes,” she argued. She was a young vibrant woman, meaning she could browse around if she damn well pleased; besides Scott hadn’t presented her with a ring just yet.

Wide sapphire blue eyes openly stared at the crimson hair doctor. Ororo wondered where the sensible, reasonable Jean Grey she knew and loved was, not this highly sexualized wanton woman before her. “What?” Jean responded catching the rogue thought from her friend’s mind not to mention the shocked expression on her face. “He’s so got this ruggedly sexy, bad boy thing going on,” she commented feeling a need to explain. She then took a deep breath and continued, “It’s not like I’m going jump him or anything,” she said trying to pacify her friend’s worrying.

Although for a minute Ororo wasn’t too sure about that, but she decided to remain silent.

Jean’s emerald green eyes then deftly cut over towards her African friend and automatically she blanched at the sight. She noticed sometime since she last saw her, Ororo had changed out of the white blouse and tight fitting slacks she had previously been wearing into a white sundress with spaghetti-straps that seemed to flow on a current of its own around her body. She also wore white sandal heels, which brought her already impressive height to six feet, not to mention showcasing her slender sculpted legs that seemed to go on forever. Not more than once Jean was jealous of her friend’s tall statuesque figure and exotic features.

“Besides,” Jean continued, drawing her friend’s attention back, “I don’t think I’m the one he’s interested in,” she added, her line of sight left only one person to guess who she was referring towards.

Catching the obvious hint, Ororo automatically schooled her face forward as if unaffected, “I don’t have any idea of what you’re talking about,” the African woman responded while continuing to walk forward.

“Right…” Jean falsely conceded, while calling after her, “Then explain to me, how the first moment you guys lock eyes on each other, you’re both completely off of this planet?”

Ororo turned to face her. “I what?” the former African goddess stated feigning ignorance.

The psychic Doctor’s green eyes blazed with mischief, not buying the ploy. “Ooooh yeah…” she added moving in for the kill, “I swear the Professor would have thrown a bucket of water on the two of you to get you to separate, if Scott didn’t intervene.” Grey grinned when she saw the usually regal Ororo, cross her arms under her lush breasts and actually thrust that bottom lip out in a pout.

Jean’s devious aura faded, as another issue about the event became apparent to her. “What happened by the way?” she seriously asked, real concern seeping through, “You don’t normally space out like that.”

“I…” Ororo began but she didn’t know what really to say. She could remember more than vividly the first moment she laid eyes on the wild untamed Wolverine. His massive bare chest that heaved with each breath, sending a ripple through his body that led down to the most perfect arrangement of abdominals, she’d ever seen. Ororo knew about those rash unbridled eyes Jean spoke of, because they still haunted her now. She had never met a man so primal, so uncaged, and yet so beautiful at the same time.

Then the incident with Scott occurred and she got to really see the beast inside of the man. She quickly realized that the Wolverine was no thing of beauty, but a vulgar, ravenous, savage. Part of her wished she never laid eyes on him and yet another part still wanted to know everything about him. The duality of both those impulses terrified her and she didn’t know why. “I’d be lying if I said I could have explained it,” Ororo finally stated.

“Is that the reason why your so against him being here?” Jean responded.

It was an honest question; so honest in fact that Ororo was scared to answer it truthfully. “No,” she said instead, “I’m worried about the children, Jean. We have to look out for them,” she stated coming back to her original point, “How can we do that with such an unstable man running loose in the house?”

“I can understand you being concerned,” Jean conceded, “but I don’t think you need to be.” The psychic then frowned observing the look her friend was giving her. “Just hear me out,” she added putting her hands up in defense, “That guy fought tooth and nail against Sabertooth to save that girl, ‘Roro, you think a guy like that would honestly hurt any of our children.”

Ororo leaned up against the wall, her mind wondering, “I…I don’t know.”

“It’s probably for the best,” Jean responded resolvedly, while standing in front of the weather goddess, “He’s probably not going to stick around anyway,” Jean concluded seemingly very certain.

“You don’t think so?” her friend the Windrider asked, a part of her voice seemed to echo both fear and hope.

“Well, something about a school and Logan, don’t seem to mesh to me,” Jean finished dryly.


OoOoOo

Later that day…

Ororo Monroe was on a mission.

After her departure from Jean at lunch, she was instructed by the Professor to show Logan where he would be staying for the night. Granted she wished he had chosen anyone else but her, but Ororo never in her life refused Charles anything. He was the man that helped give her the life she had now and for that she was eternally grateful. So suffering a few moments of the Canadian’s presence wouldn’t kill her, she reasoned.

Only problem was trying to find the crude, ill mannered, thug.

Ororo had been all over the mansion for her search. She found both Kitty and Jubilee in the hallways. Kitty did most of the talking because Jubilee was quiet. A fact that made Ororo draw up short because, Jubilee was never quiet. When she made an inquiry about the girl’s sullen state, Jubilee simply blinked non-responsive, while a wash of crimson stained Kitty’s cheeks. But eventually Kitty revealed the tale.

Earlier the two of them was hanging out with the new girl Rogue that had come in a day or so ago. It seemed while they were in the courtyard, the Wolverine made his appearance and Rogue decided to introduce him to her two new friends. Automatically taken by him, Jubilee proceeded to bombard the Canadian with all manner of questions, some ranging from the very tame to some that were borderline indecent. It was then when the Asian girl asked the infamous question, “Boxers or Briefs?”

“Hey, it was just a joke!” Jubilee quipped up in the middle of Kitty’s explanation. “How was I supposed he was gonna answer that?”

The brown haired girl’s eyes narrowed to her friend, “It was your own fault for asking in the first place!” Kitty shot back.

“Girls, girls!” Ororo shouted trying to calm the duo down. She placed a hand on either of their shoulders, “What happened? Did you upset him? Did he try to hurt you two?” she asked fearing the worst. If he harmed either one of these girls, no sanctuary that Charles could give him, would be enough to dislodge the lightning bolt she was going to shove up his…

“No! Nothing like that,” Jubilee answered a bit annoyed. “He just…”

“Mr. Logan just answered her question Ororo, that’s what he did,” Kitty supplied. The girl then laid out the scene, “After Jubilee asked him. Mr. Logan just stared at her for a minute with those chilling dark eyes of his. Suddenly he grinned and finally said, “Eh, option C…”” Kitty replied trying best to imitate the Canadian’s rough gravelly voice.

“Option C?” Ororo echoed, completely puzzled by the meaning.

“C as in Commando…” Jubilee breathlessly completed, fanning herself from the mental image.

OoOoOo

“Aftah we landed,” Marie began, while looking over to Logan. “Theh took me away to get looked at by one o’ tha doctors, a lady named Jean. She was real nice,” she added with a bright smile on her face. The light of her smile dimmed slowly as she started to frown, “Ah…Ah had to tell her ‘bout mah bruises,” she admitted softly ashamed of having to mention them, “She asked if ye caused ‘em, but I flipp’d out on her. Near’ly bit her head off,” she frowned from the episode, latching on to his arm while they stood outside watching the scenery.

Logan could only laugh heartily from the thought of this soft, charming, southern girl actually going ballistic on someone. He looked down to her, once again not regretting the moment when he allowed the southern belle into his truck. He paused as he caught faint scent of sandalwood nearby, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment so he remained silent.

With dreamy eyes Marie watched him while in the deep throes of his hearty laugh. She thought he was beautiful to look at, almost if she could just sit here with him for the rest of her life and just watch. He had such a raw sexuality to him that she hardly knew how she traveled with him and spend part of the night with him, without throwing herself at him, her mutation aside and all.

“Ah was so worried ‘bout ye,” she confessed, her large brown eyes still on him, “but Miss. Monroe said she’d wouldn’t let anythin’ happen to ye.” Logan remained quiet, believing quite to the contrary, but he decided not to comment. “Yer mah hero ye know, from savin' me from that brute,” Marie admitted not hiding the radiant flare brewing on her cheeks.

Logan frowned looking away from the cheerfulness of the girl. “I ain’t no, hero Marie,” he uttered gruffly, his eyes looking over the horizon, “I’m jus a bad guy, good at doin’ bad things.”

The southern girl just laughed, at her friend. ‘Always tha tough guy,’ she thought to herself. She then reached up with her gloved hands and pulled him to her so she could look into his eyes. “Ye’re a hero tah me, sugah,” she said smiling sweetly.

He regarded her for a moment; slowly the corners of his mouth rose up betraying the smallest hint of a smile. They both went back to watching over the green fields of the lawn that drifted into the foliage of the forest that surrounded the mansion. “They treatin’ ya a’right here?” he had to ask.

“Yea,” Marie nodded, “Theah are some kids mah age heah. This place is beautiful…” she frowned while a thought came to her, “Dontcha think so?”

“Didn’t really think ‘bout it,” he answered honestly, “But I ain’t got a place here…” It was a school full of so many innocent children who hadn’t yet learned about the true harshness of life. He, himself was a reflection of that brutal reality, he was born from it. It didn’t sit right with him being here, when all these children had the potential to become so much more than he’ll ever be. That plus the ‘Brady Bunch’ atmosphere was killing him, he had been dying for a beer ever since he first woke up.

Marie turned to him, “So we leavin’ then?”

“What?” That diffidently got his attention. His gray eyes settled firmly on her.

“We're a pair you an' me,” she stated proudly, reinforcing the fact by indicating their locked their arms.

Logan uncoiled from Marie and turned to her; because this was something that just wasn’t gonna fly. “Ya, nearly got killed ‘cuz of me,” he grumbled to her, nearly shouting. “That Sabertooth fucker, I’m startin’ to remember ‘im, he’s trouble, been followin’ me since way back,” his eye lit with the problems that could arise if she didn’t understand how serious this really was. “He ain’t gonna just stop at once.”

Marie’s gaze locked onto his not relenting, “Ye beat him before. Ye can do it again.”

Logan ran a hand through his wild mane of dark hair, not believing what he was hearing, “Yer crazy ya know that?”

“Nah, I just have faith in you,” the southern girl grinned, “'lot more than ye have in yer self it seems.” Logan had to fight to maintain his scowl under the contagious nature of her smile. Her belief in him was insurmountable as if he was invincible and there was nothing on this world he couldn’t overcome. Her smile then dimmed slightly as her eyes fell, “Ye saved me you know...”

A thick eyebrow rose on Logan’s head, “Look Marie, I was just said...”

“Not then,” she professed, “back on the road, when you picked me up. Ah'd prob’bly would have died out there if it weren't fer you.”

He paused while looking away, “I tried to leave ya to rot...” for the first time a small amount of shame crept into his voice from the admittance.

“But ye didn't,” she countered while shaking her head, “Ye don't know how much that means tah me either. Thank you...” She then slid her arms around him giving him the biggest hug she could muster. Logan sighed while looking down the combination of white and brown tresses that made up her hair. He really was getting soft, he pondered while slowly returning the embrace. They stayed like that for some time, till finally Marie bolt back up, “AH! Ah, have to go. Ah, got class,” she said suddenly as if just remembering, “Bah, Logan,” she waved to him as she walked back into the mansion.

Logan looked after the girl watching her leave. He really was getting soft; he just knew it. Logan’s face then returned to his usual scowl. He then looked over his shoulder and called out, “Ya, gonna come out or keep on hidin’?”

OoOoOo

After hearing his shout, Ororo Monroe came from inside the doorway that she had been standing by for the pass few minutes, feeling a little more than foolish. “Ah, I apologize I just didn’t want to intrude,” she stated truthfully. In all honesty she didn’t mean for her rudeness, it was just after stumbling upon the episode between him and the girl, she couldn’t help to be a little curious. How gentle he was with her and the things he said, it didn’t seem like anything she thought his character to be.

“Don’t worry darlin’” he grinned dangerously, “how were ya supposed to know us animals had good noses.” He tapped his nostrils when mentioned the word ‘animals’.

At first Ororo didn’t know what he was talking about, then automatically her words from Charles’ office came back to her. ‘He heard me?’ she pondered the impossible; Ororo then recalled another theory Jean mentioned to her. Among an accelerated healing ability and adamantium skeleton and claws, Jean also believed he had a hyper-level of activity with all five of his senses. The horror of that reality finally stuck in, she looked at him more than ashamed, “Ah, I didn’t…” she tried weakly.

“Save it,” he coldly dismissed with a wave, “Whatcha want anyway?” he barked out.

Ororo swallowed her embarrassment and decided to get back to the topic at hand. “Since Peter didn’t get a chance to, the Professor asked me to show you were you will be staying.”

He snorted while crossing his thick arms, “Lead the way darlin’.”

Biting back any further comments Ororo just went inside the mansion. The Wolverine followed close behind continuing a mask of indifference. The quiet duo passed many of the students while on their way. Logan fashioned his face into an impenetrable scowl, trying to ignore all inquisitive faces. Also he tried not to notice the seductive swish of Ororo’s hips as she walked on in front of him or the sundress she wore that seemed to glide around her shapely dancer’s legs.

He tried to ignore all these things but a man was only so strong.

OoOoOo

Ororo just finished closing the closet to the extra shirts and pants that came with Logan’s room while he coyly leaned from across the room staring at her. “After you’ve gotten yourself settled in, Jean would like to see you to run a few more tests. Do you think you could make it back to the infirmary?”

His head bobbed up nodding, “Yea…” He absentmindedly chewed on a toothpick he found somewhere, desperately wishing it was one of his prized stogies that he left back in Canada.

“Very well then…” Monroe ended while smoothing out her dress, but she did not leave. Nor did his eyes fall away from her.

For a few moments they just stared at each other. Logan could feel his fist rhythmically clenching and unclenching. He felt the want to act but to do what? He felt the pull again from this woman, something deep primal that even the Beast couldn’t claim. Despite all the anger he felt from her judgment of him, there was still something in him that wanted to throw this woman on the bed and spend a few hours seeing how flexible those dancer's legs of hers were.

“Ya ain’t too cozy wit the idea of me stayin’ here are ya?” Logan decided to ask.

Logan watched for a few seconds as the chocolate skinned woman schooled her expression. He could almost literally see the icy demeanor form over her body before she answered, “I have no idea about what you are talking about.”

Logan merely smirked while looking at her. A sharp incisor in his mouth seemed to glint in the light as he grinned. “Ya know the funny thing about having these senses,” he mentioned in a roundabout way. “Tha ol’ nose can smell bullshit a mile away,” he professed while lightly tapping one of his nostrils in front of her.

Two pools of blue eyes seemed to burn holes into the Wolverine, but if he looked the least bit bothered, he coolly hid it. “Fine you would like me to be honest, than I shall,” Ororo fumed, “I think you are the most simple-minded, crudest individual I’d ever met!” she shouted.

He cracked a grin while looking at her, “Prob’bly the closest thing to a real man, ya’ll ever meet, darlin’.”

“Oh really?” she rolled her eyes, “And does beating up a drunken man to the hoots and hollers of a frenzied crowd classify you as a ‘real man’? Why we should have the Professor contact Webster’s, it seems they need to edit their definition.”

Two gray eyes narrowed thinly at her. “Ya think ya got me all figured out, dontcha?” he growled.

“You have hardly done anything to prove me wrong,” she returned honestly.

“Darlin’,” he grinned while moving across the room, “I would love tah spend a few evenin’s provin’ ya wrong,” his voice drawled out, his eyes obviously pleasure in drinking in the sight of her.

“In your dreams…” she shot back bluntly, her blue eyes rolling again.

At this he paused, “Ya, wouldn’t like my dreams darlin’,” he said quietly, “Some things even I wouldn’t wanna expose ya to.”

Ororo frowned as she noticed the dark cloud that seemed to cover his mood. “Dinner is at seven,” she stated lightly, “You should come early if you want anything.” He merely shrugged, but she knew he heard her. At this point Ororo decided it was best if she left, she nearly walked out of his bedroom door but not before.“Also, don’t forget Jean,” she reminded him.

“I got it,” he barked, more harshly than he wanted to. He looked away, deciding again to let things lie.

Ororo narrowed her eyes at him as she closed the door behind her. “Uncouth simpleton,” she uttered, not caring if he heard her or not.

“Uptight nosey bitch…” he grumbled to himself at the same time.

OoOoOo

Jean Grey knew the moment that the Wolverine sauntered into her infirmary; stripped down to the waist and asked, “Where do ya want me, Red?” that it was going to be a very ‘enlightening’ examination and the next hour proved to be nothing less than stimulating.

At a physician’s standpoint, Logan was in the most top physical shape. His physical endurance, reaction time, and physique were at the top of all the charts. Jean had to constantly busy herself with the results, all the while the Wolverine’s ravenous eyes drifted all over her body. It was almost as if they had the power to undress her on their own. And to be truthful, she would have been lying if she said the attention was unwelcomed.

“Ok that’s the last of them,” Jean informed him, putting the last of her instruments away. She then pulled out small notepad and turned to him, “So tell me, what’s the last thing you remember?”

“I’m out in tha Canadian Rockies can’t remember how long I been out there, but I have them then,” he rattles off not even thinking. She doesn’t have to ask what ‘them’ he’s referring to. “Before that nothin’,” he admitted, “Jus dreams sometimes. They come in bits and pieces, but nothin’ I can figure out.”

At hearing that she looked up to him and smiled, “The Professor should be able to help you sort them out.” She then frowned, “Are you ok? You seem a bit tense.” To be honest she could feel a thin line of anxiety from him during the whole examination. He hid it well though, putting only a minimum amount of fuss during the whole procedures and that was only because he was trying to get a rise out of her.

“No, me and hospitals jus don’t get along,” he said bluntly, “Last time I was in one, things didn’t end pretty.”

Jean decided she wouldn’t ask him to elaborate. She couldn’t imagine the ordeal he must have gone through. To live through something that traumatic it took an unordinary amount of will. In many ways she admired that level of strength.

Jean returned to her notepad to jot down a few notes. She tried her best to ignore the perusing eyes; she knew were falling on her. If only she could just read his thoughts, then the suspense inside of her would die down some. But he was like a blank slate to her. That mystery, that little bit of the unknown was nagging at the back of her head and unfortunately intriguing her just the same.

Logan continued to look over the pretty redheaded doctor that pretended to ignore his presence. He been around enough women to know which ones weren’t interested and which ones were playing the part and he thought Red should have been given an Oscar for the performance she was giving today. Only problem was she had that four-eyes, Boy Scout’s scent all over her. He didn’t know the full story between the two of them, but from the fleeting looks she had been giving him the past hour, he guessed it wasn’t much. It was then he decided he had enough foreplay; it was time enough to move in for the kill.

“I hope I didn’t startle yer man…” he uttered while lounging up against the medical bed.

Jean looked up from her notepad. A certain light in her emerald green eyes lit as she smiled to him lightly, “Scott’s a little bit more resilient than you think.” She then went back to her notepad, she heard him scoff openly and she lightly giggled still scribbling down some last minute things.

“Whatcha see in a guy like that?” she heard his voice and noticed it was a bit closer. It wasn’t till a shadow fell over her that she realize how close.

“What?” she smiled uneasily, while rising to her feet. Her voice sounded a bit more anxious then she would like, but the Wolverine was just suddenly there before her. She didn’t realize he could get close so fast and so quietly. His strong gray eyes were hypnotic, boring into her. They were slowly was unraveling “Scott…” she said softly, “He treats me…well.”

Logan head drifted to the side digesting her words and her scent. She also noticed the space between them was closing. And for some reason the room felt it was getting hot. “Does he?” he seemed amused. His voice was low emphasizing each word, “Does he treat ya well?” His hand ran down the side of her pale cheek, instantly it felt on fire.

“Of-of course…” she stuttered despite herself, her breath was light, she almost had to remind herself to breathe.

A devilishly dark eyebrow rose as he considered her. “Ya know I can smell a lie…Don’t ya?” he grinned, one of his incisors flashing.

For a moment she almost considered that she would have to use her telekinesis to push him away. But the moment she took to concentrate, it seemed like all the barriers that prevented her from reading his thoughts previously were instantly blown back off the hinges. Images of him taking her roughly on her examination bed, the kitchen table, even on Scott’s own bed came to her in such intense mental flashes that she could hardly breath. In her mind she could feel the heat of his large strong hands pawing all over her naked body, making her quiver into one blissful climax after another. She didn't need for him to tell her how good it would be, she already knew.

His hip rocked against hers, while his hand found its way to her slender waist pulling her close to him. He was almost her same height, but in that instance he seemed looming, like the brick wall that was his body towered over her.

As she continued to look at him, her breath was becoming hot and short. She wanted him, even as she was denying it with her mouth. Even as her rump slid back onto her counter and he slipped in between her parted legs. Her mouth was telling him no, but the rest of her body sure as hell wasn’t listening. Her hand pressed against his glistened chest, whether it was the push him away or to run her fingers along his heated flesh she didn’t know.

The Beast, not Logan, wanted this woman. She was attractive, soft, and more than willing. It could already see her whimpering underneath him, calling his name in ecstasy, all he had to do was just act. He could make her forget all about the Boy Scout she believed she was with, in no time. But it was the Beast, not Logan that wanted this woman.

A brief memory struck him. The lingering scent of rain and the memory of a velvet voice brought him to pause. He looked at the beautiful woman before him; full red lips, flowing crimson hair, an amazing figure. It probably would have been good. It would have been real good, but he realized she wasn't the one he wanted.

When Jean opened her eyes, Logan was standing over by the other side of the room, his back facing her. For a moment she couldn’t believe what was about to happen. What she was going to allow happened. As quickly as possible she slid off of her desk. She noticed her notes had been precariously tossed to the floor and she scrambled to pick everything up.

“Uh…Anyway everything checks out,” she tried feebly to school her voice back into the polite-friendly tone, not to mention regain some of her dignity. But when she looked up the Wolverine was already gone.

OoOoOo

A few hours later, a soft pair of knocks awakened the Wolverine from his sleep. Moments drifted by as he started to get his barrens in the strange foreign room he was given. He remembered the school. He remembered Xavier. He even remembered the ivory haired African beauty that had been prevalent in his thoughts for the better part of the day. He even remembered the incident with the doctor and the revelation it brought. Another pair of knocks settled onto the oak door and he’s over there in a flash.

Slowly he cracked the door open only to see a young teenage girl in front of him with bangs of white covering a forest of brown. It took him but a moment to recognize the girl as Marie, the southern girl that held the scent of green grass and sunflowers that somehow wormed her way into his heart.

He notices her warm brown eyes that glance at his bare chest, but he decides to ignore the fleeting look. Her chocolate color eyes rise up and as she lifts the tray of food she had been holding in her gloved hands. “Ah, didn’t see ye at dinner,” she began, a feverish blush on her cheeks, “So Ah, thought Ah’d bring ye somethin’,” she cheered while carrying the tray into his den.

A small quip of smirk graced the corners of the Wolverine’s lips as he considered the girl’s concern. In all years he could remember he hadn’t had anyone attempt to take care of him.

Words of thanks started to form on his lips, when the girl suddenly bolted up. “Oh mah gawd, I almost fergot!” she shouted, in no time flat she buzzed out of his room again. Logan’s head peered out of the open door in confusion. Marie disappeared for a few seconds then reappeared in the doorway holding both her hands behind her back, “Ah, also got this!” she grinned, while bringing out an old familiar brown Stetson as well as a well-worn black leather coat into view.

For a few seconds he is amazed, he couldn’t believe anyone could be so thoughtful towards him of all people. “Ya keep spoilin’ me like this Marie, an’ tha rest of the kids will think we’re goin’ steady,” he teased while placing the Stetson on his head and the coat on one of the racks in his room. Her cheeks deeply flush as she playfully tags him in the shoulders. He smirks at her, deciding to ignore the slight change to arousal in her scent. A kid’s fantasy, he tells himself, she’s entitled to it.

“You wish, sugah,” she finally says and he allows it to drop.

After a moment he realized how famished he really was and put all his attention to his meal. Marie lightly entertained him with events from her day of school while he ate. All the different mutant kids she met that all had similar problems and concerns that she did. ‘It was nice,’ she commented ‘havin’ a place where people understood you,’ she had said.

He readily didn’t comment. His experiences in the Mansion weren’t as enlightening, but he didn’t want to ruin her mood. He realized she needed this place. She needed some place to fit in because she didn’t have anywhere else to go. He then decided midway while he was finishing up his pot roast that he’d stick around for a few days, make sure everything around was settled for her, then he’d find his way on the road again.

All of a sudden gloved hands fell on top of his. Logan forked a questioning eyebrow at the teen girl, but she seemed too heavily involved with her inquiry to notice. He could feel her tiny clothed fingers falling along the strange indentations that fell along the back of his knuckles. He knew what her curiosity revolved around, so he allowed her mild exploration. After a few more minutes she pulled her hands away, but her eyes didn’t leave them. It marveled her how such strong hands could hold such devastating weapons inside.

Finally Marie looked up to him and asked, “Do they hurt when they come out?”

For a moment he thought he’d lie to her, but he realized somewhere along the line she stopped being a total stranger to him, but something a bit closer. “Yea, ev’rytime…” he said honestly.

He saw a slight shiver quake through her body, as she pulled her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around them, her eyes going to him again. “Who gave them to ya?”

“Some bad people,” he answered simply, “worst than me.” He hoped she be satisfied with that alone, because honestly he didn’t have much more. The bastards that carved up him and made him a monster took their secrets with them to their graves.

Marie didn’t respond instead she slid up next to him lying down beside him on his bed. “Did ye take care of them?” she asked him suddenly. Her tone was airy and light. She just as well as asked him if he taken care of the chickens in the roost, not if he murdered the ones that obviously hurt him so.

“Yea,” he admitted, “Ev’ry last one of ‘em…”

The teenager rose up and turned to him, her soft brown eyes staring into his eyes of steel gray, “Good…” replied and settled down with him again.



To Be Continued…

Chapter 7: The Danger Room pt. 1


Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Early morning…


The light of dawn stretched lazily across the horizon blanketing the Westchester mansion with its gentle light, a few of its touching rays even caressed Marie’s face stirring her from her slumber. The girl rubbed her brown eyes wearily to clear some of the crust away as she began her journey to the waking world. Slowly colors and muddled shapes started to appear to her as she found herself looking over her room in the girl’s ward.

Across from her, Marie heard the gentle snoozing of Kitty as she drew deeper in her blue comforter still peacefully at rest. The soft-spoken brown haired girl cradled a book of love sonnets in her arms that she was probably reading the night before. In the bed next to her not as gentle but just as blissful, Jubilee, wearing a neon pink sleep mask with matching curlers in her hair, also slept. Marie rolled her eyes while looking at the young Asian girl, she sounded like a chainsaw at a lumberjack convention with all her snoring. An easy smile touched the lips of Rogue as she continued to stare at her two friends. Even though they had just met, it felt as though the three of them had known each other for years.

The smile on Marie’s face started to fall as she started to remember…

Back in Mississippi she never had many friends. In school she always tried to keep to herself, never bringing anyone home, never going to other girl’s houses for sleepover or shopping trips. Coming from a rundown trailer in Claiborne, she often learned how to do without many things. Certain things can seem so trivial when your parents were scrounging to keep a roof over your head and food on the table. Then there was also her Pa…

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as her memory continued to search…

At home Marie lived a life in fear. She was always afraid that someone would find out what her Pa’ was doing, another part of her prayed someone would. Her wardrobe of long sleeved shirts and jackets were always well stocked years before her mutation had arisen. From the dead of winter to the blistering heat of the summer she wore them. She found the bittersweet irony of it now that she still had to keep all of her body covered to protect everyone else from her skin. Back then growing though she had to; it was the only way to cover them up. She couldn’t let anyone see or people would come and take her Pa away from her, her Mama always said. She just had to be a big girl a little while longer. She had to be real strong.

If anyone would ever ask why she was weaker some days than others, she’d always have a lie. She was always good at lying, even when she was real little. After a while she became so good at it she even managed to fool herself. But still all the lies she could come up with couldn’t compare to the ones her mother told her.

“Daddy loves ye honey, he’s just tired.”

Or...

“…he’s jus had a lil’ too much to drink.”

Or…

“…he’s just goin’ through a tough time ‘right now.”

And she always believed her because Mama was always right. Like a complete an utter idiot she believed her. Didn’t her Mama see how much he was hurting her? Didn’t she care?

Marie gasped as tears fell from her eyes like a river.

Sixteen years.

Sixteen years of hurt.

Sixteen years of pain resurfacing all at once; its power overwhelming curling her up into a tight little ball of agony as she cried. She felt her body tightening up, she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe, because her lungs refused to work. She couldn’t even think straight because her brain was shutting down. She was dying in this moment she just knew it. Her one thought, Logan. She wanted Logan. She just wanted Logan right now because she knew he could make the hurt go away.

He would hold her till she was rested. He would tell her she was beautiful. He would tell her she was wanted. And that everything in her past didn’t matter anymore, because she had him now. She could almost fall asleep in his strong arms feeling safe for the first time she could ever remember. That would be till his deep gravelly voice would ask her what was wrong. But she couldn’t tell him. She could never tell him. She knew Logan. She knew him better than he thought.

The moment he found out the reason for her tears, he would be gone on the next thing heading to Mississippi like a bat out of hell. He would try to find her, Pa and try to make him pay for what he did. But he wouldn’t find him. She would have to tell Logan that he couldn’t kill him, because he was too late.

OoOoOo

Meanwhile, in another section of the mansion…

The Wolverine had been up early. True to his own solemn vow, he had spent the last few days checking around the school. He didn’t know much about this Xavier guy, but the old man diffidently knew how to put out all the stops for everything. Logan discovered most of the school’s top of the line equipment and the facilities were paid out of pocket by Xavier himself. There were brief donations here and there made to the school as well as some government grants, but the forty-five percent of the student body that were actually runaways had their tuition paid in full by the old man.

That fact made Logan draw to two conclusions; either Xavier was a Saint or he was a complete loon.

Logan didn’t see any shining halos over the old man’s baldhead so he was leaning towards the latter. Still he believed the man’s intent was genuine which was surprising in this day in age. Logan had seen his fair share of the worst of what life had to offer and even more of the worst side of people. He was pessimistic by nature not because he always believed in the worst of humanity, but instead that was all he’s ever experienced. But this Xavier and his faculty were good people. If anything the last few days had given him hope for the future.

That was what made leaving a little easier. He knew Marie would be in good hands.

Slipping on a white t-shirt and some jeans, he turned to the dresser reaching for his Stetson. A certain light came to his eyes when he recalled the foresight of the girl. He even found out that some of his stogies were hidden in one of his jacket’s pockets. Granted, they weren’t a replacement for a good cold Molson, but they were a close second. She was going to make some lucky man a good wife someday, he considered before slipping the hat onto his head. Ultimately he decided that he would make sure to come back to the school every few months to check up on her. That was a second promise he silently made to her one he would no doubt remain true to like the first.

The Wolverine took the time to neatly make the bed and removed all traces of his being there. He wanted to make sure he left the room in the exact same condition he was given to. These people were nothing but kind to him. Just because he didn’t feel like joining their Brady Bunch Brigade, didn’t mean he wasn’t grateful.

He took one last glance around the room to make sure he didn’t forget anything, when a stern pair of knocks on the door broke his concentration. Instantly a frown crossed his lips. He was sure there usually wasn’t anyone up this early, so he wondered who the visitor was. For a moment he sighed, praying that it wasn’t Marie. He knew if she were behind that door she would be down in the lobby in two minutes wanting to join him and not taking ‘No’ for an answer. His head then cocked to the side briefly wondering if it was that Monroe broad. He had been doing his best to avoid her for the past few days, but seeing her doe blue eyes one last time would have been a very nice send off. It would probably a whole other reason to find his way back here as well. She might be like salt on a wound, but she diffidently was nice to look at.

As he approached the door a quick sniff told him it wasn’t either of the too. A strong air of Right Guard aftershave mixed in with Listerine mouthwash penetrated his senses. Logan’s lips formed curled into a tight scowl as he pulled the door open. His eyes looked up to the crimson shades and the neutral smile that was adorned on Scott Summer’s face. “Morning,” the younger man greeted, “You’re up early,” Summers commented while welcoming himself in.

A thick black eyebrow rose up from Logan as he glanced to the Xavier team leader that waltzed inside of ‘his’ room, “Didn’t know ya had a wakeup call, Slim,” he grumbled out, closing the door behind him.

One thing that hadn’t changed over the few days he stayed in the Mansion, Logan still didn’t warm up to the clean cut Scott Summers. There was no set thing the man did or said that triggered the feeling; it was just his general presence alone that irked the shit out of him. It was his stiff walk, the air he gave off; the underlining tension Logan’s could sniff in the man’s body although he still maintained an omnipresent smile on his boyish face. He almost wished the guy would make a move so they could finally settle this thing, violently.

Instead Scooter grinned easily enough from his comment. “No, I just thought you might be craving a little bit of action,” he explained, “We’re having a little early morning workout scheduled today,” he notified Logan while crossing his arms in front of him. Summers’ head then turned taking in the whole scene of Logan’s room. He took an interest in its extra tidy condition, made bed and the small amount of bags that were packed on top of it. In that moment both men knew of Logan’s intention but for some reason Summers didn’t comment, he just still brandished that same ‘used’ car salesmen type smile.

It was then that Logan noticed Scott had a medium-sized package firmed tucked under his arm. The box was black in color, with the familiar “X” logo printed on it. It was flat and deceivingly wide like those packages you would get from Christmas that often turned out to be six dozen pairs of underwear or socks, or something.

Logan drew his eyes away from the package and returned to the conversation, “Work out?” he questioned, his head cocked back interest triggered, “Whatcha got in mind? Some weights a bit o’ runnin’?” He had to admit he was a little bit intrigued. It had been a long time since he gave his body a good run through.

Scott just shook his head, “No, nothing as light as that,” he promised but still not revealing more, “Interested?”

Logan took a moment to consider it. He knew he was supposed to be hitting the road soon, but he could put it off for one more day. It wasn’t as if he had a real destination after he left the mansion anyway. Just as usual he would head in whatever direction the wind took him. Plus he reasoned, it wouldn’t hurt to indulge the younger man for a time, “Sure, ain’t got nothin’ better tah do.”

“Good, glad to have you,” Summers applauded while extended his hand in conformation. For a moment the Wolverine ignored the gesture but after a second thought grasped the man anyway. Summers had a surprisingly strong grip. Not as solid as Pete, but he was no weakling either. Summers then brushed past him making his way to the door. “Although one thing,” he said while drawing up short in the doorframe. He looked back over to Logan. “If you want to come you have to be properly dressed,” he finished while handing the feral Canadian the dark box that was in his possession.

Logan eyed the lightweight package questionably before retrieving it. With one eyebrow raised he slowly removed the lid to the container. With the top off, he took a moment to take in its contents. Then his gray eyes deadpanned while glancing up again to Summers, “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he grumbled in annoyance.

But Scott was already gone, chuckling to himself while moving down the hallway. “Meet up in the grand staircase in about an hour,” his voice echoed back before Logan closed it behind him. “Come dressed to kill…” he couldn’t help but to add.

OoOoOo

Promptly an hour later Logan found his way to the appointed meeting area. Leaning against the banister, waiting diligently was Scott Summers only it wasn’t. The man waiting was draped in a navy blue body suit that went from the collar down. The material look as though it was a combination of Kevlar and deep padding that contorted around most of the major muscle areas, given him a decent range of mobility as well as added protected. Dark blue boots and gloves covered his feet and hands, with a matching belt that had a black “X” in the background of red strapped itself to his waist. Gone were the ruby red sunglasses that the young man was usually known for, instead a thin visor covered his eyes with a narrow crimson slit along the center. Logan automatically noted that this wasn’t Scott Summers that was standing before him but instead the X-Men leader Cyclops.

Taking in the outlandish appearance of Summers, had Logan biting back several choice comments, but honestly in this case he had little room to criticize. The Canadian constantly kept tugging on the uncomfortable gloves he was wearing and mentally kicking his own ass for letting the boy talk him into the getup.

Cyclops seemed to brighten when he noticed Logan’s approach, which meant there was at least one of them that were glad he was here. “You’re on time,” the team leader noted as he sprang from off of the banister to greet him. The X-Men leader then paused, subconsciously stroking the faint glaze of stubble on his chin as he took a few moments to inspect the Canadian. Logan swore to god if Summers said one smug thing about the outfit, he was gonna haul his ass back up stairs and change, that was of course before he made One-Eye into No-Eye.

Logan also wore a body suit of his own only his was a golden in color. A network of three dark slashes ripped across his ribcage each tip ending before they reached his abdomen, as well as one coming down both of his shoulder blades. He had spaulders on each shoulder that were a dark blue which were made from a different material because in certain light they would appear a dark blue color to an even black. His thick hair matted arms were left bare, each of them falling into a pair of gloves that matched the dark color of his spaulders. Logan noticed that unlike Summers, his suit was absent of the many sections of padding and Kevlar making his suit more closely folded to his body almost like a second skin, a very tight second skin. But the tall-tale black “X” insignia on his crimson belt marked they were of the same affiliation.

Summers drew his head up noticing the hood to Logan’s uniform wasn’t drawn but decided not to comment, the frown on Logan’s fact was entertaining enough. “I can’t believe ya guys actually go out in public like this?” the Canadian gruffly grumbled, feeling like a complete and utter jackass.

A smile broke through Scott’s lips, “Could be worst,” he fostered, “You could be in stifling tight leathers that creaked every time you walked.” Logan paused for a minute in thought. He wasn’t actually sure that was actually the worst of the two options. “Come on, the others are waiting for us,” Cyclops said while moving down the hallway towards the lower level elevators.

They moved before the large wall that held the wide metallic convex panel. Silently it wheeled around allowing both men admittance. When they were inside Summers proceeded to punch in a series of numbers on one of the inside panels that opened a second console. Pressing the lowest button sent the whole elevator down into its decent. A dim light came on as the small room hummed around them as it continued its journey, leaving both men in a calm of silence.

Scott looked up briefly, noticing Logan was still tugging on the gloves of his uniform, stretching his thick fingers out repeatedly while still trying to adjust to the odd material. Secretly he himself was wondering about it. He knew that Jean usually had a hand in making all the outfits. He honestly didn’t know what possessed the woman when she created that but whatever. Scott’s attention quickly alerted when he noticed Logan’s forearm snapped out quickly a second later his hand balled up into a fist. He released the knotted hand after a moment then balled it up again. Then Scott heard them, the metallic release of adamantium steel that left a set of three blades just three inches from his face.

It took Scott everything he relied on as a man, not to flinch at that moment. His jaw just tightened, about to snap at the unnecessary action, but he realized Logan wasn’t even aware of the near miss. The man’s concentration was solely on adjusting the fit of his gloves. So in the end Scott just breathed and let it go, while the elevator still humming around them.

OoOoOo

The Danger Room Control Booth
Meanwhile…

Ororo and Jean both observed from their monitors as both Logan and Scott entered the elevator, while the Professor was busy in the background with setting the specifications for the morning’s trial. Ororo took in a sharp breath as she continued to watch the two men, especially Logan’s uniform who was a stark contrast to his counterpart. Where Cyclops’ dark navy blue uniform was a closely fitted padded suit like what the rest of them wore. Logan’s golden outfit was tightly woolen to his body allowing the tight compressed section of his chest and abdomens to be shown as well as the sinewy definition of his powerful legs, a fact that did not go unbeknownst to both women. Ororo was discrete in her observation, Jean not much so.

Storm continued to take in Logan’s uniform that left hardly a thing to the imagination. Her sapphire eyes then quickly darted over to her devious friend. The wanton Doctor had a lot of explaining to do. ‘Jean…’ Ororo mentally beckon calmly, perfectly concealing her quiet ire.

The psychic registered the mental command, her head popping up, drawing her from her drool- *ahem* observation of Logan’s firm tight… ‘What?’ she mentally called back. She whirled her head around to Ororo obviously a bit annoyed at the distraction.

Her irritation soon melted as she saw Ororo’s eyes narrow to thin blue slits, ‘You did that on purpose…’ the former goddess accused.

‘What?’ Jean’s eyes widened feigning innocence. It was a well-known fact that the young doctor spent time developing all of the X-Men’s uniforms. A fact that Ororo knew the Doctor apparently took full advantage of. ‘Hey, I can’t help it that the man has the perfect ass, abs and legs. I just worked under the specifications that the Professor gave me,’ she mentally protested, her beautiful face frowning. A single crimson eyebrow then rose on the woman as she smirked, ‘Besides I didn’t see you not looking…’ she added slyly.

The African woman paused as a deep stain of red flushed in her cheeks, ‘That is not the point!’ she nearly shouted out loud.

‘Will you two please…’ the baritone voice of Xavier commanded, chastising both women. The two of them turned to see the deep frown on the older man’s face as he looked over from his busy work at the console.

“Sorry Professor…” both women echoed out loud, just a moment before the door to the elevator wheeled open behind them. Shortly after Cyclops entered the room his normal crisp stride marked the air of seriousness he was always known to have. He was dressed in full battle attire, ready for this morning session. Moving at half a step behind him was the newest arrival to the mansion.

OoOoOo

The Wolverine walked into the well-lit room slowly behind Summers, his eyes were instantly drawn to the dozen monitors that were laid along the room. Computers hummed, buzzed, and beeped with different readings and signals. He looked to the side monitors that had a gauge that read ‘Atmospheric condition’ and another one that said, ‘Environmental temperatures.’ He frowned while he looking away, as far as he was concerned this was the snazziest gymnasium he’s ever been to.

“Welcome Logan,” he heard drawing his attention. The Wolverine turned surprised to see Xavier as well as the rest of the X-clan. His eyes took a brief look to Red. Jean was wearing a tight emerald green body suit, which appeared to have the Kevlar padded similar to Summers. The middle portion of her suit was golden; leaving a few areas shadowed black giving the overall golden area the appearance of a large falcon or bird. He would be later informed that it was a Phoenix and ever since she was young Jean had always been fascinated with the image of a Phoenix. Draped around her waist was a golden belt with the trademark “X” insignia on it. She also had matching golden boots as well as gloves that completed the outfit.

Logan’s eyes drifted from Jean an instant later to the woman beside her. The Wolverine found his breath running short as he took in Ororo’s appearance. She was dressed head to toe in a sleek silver suit, that clung to the voluptuous curves of her body. All the inseams that connected around her padding were black in design, curved around her full chest and fell down to her shapely legs. Red insignias with the black “X” logo held up a dark cape that wrapped itself around her, the insignias were divided down the collar of her uniform, which opened down the front to allow a sliver of caramel cleavage to be shown. The combination of her thick flowing white hair with her dark silver outfit made for a stunning sight for the statuesque beauty. Even if it was protective wear, it still seemed to knock the wind out of him.

Again he cursed to himself, a woman wasn’t ever supposed to look that good. Her scent of sandalwood and rain was more adamant now than ever, although he was still puzzled by the third scent that seemed to accompany her, unable to name it. But the mere presence of it seemed to soothing to him for some reason.

“Ah, Logan,” Charles began again, the older man wheeled around to address the newcomer, “Thank you for joining us this morning.” Xavier was rewarded with a grunt and nod from the disgruntled Canadian. He then watched as Logan took a quick head count of the group and noticed that there was someone missing.

“Hey where's Pete?” he asked, actually missing the young Russian’s company. Out of all the members of Xavier’s crew, he had spoken with Colossus the most. After the first day he arrived there, the two of them met up the following day to shoot the shit; they even got into some light sparring, just to see what the kid had. Pete wasn’t bad either, he had a few areas that could have used refinement, but the Russian was a good solid fighter.

Charles smiled; pleased to see that Logan had made at least one connection from the mansion outside of Marie. “Peter will not be participating with us this morning,” he informed him while moving back behind his console, “Since Peter is still in training, I tend to monitor his Danger Room exercises more closely.”

Logan nodded seemingly accepting that then he stopped, as the other statement the old man said drew curiosity. “Danger Room?” Logan asked questionably, “What’s a Danger Room?” The Wolverine then noticed the wide darken panel that was Xavier. The panel was almost as wide as the whole wall itself. Logan took a step closer trying to discern what lied beyond there.

“Professor,” Scott Summers smiled, “I suppose we should show him.” A moment after Summers’ words the tart sound of colossal charges of electricity could be heard around them. The panel that was behind Charles seemed to light up showing that it in fact was a viewing window. Logan stepped closer to the glass peering though. The room before him was massive, circular in shape easily equaling the size of a football field. The room maintained the sterile gray color that ran throughout all of the lower levels, making it seem clean and untouched. It had a circular platform in its center that stemmed off into four different pathways that lead outside of the room. Several segments of hexagonal panels were woven around its perimeter, as well as massive halogen lights that dangled down, ringing around the full circumference of the room.

Logan let out a long shrill whistle while taking in the whole scene. “That sure is one big empty room,” he stated off-handedly, not exactly sure what he was supposed to be witnessing.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Cowboy,” Ororo returned while moving next to him. Instantly his dark eyes darted to her. They were a little more than pleased when he noticed her lean down to type a few commands into the console in front of her. His sights fell inside the deep chocolate nesting of cleavage that her uniform afforded her. Storm’s head then suddenly shot up as she was finished her calculations, “Scott let her rip!” she shouted.

Her eyes then instantly collided with Logan’s, who in that moment looked as though he was the kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But instead of having the decency of being abashed or embarrassed, he just gave her a deep piercing stare with a slow knowing smile edging on his lips, his dark eyebrows wriggling suggestively. There was a blinding light that flashed that moment, drawing Logan’s attention, so he didn’t notice the crimson hue that stained Ororo’s cheeks or the subtle gesture of her tucking a snow white lock of hair behind her ear. ‘Goddess, what is this man doing to me?’ she said to herself, trying to recall all the instances when he infuriated her not to mention all reasons why he was nothing but trouble.

When the light inside of the inner chamber died, Logan stared opened eyed and amazed at its sudden transformation. Snow capped mountains stretched out as far as his eyes could see. A flowing river of the purest blue seemed to flow around the valley forever. Lush colonies of fir trees covered the snow-covered plain as a chill wind blew across the horizon. In just an instant, the room before him turned into the perfect image of the Canadian Rockies.

Astonished, Logan wearily placed a hand against thick pane of glass; despite its density and the thick material of his gloves, Logan’s enhanced sense of touch was able to register a faint trace of coolness on the other side of the window. He almost wished he could go inside to embrace the calming presence of his homeland.

“Impressed?” Cyclops asked while drawing up to the other side of the shorter man, equally enjoying the view.

“I’ll say,” Logan confirmed with a slight nod, “This certainly beats the pants offa HD,” he rumbled out, still hypnotized by the imagery. A chorus of chuckles echoed from behind him. “How’d ya guys manage all this?” he asked no one in particular.

Ororo took a deep breath then turned to him with a gentle smile. Thick tendrils of her thick hair fell down the side of her oval shaped face as she spoke, “Let’s just say, we know a Cheyenne man that can do amazing things with machines.”

“Ya should give that guy a raise,” he recommended honestly.

Charles Xavier chuckled lightly to himself while approaching everyone. “I’ll keep that in mind,” the Professor responded brightly. “Let us begin…” the older man suggested as he began his presentation of the illustrious Danger Room.

OoOoOo

Two hours later had the Wolverine intently glued to that same spot. His eyes and demeanor would give someone the impression of a fat kid in a candy shop with unlimited credit. The Canadian learned that the Danger Room used a combination of advanced robotics and a newly developed concept that involved hard condensed light to forge illusions and various complex objects. All in all, the room could take the appearance of any location or environment imaginable and also replicate any type of opponents or obstacles you could conjure up. The possibilities were virtually limitless a fact that started the gears in the Wolverine’s head turning. Not to mention developing a secret plot to finding a way to get one of these things back to his cabin in Alberta.

After a few selections of different scenery and modes the Danger Room could produce, the Professor asked Jean and Summers to run through some of the training exercises they performed to hone their mutant powers. The training exercises were a good way for the team to develop working battle strategies and techniques, not to mention build up the group’s solidarity.

This portion of the presentation brought upon the second part of Logan’s surprise, the discovery of Scott and Jeannie’s mutant powers. Jean was a powerful psychic with the ability to move things with her mind. He vividly remembered seeing the slender woman easily send boulders flying from her path and even aiding Summers by levitating him over a trap as he was about to be cornered in during one of the scenarios they were running. The Professor also said she was in the process of developing her powers even further so she could read people’s thoughts similar to the Professor’s own mutant ability.

Scott Summers also known as Cyclops was another story all together. The guy basically had a bazooka for eyes, literally. Summers was able to emit powerful concentrated bursts of energy from his eyes. The ruby lens visor he always wore had a dial on it that was able to condense or expand the flow of power that was emitted with each burst. The potency and destructive scale of his blasts have yet to be determined but it was once stated that Cyclops was able to punch a hole clean through a mountain.

As Cyclops and Jean finished up their last scenario, Logan cut his eyes to Ororo who had been standing next to him the whole time, explaining how the Danger Room worked as well as answered all the questions that he had. The African beauty was always calm and polite; always able to answer whatever he had to toss at her, even the few concepts he had trouble grasping. He could easily tell she truly found her calling in teaching, it even showed here. Strangely enough, even though he remained in the room attending to the settings of each of the battle situations, Charles remained surprisingly silent throughout the explanations, allowing Ororo to do most of the talking, which suited Logan fine, he could listen to her velvet like voice for hours.

“Ya don't join in?” he asked her, noticing she remained with him for the full duration of the exercise. Jean and Scott finally exited the last battle scenario called ‘The Gauntlet’ and were heading back to the command room. The Gauntlet was a timed three hundred-meter race. Every inch of it was filled with various traps and snares that could be triggered to attack you at any given time. It was a very good test of a person’s agility, endurance, and cunning and to be honest Logan was interested in seeing how the African goddess would fare.

Ororo smiled at him knowingly then shook her head, “In this particular battle situation, I do not,” she answered while still smiling; “It honestly wouldn't be fair.”

“Why's that?” he asked drawing interest.

There was a subtle hiss that whispered behind him as Cyclops and Jean returned, instantly joining the duo. “Because our Ororo here can fly,” Jean supplied while slinging her arm around taller woman’s shoulder, bringing her into a tight companionable hug.

Logan’s eyes widen while taking in the two of them. “Really?” he belted out, trying to imagine the regal African woman sailing through skies, her long mane of pure white hair flowing behind her. For some reason he honesty didn’t find the vision unusual.

“It’s more of riding than flying,” Ororo corrected. She then turned to Logan to explain further, “I can summon enough lift from a gale of wind to elevate myself from off the ground.”

The Wolverine paused while crossing his arms, allowing the little bit of information to digest within him. “Ororo the Windrider,” he spoke softly to himself, clearly amazed by the feat. “That must be something to see,” his gravelly voice admitted.

“Stick around Cowboy,” she shot back, her sapphire eyes seemed to blaze with life, “You'll be surprise what you'll be able to witness in the mansion.”

Logan cracked a smile, amused at her little nickname for him. He then nodded in agreement, “I’ll bet…” his strong dark eyes not falling away from her, nor did she from him.

For a moment there seemed to be something silently said between their shared glances, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed to the intuitive Jean Grey. The two of them were radiating such strong emotions in that moment that the psychic had to put a secondary mental barrier down to dampen the intensity and maintain her own sanity. She briefly looked to Professor who seemed to be in the middle of talking over some procedures with Scott. The older man didn’t mentally comment but Jean felt the brief impression of a sly smile coming from him in his own observation of the two.

Scott then dismissed himself from Xavier then joined the three of them. Instantly he pulled up to Logan, “So you want a go?”

OoOoOo

“So let me get this straight,” Logan, shouted out at the top of his lungs from inside the chamber of the Danger Room. His voice echoed in the cool gray circular auditorium which was bare for a moment and then quickly objects began to form. The floor panel, its texture then parameter were forged as well as the entranceway to the Gauntlets corridor. It was then like a ripple effect afterward as pieces started to appear into thin air then fit together one by one.

It was slightly disorientating being inside the room, while it cycled through the adjustments as it began to set up. His nose could smell the granite and metallic fumes circulating through the area as the Danger Room took seconds to literally create the illusion to the specifications for the trial run. He looked to the entranceway that suddenly appeared before him. “I got to get from here to the other end of this thing, as fast as I can?” he asked chucking his thumb behind him.

From up in the control booth Cyclops looked down to the Wolverine while speaking into the telecom, “In one piece also,” he clearly wanted to add, “You think you can handle it?”

The Wolverine snorted, scoffing at the seemingly absurd notion. There wasn’t anything in this Playstation funhouse he wouldn’t be able to take on. “I'll manage,” he evenly called back.

“Wolverine,” Cyclops’ voice echoed in the room. “You might want to put your mask on. There should be a mic installed in the inseam so you don’t have to yell for all of us to hear you,” the team leader pointed out.

“Gotcha…” the Wolverine gruffly returned, a few silent few grumbles escaping his lips as he reached for his hood. He was hoping he could have gone without the damn thing. It was stupid, made him feel like a sexually confused Batman or something.

He roughly pulled the yellow cowl over his face. He’d vividly remembered his image from the bathroom mirror when he was trying it on, a yellow hood with a black face covering that fan down the side of his cheeks, which gave it the appearance of bold whiskers falling down the side of his face. The black face covering also drew back, up and out from his eyes to make it look like he had two pointed ears that fanned away from his head.

“Logan,” the Wolverine heard Jean’s light voice call in from the intercom. “Scott here has the running best time for solo Gauntlet runs,” she said, adding a bit of the air of competition to up the stakes.

A low rumble of gravelly chuckles emerged from the comment. “Hey, Scooter,” Logan’s gravelly voice responded from the speaker, just as confident as ever. “I think ye’re record is about tah be broken.”

“Scooter?” Jean repeated, confused. Her bright green eyes then shifted to Scott and it all clicked, “Oh my god!” she muttered trying to muzzle the cascade of laughter that was fighting its way out of her. Scott instantly tilted his head back and sighed. Even though his eyes weren’t visible to her, she knew the bodily gesture equal for a long eye roll. “Oh…Honey,” she tried to soothe while planting a small peck on his cheek, “I’m sorry, it was just so cute,” she teased.

OoOoOo

The Wolverine stood before the darken corridors that lead to the Gauntlet.

His eyes narrowed through his drawn hood, staring at the Gauntlet like it was his most reviled foe. He slowly began breathing, his lungs expanding and contracting. Expanding and contracting again, and again, each time increasing in duration between each gasp. He slowly allowed his body to calm, allowing it to focus. The Beast was quiet, patient, waiting. It knows it will have its turn soon enough.

The Wolverine then crouched down; hands fanning out to his sides with his thumbs extended back, giving his body the perfect amount of leverage for when he dismounts from the balls of his heels. He listens as Grey counts down for him, his mind already working in the faction of the seconds between the breaths she takes to utter her words, the long duress, the subtle intake of air then the sound of each syllable spoken. He thrusts his butt up into the air, feeling the tightening of his powerful thighs as they burn and coil beneath him, waiting to release their explosive fury.

So when he finally hears the word, “Go!” he does so, in every meaning of the word.

His body ignites ripping across the floor, down into the darken tunnels in mere seconds. His head is low, eyes alert, body alive with energy as he pounds his feet furiously against the floor. He shortly after enters a corridor of stone columns that align in two-to-two horizontal rows permitting him one entryway. He doesn’t question the setup or the consequences he just continues to move.

As soon as his foot crosses the plane the whole room starts to quake. Deep bellowing rumbles echo throughout the chamber as each of the pillars starts to fall. He doesn’t hesitate; he doesn’t break stride, his body and shoulders just shifts back and forward avoiding all the debris. He leaps overtop of a fast falling pillar maintaining his momentum. Two of the columns fall intersecting each other crossing as they come down. The Wolverine takes half a second to crouched down low, his legs then propel him forward as he tucks his head toward his chest, somersaulting in the air clearing the wreckage completely. He lands down hard, never stopping as he moves.

Motion-sensor beam cannons hum to life tracking his pathway during his raid. In a brief flare of glaring red light they fire in arcing patterns, soon a web work of crimson rays rains down upon him. The Wolverine simply jukes; he spins, and feints, depending on his speed and the constitution of his body to aid him. He flexes his arm calling forth three blades. Summoning the heart of the Beast he roars while making a quick swipe that severs one of the cannons from its mount.

Not a moment later he hears the granite ceiling above him starting to rattle. The Wolverine has relied on his senses for so long that he has no need to second-guess them. He dashes, just seconds as the whole panel above him drops with a suffocating slam, but the Wolverine wasn’t there to witness it because he was already gone. More of the ceiling panels continued to rain in a cascading avalanche of devastation. The danger fuels his adrenaline pushing his body to press beyond the human limits because suddenly all the room is coming down around him. Darkness closes around him, sealing every option, sealing every exit. But they forgot one basic law of nature:

Where there is no way, adamantium claws can make one.

Blades of adamantium steel tear and rip freeing him from the rubble as seconds tick by. He is a little more than a blur as he streaks down the last stretch like a madman possessed, till he reaches an enormous pit whose bottom seems to go on till the morrow. Segments of floating rock drift back in forth in patterns. Some moving right to left, some moving down and up. The Wolverine, knowing that time is no luxury, hurtles himself forward landing precariously on the first floating island’s edge. He leaps again and again; the brief sense of weightlessness entraps him for a few seconds in each bound leaving him spellbound till his powerful arms finally takes hold of the drifting stalagmite. This final one continues to climb higher and higher till the platform to the last segment is shown.

Landing on all fours the Wolverine bolts into a dead run, he sees his final obstacle and his goal. His wide feet pound up the stone pyramid’s steps that seemed that seemed to reach the heavens themselves. Higher and higher he climbs but he will not stop, not until he tastes victory.

Scott Summers, the titleholder for the fastest Gauntlet run. His greatest run was an amazing fifty-five and a half seconds. The Wolverine on his first run cleared the Gauntlet in an even forty.

To be continued…

Chapter 8: The Danger Room pt. 2


Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
The Danger Room Control Booth
Late Morning…


Silence reigned in the Danger Room’s command post during Logan’s Gauntlet run. Each trap averted, every ambush foiled, every death-defying feat performed seemed to build the anticipation that was brewing inside of everyone in the room. It was even so that Scott Summers no longer cared about the title he held for so long, but instead he was more interested in seeing if the new guy, if this Wolverine could really pull it off.

“Son of a bitch,” Scott whispered to himself quite astonished as he witnessed the Wolverine cross the goal line. Not only did he beat his former time, but also the Wolverine beat it by fifteen seconds. Granted Scott didn’t know much about the guy much less liked him very much, but he would admit that he had a grudging respect building for the feral from Canada.

“Well done, Logan,” Charles Xavier’s warm voice congratulated, while taking hold of the intercom, “How are you doing up there?”

He watched as Wolverine paced around the stone platform he was located on. He constantly rolled his broad shoulders; his thick arms swinging back and forth, the adrenaline in his body from the Gauntlet run still pumping through every one of his veins. He looked anxious, ready, as if the power of a hurricane was being precariously held back in check. “Tah be honest Chuck,” his raspy voice responded, “I’m gettin’ a bit bored. I thought Cykie said he’d show a ‘fella a good time,” he shouted back a bit indignantly.

“Professor,” Scott grinned while pulling up alongside the older man, “I’m sure we can accommodate our golden boy here,” he offered while punching in another program. His fingers traced through a few screens before he came to the one he was looking for.

Xavier lowered his gaze to see what the younger man selected. “Very well,” Charles nodded in agreement, “Logan, how would you feel about a little bit of company?”

“Let’er rip!” the Wolverine eagerly shouted back. At the end of his call, he noticed the area where the Gauntlet was formerly placed slowly started to fade away into the normal metallic gray background. The pyramid he was currently standing on and the towering steps that led to its climax was all that was present in the room. Suddenly, at the bottom of the first set of stairs, wide huge doors with cast-iron rings for handles appeared as well as a passageway that led up to the pyramid.

“Logan,” this was Ororo speaking, “Are you familiar with the battle practice called, King of the Hill?”

“‘Course…” he answered back confidently. He might not have remembered all of his military background but basic warfare games such as that were common place.

“Well now you’re the King,” Ororo responded, not thinking.

The Canadian grinned while looking up directly at the camera that was focused on him. It looked as though in that instant he was looking directly at Ororo when he said, “Didn’t have’ta tell me that darlin’,” he returned slyly with a slow deliberate wink. Storm stared open mouthed at his blatantly his bold statement while everyone else supplied a few amused chuckles. A moment later though a small smile had the audacity to form on her face, although after a moment she realized its presence she quickly schooled it away.

…Back inside the Danger Room.

Logan’s ears twitched. In an instant he was at the side of the pyramid, he looked on. A long drawn out creak echoed below him as the twin doors that were located at the bottom of the ramp suddenly parted open. A chorus of battle cries echoed from inside as a swarm of armored men started to race up the stairs.

Each of them wore steel helmets with a single incision down the front to allow their sun kissed faces to be in view. Flaring red capes blew from their broad bronze shoulders, while silver and golden chain mails were strapped to their chests that lead to a metallic skirts that ended at their waists. Their legs were bare till the loose armored padding that stretched from their kneecaps to the sandals on their feet. Spears and swords were their weapons, as well as a golden circular shield. All of them were toned as if they spent a lifetime in combat. They moved as one, one unit, one organized army, an apparently with one goal.

Defeat the Wolverine.

OoOoOo

A vicious grin dared to split Wolverine’s face in two as he eyed the approaching mob. “Now ye’re talkin’,” he encouraged, while taking a few steps back. For a moment he contemplated his actions. The approaching group was a little more than half way up the pyramid, which gave him four, maybe five seconds left to ponder before they were on top of him.

After weighing his options, he just said, “Fuck it…” He moved back a couple of paces then raced towards the edge. The Wolverine leapt hurtling down the side of the pyramid, both set of claws extended, a battle cry roaring from his lips. His advance was much like a dark tsunami approaching a coastal village.

Upon impact his knees slammed down colliding with the two leading soldiers bowling four more of them, which then caused even more of the group to stumble back down. The commotion caused a chain reaction that completely destroyed the whole unit’s coordination and the Wolverine just used the chaos to do what he did best.

A bladed-spear came from his left impossibly fast, but the Wolverine was faster. He deftly dropped underneath its pathway then launched himself forward. His body glided up along side the trail of the weapon’s wooden shaft as he moved; one set of his claws tore through his attacker’s chest, the other set maiming the soldier next to him. He then tore his claws free, whipping his body around, his arm snapped out catching another soldier in the throat.

He then leapt plunging both sets of claws into another soldier’s chest that hadn’t even begun contemplating on attacking. The Wolverine then dropped all his weight rolling himself backwards, tossing his victim’s corpse behind him into the main body of the group. That massive projectile was soon followed by a three hundred pound yellow and blue ball of six adamantium blades that blasted into their midst slinging death with each swing of his powerful arms, making every single one of the simulations wonder what god did they all collectively piss off to have such a creature rain down upon them.

In the center of a sea of bodies the Wolverine landed down into a deep crouch, his arms cocked to his sides as his steel gray eyes swam around him. He watched while the remainder of the artificial army started to regroup. In seconds the small band fully enclosed the Wolverine, spears pointed towards him, shields raised in defense. An eerie second of silence passed between the two groups as each was trying to feel the other out.

Slowly a sinister smile crossed Logan’s lips as he viewed the situation. Then like a bolt of lightning he exploded in motion, limbs flying free during his murderous raid. A trio of spear wielding men tried to press an attack. The Wolverine threw a wide dropping hook kick that locked their spears away from him, he then dove right into the three a double snap kick hit the two on the outside square in the chest while his claws sank down into the one in the middle’s sternum. He roared then flipped the corpse’s body into a sideways spiral that whirled him into the spearman on the right while snapping a swipe to the soldier on the left. The Wolverine then pivoted dropping low in a spin for a rising double “X” slash that tore that remaining soldier to shreds.

It just continued on like that, the Wolverine proceeded to systematically tear through the soldier’s ranks.

OoOoOo

“The guy’s good,” Scott Summers honestly remarked, “Real good.” He shared an even glance with Jean Grey, while the two of them observed the Wolverine’s work.

Every moved he made was expertly executed. Every move he made was a killing blow. It was very easy to see how he managed to best Sabertooth. The two of them also shared the thought that they were fortunate that he wasn’t a person they had to name as an enemy. Indestructible skeleton, unbreakable claws; heighten senses not to mention amazing regenerative powers, it seemed like the guy was completely bred for war.

Jean nodded from Cyclops’ words then turned to Storm who had been strangely quiet. “Don’t you agree ‘Roro?” But the Doctor drew up short when she saw the deep transfixed look on Ororo’s face. Her sapphire eyes constantly followed all of the Wolverine’s movements, seemingly mesmerize by the sheer brutality and grace of his dance. His broad chest heaving, the coordination of his actions, the thin sheet of sweat that covered his sinewy muscles as they flowed in and out with all of his motions… He was simply beautiful to her in his power and fury.

A smile found its way to Jean’s face, while she continued to look at her friend. She mentally noted that the two of them were going to have to have a long discussion later on, one that was sure to be a bit more honest than their last one about the Canadian feral. “He seems happy,” Ororo solemnly whispered, breaking Jean from her thoughts. The African Windrider noticed the content even jubilant expression on the Wolverine’s face as he continued to boldly throw his body into the middle of the carnage.

The Professor who was sitting beside Storm silently nodded, drawing the same conclusion. “It makes me wonder,” Charles spoke somberly, while drawing all of their attention, “What horrors has he gone through where he feels almost utter contentment in battle.” No one could begin to respond to the heavy impacting question, each of them now looking at their newcomer in a completely different light.

“Professor, are you sure about this?” Cyclops asked, Xavier noticing the change in the man’s mood. His tone, there was a more serious even deadly edge to it. This was the true face of Cyclops.

Charles Xavier knew the man that was Scott Summers. The older man always knew the type of man Scott was from the very first moment he walked through his institute’s door. Honest and loyal to a fault. It was because of these two virtues that Xavier placed Scott as leader of the X-Men. The older man knew that one ill-word or even a brief hesitation with his reply now would send the younger man on a course of action he deemed correct, even if it may prove to be his own destruction. Not because he was soulless follower, but because Scott was able to believe. Xavier knew Scott’s greatest strength lied not in the power held in his eyes, but was his ability to believe in something greater than himself.

Charles considered all of this before he answered, “Of course,” he said, his voice sounded more assuring than he really felt. A brief glance to Jean, said that the woman knew what was brewing through the older man’s mind but she decided not to comment. Xavier then returned to view screen. “The program’s completed. Why don’t the three of you go down to him,” he encouraged, besides the small break would give him some time alone with his thoughts.

OoOoOo

The trio of Storm, Jean, and Cyclops entered the decimated display that was inside the Danger Room. The defeated crimson-cloaked soldiers shimmered back to the silver and steel forms of their robotic origins. The pile of broken circuitry and scrap metal seemed endless and in the center of a maze of calamity stood the Wolverine.

The bright orange ember of a Cuban cigar burned brightly from his lips as he chewed it around in his mouth. His golden and black hood was off, freeing his wild mane of black hair; a defined swagger marked his walk as he approached the three. His steel gray eyes took a brief look around then room before returning to them, “Danger Room, Eh?” he chuckled darkly while taking a long drag from his stogie, his deep gravelly voice sounding like rolling thunder. He exhaled in a ring of smoke, then looking up to the control room, Logan tapped a two finger salute to Charles who was watching behind the glass; “Ya, might wanna rename it Chuck or ya might get sued for false advertisin’!” he called out.

The three of them shared a brief glance before a few chuckles erupted from the group. Cyclops went to his side and gave the shorter Canadian a companionable clamp on the shoulder. Upon the impact, Logan’s head instantly whipped around, staring at the amused Cyclops who held his hands up in surrender meaning no harm. “Not bad,” the X-Men leader admitted honestly, wanting to congratulate him. Jean slowly flanked around Scott equally impressed by the Wolverine’s performace. A brief flare of arousal flamed around her like the sun, but Logan hardly acknowledged it. His eyes fell on the silent African Windrider, who was quietly observing the interaction.

A sly grin appeared on Cyclops’ face as he considered the Canadian. He then looked up to the control center. “Professor, maybe we should let him take on Goliath,” Cyclops suggested, while both Jean and Ororo just shared a look.

“Pulling out all the stops, eh?” Xavier’s voice replied through the intercom.

“I just want to show Wolverine everything we have to offer,” Scott replied confidently.

Logan considered the conversation between the two and just sighed. “Aww, jus when I got a good smoke in,” he grumbled to himself a moment before he used a claw to clip off his cigar’s burning cherry.

The three of them watched as the mammoth stone pyramid behind them started to sink into the floor then wink out of existence. In its place a circular ring formed and then stretched out, expanding till it stretched out to about forty yards in diameter. A large fountain of green light appeared on the ground some distance away. From the glow a physical form started to appear. Very large, very big and green, it was crouched down face towards the floor, with an enormous spiked mace in front of it.

The Wolverine separated from the trio and approached the ring. His keen gray eyes instantly went to the large hulking figure the moment he stepped into the ring.

Upon his entry the colossal being stood, growing to it full height; a staggering eight feet tall and at least half that wide. Its head was small in comparison to its body. It was a flat plane that ended in a point, which was flanked by two shoulders that were so broad they looked as though each were a foot and a half in width. Its tree trunk-like arms dangled down into fists there were the sizes of anvils. Its chest was so broad it looked like he could easily smother the mighty Colossus in its embrace. Jagged spikes protruded from spiked rings that adorned its hands, kneepads and boots, as well as a large crimson “X” that was stretched across its chest.

It then bent forward to reach for its weapon. In the small amount of time, the Wolverine noticed that there was a smooth flow with it a motion. It wasn’t cumbersome or slow, which would be the norm for a figure of such girth. Logan then took note of its choice of weapon, a wicked spiked mace that was easily four feet in diameter.

This was the Danger Room’s Goliath.

OoOoOo

Logan’s hands drew up and slowly draped his cowl over his face.

Smooth, agile like a jaguar the Wolverine stalked towards the towering opponent. Goliath was big, green, and looked tough. There was something vaguely familiar about this whole scene but Logan couldn’t put a pin on it. His shoulders lowered, his senses sharp as he slowly paced back and forth in front of the giant, his eyes glancing over every tidbit of the titan. The thick digits of his gloved hands rhythmically clenched and unclenched into fists, till finally he slowly withdrew his claws with a long quiet *ssssshhhnikt*.

Then Goliath moved.

It took an even step back, while equally distributing its weight to each of its sturdy legs. The massive head from its two-handed mace was raised till it equally leveled with Goliath’s own head, in a neutral defensive stance. “You may begin whenever you like Logan,” Xavier stated through the intercom, but the Wolverine had not heard him. His mind was already listening, patient, sharp. He would act, not because he was told to, but because at that precise moment presented the perfect opportunity to.

The Wolverine hunched down low, resting on the balls his feet as he schooled his breathing to ease. A silent five minutes passed between the two, it was even so that the three onlookers that were inside of the room were starting to get worried. They needed not though…

‘NOW!’ was the Beast’s cry.

In a flash the Wolverine was there, his thick leg whipped out a flying snapping kick that crashed across Goliath’s face. To any normal opponent a three hundred pound body hurtling itself at them at breakneck speeds would have completely bowled the individual over. Goliath merely budged…an inch.

The Wolverine dropped down to his feet. He immediately threw himself down lying flat on his belly, because out of the corner of his eye he spotted that mammoth Warhammer head of Goliath’s killer mace coming through slicing the air above him. He could literally feel a rushing roar of wind overtop of him as it passed. The Wolverine scoped inward and propelled off his feet diving into a roll that pulled him along side of those giant legs. Goliath stomped down in a fruitless attempt to try to swat the nimble Wolverine but the feral was too fast. The ground beneath him rumbled under the impact, but Wolverine managed to curve his dive enough that when he shifted back to his feet, he spun with an outward slash that bit in deep.

The Wolverine was then behind the giant and outside of its range, an opportunity he planned to exploit. He dashed in fast and leapt high. Three stabs brought him to the top of Goliath’s shoulders, he then growled as his claws viciously blazed and cut at the giant’s skull. But a massive hand, that seemed to have the combined strength of a hundred men behind it, took hold and ripped Wolverine from a top his perch, slamming him to the floor. A second later the head of its two-handed mace crashed down into his chest, caving in the floor beneath him.

If adamantium hadn’t been galvanized onto the Wolverine’s skeleton so many years ago, all of his vital organs now would have been destroyed.

The Wolverine wearily scrambled to his feet. The combination of the pain from most of the major muscles groups on his chest being bruised along with the wind completely being knocked out of him, made his vision blurry for a few moments. But a single moment was all Goliath needed. The giant darted forward, dragging that deadly mace along the ground with it. It completed a raking upper strike that popped Wolverine’s body into the air like a fly ball; Goliath then continued its momentum taking a step forward bringing that deadly mace around with battering whack that sent Wolverine careening into one of the adjacent walls.

“LOGAN!!!” a velvet-kissed voice shouted in distressed, but he didn’t hear her. The Beast’s roars inside of his head were getting louder and louder by the moment. He grimly wiped the blood that poured from his mouth, before springing back into the mayhem.

His body collided with Goliath, but this time the added momentum sent the giant stumbling back several steps. Wolverine was on it like a raging storm. His claws stringed a flaring number of slash attacks that arcing in and out of the titan’s reach. Wolverine then double-stepped inside as Goliath tried flattening him with that gigantic mace. Wolverine made sure to time it just right so he’d bring himself up short a few feet from where the mace landed, then raced up the giant’s arm. He leapt, then doubled flipped bringing him up again to the titan’s shoulders. The Wolverine wasted no time this effort though, in a flash he moved, cutting across with a lightning swath that separated Goliath’s head from its shoulders.

The Wolverine smoothly dropped down from up top of Goliath’s shoulders. He snorted indignantly before confidently walked away, sheathing his claws in his trek. He never took one look behind him, so he never noticed that the decapitated body of Goliath never fell and he also never saw the ball of the spiked mace coming…

The ball of Goliath’s mace sprang out from a long chain that cracked into Wolverine from behind sending him colliding into a wall. As soon it as met the wall, Goliath recoiled its heavy mace and sent it slamming into that spot again and again and again. Each slam sounding like a mountain was cracking. After three successful battering slams with that half a ton metallic ball crashing into the Wolverine, his body laid real still.

OoOoOo

“LOGAN!” The heels of three approaching feet clicked fast against the Danger Room floor as the trio of Ororo, Jean and Scott ran fast to the sight of Wolverine’s fall.

“End program!” Cyclops frantically ordered to the Danger Room computer repeatedly, “End Pro…”

But he stopped in mid-sentence as the most horrifying blood curdling howl thundered inside of the whole Danger Room. “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHH!!!!” In a flash a yellow bullet shot off from that ruptured crater. That yellow blur struck Goliath low corkscrew spinning the giant around. There was a flash of silvery light a moment after as the Goliath’s leg flew from its body.

Goliath stumbled with its unbalanced weight for a moment before trying to reach for whatever deadly foe that had just attacked him. But there was another silvery flash of light and Goliath was short, four fingers. This creature that wore the yellow and blue garb of the mutant Wolverine, curled for a moment than shot up through Goliath’s body bursting through its torso, serving the titan a felling blow.

The giant fell, but that didn’t stop the creature’s; this Beast’s rage. Another howl rang through the room as the Beast viciously rend and slashed through the still body. His sharp teeth salivated as it tore through the artificial flesh. His limbs furiously moved, slashing and cutting the remains of the Goliath program to shreds.

“Wolverine, stand down! Stand down!” Cyclops shouted. He quickly tried to move in an attempt to sedate the berserk Canadian mutant. As soon as the man moved, the Beast’s head snapped at attention taking note of the trio for the first time. Wide vacant eyes stared at the group as it started to reevaluate its situation.

Jean quickly shot out front putting a restraining hand on Scott halting him, “Stop Scott!” she hastily warned. “I don’t sense anything from him.”

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked, clearly not following, “I thought you said you couldn’t sense his thoughts anyway.”

Jean nodded. “Yeah, I can’t because normally he has strong mental barriers shielding me from his mind. But usually I can still feel faint traces that manage to skim through,” she tried to quickly explain, “But I don’t sense anything now; it’s devoid of all thought. He’s running on pure instinct,” she tried to explain further, “He’s totally primal!”

“Logan…” Ororo whispered, while her eyes strayed to the feral Canadian that did not know her.

OoOoOo

The Beast didn’t recognize these people.

It issued a low growl as it smoothly slid down from its catch. It kept itself low prowling back and forth on all fours as it decided how to best deal with these potential threats. It could smell the overall tension radiating from the three, especially the male. His eyes were unreadable, but the slight thinning of his jaw marked his apprehension. The rigid stance he held not to mention the tightening of his fists proved he would be the first to act and fast.

The Beast’s upper lip curled as it growled a warning to him, showing a set of razor-sharp incisors, but the male didn’t back down, his stance stiffened even defiant. The Beast grumbled at such an undignified act. His powerful body curled ready to strike, but then a deep bellowing roll of thunder crashed with in the room. The Beast turned and saw one of the females step forward.

Her hair was gleaming white like a star, caramel dipped with mocha colored skin, her blue eyes flashed then lost their pigmentation as it changed into a milky white radiating with such awesome power that nearly everyone in the room trembled. “No!” her voice thundered, the dark cape that was draped around her statuesque body fluttering violently as an unfounded tempest of wind coursed around her. “I will not allow you to harm my friends,” she vowed while stepping forward. The rolling crash of thunder bellowed in each of her steps.

The Beast, seeing the challenge being issued, drew to its full height then stalked forward as well. Its powerful broad chest heaved with the deep breaths that blew from its thick nostrils. The woman’s head cocked slightly to the side as the winds surrounding her became more violent. It pounded into the Beast harrowing every one of its steps, almost halting him entirely. But the Beast was strong and determined, shouldered through her onslaught till he was within a few feet of her. It fixed a piercing stare on her then a howl that rang from the four corners of the room roared from his lungs as he met her call of challenge.

Intrigued, the woman’s arms slowly rose from her sides, calling upon whirling screams of tyrannical gale winds that equally met his roar. “We are not your enemies…” she called through her winds. Flashes of lightning sporadic flared and coiled around her body. Her thick hair was wild, blowing free in the throes of her own tempest.

The Beast wearily eyed her. This female. This beauty. This goddess seemed to be power incarnate. She enticed him. She bewitched him. Dominance and want brewed through his body down to his loins. The Beast wanted this female; it wanted her for its mate. It took another step towards her wanting consummate the act, completely ignoring the other male and female in the room.

Misreading his intent, a shower of lightning bolts flashed in between them. Surprised the Beast sprang back a step, it’s shot a dark look to the woman, who merely shook her head. “I am not your enemy,” she whispered softly, “I am not your enemy,” she called again, before the strength of her winds lifted her off of the ground. Her flashing eyes never left his nor did the dark soulful stare of the Beast leave her.

OoOoOo

Ororo was no longer there. She had fully given herself over to the power and benevolence of her gift. This was no longer was about protection or even defense for her friends. This feeling, the energy that brewed through her was the soul of the world, the song of the planet. This feeling that she never could seem to share with anyone else seemed to echo with this beast…this being…this man before her. A communion of souls to the planet they were children of.

She was the storm. She was Storm.

OoOoOo

The Beast continued to growl and call through the storm, through her storm. But no ground could be made. Unable to bear it any longer the Beast finally let go and embraced it; her power, her fury, her storm. His eyes closed, allowing the wind and rain to wash over him, purifying his body and soul. He breathed in deep of her storm, the air, and the breeze and instantly he felt as though he were in his homeland. The clean brisk air that clung around her, reminded him of there, the only place he ever truly felt at peace.

Then all in once the fury, the rage of the Beast left him. He fell to his knee as the exhaustion from the act drained him. His body rocked, hands reflexively twitched forcing him to ball them up in tight fists. The gale of wind that carried Storm subsided as she descended right next to him. “Logan?” her warm voice whispered to him, while placing a gentle hand on his trembling shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” he barked out immediately shrugging off her touch. He instantly cursed himself, “Please…” he softly added, while looking up to her. “I jus need a minute…” he muttered weakly. She nodded somewhat understanding. Ororo then watched him for several minutes as he paced long controlling breaths to calm his body. His claws slowly returned to their sheath a moment later and then he wearily drew to his feet.

His steel colored eyes briefly glanced over the three before he settled on Ororo again, his mind drawing back to their earlier episode. As much as there were differences amongst the two of them, for that short amount of time there was a connection that was stronger than the bones in his body. There was diffidently something there that neither of them could define nor deny.

“Are you ok?” Jean stepped towards Ororo, breaking her stare with Logan.

The African Windrider sighed then nodded her head, “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she answered genuinely. She made a brief smile for her friend before, her eyes searched for Logan again. She saw the retreating form of his broad back exiting the Danger Room. Ororo frowned briefly before she turned back to her friends.

“Perhaps we should finish for the rest of the day,” Xavier’s calm voice proposed seeing the dismal events the morning had brought.

Ororo just gentle shook her head while turning away from the exit. “No, Charles,” she said, her eyes looking up to the Control booth, “Let us continue without Logan.”

OoOoOo

Charles Xavier observed quietly as the remainder of the X-Men went through their usual Danger Room training regiments. Ten minutes later, he heard the silent hiss of the door to the control booth open behind him. His eyes didn’t stray from his observation, nor did he look over when Logan slowly walked into the room and stood beside him watching the group as well. Several moments of silence passed where neither man said a word. But eventually Xavier was the first to speak; “Are you ok?” the old man’s bright blue eyes settled on the troubled man, his voice breathing true concern.

Logan took a moment to ponder the question and finally just shrugged his shoulders, “Yea,” he muttered, withdrawing the cowl from his uniform from off his head. His wild thick mane sprang out from out of the confines, in total disarray seeming like his life at the moment. He ran a tired hand through his hair before continuing, “Jus needed a few minutes, ya know,” Logan then paused, “Sorry,” he added softly.

Xavier shook his head. “There is no need to be sorry, no one was injured,” Charles warmly replied, trying to alleviate the man of any guilt he might have had, “We attend these training sessions to make sure of that fact.” Logan’s eyes went to the older man for a second as if he was trying to discern any deceit. A moment later he simply allowed a small grunt and a nod in acceptance.

The two of them fell into another calm of silence. Logan’s eyes fell across the sights of the various rigorous training methods of the X-Men. He looked on but wasn’t really paying attention. His mind reeling over, how again the Beast nearly took over. It was uncontrollable and dangerous. He was dangerous. ‘Charles, he’s an animal!’ The words of the African woman from days before suddenly come to him in a maddening flash.

His gaze then went to Ororo in the midst of her elemental work. He saw the African beauty commanding the elements to her, whirling winds and flashing lights of thundered rolled through the artificial skies. Storm that was her codename, she seemed to be able to command the heavens herself, the ultimate combination of strength and beauty. His body shook from the realization, she was right.

He was an animal.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Charles turned to ask him, breaking him from his dark brooding.

Logan cut his eyes from his observation to address the older man, “’bout what? It took over, what else can I say?”

A troubled frown bore its way to Xavier’s face as he continued to look up the troubled man, “Logan, despite what you may believe I have been monitoring you for these past few days,” he confessed honestly, “Do you know what I’ve seen?” Logan narrowed his eyes but shook his head. Taking a small breath, Xavier steeple his fingers in his lap before speaking, “I’ve see an honest man, a proud man, a strong man,” Charles voice continued to gain strength the longer he spoke, “Someone that has endured a harsh tragedy, that has only relied on his strength and will to get him through it all. I see that same man that has relied on his own strength and character for so long that he now refuses to allow anyone to help him...”

Logan peered into Xavier for a moment before cocking a bittersweet grin “So now ya able to peak into my head too huh?”

“No, Logan,” the older man shook his head determined, “On the contrary I haven’t used any of my powers of mental telepathy on you since you began staying with us.”

The Canadian frowned, “Then how ya know so much?”

And then Xavier turned to him, for a moment Logan did not see the successful world-renown psychologist or teacher. He did not see the powerful psychic that seemed to be limitless with his gift. For that instant in time Logan saw simply Charles Xavier a man that was had flaws that had erred and still somehow prevailed, “Because,” he began, “I too have been guilty of such thoughts. For the longest of time I believed there were no people in the world willing to help my cause and that I would forever be forced to fight this battle alone. It wasn’t till I made the acquaintance of another young mutant that I released there were other people in this world willing to help.”

Charles remained quiet for some time to allow his words to sink in and then he began again, “I had hoped that you would have come to me on your own accord,” he then sadly smiled while shaking his head, “But I realize that is not your way.”

Anger brewed inside of Logan that he didn’t know its source, but for whatever reason he had heard enough. “Whatcha think a few minutes on yer fuckin’ couch gonna solve anythin?” Logan barked out while stomping his way to the door, “My shit is my shit to deal with, no one else’s.” he called back angrily as he punched the buttons to open the door. It parted with a slight hiss.

“The burdens that you bear my friend, you do not have to carry them alone,” Charles calmly returned. At this Logan didn’t respond. He stood silently in the doorway, while Charles pondered for a moment then began at another angle, “If not for your self, why not for Marie? You don’t have to leave to protect her or the rest of us from you.” Xavier noticed the pause in the feral mutant’s step, instantly realizing he hit a deeply troubled nerve with in him.

And when Logan turned around to regard the older man, Xavier breath ran short. The haggard look on the feral mutant’s face was so deeply pained that even Charles felt wounded. “Chuck, I honestly wish I believed that,” he said truthfully, but still unconvinced. Without any more words he simply left.

The Wolverine exited the room nearly colliding into Ororo as he made his way to the elevator. The two of them briefly shared a look while in the hallway. But Logan quickly looked away as he entered the lift; the only thing he could feel was shame for his actions. “Logan…” she called after him softly as the doors closed between them.

To be continued…

Chapter 9: Animals

Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Noon…


“Yeah…Ok.”

“Yeah...”

“Ok…”

“Ok…”

“Ok!”

“I know…”

“Ok…Love you.”

“G’bye, Mom.”

That was the scene Rogue entered upon when she found Robert Drake by one of the school’s phone. The young teen boy looked tired, as though the phone conversation he just had took more out of him than staying up all night cramming for one of Doctor Grey’s test. Marie remembered the boy fondly from Miss. Monroe’s class her second day starting at the school. She still had the ice rose he formed for her using his powers of ice manipulation secretly hidden in the back of the fridge.

Marie would even go as far to admit that he was kind of cute in a little boy type of way. Tall and straight, with a slender tone to his body from all the rigorous activities they had going on at the school. His hair was a dark brown, with faint developments of stubble on an otherwise boyish face. Not to mention Bobby had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

Ok, maybe she thought he was a little more than cute, but he wasn’t anything in comparison to Logan, who she long ago decided was probably the sexiest man alive. Both Jubilee and Kitty would stand by to attest to that fact…repeatedly. But in honesty it wouldn’t be fair to compare the two. Bobby was just a boy, where Logan was a man…Very much a man. So he had a lot of growing up to do. Even still she could admit Bobby did have his sweet moments.

“Bobby?” she whispered shyly not wanting to intrude upon anything. She didn’t know who exactly he was just talking to on the phone, but even she could sense the strained level of conversation between them.

At hearing her voice Bobby automatically whirled around. A mask of shock mirrored his face the moment he laid eyes on her, almost as though he couldn’t believe she was just standing before him. But that awe quickly melted way into a bright smile. “Oh, hi Rogue,” he said brightly while sliding the phone back onto its mantel. His blue eyes seemed to blaze the longer her looked at her. Rogue instantly felt a flash of heat to her cheeks, not to mention a nest of butterflies seemed to be brewing in her belly.

Ok, he was diffidently a little more than cute.

“Is e’erythin’ ah’right?” she asked timidly, the southern drawl of her voice seemed to magnify from her nervousness.

“Yea,” he dismissed easily, “It’s just my folks,” he expressed while nervously scratching the back of his head. All the tension and stress she thought she saw from him a few moments ago seemed to instantly vanish.

“Oh ok,” she quickly returned, feeling a bit more foolish for bothering him, “See ye in Miss. Monroe’s…” she waved while trying to make a hasty retreat.

“Oh Rogue!” Bobby shouted after her. He quickly jogged in front of her blocking her escape. Her large brown eyes settled on him temporarily making him forget what he was going to say. “Umm…Do you want to go out or something? Like a movie? A few of us later on where planning on doing something and I thought it might be fun.”

At first she didn’t think she heard him right. Back in Mississippi none of the boys ever talked to her. The ones that did always assumed one thing. “With you?” she asked carefully while eyeing him wearily. Bobby nodded. “An’ me?” Still very patient Bobby nodded again. Rogue took a moment to put everything together. There was a feeling inside of her that desperately wanted this, needed this in fact. But there was larger portion that was filled with dread. “It prob’bly wouldn’t be a good ideah,” she softly said dejectedly. When she saw the crestfallen look on his face she felt the need to continue, “No, its jus Bobby…”

“Whenever your skin gets in contact with someone, you absorb they’re life force or energy and in the case of mutants they’re powers,” he rattled off quickly as if it wasn’t the biggest news in the world. His words ended with that boyish smile again.

Rogue’s mouth simply dropped while hearing his explanation. “Yea,” she answered uneasily, slightly puzzled, “How did’ja know ‘bout that?”

The boy then just smiled knowingly at her and she hated to admit it seemed amount of butterflies that fluttered in her stomach suddenly doubled when he looked at her like that. “This is Mutant High. Hardly anything’s hush-hush around here.” He paused while giving a brief look around the room they were in. After he deemed it safe, he then crept in real close to her. He cupped his hand towards her if he was going to reveal a closely guarded secret. “It’s from too many psychics,” he whispered, while wriggling his eyebrows at her. That rewarded him with a big grin even a few small giggles.

“But you know…” he said continuing, “Just because of that doesn’t mean you can’t have any fun,” he honestly admitted. “So…?” he implored, somehow his blue eyes seemed to enlarge at that moment, playing havoc on her willpower. She then gasped when she realized that was the look she often gave Logan whenever she wanted to twist his arm into something to her favor.

“Ah’ll…” she stuttered falling under the spell of those killer blue eyes. She then took a breath and cleared her head, “Ah’ll think ‘bout it,” she responded more firmly.

Bobby nodded his head accepting that above all else, “That’s not a no,” he clarified, tremendously energetic, “That is definitely not a no,” a bright smile warmed his face again and despite herself Rogue found herself laughing. The two fell in step with each other sharing light conversation as they made their way to the TV room. They made to the doorway before the whishing slender form of Kitty Pryde exited the room dashing passed the two.

OoOoOo

Adrenaline flowed through Katherine Pryde’s body as she boldly raced through the hallways of the Xavier Mansion. “Professor! Professor!” her lips cried frantically as she searched for the school’s mentor. Kitty then turned feeling his guiding presence directing her to where she could meet him. Her slender body phased through three walls till she came up short to the elevators that lead to the mansion’s lower levels. Professor Xavier sensing her distressed met her at the doors with the rest of the X-Men in tow.

Cyclops and Storm flanked around Xavier with Jean in the background. The older man maintained his usual calm collect composure while addressing the distraught girl. “What is wrong Kitty?” his steady voice asked her. He then paused, all the hairs on the back of his neck rose as he whispered, “Eric?” his blue eyes widen incredulous.

“You have to have to come look!” the young girl implored to them all while heading back to the den.

OoOoOo

Quickly, the Professor and the rest of the X-Men filed into the mini theater room. As soon as they entered they all noticed the room was flocked with the little heads of most the students from the school as well as several of the teaching staff members. Piotr, ever stoic stood silently by in the background, a large firm hand placed around Kitty’s narrow shoulders. A few quiet words parted from his lips as he tried to soothe the startled girl. Xavier was even surprised to find Logan was also in the room; already dressed back into a fitted white t-shirt, Stetson, and jeans, hairy arms crossed, an unlit cigar dangled from his lips as he watched the broadcast with interest along with the rest of the students.

The middle age Fox News anchorman drew a long breath. His steady green eyes showed he was mentally counting down, preparing himself for the impacting information he was about to deliver. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” his calm voice began sternly, “I’ll repeat for those just tuning in. A mutant terrorist calling himself Magneto as well as an unknown group of assailants has just made a direct attack on the Stark Industries facility located in Seattle, Washington.”

The broadcast instantly cut to a shaky birds eye view from the Newcenter’s helicopter. The Copter circled overhead of the laboratory while large funnels of gray smoke coiled up from the large circular glass-covered building. The news reporter’s voice filled in the background as the footage continued, “There is no word on the amount of casualties as well as the full scale of destruction the attacks caused. And as of this moment it is unknown the reasons or the motives behind the attacks.” The image shifted to a ground viewing panning on the white streams of water that fanned around the building as the firefighters on the ground battled with the remaining traces of the fires. The newscaster began again, his disembodied voice continued with the feed. “We have field reporter Samuel Aarons, that’s currently on location at Seattle. Sam?”

The camera feed switched again to a direct image of a young clean-cut man in his late twenties, dressed in a brown sports jacket. He swiftly raised the microphone to his mouth as he began to talk. “Samuel Aarons, here at the very site of devastation at Stark Industries Seattle. Standing with me, is the current of the head of operations for the Seattle branch of Stark Industries, Mr. Jonathan Silvercloud.”

The picture turned over to the man standing next to Aarons. He was a tall man with a thin cut mustache and long black hair that was neatly placed in a ponytail that fell over his back. His face was a sandy light brown in color, with facial features that depicted that he was of Native American heritage. He was dressed in a neatly pressed black suit, with a single dark glove covering his right hand. “Forge…” Ororo whispered, which drew several nods from the senior X-Men members. Logan briefly looked up sparing a glance at the woman, whose stare seemed fixated on the screen. He chewed hard on stogie in his mouth before returning his attention to the broadcast.

“At this point we at Stark Industries have no idea the intent behind today’s vicious attacks,” Silvercloud began, “Ever since last week, when Mr. Stark expressed the new direction he wanted to take Stark Industries in, a lot of the projects we had in the works were permanently closed. Only a few government authorized researching projects were given the “Ok” to continue to work on.” A firm breeze hit the duo ruffling a few strands of Silvercloud’s fine hair. “What those projects are,” he continued, “I am not at the liberty to say at this moment, due to their sensitive material, but I’m at a lost at what caused today’s senseless attack.” Aarons briefly thanked the Company’s head for speaking before turning things back to the News Anchorman back in the studio.

“There has been no official statement given from the Stark Industries’ CEO Anthony Edward Stark,” the news anchorman began, “Tony Stark, as you may remember had recently just returned to the States after a harrowing kidnapping attempt that had him captive for…” The news anchor paused in his sentence as an aid rushed into view next to him. A bit of dialogue was exchanged between the two off camera, the aid then quickly rushed offstage. The anchorman schooled his face calmly as he began to speak again, “Ladies and Gentlemen, I’m sorry this is breaking news. Shortly after the attacks were made, a video file was sent to all of our studio’s email accounts believed to be from Magneto himself, confirming the mutant’s role in the attack. Our studio’s producers have cleared the video and we now bring you the film from the mutant terrorist Magneto.”

Image from the news channel then switched over to the video. The recording began with a small set that was draped in darkness with only a human shaped shadow in its center. “Citizens of American,” a deep disembodied voice began, “I for many years have tried to turn a blind eye to the many atrocities humankind has blatantly made against my mutant brothers and sisters.” A light in the center of the stage cut on, instantly illuminating the figure. He was a comely older man with shorten cut white hair. He wore a maroon single-breasted garb that was parted to his left. He had hard unyielding lines along his face as if he’d only been witness to the bitter harshness that life can bring. But there was a power in him, a strength that never would be extinguished as long as there was breath in his body.

“Erik no…” the Professor quietly pleaded, as the older man began to speak.

Magneto’s chilling blue-gray eyes took a dangerous gleam as he continued to peer into the camera, “But I will look away no more!” he concluded, his fist slamming forcefully on the metallic desk beneath him. “Today’s events marked the birth of our revolution. This facility’s crime against Mutant kind could no longer be overlooked. Today’s attack was not an act of vengeance but an act of self-preservation,” Magneto then leaned forward while the camera image smoothly zoomed to his face, “And if these crimes continue more retaliation will come in the future and I with my Brotherhood of Mutants will be there on the forefront!”

After the last remaining moments of the video concluded, the Newscaster’s face returned to the screen. “There is no word yet on how these recent Mutant terrorist threats will impact the current Mutant Registration movement that was for a long time being on debate on the Washington floor, but I’m being told now that conservative speaker Senator Kelly is standing by to provide a statement…”

OoOoOo

Xavier’s Headmaster’s Office
Westchester, New York
Ten minutes after the video…

After the broadcast, Xavier promptly cancelled class for the remainder of the day. Although he didn’t confine the students to remain on campus, he did instill an earlier curfew. After the students and the rest of the faculty were instructed, he and the rest of the X-Men including Logan, moved to his Office.

As older man pulled his chair into the room, he briefly looked across the room to see the grim faces everyone held from the events that had transpired this morning. Deep inside, he, himself always prayed that this day would never arrive. His eyes drifted around the room once again, he watched as Ororo and Jean both sat together a dozen clouded thoughts brewing between the two women. He then looked over to the fireplace where Scott stood. His arm draped along fireplace’s banister, his face troubled but still unwavering, always the leader, never willing to admit defeat. They would need to rely on his strength for the coming days. Xavier gaze then drew to the other chair in his office were the young but loyal Piotr Rasputin sat. Piotr had only graduated the previous year, still a boy, in Xavier’s eyes, but he knew that young man’s determination was profound and unshakeable.

The day had finally arrived when his X-Men would have to confront his long time friend. Where they up to the task? Was he?

His attention then fell to Logan, who nonchalantly was leaning against the wall. His arms crossed in front of him, the brown Stetson on his head angled down shielding his face from the rest of them, but Xavier knew full well not to mistake the man’s nonchalant appearance for disinterest. How would his role, play into everything? Would he stay amongst them to weather through this storm? Or would he use the opportunity to find his escape? Xavier’s sighed, as much as he truly wanted to aid the Wolverine with the inner turmoil he constantly battled with, there just were more pressing issues to deal with at the moment.

“It seemed like ya know that Magneto guy pretty well,” Logan voiced, breaking the long held silence that inhabited the room. He tipped his Stetson up so his gray eyes could peer directly at the Professor. A shifting of looks from everyone in the room put Logan’s senses on edge. “What?” he asked; clearly missing something important.

“His name is Erik Lehnsherr,” Xavier finally said, “He is…or was an old friend.”

“Magneto...” Scott’s voice followed more sternly, “Used to be one of the first teachers here,” he supplied, “In fact he was partially responsible for everything you see here.”

“That seems like such a long time ago,” Xavier added. His voice held a faint whimsical tone that seemed to almost long for those simpler times. A deep worrying frown crossed his elderly face, it seemed as though Xavier aged ten years in the space of those few seconds. “Eric has changed so much since when we first met.”

“How do you want to play this, Professor?” Scott queried, deciding to take the initiative.

The older man paused allowing another moment for his thoughts to develop. His then sharpened eyes as he looked up settling back on Scott. “Cyclops I want you and the other X-Men to go to the Stark facility to find out any additional information you can, as well as lend any assistance if needed,” he instructed while his powered chair then moved him behind his desk, “I’m going to contact Kenneth to see what type of repercussions we can expect from Washington.”

As he gave that final instruction, it seemed like all eyes went to Logan, who was doing a good job of ignoring their scrutiny. Since he wasn’t an X-Man he technically didn’t have to go. And given to the events of earlier today, Xavier was inclined to believe perhaps it might have been best if he didn’t. In the end Charles decided to allow him to decide for himself, “Logan you can accompany them if you would like. It would give you an opportunity to witness some firsthand experience of the work the X-Men take part of.”

The brim of Logan’s hat nearly flew up as he eyed the older man like he lost all grip on reality. Before he could promptly put the obviously senile and delirious old man back into his place, Cyclops who visibly stiffened from the offer spoke up first, “Professor, I would strongly recommend against that,” a deeply perturbed face wouldn’t even be half as close to describing the look Scott had.

Xavier simply nodded, “Duly noted Scott, but I believe since there are still a large number of the facilities staff missing, Logan’s eyes and ears might be of great use to the search teams there.” He then contacted Summers mentally, ‘Scott if he’s ever going to trust us, we’re going to have to start to do the same.’ The older man then looked back to Logan, “Besides it is his decision.”

Scott’s jaw visibly tightened but eventually he nodded, “I understand…” still not liking the idea.

So again, all eyes returned to the Canadian mutant awaiting his decision. To his credit, he never wavered even for a moment despite all of their attention. He gazed at the shimmering pair of green eyes that seemed playful, even a bit mischievous as they continued their observation of him. The vacant crimson stare that was never discernable, as if it was taking every piece of him apart as if trying to discover some underlying motive. But what ultimately drew his attention were the deep eyes of sapphire blue, which he never knew where he stood in their place. He then snapped a glare at the grin Pete was giving him, because apparently the younger guy already knew his answer. “Fuck…” Logan grumbled to himself before finally agreeing.

OoOoOo

As soon as they exited Xavier’s office, Cyclops gave everyone a window of ten minutes to allow them to get ready before they would head for Seattle. Since this assignment was strictly for investigative purposes, everyone opted to go in plain clothes, so not to draw any unwanted attention. Most wore dark non-descript clothing with some form of the “X” label on their make. Logan just dressed in his usual jeans, fitted shirt, black leather jacket and Stetson hat.

After ten short minutes all of the X-Men waited in the main hallway before heading to the lower level elevators where the flight deck was held as well as the Blackbird. A bit of uneasiness dwelling with him, Logan brought up the rear, still wondering how in the hell he got roped into going, when earlier this morning he was planning on getting the fuck outta Dodge.

“Logan!” he heard the familiar sweet southern voice calling his name from behind, making him draw up short.

Logan turned around just seconds before the teenage ball of energy that was Marie tackle into him. “Hey kid…” he greeted, playfully tugging on a white lock of her hair, a genuine smile on his face for her.

In a flash the southern girl spun out of his arms, delicate hands on her hips with a deep frown on her lovely face. “So’m back tah kid now?” she accused him with mock anger.

The older man frowned while pausing. “Ah perish tha thought yer majesty,” he said smoothly, while slinging off his Stetson in a grandiose deep dramatic bow to her. An act, which was rewarded with the chorus of the girl’s giggles, he then took it further by plopping his hat onto her head.

The brown Stetson was obviously a few sizes too big, because as soon as it rested on her head slid, falling down over her eyes. She had to tip it, in the back so she could honestly see. “So ye’re goin’?” she asked him a bit more seriously, but that bright smile was never far away.

Logan frowned again, the weight of his impromptu trip returning. “Yea, the Prof. wants me tah baby-sit I guess,” he grumbled, still showing his not too pleased nature about leaving. He then brightened as another thought came to him, “’sides, I thought ya were goin’ out with that Bobby kid.”

“Ye heard that!” the southern girl gaped at him.

And all Logan could do was grin. For some reason he loved seeing the wide brown-eye shocked look she sometimes wore whenever she would clearly underestimate him. “Hard gettin’ anythin’ passed these ears, kiddo,” he tapped his lobe to emphasize the point. His face then took on a more serious light as he regarded her. “Marie, ya should go.”

“But I thought…” she stared feebly.

“Look Marie,” he began in that fatherly tone, he’d sometimes used when he talked to her. Heaven knows when he actually started to develop it. “I can tell things are gonna get real hectic real fast ‘round here. Ya should enjoy this lil’bit of quiet as much as ya can. Ya only got one shot in this life at enjoyin’ bein’ a kid,” he nodded to her sagely, “Believe me when I say, before ya know it, it’ll be gone, then ya’ll just be a cranky ol’ cuss like me,” he ended giving her a sly wink.

A small flush rose to her cheeks as she shook her head suppressing another laugh, “Yer not that old,” she then paused in reflective thought, “How old are ye?”

His gray eyes focused on her for a minute as he considered the question his self. He then shrugged, “Don’t know,” he honestly returned, “But when I find out ya’ll be the first tah know. Now git, before that Drake kid starts eyein’ me, then I gotta gut em an’ make snow cones fer everyone.”

OoOoOo

The small group headed through the metallic halls to the hanger. Logan took a brief look through everyone as they passed. In some weird surreal light it almost seemed like they were going on a road trip, not to the scene of such a catastrophic event. The long sleek dark wings of the Blackbird stretched out for them as they boarded. Everyone took they’re places inside the jet while Cyclops and Jean went up front to pilot.

“Ok, people,” Cyclops began while switching on levers that began their take off. The Blackbird started to hum to life as he started to speak, “Even though we’re in civvies, we’re still to use codenames only. We’re only there for investigative purposes only, meaning we keep a low profile. Also…” The X-Men leader continued his directions. Logan noticed that the other X-Men members didn’t seem too alarmed from all of Scooter’s commands, so Logan decided it was probably natural that Cyke gave some sort of spiel before all of their assignments.

After five minutes of hearing his laundry list of instructions, Logan decided Slim liked hearing himself talk entirely too much. So instead he decided to coop a small nap during the trip.

OoOoOo

Stark Industries Laboratories
Seattle, Washington
Early Afternoon…

It was a few minutes after one, when the Blackbird touched down in Seattle, exactly one and a half hours after the facility was attacked. The firefighters that were present at the scene had just recently managed to put out the rest of the blazes, which allowed the search crews to begin scouring the area trying to hunt for survivors and clear debris. Also present were Stark Industry investigative teams that were working along side the local and federal law enforcement agencies trying to determine all of what occurred today.

Blockades where lined all-around the building, keeping the press out, as well any bystanders that were just interested in catching a glimpse of some of the devastation that rocked through the industrial facility today. Logan and the others remained inconspicuous while heading in through the sea of people. A brief mentioning of the Professor’s name brought them clearance into the building. It seemed that Stark and Xavier had some ties in the past, so their arrival was expected.

As soon as they all stepped through those haggard steel frame doors, it was like they walked into a world of wall-to-wall pandemonium which reigned throughout the facility. There were so many people scurrying this way and that through the building, and yet, it still seemed like not even half of the huge facility was scoured. Several people taking pictures, retrieving samples, as well as taking testimonies from various Stark employees. Trillions of dollars worth of technical machinery laid trashed and demolished, pieces of them were cascaded across the room like confetti. There were at least a dozen holes that, looked as though a wrecking ball was thrown throw the building heedless of anything in its path. Despite of the chaos surrounding them, X-Men continued to venture inside.

“Can I help you all?” a stern-looking woman asked the approaching seemingly out of place group. She was a broad-shouldered older woman probably in her mid-fifties with a few strands of silvery-gray hair peeking out from under her bright orange hardhat. She wore clear thick protective glasses with a white smock and safety gloves on her hands. A bright “Stark Industries Investigations” badge was on her breast pocket but it had no name.

A brief looked flowed through all of them but Summers decided to speak. “We are all representatives from Professor Charles Xavier. We were hoping to maybe shed a bit of light on some areas that you all might not be aware of.”

Her face tightened while raising an eyebrow to the younger man’s flowery tone. “You mean mutant stuff?” the woman stated bluntly.

Cyclops’ jaw visibly tightened from the small jab, but it was Jean that came to the rescue. “To put it lightly,” Jean supplied quickly, realizing the woman really meant no harm.

That seemed to put the older woman at ease somewhat. “Names Madeline Turlock, but all the boy’s in the office call me Maddie. Don’t worry, I won’t ask for your names I know about the whole “anonymity” thing,” she said reassuringly, “I honestly wished you guys gotten her sooner though,” Maddie commented, while slipping off her goggles. The removed headwear left a hard imprint from the lines of the glasses, on her slightly wrinkled skin. “I’ve been at this job for fifteen years. Seen all sorts of accidents in my time, but nothing can compare to some of the stuff I’ve seen today.”

The group followed behind Maddie as she started to escort them through the building. “The Professor wanted to express his thanks for allowing us to come through,” Summers continued in his polite business friendly tone, “We know you all must be very busy with all that’s happened today. And he hopes that Mr. Stark has a speedy recovery from his ordeal.”

“Have you ever met Tony?” she turned to ask him suddenly.

The younger brown haired man shook his head, “No, I can’t say I have.”

Maddie then grinned, “Well I have and let me tell you. Something like a lil’ kidnapping won’t keep that man down for long,” she stated proudly. “Sooner or later, he’ll be out there with some other brilliant idea that is gonna impact the whole world,” the woman openly declared. It was obvious she held a very rooted respect for the Stark Industry CEO.

“Here’s hoping,” Cyclops said, returning her grin.

The group continued moving throughout the large facility. It seemed every square-inch of the building wasn’t spared. They then paused as they watched a clearing crew of ten men move out a room-sized generator. The generator appeared as though it was thrown into the adjacent wall as if it was a mere pebble in the pathway of a typhoon. So firmly was it rooted that a large industrial crane had to be brought in to properly remove it all. The ruined steel squealed and whined as it was being separated, making Logan visibly wince from his sensitive ears. As it was freed, the enormous ruined machinery looked it was cracked in half then peeled apart like a banana peel.

Maddie continued to watch the removal of the humongous devastated power source in both shock and awe. Her hazel eyes never left the ruined debris when she whispered to Scott, “I know it’s not the ‘correct’ thing to say and all, but sometimes what you people can do, scares the living daylights out of me.”

“To be honest ma’am,” Cyclops said as he continued to look up with her, equally astonished, “Sometimes it scares me too,” he responded to her truthfully.

At that the older woman smiled at him. Her face showing such an appreciative light that it was almost humbling. The entire group mirrored her face; even Logan managed a small smile to the older woman. “Here,” she said, looking back to Summers, “I’ll take you to the facilities’ head of operations, Mr. Silvercloud. He’ll be able to tell you everything you need to know about the place.”

OoOoOo

Before Scott went with Maddie, he decided to break up the X-Men in small groups to get a better lay of area. Storm and Colossus was to get some statements together from the investigative crews, while he and Jean went to talk with Silvercloud. Afterward, they were to meet up again in an hour to correspond their results.

Surprisingly enough, Logan asked to go off unescorted. His nose had been twitching since he gotten here and he wanted to check a few things out. Even though Scott was a bit weary about letting the newcomer roam freely, he figured with his senses Logan probably would be the best person able to shed some sort of light on what occurred here.

With a working plan in order the groups broke into their own separate ways and Scott and Jean followed Maddie.

OoOoOo

In the middle of the about a half a dozen Stark Investigative workers, stood the tall Stark Industry head. Pages of blueprints were spread out across a makeshift workstation as the group was going over some plans to figure out a route to get into a particular sector that had been closed off during the destruction. After some deliberation, the group broke after reaching an agreed discussion. The Stark Investigators fanned out leaving the Industry head along to go over some more printouts.

Cyclops and Jean just shared a look as they both watched the Cheyenne man at work. He seemed like such a far cry away from the oil caked, gear head they remembered from yesteryears. Scott then suddenly shouted, “Forge!” a lopsided grin on his face.

The Stark chief looked up not surprised to see his long time friend. “Scott!” Forge cheered while giving the man a sturdy handshake. A frown crossed the X-Men leader’s face as Forge apparently forgot their usual protocol. Forge immediately drew up short and rolled his eyes, “Sorry, Cyclops,” he corrected, seemingly appeasing the mutant leader. Forge dark eyes then turned to the redhead draped on Summers’ arm, “Hey Jean. Or is it Marvel G-…”

“…Jean’s fine,” the doctor hastily supplied. She always mentally cringed at the adopted codename from her teenage years. The psychic doctor brought her hand out to him, “Good seeing you, Maker,” she greeted.

He smiled genuinely to her, but then returned to a neutral face. “I suppose you all saw the News,” he stated knowing he didn’t have to. “We don’t know much of what happened here. At 11:15AM, a massive electronic pulse surged through the whole building and completely knocked out everything,” he advised them grimly, “We had no surveillance, no cameras, and at this moment the search crews haven’t turned up any survivors.”

“No survivors?” Cyclops asked incredulous, “I knew Erik didn’t have any love for baseline humans, but to go that far…” he dropped off, knowing the depth of the Professor’s former friend would wound the man deeply. Cyclops then straightened while returning his gaze back to Forge, “Have you seen the tape?”

Forge nodded. “Yeah, I have. And I can honestly tell you I have no idea what Magneto is referring to,” he responded clearly at a lost, “We do mostly research here. We hardly have any combative projects in the works and the ones we had, are still in the development stage with hardly any ground being made, before Tony shut everything down.”

“Erik seems to believe otherwise,” Jean responded, her bright green eyes looking troubled.

Cyclops crossed his arms over his chest while thinking, “Was there anything specific that they targeted?”

At this Forge hesitated. He then made a show of clearing his throat before stating; “Cyclops you know my position here…” he began hoping the man would understand his implications.

“Yes, I know,” the X-Men leader responded, “but there is no way we can really figure out how to stop Magneto if we don’t have any idea what their purpose here was.”

Forge regarded the man before him, long and hard then said. “I’m sorry Cyclops,” he returned still not relenting, “I cannot in good confidence tell you any of what we’re working on.”

Jean then grinned while coming along side Cyclops. The brown hair man frowned, he deeply sighed obviously disappointed in the answer before conceding, “Ok, we understand your position.”

He nodded to her. “I wish I could be of more help,” Forge ended, before briskly walking away.

“I’m sorry too…” Summers called. He then turned back to Jean; a single brown eyebrow rose, “Got it?”

“Yep everything,” the psychic returned while grinning deviously. During the whole charade of the debate between Scott and Forge, Jean was mentally contacting Forge. It was the only way that the Stark head could reveal the project that Magneto had targeted, without worrying of anyone ease dropping and so also Forge’s job wouldn’t be in Jeopardy. “I swear, I think Forge missed his calling in acting,” Jean said off-handedly while the two made their way back to the rendezvous point for the others. Scott could only grin.

OoOoOo

At the time of the meeting place Jean and Cyclops looked puzzled when they saw only Storm approaching them. “Where’s Colossus?” Jean asked fearing the worst.

“Where’s Wolverine?” Cyclops seconded, already dreading the answer.

As the former African goddess stood before them, her usual calm regal air seemed to flow around her as she spoke to her team members. “Colossus and I hadn’t seen any sign of Wolverine from when we broke up later, so I sent Colossus to go search for him,” Storm replied seemingly not in the last bit worried or surprised.

Cyclops wearily ran a hand through his dark hair in frustration. “Dammit, that’s typical. I knew the Professor allowing him to come was a very bad idea,” he vented. He then looked as both women gave him a leveled glare. “What?”

Ororo decided to ignore the impulse to shout, ‘I told ya so!’ at the top of her lungs. Instead she continued with her briefing. “From what I and Colossus have discovered, the investigative parties concluded that at 11:15 an electromagnetic pulse fired through the facility disabling all electronic, monitoring devices, and surveillance equipment.” She paused while taking a breath, “Five minutes after the blast occurred, a small seismic tremor quaked directly under the building preceding the pulse. What next ensued in the following twenty to thirty-five minutes, they have yet to determine but it seems at the end of it, another seismic tremor struck marking their exit and then thirty seconds afterward the news station received the video file.”

Cyclops took a moment to process all of the information Storm just reported. “It would seem at least Avalanche was working along with Magneto,” he assumed, “But we have no idea who else he’s in league with.”

“And since none of the workers have been found,” Jean included, “we still don’t even have a clue to what we’re up against.”

“It seems this situation becomes harder and harder the more we discover,” Summers said grimly, as another veil of darkness seemed to fall over the mystery.

Storm then looked over to the two, “What did Forge have to say?”

A small smirk found its way to Cyclops’ lips. He was at least pleased to have found some information on this trip, “We know at least what Erik was looking for,” he stated while looking to Jean to take over.

Taking her cue Jean stepped forward and began, “It seems for the last five years Stark Industries was working on an advance type of radar detection system. This system was unique because it’s able to seek out specific DNA signatures,” she paused then said, “It works kind of along similar lines to a lesser version of Cerebro. But instead of brainwaves being monitored, this one can identify by DNA signatures,” she explained further, hoping to clear up any confusion. Seeing no other questions forthcoming the doctor continued, “The project was originally a product that Stark Industry was funding but after two years of unfounded results they dropped it for some time. It wasn’t till about six months later that a wildlife research facility had taken interest in its development and picked it back up.”

Storm shook her head at Jean’s conclusion, “I do not get the connection,” she stated while turning to Cyclops, “Why would a radar detection program cause Magneto to wage a full-scale assault on this facility?”

A grim frown wore itself on the man’s face. “I don’t know, but we have to find out if we have any chance of stopping his next attack. Hopefully the Professor has some leads when we return to the mansion.”

OoOoOo

Meanwhile…

Logan was puzzled.

He slowly moved through the some of the previously inspected areas of the facility. The feral mutant had been following a faint rhythmic tapping whose sound had been traveling through several of the pipelines that ran through most of the building. It didn’t make any sense because any operating machinery would have still been shut down from the electromagnetic pulse. But Logan knew his ears, so he continued to follow it to its source, which drew him to a large dead end.

The area was filled with large scraps of metal that were cascaded all over the place not to mention the big metallic sheet he currently was standing on. Excess piles of freshly turned earth and soil also mixed in with the sheet metal, made it look as if someone made an attempt to burrow the whole thing into the ground.

Logan shook his head. With all the things he’d seen today, it wouldn’t have surprise him.

What he didn’t understand was why the sound he was tracking led him to this area. There was nothing here. He took a quick sniff to get his barrens but frowned. It was more of that powerful metallic scent along with the scent that smelled like a mixture of earth, soil and bedrock. He caught faint traces of small signature scents but given the enormity of the of people that was currently in the facility it was hard to keep track of who was supposed to be here and who was one of the searching teams brought in today.

The Canadian cursed low under his breath. He hated being stumped like this. He then turned on his heel about to leave the area, when from the middle of the floor there was a small, *TAP-TAP-TAP*. Logan paused, curious about the scene. On impulse he moved to the area and tapped his foot with a deep rata-tap-tap. The instead of continuing with its regular stream, the sound blazed in different tempos and speeds. Logan eyes widened in horror, when he realized not only was the platform he was standing over was a different type of metal that was laid out throughout the building, but it was also very hollow and deep. An idea was starting to form, from the different types of metal, to the way the earth around the area was soft like it was just previously moved.

“Wolverine!” Colossus shouted as he approached the preoccupied wayward mutant, “I’d been looking all over for you,” he stated drawing alongside of him, “We are both late for the rendezvous with the others.”

Logan raised a hand up warding Colossus away. “Shhh!” the Canadian barked out to the giant young man at the distraction, “Dontcha hear that?”

The young Russian frowned, giving Logan a look like he’d just grown four heads, “I hear nothing,” he stated plainly.

“I do,” Logan firmly told the Russian born mutant. His tone suggesting that was good enough for him. Wolverine then pushed the younger man aside as he heavily eyed the floor panel again. Colossus had no clue what was drawing Logan’s attention, but the trust he built with his short feral friend, enabled him to humor him for the moment. He watched as Wolverine walked around again. The Canadian’s hands felt along the surface of the cool metal, every so often he would rap his knuckles against the sheet of metal, listening to the sound as if he was trying to discover its thickness. It was at this point when Piotr became very curious in what Logan was trying to discover.

After another couple of minutes, Wolverine’s gray eyes sharpened a clever grin parted his face. “Hey Tin man, gimme a hand,” he shouted before the sound of *SNIKT* pierced the air. Peter then watched as Logan used his claws to make a deep incision into the metallic floor. He continued carefully cutting till he neatly made a twenty-foot by twenty-foot section of the floor panel they were standing on. Logan then backed away to let Peter go to work.

The young man frowned while sparing a glance to his feral friend. Logan only offered the barest of grins before motioning for Peter to do his thing. Colossus sighed then took a breath, in an instant a rhythmic clanking of metal replacing flesh echoed as he took his steel form. The sleeves of his jacket widened at first then splintered from the man’s sudden change in height and width and in a few seconds he retained the full size that was attributed by his gift. The colossal mutant then bent forward each one of his massive hands taking a grip inside the grooves that Wolverine cut. He uttered a small grunt then lifted up, the metal in his hand groaning and whining under the strain, suddenly they both heard a loud chorus of shouts and cries underneath the metal…Very human cries.

OoOoOo

Completely started by the surprise Colossus nearly lost his grip. “Easy goin’, Pete. Keep it comin’,” Wolverine cautioned, the Canadian mutant’s steady hand shot out latching onto Peter’s forearm. Nodding Colossus continued to lift for all he was worth. With Peter’s immense power, the metal slab wasn’t heavy in the slightest, but he had to measure his strength verses the integrity of the metal he was holding. If he wrenched it back too strong or too fast he risked the danger of it tearing apart from his grasp all together.

A well of hot stale air poured out from the opening. Echoes of “Thank god!” and “Help us!” continued to stream out till Logan stepped into the moving toward the passageway that was slowly opening. “E’eryone ok?” he called down there. The area below was a darken lab room, that somehow was stuffed down into the passageway.

“God yes!” a man shouted, he shielded his eyes from the intense glare, “Get us out of here!” he cried. Logan then looked around, there was almost fifty people stockpiled in the small area. Some of them appeared very weak from the stale air and the lack of oxygen. There were at least thirty feet that separated their position from the opening, which meant they weren’t able to climb out on their own. “We got some injured here,” the man continued on frantically. He then looked over his shoulder, Logan spotted an elderly woman whose head was propped up by some of their coats, “Maria, she’s been unconscious now for a half hour,” the man continued to rattle off.

“We’re gonna git e’erybody out,” Logan assured them, “Gimme a sec, have to bring in some more people. Just hold tight,” Logan shouted down to them, and then turned to Colossus, “Yo, Tin Man, ya got it?”

“Da!” the giant mutant muttered not in the least bit hesitant, “I’ll not move,” he resolutely confirmed. He then lifted the opened to the furthest he could extend then moved, wedging his back against the parted slab while taking a rigid stance.

The man that was the unofficial voice box for the Stark Industry survivors watched a little horrified at the powerful display that the mighty mutant Colossus seemed to portray. Logan grumbled, sensing the drastic change in the man’s scent. “I can always let me friend drop it ya know…” he rudely shot back.

The man guiltily looked down, “Sorry, it was just shocking.”

“Eh, remember they could be puttin’ that on yer tombstone…” Logan dryly replied before heading off to get some of the search crew officials.

OoOoOo

The three remaining members of the X-Men stared in amazement as large commotion was raised at one section of the facility. Then almost as if it was coordinated, a massive wave of the Stark Industry workers and legal officials started to rush off. Several voices shouted out orders as everyone moved frantically, with the rescue crew spearheading the charge.

Cyclops caught sight of Forge, while he was in mid-dash with the crowd, “What’s going on?” Summers quickly asked.

Forge looked both excited and astonished as he replied, “That Wolverine guy of yours and Colossus found the workers,” the Marker barely spared another look before turning back with some of his Stark officials. Needing no more prompting the trio of X-Men followed suit.

OoOoOo

Ororo continued to move with Scott and Jean as they headed into the direction. Eventually she, Scott and Jean managed to press them selves through, filing into that small corridor. For several minutes she couldn’t see a thing because the sight was blocked by the heads of dozens of people, but then those heads started to bob to the side, probably due to a slight mental suggestion. Another tidbit they wouldn’t mention to the Professor.

The African Windrider watched as Peter clad in his metal form almost appeared to be like Atlas, holding up a wide slab of metal above a hole that seemed equal its size. She observed as several of the bright yellow coats of the rescue workers surrounded the hole and surprisingly, standing out front, black jacket cast to the side was Logan in the center of everything.

At seeing him by himself there, Ororo immediately started to press through the crowd to join their team members. But she quickly felt the light restraining hand of Cyclops on her shoulder with Jean standing next to him. Ororo looked to the two questionably, but then Jean spoke to her mind, ‘Let him have this moment…’ she called to her solemnly. Scott nodded adding an assuring bright smile.

For a moment Ororo didn’t understand the two, but she cast another look back to Logan. Several seconds it didn’t make any sense to her and then all at once it just clicked. She noticed the determined and focused look on his face as he worked alongside of the Rescue workers and the Firefighters. The tension, the sweat, the sheer amount of effort and emotion he shed as he brought each one of those people out of that hole.

It seemed like all around her, every eye was glued and every breath was held as they removed Stark employee after employee. Forty-five long minutes they tirelessly worked, till it seemed like there was only one more person left. There was a slight commotion, but Ororo was so far away that she couldn’t hear any of what was going on. Logan was shouting something down into the hole and the looks of his face he wasn’t getting the response he was hoping for.

Then at once he just disappeared down into the hole. There were a few moments where nothing occurred. Then finally he emerged from the pit, in his arms was a young woman. Tears were streaming down her face as she held onto Logan so tightly it was like he was her only anchor to this world. There was a deep pain that signaled in Ororo’s heart as she watched another claustrophobic victim come to grips with being so thoroughly submerged in her fear.

As they approached the other crews, the woman mumbled several intangible things as she wept into Logan’s shoulder like she was afraid to let go of him. The other medics on hand tried to persuade her to let go but she profoundly refused. It was then when Logan then whispered a few things to her. Ororo wasn’t able to pick up what was said, but after some deliberation the woman finally untangled her arms from him and she went into the hands of the Rescue Teams so they could start taking care of her.

At the close of the event, Peter finally moved allowing the lid to finally close with a resounding slam. He then returned to his normal form, standing along side of Logan, who had been met with the staring eyes of everyone in the facility. The silence between everyone was almost deafening. But it swiftly broke as a pair of hands clapped for the two men.

Everyone turned to look as Maddie stepped forward, bright smile on her face. The older woman then nudged the two guys standing besides her that instantly took the hint. The clamping and applause seemed contagious. Loud cries and cheers broke out all around the two as everyone gave the two heroes a standing ovation, which lead to an occurrence that Ororo thought she’d never see in all her days, the Wolverine actually looking humble.

Forge then parted through the sea of people. He stood before the two men, proudly shaking both their hands. He then stood in between them holding their arms up, as the crowd seemed to break into a crescendo.

OoOoOo

For a few more moments the crowd celebrated the rescue till Slivercloud promptly called for a ceasefire so they could get things back on track. They still had a lot of work to do, but the recovery of the Stark workers put everyone in a lighter frame of mind. Wolverine and Colossus soon rejoined the other members. Every so often a stray Officer or Stark investigative worker would come by to pat either men on the shoulder or give them a handshake in thanks. It was enough to make even the forever brooding, Logan crack a small smile.

That of course fell when he saw the delighted looks on his companions face. “What?” he barked out, feeling like he was caught off-guard.

Jean was the first to move. She draped a slender arm around both of the men, giving them a big hug. “You guys I swear…” a bright smile was on her face that also seemed to shimmer in her green eyes. The redhead spared Logan a long lingering look that he could practically taste the lust she was projecting. She then disengaged them both to go help the medics. As he left, he couldn’t help but watch the sashaying curve of her hips as she moved. Once again he was trying to remember why exactly he turned the redhead down.

He didn’t have a moment to consider it before he got suddenly rapped on the shoulder again. On instinct again, he whirled around to come face to face with Scott Summer. Wolverine swore a blue streak before addressing the X-Men leader, “I swear tah god, Scooter if ya don’t stop doin’…”

“Good job,” the younger man extended a sincere smile on his face.

Logan narrowed a piercing look to the man. He distinctly noted the lack of condescension or malice in Summers’ voice. “Eh, don’t get mushy on me One-Eye,” he gruffly grumbled, “We still got a job tah do,” he tried to sound annoyed while brushing pass the clean-shaven team leader, but Scott caught the genuine smile that was on the normally crass mutant’s face.

Wolverine looked over to Storm and Colossus. The Windrider approached, warmly embraced the younger man. “Peter, I know your family, especially your sister, would be very proud of you this day,” she said to him warmly, placing a light kiss on his cheek.

“Got one of those for me, ‘Ro?” Logan inquired, his voice breaking the two apart. Ororo spared Peter a final parting smile before turning her attention to the Wolverine. Peter stood silently in the background for a moment, before Scott lightly tapped him on the shoulder, drawing the younger man over so they could find if Jean needed any help.

Storm narrowed her eyes at Logan as if she was still trying to decipher the enigma that the man was. For a moment she paused as she considered his abbreviation to her name. To be honest it sounded strangely fitting coming from him. Not to mention, the way his lips seemed to roll the ‘R’ a little, sent shivers through her body. Goddess, she didn’t understand how a man could make one syllable sound so sinful. Drawing away from her thoughts, a bright smile graced her face as she continued to look at him. “Logan, I have to say I didn’t think you’d be one to ever change,” she began in all seriousness, her slender hands finding her hips, “But yet you continue to surprise me…”

“Darlin’ I thought ya knew,” he said while advancing a step toward her, “this Canuckle-Head is full o’ surprises,” he grinned stepping again.

Ororo frowned, noticing for the first time just how closely in proximity he was. “Logan, what are you doing?”

His dark eyes burned into her with a fierce determination, “Ya owe me a kiss ‘Ro,” he plainly stated. His steel gray eyes seemed to flash while looking to her. “I aims tah collect,” he evenly declared, his strong arms pulling her close. There was a brief moment in time when everything completely stopped for Ororo Monroe. Her keen sophisticated mind blazed with a thousand different thoughts, most of them circling around the potential danger that was approaching her.

Then Logan kissed her.

Any semblance of thought was ignited out of the stratosphere the moment his lips touched hers. Her soft hands slid across the hard contours of his broad chest as he pulled her even closer. She was telling herself to quickly push him away, summon lightning if needed, but then he turned his head, deftly capturing her plump bottom lip for a moment before drawing her in again, followed by a third time. It was approaching the point where she prayed to the Bright Lady that he wouldn’t devour her whole.

After what seemed like minutes or maybe hours, the world righted itself and they came up for air. Both breathless with heated looks aimed at the other.

Someone swore.

Surprisingly enough it was she. More surprisingly, it was in Swahili.

A smug look plastered itself on Logan’s face as he regarded the woman in his arms. She was soft, delicate, not to mention the lust flaring in her very womanly scent was driving him wild. He tried to pull her in for another smoldering kiss, but then she firmly pushed him away. Her enflamed blue eyes sent him a warding glare that said if he touched her, she would bring the heavens down upon him.

Accepted the rejection for what it was Logan removed his hands, which she had just realized, had been caressing her rear during the minute or minutes of their kiss; looking not even remotely apologetic and diffidently not regretful.

Ororo glowered at him for a moment longer before walking off. A mix of English and Swahili curses flying from her lips, which drew odd looks from the workers, she passed. Not really understanding why she was so pissed. Oh yeah… She couldn’t believe what she just allowed herself to walk in to, but Goddess the man could kiss!

Meanwhile…

Logan, feeling pretty damn good about him self, decided to find out what their ‘Fearless Leader’ was up. Hands draw to his pockets he started to stroll down the lanes, merrily whistling the tune to the Andy Griffith Show.

OoOoOo

Harry’s Dine-in ~N~ Pizza Palace
Westchester, New York
Later Afternoon…

“Earth to Jubilation…”

“Jubilee…” Kitty glared at her friend from across the restaurant’s patio table. The teenage Asian girl had been staring off into space for the last few minutes, blissfully unaware of the world around her. “…Jubilee!” Kitty called again, growing a little bit more frustrated. She then snapped her fingers a few times in front of the girl’s face.

Jubilee finally blinked a few times bringing coming back to reality. That’s right she was with her friends at Harry’s. The teen girl looked around the patio table; both Kitty and Rogue were staring at her completely dumbfounded. She then noticed the fact they all even had their orders already. “Huh? Wha?” she mumbled, brain still not working yet.

“You kind of just zone out there for a second,” Kitty answered evenly. Years of friendship with Jubilee had forged Kitty’s acceptance of the girl’s lunacy. You didn’t stay friends with the most highly hyperactive teen in Mutant high without expecting the occasional episodes of weirdness. And it seemed Rogue had proved to be a quick study to bizarre ways of Jubilee.

“Sorry,” she said wearily, while wiping her face and not to mention a little bit of drool, “Just fantasying about that hottie Logan feeding me grapes in nothing but an extra tight edible thong.”

The sudden comment came when both Kitty and Rogue were in the middle of eating, which of course resulted in Kitty nearly choking on a buffalo wing and Rogue spitting out half her coke. Seeing her friend’s plight Rogue quickly rapped on Kitty’s back helping with the airflow. The southerner Rogue then frowned while deadpanning the Asian girl, “Kitty’s rightah, ye’re bananas.”

Jubilee eyed her two recently turned traitor friends. The girl stuck out her tongue at the both of them with a loud drawn-out raspberry. “Oh like the two of you hadn’t thought about it,” she shot back while crossing her arms. Rogue and Kitty mouths both gapped open for a protest, which never came because they both were guilty as charged. Even Kitty, who had dedicated her heart on a particular towering Russian dreamboat, had to admit that Rogue’s surrogate champion held a place in the deep dark corner of her heart where, ‘Bad Kitty’ resided.

One of the two other people at the booth who tried to remain silent for reasons of maintaining his sanity decided to finally speak, “Ok can you guys please stop; me and John are about to vomit here,” Bobby declared with John in the back doing ‘violent’ gagging motions. He then threw himself into the empty seat as if he spontaneously expired.

The girls laughed at the boy’s antics. Jubilee suddenly then remember what caused her little fantasy episode. Rogue was regaling them with the tale of how she and Logan first met. “But still Rogue for real he was called Wolverine?” The southern girl nodded sipping one some more of her diet coke. Jubilee just scoffed at the name, “That is sooo not cute,” she announced to the table. The girl then caught a contemplative look, “Hmmmm…Wolvie!” she cheered while snapping her finger, “There that’s totally better,” she confirmed with a deliberate nod of her head.

There were pairs of shared looks across the table, apparently not many of them agreeing with Jubilee’s choice. “Yeah, I’m sure he’ll warm right up to that,” the dirty blonde haired boy, John Allerdyce commented dryly. Before Rogue showed up, John was newest member to the X-Teens; a name the group of teenage mutants came up with since they were all too young to become full-fledged X-Men. Having pyrokinetic powers and even more importantly a prankster’s heart, he quickly became somewhat of a rival to Jubilee during they’re escapades in the mansion.

Jubilee’s nose twitched. It always did that when she was getting particularly ticked. And apparently no other boy in the mansion could seem to invoke the feeling like John did. The Asian girl then put both her hands on her hips while she addressed him, “Don’t recall asking you flame brain!”

John flipped and unclasped the nickel-plated Zippo lighter; he was seldom ever without, in his hands as he eyed the Asian girl. “Keep talking Sparkles and you’ll see how hot I can really get!” he countered leaning from his side of the table, their noses almost an inch apart from touching.

Bobby simply grinned at the two. “Hey, can you guys flirt on your own time? Some of us are still eating,” he teased while chuckling loudly. Kitty and Rogue both had to bite their tongues to fight from laughing as well. At hearing his comment both Jubilee and John sprang back from each other as if they both had a deadly plague, a deadly plague that incidentally caused them both to have bright red flushed faces.

John slumped away grumbling to himself, while Jubilee regained her thunder. “Whoa, whoa, Bobby, you’re my boy and all, but don’t think I won’t go buck wild on you,” she finished with slapping both of her hands on the table.

Drake’s blue eyes narrowed at the yellow-clad Asian girl. “Bring it on sparkplug.”

Poor, poor Bobby, so completely out of his league, how apparently didn’t see his own doom till it was too late. Jubilee just eyed him, flashing a devilish smile and said one single word, “Girls…” which summoned Kitty and Rogue, who both silently creped in and outflanked Bobby instantly seizing an arm, while Jubilee dove tackled him over the table. In a flash the diminutive girl, had the boy’s shirt over his head trapping one of his arms while attempting to put one in a chicken wing, with her knee in his back; all the while shouting, “Say uncle! Say uncle!” She briefly had a mental note to thank Wolvie for the self-defense lesson.

“John help!!!” the distraught and overwhelmed Robert Drake called, begging for the aid of his long-time friend.

At his utterance, three sets of brown eyes leveled a terrifying glare to the fire manipulator, each daring him to make a move. John raised a single eyebrow realizing how close to doom he really was. “Dude, you’re on your own,” he quickly supplied, “I’m getting another slice of pizza,” he said abandoning his friend with a shrug. He was certain that Rogue girl liked Bobby a little bit so they probably wouldn’t hurt him too bad…right?

OoOoOo

Stark Industries Laboratories
Seattle, Washington
Late Afternoon…

After the excitement of recovering of the workers died down, the X-Men all filed around Logan. Since he mentioned he was able to get a good read out from around the building, he believed he could fill in some of the pieces to whom it was that committed the attacks today.

Before he began, Logan paused briefly as he watched the people that surrounded him. It amazed him light that was on all of their faces as they looked to him. It was a look of trust. They actually depended on and wanted his services for something other than the business he’s best known for. It was a usual feeling, liked he belonged to something. And he had to admit it felt good helping those people today. He’d never thought he’d ever risk his neck for complete strangers. But it felt right, almost like when he stopped on the side of the road and allowed Marie into his life. Maybe there was something to this X-Men stuff after all, he mused as he started to collect his thoughts. It was something he’d have to digest on later when they got back to the mansion and he had some time to himself to think, not to mention have a good smoke.

Now that he thought about it, he was sporting the world’s worst case of cottonmouth. He hadn’t had a beer in almost a week. He decided there on the spot, when they got back he and Pete was going to ride into town find a decent bar and buy a few rounds to celebrate. Hell, he’d even invite Scooter to come with, as long as he’d find a way to remove the stick from his ass for a few hours.

“Far as I can tell One-Eye,” Logan began, “There was five of ‘em.”

The X-Men leader frowned and not at the slur nickname the feral mutant gave him, “How can you tell?”

Logan narrowed his eyes at the question as if it was obvious, “I can smell ‘em,” he stated bluntly. He then started to mentally recall all of the evidence and the scents he picked up. “It ain’t easy since I never picked up any of their scents before, but I got the baseline feel for ‘em. And startin’ off one of ‘em needed a goddamn bath,” he grimaced while shaking his head, “He stinks of a damn sewer.”

“That’s probably, Toad,” Summers grinned, clearing remembering the unhygienic mutant.

Logan eyed Scott filing the name away with the scent, hoping never to meet the two in the near future, if his nose could help it. “One of them got a weird scent of earth, a bit of soil and bedrock,” he counted off, and then paused, “His scent was all over where those people were buried.”

“Avalanche most likely,” Storm supplied.

“One o’ em, I ain’t got a good scent on but he was big, wider than two door frames,” Wolverine then peeked over Cyclops shoulder, eyeing Colossus, “Prob’bly, almost as tall as Pete over there. His footsteps stompin’ all over the place, even ran through a few brick walls like they were toilet paper.”

Jean shared a look with Storm and Cyclops, “That sounds like Cain.”

“Cain?” Logan asked not followin

Chapter 10: Break

Skies over Seattle, Washington
This is Logan…

He journeys through a world that’s between dreams and cruel reality. A place where none of the wrongs things are right, where the noble good are sacrificed and those that are evil are free to commit murder against the innocent unopposed. In a dark world that’s just too sick, he still struggles to do the right thing, but he is always met with failure. Because this is his life, this is his existence, his nature of pure chaos.

He doesn’t remember the trip back to the Blackbird or the numerous wandering glances that turned to his direction during his trek. He barely registers the gentle rocking of the jet as it lifts from the ground, cutting through the sky, its thrusters burning and rumbling as they make their way home.

What he hears now are the voices. Not the ones being said, but the words that aren’t. There is a deathly silence that roams through the confines of the black jet, possessing the five people that are its occupants. With the sharp-edged stare of the accused, his gray eyes dart around to every solemn looking face.

He knows what’s they’re thinking. He knows they’re all secretly mocking him, that there is laughter when he’s not looking because he, the mighty Wolverine, finally was harmed. That he with all his boasting, strength, and swagger was still viciously wounded. Now they’re all patiently waiting for him to crack. They’re waiting for him to break. As his knuckles tighten up to steel wrenching fists, he swears to himself, he won’t.

He’s seen death. He has seen tragedy. He’s seen and lived through things a thousand times worst. This was just one more chapter to his already fucked up life. He’ll survive, that’s what he’s always done.

He can’t break… He won’t break… He can’t break…

OoOoOo

This is the Beast’s Logan…

It sits with him on the quiet trip back.

It watches in silence as he shrugs off and ignores the others attempts at ‘comforting’ him. As if mere words could erase the past. As if simple conversation could reshape or wipe away those events... How can anyone say, “I know what you’re going through”? Were they, the ones targeted? Could they smell the fear, the blood, his semen, or her tears? How could they ever know!

But the Beast knows. It’s been there from the beginning. It will be there in the end. It always knows.

It recalls with him, every moment in that dark chamber when he saw that girl. It remembers that cold damp room. It remembers the scent of blood, his musk, and her fear. It watches as he hurts himself by remembering, for an instant it will share his pain as well. It has to they’re the same…

Stark Industries Laboratories
Seattle, Washington
Forty-Five Minutes Ago…

He is no longer the Beast. He is not longer the man. He is grief, misery, and anger filed into one earthbound flesh, that’s tearing itself from the inside out.

A roar that is no more human than his namesake thunders from inside him reverberating against those four concrete walls. His body shakes with unbridled rage as the scent of death and blood continues to brew around him, but he does not see. He refuses to see, because this wasn’t his fault. How could he let another innocent be harmed because of him?

He is held in the grips of madness. He’s held in the grips of his fear. He cannot make sense of anything anymore, but only one thing is clear to him, “We gotta get her down! We have to hurry!” Logan cries again, sights looking up to that girl. His wide vacant eyes falling into the illusion of hope, pleading that he wasn’t too late, that he wasn’t the cause of another innocent life to be taken.

The coldness of metallic arms in case around him binding him in an unbreakable hold; Logan lets out a snarl as he turns to stare into the cold steel-cased eyes of Colossus. He struggles, fights, and roars as he tries to tear his body away from the Russian’s grip. “Let me go, ya fuckin’ asshole! I can save her! We can save her! We can save her!!” he shouts and demands.

Ororo could only look on in open shock at the transformation that suddenly taken place over the usual calm and collect mutant. His pain. His real pain and anger was almost tangible, piecing through her heart almost as much as it was affecting him. She then quickly raced in front of him, her voice pleading with him, trying to make him understand, to see reason, “You can’t help her Logan she’s gone!” she cried her eyes looking to him, “She’s gone!”

Ororo shouts her words again and again through his struggle and wrath, through his haze of anger and denial. For a moment it almost seemed like he was completely lost to her, then all at once Logan’s eyes fell away from that girl. His steel gray eyes lock onto her sapphire blue eyes. The look…the lost, the helpless look that was in his eyes, sent a stab of agony into her heart that would haunt her for days. Her eyes shimmered with tears as she softly whispered, “She’s gone…” She closed her eyes, her soft hands gently held onto him as the fight finally left him.

And then it finally set in. This woman, who he's never met, who never did anything to anyone, was brutally violated and murdered just for a calling card for him. Just for some sick fuck’s idea of a joke.

For a moment he closes his eyes, allowing himself to bask in the scent of rain and sandalwood, then without so much a word he violently tears himself away from them both. He spares neither one of them a glance before he stalks out of the room. His walk seemed to be weighed down by the burden of millions.

An instant later Cyclops and Jean rush inside with Forge fast on their heels, “What’s going on? What’s happened here?” Summers shouts automatically trying to take charge of seemingly chaotic situation, but in a moment he looks and is speechless. Jean gasps her hand covering her mouth as the glimmer of tears formed in her emerald eyes.

Passing the two the Wolverine utters only one word, “Creed…” before he departs.

OoOoOo

As the memory leaves him, the Beast watches as he sinks further and further into his sorrow. It remains quiet though. It does not roar. It cannot rage. In the first time in eternity it finds itself simply powerless. Because it has realized that some things even the Beast cannot overcome.

OoOoOo

Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Late in the Afternoon…

She had been watching him for an hour now.

When they first arrived back at the mansion he instantly drew away from the rest of them. His faced clouded. His step filled with pain. His mind seemed to be a thousand miles from here. Then he went outside, alone, to be in the comforting presence of nature to simply watch the horizon. And there he remained.

The others joined her in her watch briefly, all equally concerned as she. He had said so little to anyone during the trip home. And for a time they wondered if he was in danger of harming himself or perhaps anyone else. But after sometime they simply decided to leave him to his privacy and departed.

Only she remained. Only she continued to watch over him.

She couldn’t even imagine all of what he was going through. Every minute of that hour she constantly fought with herself to go out there and be with him, to talk to him, to find out what was going through his mind. Maybe even help if she could. And another part of her was too scared to find out.

So preoccupied with her vigil and inner dilemma that she hardly noticed when Charles pulled up beside her. He briefly shared her vision of the solemn looking Canadian who scarcely moved from his place outside, then his clear blue eyes shifted to look over the forlorn woman before him. He still remembered the cloudy day when Ororo first came to the mansion. He remembered it fondly because after an hour into their first meeting the Sun started to pierce through those ominous clouds turning it into one of the brightest days in July.

He could fondly remember several different instances and memories that over the years bridged their relationship from teacher to student, to father and daughter. He felt that all of his X-Men and students were extensions of him self and in fact his family. But now another storm approached the shores of his home and just like always he was willing and ready to lend any support that he could offer.

“I’ve just been on the phone with Forge,” he began. His words were gentle, soft; as if he didn’t need to know all of the details before hand to understand how trying today’s events were on everyone. “He said he’s already talked with Tony and his superiors. They’re going to do everything they can in their power to make sure that girl’s name never reaches the Press.”

The older man’s words barely registered to the woman as she listlessly muttered a brief, “Uh...Huh…” Her eyes and thoughts still focused on the silent sentry outside.

Xavier calm as ever tried a different approach. ‘How is he?’ Xavier suddenly communicated to her mentally.

The slight mental inquiry seemed to break Ororo out of her trance. She looked over to Charles appearing as if for the first time she was aware of his presence. She then sighed as weariness and helplessness of the situation seemed to creep into her lovely face, “I don’t know,” Ororo responded, her voice seemed to reflect how truly lost she felt, “I’ve been too afraid to go talk to him. He’s just been sitting there ever since we arrived back from Seattle. But I shouldn’t…?” her distressed voice asked while shaking her head, “I mean shouldn’t I go talk to him at least? He shouldn’t be alone,” she tried to reason, but then shook her head in confusion, “But I just can’t…”

Charles guiding himself forward, gently taking her hand, his other hand folded overtop of hers in a reassuring grip, his understanding eyes falling on her, “Why don’t you just give him some time and yourself as well,” he mildly suggested.

At hearing his words Ororo only shook his head again, “You didn’t see him Charles,” she pleaded, trying to explain, “The look on his face when he found her. It was as he was reliving the moment all over again.” She cringed at the thought of having to experience something like that twice in a lifetime. She then took a minute as her memory from that moment started to resurface, “He said someone’s name, “Fox”, I think.”

Charles considered it for a moment, “Perhaps someone from his past?”

“I don’t know,” Ororo stated while throwing up her arms in a loss, “The more I think about it the more furious I get.” Her blue eyes then sharpened to thin slits, “I can never forgive Sabertooth for this…” The distant sound of rolling thunder rumbled, echoing her thoughts. The heavens above suddenly started to turn a dull gray.

Ororo watched as Logan’s head drifted up looking to the sky. She instantly chided herself at her temporary loss of control. Closing her eyes and taking a small calming breath, the next instant when Ororo open them the powerful milky white gaze of her mutation took over. She eased the rising torment winds and calmed the sky, returning it to its usual fiery orange color of an approaching sunset.

Xavier watched the woman’s momentary lax of control with great concern. He realized the woman was nearing her breaking point as well. He was at a lost to what he could do for Logan at the moment, but he would not fail his daughter. “Come child,” he said to her kindly, “Let’s go make ourselves some tea and we can talk about what move we should make next.”

The kind-reassuring smile on Charles’ face eased Ororo inner anxiety tremendously. The older man did know all of her vices and a nice cup of tea would do wonders for calming her nerves, “Ok, get the kettle ready, I’ll join you in a minute.” A small resemblance of a smile found it way to the woman’s lips.

Charles stared after her a moment longer before he ventured to the kitchen. While departing he realized, whatever the outcome may be from today’s events, he knew that things were forever changed amongst his family.

OoOoOo

Ororo knew she promised to join Charles shortly, but even now she still felt as though there was something that she should be doing. If she left now it would be just as well as abandoning him. Her blue eyes continued to watch the gentle rise and fall from his broad shoulders as he continued his penance. Ororo closed her eyes; her head fell against cool glass as she mentally debated on what to do.

She couldn’t begin to say she understood this connection that seemed to have grown between them. The first moment he walked into the mansion, she thought he was the most vile, crudest, barbarian she ever had been unfortunate to set eyes on. And for the moment it seemed like that’s all it was. Sure she found him unbelievably attractive, what woman wouldn’t? But a pretty package wasn’t what Ororo was looking for.

But the more she saw of him, she began to see that he was so much more than what he conveyed, much more than he even saw in himself. There was a quiet nobility inside of him, in his gestures and his words. It was so evident now that she was almost ashamed at how she quickly assumed that he would bring harm to any of the children. She knew now that he’d probably risk life and death to protect them all, just like she would.

Yet there was still more to it. The looks they shared. The brief touches. …Especially that smoldering kiss that still rang echoes in her body. There was something changing about her, because of him and that was what truly was frightening her. Ororo’s eyes slowly opened as truth of her situation stood now before her. She was at a crossroads. She could venture forth and take that step into uncertainty or she could continue to play it safe like she’s been doing. The way her life’s been up to this point.

Before Ororo could even come to a decision it seemed the opportunity was taking out of her hands. From the distance, she saw someone approaching.

A long green cloak folded around the girl’s slender body, her gloved hands folded in front of her as she nervously continued her trek till she was standing before him. Whatever trance Logan seemed to be held in was instantly broken as he gazed up to the young teenage girl with the chocolate brown eyes and the southern charm.

For a moment nothing was said between the two of them. No words, no exchange what so ever. But in a moment a touched breath escaped from Ororo as she saw the girl drop down beside him, throwing her arms around him in such a loving embrace that even though Ororo was not psychically gifted, she still could feel the emotions and affection brewing from the girl.

She instantly envied the girl’s strength. She wished, as she turned away to finally join Charles, that she could find a little of that strength in herself.

OoOoOo

This is Marie’s Logan…

To her, he is indestructible.

He is untouchable.

He cannot be harmed.

He is a hero. Not in the comic book sense of the word, but a real hero, her hero. He has flaws. He has his bad habits, but still he’s a hero. He’s her hero. But now someone hurt him. So bad in a way he can’t defend against nor can he fight back. Now he’s hurting so much and she doesn’t know how to help him. So in the end all Marie can do is just hold him.

The fact they are both separated by cloth and fabric is irrelevant because it is an embrace that is more intimate and more heartfelt than all years she’s experienced in her short life. His warm broad back shutters against her slender body as her arms tighten around him, but he does not break. He will not break for her because even at his weakest, he will be strong for her. He will always be strong for her, because he knows she still needs him too. Because even though he hurts, even though he’s in pain, he’s still her hero.

So she weeps the tears he cannot shed. And she cries out the words he dares not shout, because his pain is her pain too. She wants to do more. She would move the world if it was possible. But she realizes she’s only sixteen, still a child in a very grown up situation. The only thing that’s stopping her from running from him, the mansion, the world it self, is love…her love for him.

So now she figures if I’m with him a little longer, hold him a little bit tighter, it might make some of the bad things go away…

OoOoOo

Ororo’s Loft
Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
A few minutes after midnight…

She’s been tossing and turning all night. Hours have passed since the falling of the sun, but yet still Ororo cannot sleep. The sad, lonely visage of a man sitting alone watching the sunset resurfaces over and over again in her mind that she cannot think of anything else.

She wants to say that it’s not her place. That it is better that he was left to deal with it in private. But Ororo cannot believe those lies she’s been telling herself for hours or the voice that constantly states that he’s none of her concern. She still remembers the young girl that was willing to do what she would not; all because the girl’s heart and affection outweighed all of her own trepidation.

She wished it was her; should have been her, she realized. But she failed to act because of her own fear and misgivings, so now she’s staring at the four walls of her room.

Her sapphire blue eyes opened, gazing to the image of the full moon that was illuminating the spacious walls of her loft. “Goddess, help me…” she pleaded to the open air. Hoping her goddess would somehow fill her with strength and the wisdom to know what she should do.

For Ororo, had always lived her life in the strictest of control. Because of her gift, the tight connection she possessed with the planet and its climates, it made it necessary that she’d always have a tight reign on her emotions. People in the past have often stated she was standoffish, aloof, even going as far as being considered the proverbial Ice Queen. But to people that really knew her deeply; they realized she always maintained her reserve, not because she was socially distancing herself from other people, but out of fear of harming them. It was a responsibility that she took very seriously, because there was so much she loved dwelling in this mansion.

But this Wolverine, this man that seemed as wild and untamed as the Rocky Mountains that he hails from. Ever since that day they first saw each other in the Professor’s office, she had been questioning her self. The brief spark of attraction that brewed between them seemed to ignite an avalanche of sensations inside of her. From heated fantasies to deeply rooted swellings of emotions, he has consumed her thoughts.

And now in his hour of dire need, she is conflicted on what to do. The others believe he’ll come out of it on his own, but something in her heart tells her it is more than that. The feeling seems to further instill her need to act.

The satin sheets start to feel stifling to her nude body. She kicks her long slender legs over the side of her bed as she starts to stand. Her smooth caramel skin is briefly illuminated by moonlight as she darts to her closet to find a nightgown to wear. She had decided. She wants to know what is it about this man that makes her so unsure about herself. And after that, who knows…

OoOoOo

“Did he leave?” Ororo asks herself as her bare feet touch the cool blades of grass. She was outside in the midnight air the very spot she recalled seeing Logan hours ago. But there was no trace of the troubled man. Not even a faint trace of heat that could tell her how long he’d been gone.

Ororo scanned the darken plains of the open field. Every so often a passing beam of moonlight illuminated the school grounds in an assortment of dancing shadows but then it would recede back into darkness as a cloud would pass. After a few minutes of unfounded searching she briefly considered going back inside to wake some of the others, when she saw in the distance a brief moving shadow that ease itself through a graceful pattern.

Intrigued, Ororo decided to move closer to get a better view.

OoOoOo

She finds him a darken silhouette that is occasionally bathed in the silvery light of the moon. His motions are slow and fluid. Ororo watches as his hand glide across the air in a parting motion. It then circles in front of him like a wave in the ocean being parted. His hand then threads forward as his body shifts its balance into the holding meditative stance, before breaking into the next set of motions.

He was bare to the waist; his shirt and jacket were cast carelessly to the side in a heap next to his black boots. The faint trace of perspiration that glistened over his chest foretold that he had been practicing through the different forms for sometime now. She was entranced by the sheer beauty of his movements, so much that she forgotten the original purpose for coming to seek him. Ororo just continued to enjoy the gentle sway of his strong body’s motions and its inner grace. How he could easily sink his whole body down to one point and then rise perfectly balanced into the next position.

“Ain’t polite to stare, darlin’,” he commented to her dryly, breaking his hold on her. A clever retort was waiting on her lips, but any snappy return she was about to deliver was instantly silenced by his next words, “Didn’tja know us animals, got ‘xcellent hearin’ too.”

Ororo stared at him like she was just slapped in the face. Her words from the first day he arrived were so ruefully shoved back into her face that it would have done less damage if he struck her. She then paused as she watched him for a moment. His stride in performing each of the Tai Chi motions never breaking for a moment, then everything seemed to clear. She realized what he was trying to do. He wanted to hurt her so she would leave him, alone to his own misery and grief. So he was free to continue to punish himself for something that was beyond his control.

Another time, she probably would have fallen for the trap, but not tonight.

Ororo took a long deep breath and calmly replied, “I apologize for my words from before…”

At this, his actions immediately stopped. His shoulders visibly fallen as he sighed deeply already regretting his treatment to her. “What fer?” he asked, his attention turned to her for the first time. His gray eyes sharpen finally getting a good look at her. Ororo was wearing, a sheer white nightgown with black embroidery along the thin straps with a slit down the side of the thin material, permitting a liberal amount of caramel thigh. He could see the contours of her body, the seductive curves of her shape as the fabric seemed to glide around her tall voluptuous figure. Her white hair was free, held in a gentle breeze, blowing around her like ivory flames.

Watching her, as beautiful as she looked now, almost chased away all the demons that were currently plaguing him.

Almost…

“The way I see it,” he said continuing, “These kids are like yer own,” he said truthfully, “Ya’d go knockin’ on the devil’s doorstep for all o’ ‘em. Ya’d do whatever ya had to, to protect them, ‘specially, from unsavory types, like myself.” He ended in a grin; the moonlight reflected off of his enlarged incisors making them seem to flash in the midnight air, giving him a truly menacing look, “’sides you were right,” he added grimly as his face sobered, “I am an animal.”

The dour conviction in his voice was nearly heart breaking. “No, no you are not,” the Windrider resolutely stated, while stepping forward, bridging the gap between them, “I greatly misjudged you the moment you first joined us and for that I am truly sorry,” she confessed while bowing her head, “The Professor always teaches us to never judge anyone by appearance alone and I fear I did just that,” she ended while bowing her head a second time, hoping that he would accept her apology.

The Wolverine didn’t comment he just openly stared at her. Her determined blue eyes continued stare back at him awaiting his verdict. He continued his scrutiny almost as if he was mentally stripping her apart to try to determine her true motive, but after another minute he just shrugged. “How 'bout this, let’s grab a cup o' Joe an’ try this thing over,” he suggested while heading back to the mansion. Ororo looked after him for a moment longer before falling in step with him.

OoOoOo

When they got inside she immediately went to turn on the main kitchen lights, but his large hand fell on top of hers stopping her, seemingly to prefer the dim lighting of the kitchen’s stationary lamp instead. The brief contact ignited a buzzing hum within her stomach that was nearly unbearable, but she didn’t want to get distracted. This wasn’t about her.

She paused as she watched him as he took a seat across from her while she was preparing two cups of coffee, graceful motions still within his stride holding her briefly in awe.

The silence that dwelled between them was rich with tension and it only seemed to thicken with every second. There was a fleeing thought within her to race out of this room to forget this man and everything about him. But before she could put more thought to the notion, she placed a simmer mug in front of him. “You want to talk about it?” she asked, while taking the seat across from him, her sapphire blue eyes falling on him entirely.

Troubled gray eyes poured into the pools of the black liquid that sat in front of him which remained untouched. For a moment she considered he was ignoring her then all of a sudden, his steel gray eyes locked onto her. “Darlin’, I honestly wouldn’t know where to begin,” he admitted while returning to his feet. He slowly started to pace around the little area of the kitchen, one of his thick fingers combing through his dark untamed cropping of hair. Ororo continued to simply watch him as his mind mused over so many different things at once. For a long time again nothing was said between the two of them. He then suddenly stated, “He killed her...”

Ororo’s eyes lowered as recalled with great mourning, the innocent girl whose life that was viciously taken this day. “I know,” she returned softly.

“No,” he shook his head firmly, while turning back to her. “Fox,” he supplied, “Silver Fox. Someone…” he fought for a moment to find the exact right words. How can you piece together a person you shared your life with in almost a completely different lifetime in a simple sentence? “Someone real close a long time ago,” he finally answered.

He continued pacing while he was talking. She noticed with each of his words, his hands at his sides continuously clenched and unclenched tightly into fists. “He destroyed everythin’ that made her a woman,” he continued on, seeming to relive the memory each moment as he was reciting it to her. “Then he killed her an’ left her there for me tah find.” He shook his head at the horrible sight and the fact he relived it today, “I can’t remember the first day I met her, what her birthday was or whether she was even happy wit me, but I can remember that day clear as if it was happenin’ now,” he uttered with such a deep welling of hurt.

“That kid,” she realized he was now talking about the Stark employee. “She didn’t deserve that…” he shook his head; talking more to himself than her, “The sadistic fuck!!!” he shouted, his balled up fists dropping to his side. *SNIKT! * Just as fast as the blades came out, he re-sheathed them again. “I’m gonna kill him! I’m gonna kill him for Fox! For that girl! For e’eryone he dared to touch!” he shouted again, declaring to Ororo, to himself, to the whole world!

“I’m gonna kill him an’ there ain’t nothin’, Chuck an’ his fancy talk about peace an’ harmony that’s gonna stop me, because it don’t apply!” He ended, a slight tremor rippling through his body as he threw his hands over his face. For several moments there were only the echoing sounds of his deep labored breathing in the room as he continued to try to hold on. “I’m tired…” he softly whispered, “I don’t know how to fight this,” he confessed, his eyes falling to her. “I’m used to people hurtin’ me an’ fightin’ em back. I can do that. I’m the best,” he proudly states, “But I don’t know how to fight this ’Ro,” he gritted his teeth while shaking his head, “That girl… How do I fight when people can get hurt that never even met me?” he said pleading, “How can I protect e’eryone when I’m barely holdin’ on now!”

At the mentioning of her name, she was instantly by his side. She gently pried his hands away from his face so he could look at her, “Logan, you don't have to all this on your own,” she softly whispered to him. Her face begging him to let go, “You're not alone. I'm...We're all here for you,” she paused realizing what she wanted to confess. What she was ready to confess, “I’m here for you…” she said stepping forward, her arms gliding around him pulling him to her.

“I’m here for you…” she whispered again closing her eyes, her lips falling against his in a gentle kiss, “I’m here for you…”

This is Ororo’s Logan…

She sees the man, not the beast, the pain behind the bravado. She sees the man…

“Oh Gawd…” cries out from his lips as all of the events from today hit him in rapid succession, flashes of the Beast and the Danger Room, the rescue, and that poor girl, cycle around in his mind driving him further and further to the edge. The strength he’s relied on his entire life finally leaves him. He’s falling but she’s there to catch him. She’ll always be there for now on. She presses him close to her breast, never letting go.

He tries to fight. To push her away, but she doesn’t let him, because in this moment she’s no longer afraid. So the more he protests, the stronger she holds him. Never letting go. She presses her lips to his forehead; she whispers her vow never to leave him, never to abandon him. He can’t stand it. Something so pure, something so beautiful was never meant for a thing like him.

For forty years since the night of the Beast, he’s lived in eternal darkness. For the first time since he can remember someone truly tried to touch him with the light. He’s trapped, vulnerable. And he’s left to face himself in those clear blue eyes. The beauty she sees when she looks at him, it’s all too great, it’s all too much.

And then the Wolverine finally breaks…


To be continued…

Chapter 11: Heaven & Earth

Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Early Morning…

The gentle rays of the morning light pierced through the kitchen’s wide windowpane bathing Ororo Monroe in its golden radiance. Dressed in a simple white evening gown with a silk robe firmly tied around her waist, she quietly sat watching the sun blossom into waking while nursing a piping hot cup of tea. The warm liquid was rich and pure, which was just what the doctor ordered, invigorating her body as her mind continued to wander.

She had been up for hours now, but strangely she didn’t feel the least bit tired. An unusual sort of vivaciousness tingled within her body, making her feel more alive than she had been in a long while.

The former goddess knew she roughly had a little under an hour before everyone else in the mansion would start to waken and the day would truly begin, so she wanted to use the time she had to have a few moments of peace alone to her thoughts. The usual deliberation of the day’s lesson plan which was routine, was cast to the side this morning as she continued to travel through the hectic events of the previous day not to mention the impromptu visitor that was upstairs sleeping in her bed.

An easy smile fell to her full lips as more bits and pieces of last night came to her. How easily she seemed to lose herself while in his presence. It was certainly a night that she’ll never forget.

OoOoOo

Ororo’s Loft
Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
A few short hours ago…

“I feel like a complete pansy,” a very male baritone voice grumbled, reverberating against the four sandalwood walls of the spacious room. Logan rubbed his dry eyes for a fourth time as he nestled into the coma-inducing comfort of Ororo’s king size bed. A strange feeling; sort of like a mixture between exhaustion and peace breezed through his body bringing him a certain serenity. Although it didn’t erase the hollow ache in his heart that had been dominate since he found that poor girl in Seattle, it did ease the pain tremendously.

There was a pregnant pause, which was shortly broken with, “Well if it will make you feel any better we can drive into town to stop at the first unsavory bar we come to. And there you’ll be free to pick as many fights as it takes until you reclaim your lost sense of manhood,” the velvet tones of Ororo voice were light and helpful as she prompted herself up on one elbow to regard him, granted the lop-sided grin on her lips didn’t do well to drive home her sincerity.

Logan sent her a look. And Ororo returned it.

The two were a mess of limbs and legs. Darkness paraded around the room as they gazed at the starlit skies from the loft’s numerous open pane windows, shamelessly draped against each other. He was clad in his well-worn jeans and she was dressed simply in a white evening gown. Neither of them could explain how they found themselves this way after the events in the kitchen, but just as well neither of them felt the need to complain.

Logan smirked as he regarded her suggestion. He moved slightly, settling himself further in the mattress, sending a slight tremor through the bed. She allowed him a few minutes to get himself situated before her head returned to its place nestled comfortably on his stomach. “Nah,” he breathed contently, “I think I enjoy tha company here more,” he commented off-handedly, one of his large hands came up gently tugging on a few tresses of her hair.

Ororo, fighting the urge to smile, instead made a show of rolling her eyes followed by a deliberately long drawn-out sigh, “I suppose I should be flattered,” she responded dryly. Her sights falling to him, her sapphire blue eyes alight with inner mischief. This was not the same ‘Frosty bitch’; he believed she was a week ago. Logan didn’t comment, instead he sent her a smile, his fingers still enthralled with that same thick lock of snow-white hair.

An episode of quiet fell upon them, but it was not an awkward silence beret of two people fumbling furiously for anything to break the gap. It was a warm companionable stillness for two people that were simply enjoying each other’s company. It was strange after the episode in the kitchen; the personality guards the two were so used to being armed with were somehow cast aside. A new sort of understanding bloomed from the wreckage, affecting them both.

“Heard ya were a goddess back in Africa,” he tossed out, suddenly recalling the bit of conversation that he had with Jubilee during the first days when he and Marie showed up at the mansion. It was a passing bit of information that he only remembered just now, which was an achievement in itself because of the overload of information he received at the time from the motor mouth Asian girl. ‘Gawd that one could talk!’

Ororo cheeks colored at the memory. “That was a long time ago,” the Windrider fleetingly dismissed. She was a little more than a child at that point of her life, young, proud, and so very foolish. For such a long time she completely believed the sun rose and fell at her beck and call. Its amazing how one traveler’s mistake could unfold so many chain of events.

Logan regarded her silently during her reflection. The more he looked at her the more he could see younger ‘Ro, beautiful, strong, commanding the elements with all the fury and the grace of a true goddess. He honestly could easily see how people could throw themselves in worship to her. Not to mention the beauty to make anyone fall in love with her.

More than once he caught himself staring at her. Lavish windswept white hair, almond eyes that held the treasure of the deepest blue orbs he’d ever seen; soft caramel colored skin and full pouting luscious lips that had been on his mind for the last hour, wanting to sample again. A singular lock of hair suddenly fell across her eyes momentarily irritating her vision. And Logan, without waiting for invitation, reached across removing the renegade lock of hair that was spoiling his view. Her blue eyes swam to him as he quirked a grin, “That must be nice on tha ol’ resume.”

Ororo’s eyes widened instantly, she then threw her head back against his firm stomach as a rich throaty laugh escaped from her. And Logan decided then and there that he loved her laugh. Her velvet voice continued till a brief smile touched her lips in between the mirth as she tried to settle back down. “I can’t seem to live it down,” she commented while wiping her eyes.

“Do ya e’er miss it?” he asked, honestly surprised at his own interest in her response.

Logan then turned on to his side, which meant Ororo was momentarily robbed of her pillow. She sat up leaning forward while tucking her long legs underneath her. Her meager nightgown still provided a liberal amount of leg and probably a bit more to be seen but she had long grown passed the point of modesty in regards to her own body. Although she did find it reassuring that his steel gray gaze was focused solely on her sapphire blue eyes and nowhere else.

“No,” she began; she wrapped her arms around her legs as she rested her head on top of them. Her eyes fell down to him as his attention was only on her. “My life as a goddess kept me sheltered and I hate to say, very naïve. There would have been so many things I would not have experienced if I didn’t go beyond the boundaries of my village,” she stated, “If I remained in Africa, I would not have the chance to meet Scott, Jean, Kitty, or even you for that matter,” her eyes then looked away for a moment as if in mild deliberation, “Although that last one might not be as bad.”

“Ouch, darlin’,” the feral mutant’s face scrunched up as if he was actually injured, “Nice, hit a guy when he’s down, ‘Ro.” Instead of looking abash or even ashamed, Ororo just glowed, smiling even more brightly. There was a light, a sort of energy in her tonight. His break in the kitchen not only seemed to have cleansed some of the woes within himself, it seemed to have the same affect on Ororo as well. It brought out a side of her that Logan never seen before and the more he saw the more he was interested, “Well look at you…”

“What?” she looked at him as if she was just caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

Thoroughly amused with himself, Logan continued, “I’d say darlin’, if I knew all it would take were a few tears before ya le yer hair down,” he then flashed her, his trademark razor toothed grin, “I’d enroll inta one o’ Scooter’s classes. That guy’ll bore anyone ta tears.”

Ororo’s eyes narrowed thinly to him, slightly put out. “If anything it’s your fault I am like this,” she firmly testified, while crossing her arms underneath her breasts.

“My fault?” he repeated incredulously.

“Certainly,” she confirmed with nod, “You’re a very bad influence.”

That he had to ponder for a moment. After a minute or so he decided, he diffidently had to agree. “’course…” he stated proudly, his chest puffing up slightly. His eyebrows then wrangled devilishly to her, “Now gotta work on gettin’ ya swearin’, smokin’ and drinkin’.” he pledged to her, which were some of his favorite things.

“You wish…” Ororo returned while rolling her eyes. In sharp retaliation Logan gave her another playful tug on her hair. For a brief moment Ororo considered summoning a brief rain cloud above his head, but then thought against it. It would probably ruin her sheets.

A few more moments passed that settled them both down. Ororo’s attention went back to stargazing and Logan’s attention went back to her. His steel gray eyes fell along the smooth curve of her endless legs, tracing up the mocha plane of her slender back. Logan’s lips then pressed together as he was drawn to the chocolate creamy skin that fell along the space of her delicate neck. He could vividly see his lips capturing her as he sought her from behind, his heated breath titillating her skin as he whispered into her ear his desires for her.

He could feel the Beast inside him, craving demanding to have the female quivering underneath him. But he didn’t feed into the impulse. He realized in that moment, when it came to ‘Ro, the Beast held no ground.

“You plan on staying?” her voice cut in, breaking him from his stupor.

Logan then turned away. Averting his eyes from her before he did something he just might regret. “Marie likes it here,” he stated plainly, “This place is real good fer her.”

Ororo just smiled while looking at him. Originally she didn’t know what to make of the relationship between the teenage girl and the burly mountain man from Canada. Ororo could clearly see the open admiration the girl had for him; anyone that was in the same room with the two could see it. But what always surprised her was how much Logan allowed himself to be open to the girl. At times they seemed to be the best of friends, other times he almost seemed like a surrogate father to her doting on her the best he could and showing her the affection that only a family could provide in other times. “Logan, while I admire your dedication to Rogue,” she said definitely, “I was actually inquiring about you?”

Logan held a long drawn look to her then closed his eyes. “I don't know,” he said truthfully.

She regarded him from time, realizing his solemn state was probably in the light of all that’s happen recently. She decided she wanted things to stay light between them, at least for this night. “Well, its imperative that I know,” she informed him firmly. Her blue eyes then lit up, “So I can prepare myself for when I have to drag you back kicking and clawing…” she grinned.

Logan’s mouth dropped. “Well, how ya like that?” he cried clearly put out, “At first ya wanna get rid of me, now I can’t break free.”

That sentence seemed to sober her up quickly. Ororo frowned as she regarded him, “Logan, I’m truly sorry for what I said before. I…”

Not even waiting to hear the rest, Logan unceremoniously fell back onto her bed, “Eh, its water under the bridge, ‘Ro,” he stated while shrugging his shoulders, “I know I ain’t tha easiest guy ta get along wit sometimes…”

Sapphire blue eyes sharply cut over to him, “That’s an understatement,” she mentioned under her breath.

His eyes then shot back to her, “Wiseass…” he muttered. Ororo eyes widen at his words. She then promptly rapped him on the stomach, silently admonishing him for swearing.

He glared at her. With a challenging ivory eyebrow raised she glared right back at him.

Logan sighed, his hands fumbling through his dark unruly in mock frustration. “Bah, I can’t win!” he groaned, while Ororo’s laughter roared in the background.

OoOoOo

Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
The present morning…

The cool crisp morning air greeted Ororo as she stepped out from the kitchen onto the patio. Her bare feet padded across the blades of grass, while she breathed in the chilling wind. More of the sun was peaking over the horizon, turning the earlier crimson purple color of the sky into more of a burning orange hue. She realized in that moment, that she stood in the very spot that Logan held his vigil the day before.

She had learned through the night that, he held an almost kinship with nature that was almost as strong as her own. The first memories he could clearly recall since the day he received his adamantium, were of his weeks where he trekked alone through the wilderness of the Canadian Rockies. He wasn’t sure if it was also apart of his life before, but since then he’s felt this connection to the forest. So whenever he feels he’s on the verge of losing himself, he tries to immerse himself in its presence.

The moment he confessed it, she instantly knew of what he was speaking of. She felt the same way too. On the few occasions that hardly anyone knew of, she would allow herself fall into the whim and might of thunderstorms that brewed within the skies. Free from the worries of the earth, free from the judgments of others, there she could be one with the world and the elements as they coursed and razed. The heavy droplets that fell against her nude body were soul cleansing, purifying her from the grime and troubles that seemed to mount up in her life, ultimately leaving her revived and refreshed.

Thinking about it all now, she came to a conclusion, although he was more of the earthly realm and she was of the heavens, both heaven and earth were still deeply connected.

OoOoOo

Ororo’s Loft
Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
A few hours ago…

“Logan, can I ask you an honest question?”

The Canadian in question, thick burly arms were folded behind his head as he turned to her, “‘slong as you don’t mind an honest answer, darlin’,” he returned.

Ororo took a moment to collect her thoughts. The question she wanted to ask him was a very delicate subject and she didn’t want him entertaining the wrong idea as to why she was asking. After another few moments she finally began, “Jean and I both heard from Rogue how the two of you met in Alberta.” Logan retained a neutral expression. At the mentioning of Marie, he realized the seriousness of the subject. “She also told us the reaction you initially made when she first asked for you to take her.” She looked away for a moment then her eyes settled back onto him, “What made you change your mind?”

A pressed breath blew out of his lips at he considered the weight of he question. “Ya really know how ta lay it on a guy,” he said to her, his mind still wheeling over her words. For a long time he didn’t say anything, eventually he just settled with, “Can’t tell ya.”

At this she frowned. Of all the responses she was expected, that was the last one on her list. “You don’t want me to know? Or you don’t know your self?” Ororo pressed on.

Logan frowned. He then slid to the edge of the bed so his legs fell over the side. For a minute Ororo thought he was going to get up and leave but then he just sat there motionless. He then turned to her a deeply troubled look dwelled on his face, “Ta be honest ‘Ro, it’s a lil bit of both,” he told her truthfully. Ororo then crept alongside of him. Their shoulders touched briefly. For some reason the tiny bit of contact was pleasing to him before he continued, “I honestly can’t tell ya, how long I was driftin’ in Alberta. The cage fightin’ was kid stuff,” he explained, “It was good fer a quick buck, plus it taught people ta back off an’ leave me alone,” he frowned again, “Fer a while I thought that’s all I wanted. Ever since tha adamantium I didn’t want anyone close ta me.”

Ororo watched him as he continued his explanation. She could see the tension building within him. There wasn’t anything more she wanted to do to relieve him of the strain, but she decided it might be more important to press for the source instead, “But why?” she asked him, unable to grasped why he would want to deliberately keep people away.

Logan rang his thick fingers along his jaw. He then shook his head, “Ya, gotta understand somethin’ ‘Ro. When a man gets pushed to tha edge of darkness, it ain’t that it’s possible fer some o’ that darkness to seep in, it does seep in.” Ororo continued to stare at him, obviously confused about what he was referring to. “There’s somethin’ inside me,” he stated while placing his hand over his chest, “Somethin’ dark that I ain’t got no control over,” his eyes narrowed as almost like a dark ominous cloud started to roll over him, “I can’t tell ya all tha things that happened to me when I was in that place, but all tha rage, tha anger o’ what happened built it. Ever since that night it’s been wit me, tryin’ ta clawin’ it’s way out. I calls it tha Beast.”

His words instantly sparked her memory from the events from the Danger Room the previous morning. His eyes then where different then they were now. They were wild, vacant almost like some wild beast. She understood now. This was the secret he was holding inside of himself. This was why he wanted to push everyone away from him.

“But ta answer yer question,” he began again, “Guess I finally got tired of lookin’ in tha mirror an’ never likin’ the face I saw,” Logan then looked away, “An’ its hard sometimes when she’s lookin’ at me,” he sighed, “It’s kinda like tha way you are right now.”

Ororo looked to him slightly puzzled. Unsure of what exactly she was doing that was wrong. “Like what?”

“Like I’m worth somethin’,” he simply uttered back.

“Logan…” Ororo softened as her hands caressed his face.

“Don’t…” he barked out curtly, while removing her hand, “’Ro, I know what I am. I know what they made me to be,” he stated resolutely, “Ain’t nothin’ that you or Chuck can do ‘bout that.”

At this the Windrider frown, angered that he could put so little faith in them and in himself. “What is it that you think you are?”

Instead of answering her Logan moved; he lightly brushed along the side of her lip with the back of his hand with the softest touch that it almost could have been a kiss. On instinct her eyes closed almost dream-like from such a gentle gesture. “Ya so damn beautiful,” he whispered to her suddenly, “Nearly knocked me off my feet tha first time I saw ya,” he openly admitted. He then deeply sighed, “But I ain’t got no right being here with ya. Touching ya wit these hands. There are so much blood on ‘em, I can’t ever get ‘em clean.”

Moving before she even realized it, Ororo spun her arms around him pulling him in close. She brushed her forehead against his as he looked away from her almost as if ashamed, “Ya, know I always thought I was prob’bly a good man once,” he began again, “Someone well known, someone respected. Someone people relied on,” he drifted off, “Before tha Beast, before tha claws, just an ordinary smo, just tryin’ to make a livin’,” he paused in his breath as if he was secretly mourning the life that was never to be his, “I think I was a good man once,” he said again, “But now…”

She frowned while turning to him, “But now, what?”

Logan just closed his eyes. The weariness of the many decades he’s lived suddenly weighed his body down. His large hands wiped over his face while his mind was still brooding over so many dark thoughts. “I don’t’ know,” he shook his head dejectedly; “Maybe I shouldn’t be here wit you, tha kids, Marie,” his voice was solemn and bleak.

Silence reigned within the loft for sometime. Then Ororo’s rich voice spoke up, “You know what I think?”

His gray eyes went to her, “No…”

Taking liberties she didn’t know she had, Ororo pushed him back onto the mattress while she pressed herself against him. Her weight was practically nothing; his hands instinctively went up to encircled to her narrow waist as he looked up to her. The space between them was mere inches. More than once Logan’s eyes darted to those soft plump lips that were till she placed her delicate hands on either side of his face, so he could look nowhere but into her eyes. “I think,” she began softly, “I think you belong here most of all,” she ended by dropping down, her lips lightly brushing against his.

OoOoOo

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“I still see a good man…”

OoOoOo
Stark Industry Laboratories
Seattle, Washington
During the same time…

If there ever was something that Jonathan Silvercloud loved most it was a great puzzle. As a man of science he was naturally inquisitive by nature, meaning early on he had to find out the meaning to every single thing in his sights, which drove his parents nuts on several occasions from what they keep telling him. Basically, anything that had him baffled for any stretch of time, he felt a sort of enjoyment from.

To be honest he was a big geek. But he didn’t mind that, since he was in charge of one of the major weapons and research developers on the planet. So all those books and extra classes he took back in Xavier’s school, not to mention other courses he picked up along the way paid off in the long run.

He briefly wondered if it his love of puzzles stemmed from his mutation. Now that would be a topic to toss around with Hank the next time he saw him.

But anyway back to puzzles. Jonathan loved them. But he didn’t love it when it came to his company, which was what he was facing right now. For the last eights hours, where he should have been sleeping so he could get up for the flight he had in two hours to meet with Tony, instead he was in his office on his terminal dealing with this slight inconsistency. See the problem was that during the attacks that recently happened to his facility; one of the major projects his researchers were working on was destroyed.

Now Jonathan… Eh…lets not be so formal. Now, Forge being the responsible businessman that he was, decided to take it upon himself to inform his client of the project’s present state. Destroyed. Normally he would have had one of his numerous assistances take care of the task, but with all the commotion from the attacks, the reconstruction, and the memorial service, had him up for longer hours than he normally took. One more medial task on his plate wasn’t a big deal.

Only problem was it was proving to be anything but medial. It seems that a man named Gregory Bennett headed the research facility that originally contracted for the Orion project. And the problem with that was through about four hours of digging and closed door researching proved that Gregory Bennett was actually the name of a coal miner from Idaho that apparently died ten years ago, which therefore produced said puzzle.

So down the rabbit hole Forge went, following the different trails and false names on his crusade to get to the bottom of this little mystery and after eight and half hours and three minutes it seems he finally made a breakthrough. The Cheyenne man stared at his computer screen at the single name that continued to blink on his flatscreen monitor.

“Well, hello. This is interesting…” he said to himself. Both pleased and a bit disappointed. Pleased because he finally solved this puzzle and disappointed because apparently he was going to have to reschedule his appointment with Tony, it seems he was going to be making a slight detour to Westchester instead.

To be continued…

Chapter 12: Family

Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Early Morning…

Ororo closed the patio door behind her as she walked back inside, literally bringing in the sunshine with her.

A brief mental caress signaled Jean’s presence before the young Doctor walked into the kitchen. Draped in a bright green halter-top with some beige Capri pants that perfectly showcased her slender legs, the redhead seemed ready to take on the whole world. She briefly glanced at Ororo looking regal and beautiful as usual in her white robe and her thick pure white hair fanning all around her. The former goddess calmly sipped from a cup of tea while pursing over some schoolwork.

“Morning ‘Roro,” Jean greeted while lightly brushing pass her, heading towards the cupboards to make a light breakfast. Toast, jam, eggs, and some coffee sounded like a nice way to start the day. She took a brief glance at the brilliant rays of sunlight piercing through with not a cloud in the open blue sky. “It looks gorgeous outside,” the doctor complimented before turning to her friend; “You’re doing?” she inquired.

Ororo didn’t respond, but she did briefly glance up sending the other woman a knowing look before returning to her paperwork and Jean didn’t think anything more about it. It was great that her friend was in such a good mode. After all the craziness of yesterday, she was glad that somebody was… Jean then paused, with an afterthought she took another glance outside.

A deep frown adorned her lovely face when she noticed the absence of a certain feral person. “Where’s Logan?” Jean asked, deeply concerned. She had hoped the night’s sleep would have done the anguished man some good, but now she wasn’t as sure. She then mentally contacted the Professor about her fears. Strangely enough, the older man cordially wished her a “Good morning,” and replied simply that the mattered had been well handled.

“He’s sleeping…” Ororo returned off-handedly, which drew Jean back to their conversation. The doctor curiously observed her long time friend who now was calmly making a few corrections to a student’s work with a red pen.

“Really?” Jean was thrown back slightly by the affirmation and the fact Ororo stated it so confidently. But then she released a breath of relief. “I just went to his room before and it was empty,” she called back over her shoulder, while making her way back to the stairs, “I thought he was still outside or maybe even left,” she finished just as her foot hit the first step.

Ororo took another long sip of her tea, delaying the proverbial can of worms she was about to open and then finally said, “He didn’t sleep in his room last night,” she continued with such calm neutrality that it almost surprised her, “He’s upstairs in the loft.”

At hearing that Jean paused in mid-stride. She paused then turned about-face. “‘Ro~ro,” Jean called in a very pleasant singsong voice, moments before she waltzed back into the room, “Why was Logan staying in your room?” she inquired while taking the seat right across from her not-so innocent friend.

Ororo didn’t spare a comment. Her blue eyes briefly looked up, flicking to Jean’s for a moment before returning to her paperwork as well as taking another long sip from her tea. Jean eyes widen at the implications, “Oh you bitch!” Jean cheered, followed with a hoot. She then darted around the table to snatching up the seat directly next to Ororo. She took the African woman’s hands in her own. “I want details! Juicy, sordid, lustful details!” she pried, her green eyes bright and energetic.

“Jean, nothing happen,” Ororo calmly assured her friend with the obviously vivid imagination.

“What?” the doctor drew back, “You spend the night with the man that’s like ‘hot sex’ on two hairy legs and you dare to tell me nothing happened?” she accused.

“Nothing happened,” Ororo said again more firmly. She then deeply sighed. A somber look was shed the psychic’s way, “Jean, he went through so much yesterday,” she stated, all playfulness gone, “More than anyone should have to bear. I just didn’t want him to feel like within this big house he had to go through all of this alone.”

Jean eyes soften as if taking in her friend’s appearance for the first time. “You really like him don’t you? And don’t say this is just the mother hen in you,” she quickly added before Ororo could refute it. Instead the Windrider opted to remain silent, which meant Jean had to pull out the big guns. “Well, if you won’t talk ‘suppose I could go ask Studley Do-Right instead,” she threatened while rising to her feet.

At the thought of Jean’s intervention, Ororo latched onto the doctor’s arm with surprising strength, “Jean, I love you like a sister and if you care about me at all, then please don’t press this.” The sincerity wielded in the Ororo’s eyes was so sobering, that Jean fell back down into her chair. “When the time is right I’ll be able to fill you in more. But at the moment a bit of privacy is what he really needs now.”

Seeing the genuine concern in Ororo’s blue eyes, forced all thoughts of the ‘major gossip’ from Jean’s head. She bit her lip in defeat, “Ok…” she sadly muttered, “But you owe me girl,” Jean warned, “There is gonna be a big throwdown with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s when you’re ready to spill.”

A velvet laugh fell from Ororo’s lips, “I’m look forward to it.” And she truly was.

Jean smiled evenly till she spotted the clock on the microwave. “Oh shoot,” she cried, “I have a class in twenty minutes,” the doctor stated while picking up the remains of her breakfast. “Bye, ‘Roro, see you at lunch,” she called back; although the sound was a bit muffled with the piece of toast that was tucked between her lips.

Ororo smiled as she watched her friend depart. After a moment of reflection, she sighed, “That went a lot smoother than I thought it would,” she said out loud. Ororo then promptly returned to the last bit of her schoolwork. This day her first class started in another two hours, so she’d have enough time to shower, get dressed, and still be ready for when the first of her students walked in.

For a moment her thoughts fled to Logan again and she couldn’t help the bright smile that those thoughts brought. He was still very deeply asleep when she left him. She’d hate to have to wake him, but she wasn't sure how she’d move about her room without waking him, especially with his senses.

Then a for a brief moment a rogue thought of a very interesting way of waking him came to her, that was till she heard a female chime-chine mental voice of Jean Grey singing in her head, ‘Ororo and Logan sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…’ The Windrider sighed deeply before thumping her head down onto the table.

Today was going to be a long day.

OoOoOo

Meanwhile…

“Ro~gee! Wakey, wakey!!!” the exuberant Jubilation Lee chimed in, while poking her head around the corner. A dismal frown was adorned on the Asian girl’s face as she saw that her southern-bred pal was still in her PJs, lying in bed. Refusing to let that little detail keep her down Jubilee restored her smile. “Come on, it’s chow time!” she cheered while marching into the room, hoping to entice the girl or drag her out of bed if need be. That was before she was soundly ‘thwacked’ on the head from behind. “OW!” she complained while turning to the frowning face of Katherine Pryde.

The Jewish brown haired girl crossed her arms while glaring at Jubilee. “Hey, leave her alone,” Kitty, whispered pleadingly, “She’s had a rough night…”

Instantly Jubilee remembered yesterday when they all arrived back from Harry’s. There was a buzz of talk running around all of the Mansion. News of the X-Men’s encounter in Seattle spread like wildfire. While none of the kids heard all of the details, a fact the Professor and the rest of the adult staff took great lengths to ensure, some news did leak out. And as soon as Rogue heard the words, “Logan” and “hurt” she bolted out from the rest of them in search of her beloved savior.

Jubilee’s face softened as recollection set in. She allowed Kitty to wheel her back out of the room as she continued to think. Jubilee knew that Kitty thought she was totally thoughtless sometimes and it was true she did have her moments of scatterbrain-ness, which often caused her to act without thinking things through. But it didn’t mean she was completely insensitive and didn’t consider other people’s feelings. It was just apart of who she was. If something terrible happened yesterday she felt that the new day was a fresh chance to make it like all the bad stuff from before never happened.

Firmly remembering that, Jubilee paused in her step. She then raced back into their bedroom and flung the door open, “Hey Rogue, we’ll bring you something back,” she agreed, still talking to the girl’s back. She then slyly added, “I’ll make sure Kitty doesn’t eat everything!”

“Shut up, Jubilee!” Kitty burst in just as Jubilee made her escape; cackling all the way. “Arrrrrgh!!!” she ruffled her hair in frustration. She would kill that girl, if she didn’t love her so much. Kitty then stopped dead when she looked at herself in the mirror. Realized that the hair she just spent an hour getting to sit just perfect was now totally undone. The girl let out small anguished cry. She was supposed to model for some figure drawings for Peter today and now everything was ruined.

Kitty then took in another deep relaxing breath, realizing it wasn’t the end of the world. She then looked over to her friend Rogue and realized her own problems seemed trivial in comparison. “We’ll bring you a plate,” the brown haired girl said, while closing the door behind her, “I hope you feel better…”

OoOoOo

Marie tightly pulled the edge of her blanket over her head, almost as if the fabric itself could shield out all the terrors of the world. Tears fell from her eyes in continuous streams as she continued to remember the scene from last night. She could recall the deafening sound of her heart breaking, the throbbing pain that echoed inside her body, making her unable to think of anything else. And the continuous southern drawl voice inside of her head that constantly said, ‘Ah, told ye so, Baby-girl. Ah, told ye so…’

OoOoOo

Ororo’s Loft
Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Twenty minutes later…

Blissful serenity is what Logan felt as he started to crawl his way back to the waking world. His nose first identified the define smell of sandalwood that was in the foreground in the scene of a mild rainstorm, instead of the usual hint of cigars and the cowhide leather from his Stetson. A fact that meant he wasn’t in his room. The notion strangely enough didn’t alarm him, fore although Logan might have rested hundreds of times during the nights of his many decades in Alberta, but last night was the first night he ever truly slept.

He was at peace, a peace that he’s sorely sought long and hard for. So he selfishly wanted to enjoy the sensation just a little while longer. It was only when he reached for a soft warm body that wasn’t there, did he finally push away from the dream world. There he was greeted by a warm baritone voice, “Good morning Logan…”

Logan blinked several times as he saw the wizen face of Charles Xavier parked alongside Ro’s bed, dressed as usually in an impeccable blue tailored suit. “Somethin’ wrong?” he inquired while wearily rubbing his eyes, granted Xavier didn’t doubt the feral mutant’s alertness to his surroundings. “Is Marie a’right?” his voice continued to build strength, “‘Ro? Jeannie? Tha kids?” He continued to mentally rattle off potential targets attackers might focus from his…

What exactly were they all to him anyway?

“No,” Charles smiled warmly, “although I think they would be happy to know that you were very concerned.”

Logan’s dark eyebrows narrowed together at that particular response, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

A knowingly look was returned his way. “Why indeed?” Xavier responded lightly; his smile seemed to set even deeper. It was as if the old man was in on something that he clearly wasn’t going to reveal. Either way Logan wasn’t bothered. Charles then cleared his throat, “No, I honestly was wondering about you. How are you doing?” his bright blue eyes filled with concern as they settled on the younger man.

A long yawn that had some resemblance to a roar came from Logan’s throat as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “I ain’t gonna break Chuck, if that’s what ya worried ‘bout.” the Canadian mutant replied candidly. His thick hand came up to scratch his belly.

Another smile seemed to replace the first one on Charles face as he replied, “No, I no longer have that fear,” the older man then dared to add, “And if it did occur, I believe there would be someone better qualified to help.”

Logan frowned again while getting up. He stomped across the sandalwood floor, his steel gray eyes cut over to Xavier who still seemed extremely pleased with himself, “Ye’re a nosy old man, ya know that Chuck,” he barked out indignantly, his thick burly arms crossed underneath him.

Instead of upsetting him, Charles let out a throaty laugh, “I’m a psychic Logan,” Xavier stated frankly while wiping away a tear, “I’m afraid a bit of curiosity comes with the territory,” the older man confessed. He then held a more direct look while peering at feral mutant, “Especially when it’s met with concern with the happenings of my family.”

“Family huh?” the Canadian grumbled seemingly not convinced, “Hmph… When was I included inta that?”

“When indeed?” Xavier returned, his knowing smile returning as well, “Logan, since you seemed to have a better handle onto everything that has occurred, would you mind coming to my study. There are a few questions I would like to ask about your familiarity in the tragedy that occurred in Seattle.”

The short stocky man considered Xavier’s request for a moment. He then nodded, seeing no real harm. “Ya, mind if I get a shower first?” he only asked.

“Certainly,” Charles nodded while heading towards the wheelchair lift that was stationed by a side passage of the loft. A fact that Logan just now took note of. “I’ll be waiting in my study when you are ready.”

OoOoOo

Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
An hour or so later…

Silently and alone, Marie crept through the voluminous hallways of the Xavier mansion. She had already missed her first class of the day because she stayed in bed. But eventually she decided that she could only feel sorry for herself for so long, so she finally dragged herself out of her room. Her thoughts now were of finding Logan. He had to explain. What she saw last night, there had to have been some sort of mistake. There had to have been some reason.

The problem was finding him. She had just came from checking his room but it appeared as though he hadn’t slept in it at all, a fact that didn’t settle the young teenage girl’s fears in the slightest.

Marie was about to run up the grand staircase to search the adult faculty wing, when she drew up short. Her brown eyes narrowed sharply as she spotted Miss. Monroe approaching from the other end of the hallway. The radiant African woman was dressed in a white spaghetti-strap top with a wrap around golden floral pattern skirt that practically flaunted those killer legs of hers. Not to mention a cute pair of white and gold thong sandals adorned to her feet.

At seeing her, Marie was at a total lost. The southern girl didn’t know how she could compete with such a woman. She didn’t even know how to begin.

“Heya, darlin’,” a well of emotion seemed to ignite inside of Marie after hearing the familiar raspy voice. That joy ended when she realized its sediment wasn’t directed to her.

OoOoOo

Ororo instantly brighten when she saw Logan descending from the stairs. She had missed him previously when she finally returned to her loft to get ready. For a fleeting moment she had the notion to go seek him out to find out how he was doing. The former goddess wasn’t a fool to believe that one night of intimacy would be enough to erase all the woes that seemed to be forever mounting on his shoulders. But at least she felt he knew he had someone to turn to. And she would even be truthful to herself and admit that she did enjoy being with him. A lot.

She liked how he made her feel and she liked how she was when he was around her. Free. To put it into a single word, she felt free last night. Not that she ever believed she was a prisoner to her emotions, but she did feel bound by them from time to time. There were so many roles she had taken in her life; teacher, X-Man, surrogate mother, best friend, and confidant. There were so many in fact; that she rarely found time to just be Ororo Monroe. But last night, with him she found that person again.

Logan’s critical eyes fell along the seductive curves of her body, making her tingle from such interest. She briefly, but tried to not make it apparent, took in his appearance. A black tank top hung loosely from his wide sinewy frame. She noticed a thin sheet of moisture clung to lightly tanned skin of his broad chest and thick hairy arms, foretelling that he previously just stepped out the shower, a fact that made her heart flutter. Snug-fit jeans with a nice pair of dark brown cowboy boots, topped with his well-worn Stetson completed his rustic picture.

The Wolverine tipped the brim of his hat up as he continued to slowly prowl around her, all of his movements betraying that silent predator’s grace he possessed. His eyes fondly noting the swish of her skirt along her legs as she moved. He let out a low growl, “Ya, look good enough ta eat, ‘Ro.” And goddess why did that statement instantly draw such heated thoughts. She realized in that moment that this man was going to be the end of her, she was certain.

“I can certainly tell you are feeling better,” she greeted him with a bright voice, which was more even than what she was feeling. She softly sighed as she allowed him to pull her in close, confronting her with the brick wall that was his chest.

A small smile parted her lips as his whiskered cheek nuzzled against her neck, tickling her. “Right as rain,” he murmured confidently, while seeking out her throat. “I got you ta thank,” he confessed.

Ororo’s mouth opened, letting out a silent cry as Logan’s lips played murder along her neck. “Anytime…” she welcomed in earnest. An ivory eyebrow rose slightly. It seemed his devilish lips found a particularly pleasing area of amusement.

There was so much she wanted to say to him. She had believed that when the moment arrived when next they met everything would just come to her right on the spot. Now that the opportunity presented it self, she found that she was at a complete lost. Not to mention pleasingly distracted. The lulling comfort from last night was returning and she didn’t know if that was a bad thing. “Logan, about last night…”

Hearing that statement Logan drew back, but his hands still fell, finding their way to her slender waist. “Look ‘Ro, I can’t say, I’m any good at these types o’ things. Last night was great,” he explained truthfully. He then firmly shook his head, “But I won’t let that fool me inta thinkin’ there somethin’ here that isn’t,” he then paused for a moment before continuing, “I mean I don’t wanna bring nothin’ on ya that ya don’t want.”

Devious sapphire blue eyes met his gravely serious gray ones, charming them for a moment before Ororo allowed a small smile to cross her full lips. “And what if I do… want?” she asked him coyly.

Logan’s face nearly split in half from the grin he was sporting from her response. “Well, then I’m willin’ ta go as fast or as slow as ya want darlin’,” he returned, gray eyes staring into sapphire blue ones.

“That is good to hear,” Ororo stated huskily before wrapping her arms around the back of his head and pulling him into such a smothering kiss that it made her own head spin. Their breaths were hot, forced. Ororo gasped as if breathless, she didn’t even realize when he started to kiss her back till she let out a low throaty moan from trying to negotiate his tongue within her mouth. Feeling a need to not be undone, Ororo fingers laced through his thick dark mane as she pulled him closer to her, returning his intensity with some of her own.

Logan broke apart a moment later; “Shhhhhit!” he growled through clenched teeth, lust-filled eyes still locked onto her, “Good answer, darlin’,” he admitted while slowly sliding his hands up and down her lower back.

Ororo smiled at him, looking like the cat that just caught a big ol’ fat canary. “I try…” she grinned, her forehead brushing against his. She then tipped forward, their lips merely an inch apart seeking another supple sample. That was till she heard a distinct male mental voice clearing his throat in her head, making her break apart from Logan as if she just got caught red-handed.

Logan looked at her curiously, noticing the sudden change that took over her, “What’s wrong?”

There was a moment’s pause where Ororo didn’t answer. Her gaze went far way as if she was in another place. Then all at once she broke out of the trance, her eyes returning to him. “It seems you have a prior engagement,” she stated, her cheeks still a bit flush.

For a moment Logan’s eyebrows narrowed at her in confusion. Then after another minute he remembered his appointment with Xavier. “Great timin’, Chuck,” he grumbled under his breath, as well as a few other choice words that Ororo wouldn’t ever dare to repeat.

She just smiled at him, “Its ok, I have class…” the former goddess then paused as she flipped her wrist over to look at her watch. “Oh, Right now!” she gasped, while hurrying off. “Bye Logan,” she tossed over her shoulder, the heels of her sandals clicking rapidly underneath her as she moved. “Talk to you later…”

OoOoOo

A brief smile touched Logan’s lips as he watched Ororo go. Slyly he allowed his gaze to fall lower watching the pleasant sway of her hips in that skirt, not to mention the hypnotic swish her round curvaceous rear. He shook his head. That woman was going to be the end of him, he was sure of it.

Logan dropped his Stetson down low over his brow and continued moving down the hall. He momentarily caught the whiff of sunflowers, before he spotted Marie rounding the corner almost if the girl was waiting for him. She smiled brightly to him a gesture that he couldn’t help but copy. “So when we gonna get back on tha road?” she asked him matter-of-factly, while falling instep with him.

The question threw the Canadian feral for a loop for a second. He wasn’t sure if she was pulling his leg or not, till he spotted the dead-set look she was giving him with her chocolate brown eyes. “I thought ya liked it here,” he returned evenly enough, trying not to belay the surprise in his voice.

She looked around briefly as if bored before saying, “It’s ok, fer a school an’ all,” then her eyes returned to him, “But ya still owe me a trip tah Anchorage, Sugah,” she resolved while latching onto his arm.

Logan set his jaw as he considered her words. He didn’t understand where this new idea of leaving came from. As far as he knew it she loved the mansion, even more than the house where she grew up. “Don’t know,” he returned causally, his mind still going into overdrive, “It’s startin’ ta grow on me,” he tried to keep his voice light and indifferent, although there was a faint hint of fondness there.

Marie then whirled around on him. A sharp knowing grin on her face as she turned to her friend, “Ye mean, Miss Monroe is startin’ to grow on ye,” she pointed out.

Logan’s jaw dropped at the pointed comment from the girl, he then narrowed his eyes, “Smart ass…”

A smile briefly touched Marie’s face as she continued walking on without him. She swung her gloved hands back and forth, just as causally as if they were strolling through a park. “Don’t see whatcha see in her anyway?” she uncaringly tossed back over her shoulder at him.

At that Logan cocked an eyebrow at her, his eyes for moment zero in on her. For just an instant she seemed to squirm under his intense scrutiny but then she schooled her face into a neutral expression as if the slip never occurred. Either way, things were starting to make sense. “If I didn’t know any better Marie, I’d say ya were a lil’ jealous,” he added casually, trying to gauge her response.

Marie laughed loudly at him as if the suggestion itself was the most preposterous she thing she had ever heard. “Please, Sugah,” the southern girl, rolled her eyes dramatically, “Ah, just kinda missed when it was jus tha two o’ us that’s all,” she commented, trying fuel enough sincerity into her voice to fool him.

Logan regarded her for a long time. He could sense the conflicted emotions brewing from the girl. Whatever the cause jealousy or whatever, she was upset over something and he was now inclined to find out. After sometime he just nodded his head, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later,” his voice was more firm, more serious than before, “Chuck wants ta see me, ‘bout what happened in Seattle.”

Marie nodded and let him go, but not before she gave him the biggest hug her a hundred and fifteen pound body could muster. He equally returned her embrace and automatically the warmth and security that his touch brought soothed her body. Silently, quieting the fears she built up inside of her, till finally they parted and she was left alone again.

As Marie watched him leave, she had one thought on her mind, the faster she got him away from Mrs. Monroe the better.

OoOoOo

Quietly, Marie continued to wander the halls of the mansion as a prisoner to her own thoughts. She had missed her second morning class and was working on missing her third, but she didn’t care. She had so much weighing on her mind at the moment that nothing else seemed to matter. A storm of her emotions was building larger and larger inside of her and she knew she couldn’t hold it in check any longer.

Everything seemed to be coming undone. The tide she constantly held back was slowly coming unraveled and that was when his voice came to her again. “Told ye baby-girl…” a male southern drawl voice sounded to her.

“Shut up…” Marie mumbled out loud. The boots on her feet stomping loudly underneath her as she increased her pace, almost as if she was trying to out run the voice itself. But she never can.

“He’s gonna leave ye…” the voice said again.

“Shut up.”

“He’s gonna leave ye, because ye ain’t worth shit.”

“Shut up!” Rogue yelled while turning around to face the empty room.

“I’m tha o’ly one that cares fer ye baby-girl.”

“Shut up!” Marie shouted while whirling around again as if she moved fast enough, she’d be able to catch the person that wasn’t there, “Ye’re not real!” she continued to profess, “Ye’re jus a voice ‘n mah head. Ye’re not real!”

The voice deeply chuckled at that one. Taking amusement in the fact that his laughter sent chills down her spine, “Keep tellin’ ye’self that sweetie…”

“QUIET!” Marie shrieked at the top of her lungs, her hands overtop of her ears and her eyes tightly clenched shut, crouching down into a little ball as if she was shutting the whole world off from her as well.

“Rogue?” a new voice asked in warm sincerity.

At hearing her name Marie turned to see the tall lean form of Robert Drake standing before her, an open expression of worry on his face. “Bobby?” she asked looking to him questionably, unsure of this was reality or not.

The boy took another step closer placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Concern etched on every inch of his boyish face as he looked down to the southern girl, “Is everything ok?” Drake then looked around as if looking for another person, “I thought I heard you talking to someone.”

Rogue just shook her head. “Ah’m fine,” she said, her voice sounding more strong, more surer by the second, “Its just,” she looked away for a moment, then looked back to him, “…Fine.”

Bobby didn’t look convinced. The scene he stumbled on was anything but fine. “You sure?” The two of them weren’t exactly close, a fact he really wanted to remedy. But if someone were bothering her, he’d be damn sure to give them hell to pay.

The southern girl then somehow produced a bright smile. “Yea, thanks,” she nodded, her white bangs bobbing with her head.

Bobby regarded her for a moment then let out a breath. “Well that’s part one of my mission,” he commented, while slinging his hands into his pockets.

The southern girl looked to him puzzled, “Paht one?”

“Yep,” the lanky boy nodded, “And now this is part two,” he informed her. Then without any reason or warning, he unceremoniously scoped up the southern girl and tossed her over his shoulder.

“Bobby!!!” Rogue screeched as he pitched her forward and back slightly, adjusting to her lightweight. The world tumbled upside down in for her, which also indirectly gave the girl a view of the boy’s firm backside. Her face was a flushed red and not only from embarrassment, “What’re ye doin’!?!” she cried.

“Can’t talk now,” Drake droned out in a military tone, “Might compromise the mission,” which was the last thing he said before he started moving out of the room with his estranged cargo.

OoOoOo

Through the halls of the Xavier Mansion Robert Drake went carrying the excited and kicking southern gal, Rogue over his shoulders. Several eyes drew their way to the bizarre pair every so often, but no one commented. Frankly, in Mutant High, such a sight was almost…normal.

The young mutant boy, Artie paused in the middle of the hallway while observing the peculiar duo and thus came to the conclusion, “Teenagers are weird,” he stated bluntly before hurrying up to Mr. Summers’ class.

OoOoOo

Game Room
Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Five minutes later…

At the entrance of the Xavier mansion’s game room, Robert Drake also known as Bobby to all of his friends, suddenly appeared in the doorway. The young teenage boy was calm and collect, totally ignoring the dangling blue jean-clad legs in front of him that lead to the nice cute little butt of his cargo, he instead continue to look around the room.

Said package happened to be Marie D'Ancanto better known to her friends as Rogue. The southern girl hailing from Mississippi, had given up on scrambling and pleading with her captor to release her, after she realized the diligence he had to his task and decided to savor the remaining shreds of her dignity and just quietly allowed him to tow her to wherever destination his deranged mind had in store. She instead was firmly set on giving him two to fifteen pieces of her mind before the day was through. Not to mention making him limp for the rest of the week.

Bobby ceased his searching, as it appeared he found what he was looking for and continued to move within the Game Room. Several eyes within the room paused from their activities as Bobby continued in his trek till he was standing in front of Jubilee with Kitty Pryde flanking her left.

Drake then drew up short and gently deposited Rogue onto her feet in front of the two girls. Rogue, now that she was free, promptly slugged Bobby in his arm, which he soundly shrugged off with a low grunt. The southern girl then flicked brown eye daggers to her so-called-friends, who more than likely were responsible for her treatment.

“First class Officer Robert Drake reporting in. Mission was a success,” Bobby finished, while saluting to his commanding officer.

Jubilee stiffly returned his salute then clasped her hands behind her back as she began to address him, which was an interesting sight since the boy dwarfed the girl by nearly a foot. “Well done, Drake,” she congratulated him, “Keep this up and you’ll make Private in no time,” she added while motioning him to take his leave.

Bobby just grinned, giving the diminutive girl another stiff salute, since he apparently was dismissed. His eyes then fell over to Rogue, briefly giving her a little wink, before he left to join John in a game of foosball.

Rogue decided to ignore the bubbling sensation that buzzed inside of her whenever she was around that boy and then quickly wheeled around to the two conspiring girls, brown eyes still very perturbed. “‘Ey, what gives?” she demanded, looking to Pryde, who clearly was the only sane one.

“We were worried about you,” Kitty replied genuinely.

“Yea, so I sent Saving Private Bobby over there to rescue you,” Jubilee said while motioning over to Drake, who promptly waved his hand to them before returning to his game.

Kitty then closed in leading Rogue over to a quiet corner so that they could have some privacy. She motioned over to some seats they had there. “So tell us,” she started while looking to the southern belle, “What’s going on?”

“Yeah, chica,” Jubilee piped in while plopping down in the adjacent chair, “We’re not taking no for an answer.”

Marie looked on to the two girls before her. Both of them held looks of fierce loyalty and concern. She realized in that instant that till the day that she died these two would somehow always be there for her. The notion automatically made Marie feel bad from shutting the two of them out. Suddenly everything she was holding inside finally came out. Rogue flung her arms both girls, who instantly responded to the embrace. Through choked sobs, she mumbled, “Ah, caught Logan with Storm last night.”

Kitty’s brown eyes widen in surprise, “Logan and Ororo? Really?” For a fleeting second Kitty’s brown eyes danced at the possibility of a blossoming romance between the two seemingly unlikely people. Ororo, the beautiful regal woman paired with Logan, the mysterious stranger with the bad boy rep and the intense stare. This was the type of stuff that Kitty often read about in all of her romance novels. When Katherine noticed the crestfallen expression on Rogue’s face, she realized that the news wasn’t as well thought of.

The southern girl nodded, “Last night, Ah was so worried ‘bout Logan that Ah couldn’t sleep. Ah, crept back downstairs tryin’ again tah get ‘im tah come back in, when Ah heard ‘em in tha kitchen…”

“Oh, wow…” Jubilee cried in disbelieve, “I mean wow,” she said again, as her thoughts went to the statuesque African woman. “Ororo…she’s hot and I don’t mean, like American Idol hot. I mean Miss Universe meets Playmate of the year hot,” Jubilee stated still in shock. The Asian girl then frowned mournfully, “That’s some tough competition, cookie.”

“Ah know, Ah know…” Rogue drearily replied.

Jubilee and Kitty took a minute to send a look to each other, before they turned their attention back to Rogue. “Don’t worry,” Kitty tried to encourage her, while giving the girl a big hug, “We’ll think of something.”

“Yea,” Jubilee agreed, while taking on the other side of the Rogue sandwich, “Whatever happens we got yer back.”

OoOoOo

Headmaster’s Suite
Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Meanwhile…

Logan stood in front of the two oak doors that lead into Charles Xavier’s study. The Canadian’s large hand steady rose to knock when he heard, “Come right in Logan…”

The Wolverine frowned for a moment, his gray eyes drilling holes into the door as if it betrayed him. He then carelessly swung the door open and stomped right inside. “Nice trick,” he muttered to Charles who was patiently waiting behind his desk. “Thought ya couldn’t do that wit me,” Logan commented, concealing his mild astonishment at Charles detecting his presence. As a former professionally trained killer that prided himself on being able to move in and out of places undetected, it was unnerving to have someone so readily read his movements.

Xavier briefly looked to the feral mutant before starting, “Well, you are correct in your assessment that I cannot read your thoughts,” Charles began, “But I have noticed you posses a certain voidance of space, so to speak,” he said lightly, hoping not to lose the man on the concept, “Keeping that in mind it then becomes simple task of deduction to determine your identity.”

Logan chewed on the inside of his cheek, digesting what the world-renown psychic was telling him. “Right…” Logan eyed the elder man shrilly, still not buying the story fully. But he then shook the notion aside, wanting to change the subject, not to mention get to the heart of the matter. “Well ya got me here, Chuck. Whatcha wanna talk ‘bout?”

“Have a seat Logan,” Xavier offered while motioning to the chairs in front of him. Logan considered them for a moment then unceremoniously plotted down into one of them. He then crossed his arms firmly in front of him, while keeping a hard as steel face. Xavier eased forward in his wheelchair, steepling his fingers together on top of his desk as he began to speak, “There are of course questions I have about what occurred yesterday. And I’m sure you have questions of your own. It is my hopes that the two of us will be able find the answers together.”

Logan continued to drill his gray eyes into the older man, unimpeded, unaffected…As if the words Xavier just spoke didn’t have any bearing on him what so ever. Charles frowned, coming to the realization that maybe this would be a harder task to tackle than he originally believed. “We don’t have to talk about that if you don’t want to,” the bald man conceded, while thinking of some other middle ground the two could reach.

He needn’t bother with the effort. Logan’s thick hand came up stroking over his whiskered chin before finally replying, “Nah, that’s ok. ‘Ro’s heard most of the story,” he informed the older man, “But I think ya have a right to know,” he nodded truthfully. His eyes then sharpen, “Then ya can decide.”

Charles didn’t even hide the mask of confusion etched onto his face from the other man’s words. “Decide on what?” he inquired.

Logan’s wide frame shifted back in his seat before he grimly returned, “If ya want me ta stay here any longer.”

Xavier shook his head while continuing to look at the deeply misguided mutant before him. “Logan, I don’t know what you perceive this to be, but you’re not being placed on trial here,” Xavier strongly retorted. The older man didn’t know what else he could say that would finally relax the Wolverine’s guard.

Responding, Logan raised a hand up as if to still any of Charles’ judgment for the moment. “Jus hear my piece first, Chuck,” he requested simply, “Then decide.” Xavier, at a lost to anything else to say, simply nodded in agreement.

Logan took a long breath while returning to his feet. The Wolverine paced around Xavier’s study for the next few minutes like a caged animal. His gray eyes were momentarily drawn to the fireplace that held a blossoming crimson flame in its center. After another instant passed he turned, throwing a look over his shoulder, “I don’t know if this was before or after tha claws,” he said beginning. Logan then paused a moment to consider. Xavier could literally see the cogs turning in the mutant’s head, as Logan tried to decipher decades of muddled and confusing memories, “Before…” the Canadian mutant stated firmly while nodding his head.

“What happened in Seattle, this happened before,” the steel gray of his eyes almost solidifying with clarity, “He was right,” Wolverine supplied, “Me and Creed, we do go a long way back. Years…Decades even.” His eyes then soften sadly, “Silverfox…She was jus someone that happened ta get in tha middle.”

Suddenly Wolverine just stopped altogether. His gray eyes looked far into the distance as his fist balled up tightly in front of him as he expelled a choked up gasp of air, “Chuck, I know I’ve done a lot o’ things in tha past. Things I ain’t proud of, but it ain’t right what he did ta her,” Logan then cast a look Xavier’s way. Neither man commented on the moisture that was held in the man’s gray eyes.

“Ya don’t know what it’s like,” Logan continued, “Comin’ home findin’ tha girl that you love, like that. Ya, don’t know what it’s like havin’ ta hold tha cold body, of someone yea jus made love to a few hours before, as ya put her down inta tha earth,” Logan paused again. And this time Charles noted that the Beast was responding, “An’ you don’t know what kinda anger an’ hate, somethin’ like that brings,” three blades of adamantium shot out to emphasize his point.

Logan then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, sheathing the blades. A few minutes of silence passed before he was finally able to continue. “‘Ro’s, gone a long way inta calmin’ it down, but it ain’t dead. Tha more I think ‘bout that poor girl and Fox, an’ what they both lost ‘cus o’ my sins. It makes it alive again an’ even more pissed off.” His gray eyes went directly back to Xavier, “That’s why I don’t think I should be here, Chuck,” he stated firmly, his hand placed over his heart, “This dark thing in me, ain’t gonna rest till I finally take care o’ ‘im.”

“You’re speaking of murder.” This wasn’t a statement; it was an accusation.

The Wolverine stood up tall and proud. He titled his head to the side, cracking his neck before answering, “From where I stand it’s more like justice.”

Charles Xavier’s eyes narrowed from the severity of the situation. “So, you plan to be judge, jury and executioner,” he stated incredulously.

“I ain’t sayin’ ye have to understand or even agree wit me,” Logan returned, “But I ain’t also askin’ fer yer blessin’ either.”

“Logan…” Charles started again.

“Chuck don’t…” Logan promptly cut him off, drawing Xavier stare, making the older man see the stern grim face of the true person that was Wolverine. “I like you Charles,” he stated honestly, “I like ya a lot. Ye’re a better man than I could ever hope ta be,” he then shook his head firmly, “But ya don’t have any say in this,” he finished resolutely.

Speechless, Xavier stared back at the Wolverine. Now he truly understood the statement made before, about the decision to permit him to remain in the mansion. The world Logan was bred from was one of pure violence. It was what he knew and what he lived by. So it would be natural for him to seek that method to resolve his problems. If he encouraged Logan’s pursuit, it then almost would be at the cost of his own personal integrity. But then again to cast him out, to abandon the Wolverine on his journey to confront the demons of his past, made it seem like Xavier was costing himself something that was far more greater.

“Logan, whatever may occur in the future, please know this,” Charles began again while coming around his desk to bridge some of the distance between them, “You will always have a home here,” Xavier said resolutely, which made the Canadian mutant pause for the first time during their exchange. The older man then suddenly said, “But now, we will have to continue this discussion another time.”

“Huh?” Logan inquired totally at a lost. But Xavier didn’t hear him. Instead his thoughts flew to the newcomer that was pulling up their driveway as they spoke.

His vision started to clear again, returning his gaze back to the Canadian. “It seems an old friend has returned,” Charles stated. Not a moment after the doorbell to the mansion rang. Charles eyes were deep and full of trepidation as he turned back to Logan, “And he has some important news.”

OoOoOo

“I’ll get it!” Jean Grey shouted as she strolled over to the large front door. The redheaded doctor was instantly surprised and delighted to be greeted by such a familiar face so soon, “Forge!” she cheered while pulling the Cheyenne man in for a big bear hug.

Forge smiled dimly as he regarded his long time friend. “Hey Jeannie…” he greeted evenly. The Maker then looked passed her and around, “Is Charles here?”

All cheer had fled from Jean Grey’s face as she felt the seriously grim emotions radiating from Forge, “Yeah of course,” she nodded firmly.

“Good,” he stated while stepping inside, “I think you should get the others. I got some important news that the X-Men need to know.”


To be continued…







A/N: BTW the message isn’t, “Save the cheerleader, Save the World…”

Chapter 13: Trask



“So, tell me why again am I talking to you on your cell phone instead of you being here in Malibu?” the slightly humored tone of Tony Stark inquired as his disembodied voice carried through the portable telephone’s receiver.

Johnathan Silvercloud sighed audibly while wearily pinching the bridge of his nose as he regarded his mobile phone for the forth time in the last five minutes. The Cheyenne man had been talking with Stark for the last twenty minutes explaining and re-explaining the situation to the Stark Industry CEO. “I told you already…” Johnathan reaffirmed again, dreading having to repeat himself again for a forth time.

“I know, I know, just humor me a bit,” Tony cut in a bit curtly, “For a moment here I’d like to pretend that I’m actually in charge of this company,” Stark continued, applying the guilt on real thick, which caused John to sigh again. Forge didn’t mind explaining himself to Tony, especially since he was his boss and all. But the Maker knew Stark now was on the phone just to give him a hard time.

It was something he loved and also got on his nerves about the man. Tony Stark was brilliant without saying and an excellent businessman, but it also felt like the two of them were old friends, even brothers sometimes instead of co-workers. A fact Tony loved to put to his advantage whenever possible.

The Stark Industry CEO chuckled a few more times after hearing the clearly outdone groan from his friend. Tony then pulled out a smile. “Just get out here as soon as you can,” he informed Silvercloud honestly, “I want your opinion on a personal project I’m working on. Give Charles my best,” he finished before disconnecting the line.

OoOoOo

Headmaster’s Suite
Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Noon…

Scott, Jean and the rest of the X-Men started to file into to Xavier’s study, while Forge was in the middle of his phone conversation. Logan, who was already present in the suite, briefly noted everyone’s entrance. He was posted up against the ledge to the fireplace, arms nonchalantly crossed in front as he took the time to inspect this newcomer.

He instantly recognized the tall Native American man from the Stark Company in Seattle. A little over six feet in height, long dark hair that was captured in a ponytail, a thin dark mustache with almond colored skin. The Wolverine could smell the faint splashes of cologne on his person; too faint to have been applied recently. It was probably from the night or even the day before, he guessed. Even though his black suit was still neat and tidy, Logan spotted a few creases that ran along its sleeve making it seem it was just to have been slept in recently. Probably during the flight over here, he pondered while chewing on the worn toothpick that was in his mouth.

Logan’s gray eyes then flicked across the room; noticing the entrance of a certain Windrider; Ororo briefly met eye contact with the Cheyenne man. A little more than a passing smile breezed between two which raised some of the hairs on the back of Logan’s neck not to mention heating his pulse. But it instantly cooled when she turned to him, brandishing an even brighter smile in his direction. He pointedly didn’t return the gesture; instead he allowed his eyes to fall up and down, continuously drinking in the seductive curves of her appearance.

Ororo noticed his interest and instantly seemed to bolster from it. Her mind then briefly returned to their encounter from the stairwell. She could still taste lingering traces of his lips from the kiss they shared, not to mention the feel of his powerful arms capturing her body. “Who’s tha suit?” Logan asked as she sat down into one of the chairs in front of him.

“That’s Forge,” Jean piped in, seated in a chair that flanked Logan’s left. “He’s an old friend from back when we were all students here in the mansion,” the redhead continued. Her eyes then made a devious cut towards Storm, “He and ‘Roro, used to be a hot item back in the day.”

Ororo rolled her eyes at the obvious taunt from her friend, “Jean, that was a very long time ago,” the African woman dismissed with a small fleeting smile, “But still good times…” she added genuinely.

“Yes they were…” Jean returned, nodding returning the sentiment.

Logan’s gray eyes darted between the two women. He then shrugged his shoulders in indifference. It seemed that this Forge guy was finally off the phone.

OoOoOo

The Cheyenne man stood before the whole ensemble group of the X-Men with Xavier patiently placed behind his desk. The sight instantly took Forge back several years ago when he was a regular amongst the roster. Granted even back then he was more active on the technical end as oppose to the front lines, but the few times he was needed to fight, he answered his call to battle just as strongly as everyone present.

Xavier, sensing that former the X-Men was ready to start, decided to add a few words, “Before you begin, Johnathan I’d like to say how great it is to have you back here in the mansion,” Charles warmly greeted.

“Thank you Charles,” Forge acknowledged with a slight bow of his head. The Cheyenne man’s features then darken as he prepared to speak, “I wish this reunion could have been on better terms, but lately things are looking from bad to worst,” he stated grimly.

“You have some news on Erik?” Scott inquired, deciding to take the initiative.

Forge shook his head, “No unfortunately,” he then paused to retract a mini-projector from his briefcase. “But the information that I have is equally as important.” Silverwind then flicked on the switch to the device. A funnel of white light poured out onto the barren adjacent wall. The blank picture was then quickly replaced with an image of a Stark Industry contractual form. “Ok everyone, what we’re seeing here is a page of a typical contract form used for all of Stark Industries projects,” the Cheyenne man then paused while bringing up another viewing of the same contract just at a higher magnification. “Now, this particular form was Stark Industries’ contract with the Friends of Humanity’s Wildlife research facility. The company that enlisted Stark Industry to work on that DNA searching program that was Magneto’s target,” Forge then frowned, “This is all but worthless now.”

“What do you mean?” Xavier asked sensing the Maker’s inner trepidation.

“Well, it’s seems the owner of this alleged company was a person named, Gregory Bennett,” Forge then switch to the next slide, which depicted a wooly hair old man with a thick white beard. Jean off-handedly commented to Ororo that he reminded her of Santa Claus, just as Forge continued, “A guy that had actually been a coal miner for more years then most of us have been alive,” he then paused, while sending Xavier a sympathetic look, “Sorry Professor,” Forge said remorsefully, which drew a few chuckles from amongst the group.

“That’s quite all-right Johnathan,” Charles said, taking the jab good naturally, “We can discuss it further in detention after school,” the older man returned without missing a beat, which drew a laugh from everyone.

Forge chuckled quietly to himself for a few minutes then quickly sobered, returning to the task at hand, “Anyway, every single one of the names listed on the documents Stark drafted were phonies.”

Frowning, Jean nearly raised her hand before she realized ridiculousness of the action and just spoke. “Why would someone go to such lengths?” she inquired.

“A person that was thoroughly trying to hide what they were doing,” Scott responded grimly, “What worries now me is what else they were hiding?”

The Cheyenne man shook his head, “That I honestly have no idea. I spent all last night following a dozen paper trails and false leads; the only thing I could come up with was a name,” Forge then clicked on his projector remote switching to a portrait of a stern-faced man, “Trask, Bolivar Trask.”

Trask was an older American Caucasian man appearing to be in his mid-fifties. He had a thick neatly trimmed mustache with fierce looking dark brown eyes. His hair, like his mustache was keenly kept as well, a shorten cut of dark brown hair with fraying lines of gray beside his temples.

Forge continued, “I cross-referenced his name with some help from a few Pentagon buddies I made from my time in the service. They revealed to me that Trask was a military scientist and anthropologist that in the eighties was trying to spear head a program called: Project Initiative.”

“What did this Project Initiative entail?” Xavier asked, as a dark shadow of foreboding started to develop inside him.

The Cheyenne man shook his head again, “That’s the thing I have no idea,” Forge replied a little more than frustrated, “All traces of the work were trashed, erased, or removed, by someone a lot more talented than yours truly. Also I wanted to add that there is no official American Intel on Bolivar Trask’s present whereabouts. It’s like the guy completely vanished ten years ago,” the Marker supplied from the mounting mystery. His dark eyes then sharpened, “But the one thing I do believe is that whatever Project Initiative is, it has something to do with what motivated Magneto’s attacks on my company.”

“So now that you’ve made us aware of all of this, what now can we do to prepare?” Ororo asked speaking for the first time.

Forge paused in thought for a moment before answering, “I figured, I can run a trace program through Cerebro,” he suggested contemplating as he spoke, “I should be able to link it up with several different nationwide developmental facilities. That way, the moment any one of the alarms are triggered, I.E Magneto starts attacking them; we’ll be notified,” the Maker then frowned as he realized the reality of the plan, “Granted it won’t provide the largest window of opportunity for preparation, but its all we have at the moment. If we can get some clue as to what Trask was trying to create then we might be able to better predict Magneto’s next attack.”

“How long do you think it will take to create and upload the program into Cerebro?” Scott asked.

Forge didn’t answer right away as he pondered some mental calculations. His dark eyes then returned to Summers, “Four hours, maybe five tops,” he answered confidently.

Xavier nodded, “Make it so then,” he turned to Cyclops, “Scott can you give him a hand?”

“Of course,” the X-Men leader nodded while, he and the others started to rise to their feet.

Forge paused as one more thought came to him, “There’s one last thing I have to add,” he stated halted everyone in the room, “I also found that a working beta version of the program we were developing on was sent to the ‘Friends’ facility three months ago, to update them on our progress. Even without the field-testing that we were still in the process of doing, with a decent amount of computer training know-how, a reasonably skilled team could complete the program in no time.”

Xavier shook his head, “That’s something we will have to worry about later. Right now, stopping these attacks take more precedence,” Charles blue eyes then panned across the entire group. His stare lingered on all of their faces before he spoke, “Its imperative that you all be ready at a moment’s notice,” he strictly instructed, “Know that when it is put online, the signal from Cerebro can sound at any time.”

OoOoOo

“You’re looking good Ororo…” a warm voice greeted the Windrider.

Ororo Monroe smiled as she turned to see her old friend. Forge spared a few words to Scott, asking him to meet in Cerebros’ mainframe in about twenty minutes so they could start. He then turned back to illustrious former goddess. She looked just as regal and radiant as he remembered her. For a small moment he felt a small twinge of nostalgia for times from the past. But he then cast those feelings aside; his heart belonged to someone else now.

Ororo stared back at Silverwind, brief memories from the past resurfacing. Forge started to attend Xavier’s school a few years before she graduated. Being more technical minded and also a few years her senior, seemed to give him a more serious and mature demeanor. He always put forth his best effort and worked hard at everything he set his eyes to, including winning a date from the then standoffish Ororo.

“You are too,” the Windrider returned his sediment genuinely as well, taking in the sharp dark suit he was wearing, “You seemed to have made quite a name for yourself. Stark Industries,” she remarked seemingly surprised, “I have to admit I’d never imagine finding you there,” she stated not hiding her amazement.

“Yea, those days at Mutant High seem so long ago,” the Cheyenne man responded while falling in step with her.

“How’s Mystique?” she turned, asking him suddenly. Not forgetting the runaway shapeling that had stolen his heart all those years ago.

A deep frown crossed her friend’s face as if the question alone dug up something tremendously painful. “To be honest I don’t know,” he stated at a lost, “I haven’t seen Raven in six months,” he then turned away from Ororo, looking far into the distance, “We had an argument a while back and she took off, I haven’t seen her since,” he soullessly supplied.

The African woman frowned deeply, “I’m sorry to hear that,” she responded sincerely.

A small weak smile started to creep its away along his lips, “Its funny for years we’ve always had this rocky relationship,” Forge stated to her, “We hook up for a few months then eventually we get on each other’s nerves then she takes off for a bit,” he grinned at the past ridiculousness from both their parts from the past, “Next thing I know I start to miss her, she starts to miss me and next I look she’s on my doorstep again.” He laughed once he spotted the baffled look on Ororo’s face, “I know its not anywhere close to normal, but it seemed like how we fit with each other.”

“But this is the longest time she’s been gone,” he said continuing, “I keep getting this feeling in my gut that something’s wrong and that I should be out there looking for her,” Forge then frowned dejectedly, “But I got my duties with Stark Industries tying me down, not to mention with all that happening now with the attacks.”

“Forge I cannot tell you how sorry I am,” Ororo responded sincerely. She then considered something for a moment; “Perhaps Charles can use Cerebro…” she began.

“No, no…” Forge profusely shook his head, “I’m probably just worrying myself over nothing,” he stated trying to reassure her, as well as himself, “I just really miss her.”

Ororo frowned while regarding her one time love. She remembered with fond memories the two years the two of them spent together before they’re break up. There were no hard feelings on either side; they were just two people that wanted two different things.

For six months they had been separated, each of them had tried their hand at dating other people but each produced little to no results. At one time it almost seemed that the two were on the road to rekindling their relationship; that was till trouble came to the Xavier Mansion in the multi-form of a shape shifter named Mystique. The shapeling only spent a month at the mansion. There were many rumors that went around that she was only staying at the mansion to evade the authorities for some reason or another. Nothing was ever confirmed though, because when next they looked the blue skinned, shape shifter had fled Winchester altogether, only this time she wasn’t alone.

When word finally spread around about Forge’s abrupt departure Ororo was devastated, but her pain was not long lasting. After a long talk with Jean, sponsored by Ben & Jerry, she realized that while she did love Forge with all her heart, she hadn’t been in love with him for some time.

Returning to the present, the former goddess wrapped her old friend a deep hug that he affectionately returned, “I’m sure she’ll turn up again,” she whispered trying to reassure him.

Silverwind nodded numbly, “And when she does, I’m going to do whatever I have to, to make sure she stays with me, where she belongs.”

OoOoOo

The exchange between Forge and Ororo hadn’t gone unnoticed by the attentive eyes of the Xavier’s School resident Wolverine. Logan noticed the intimacy between the pair and briefly wondered on what terms did they actually end on their relationship on. He then snorted while turning away, as he saw her gently kiss the Cheyenne man on the forehead.

The only reason why he hadn’t already carve the Native American man a new liver was because he didn’t catch a hint of desire from either of them. Still didn’t mean he liked seeing him all cozy with ‘Ro.

Either way the news from the jerk’s report and the fact he still hadn’t a clue where to find Creed was putting him on edge. It seemed like every minute he wasted here in the mansion was another minute that smug bastard got away with everything that he did. When the time was right, he’d be able to settle everything, but right now the moment wasn’t right. There was still too much he didn’t know.

Regardless sitting idle was getting him very antsy. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. He could feel his blood starting to rise. The need, the want to break something, anything to get this frustration out was all too consuming. He then briefly caught the eye of Peter. The young Russian man took in the agitated look of his friend and automatically, nodded his head in the direction of the lower-level elevators.

Logan hated to admit it, but he was really starting to love that kid.

OoOoOo

The Danger Room
Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
The Coliseum

The Wolverine found himself back in that ridiculous yellow and blue suit.

The scenario was called; ‘The Coliseum.’ The simulation depicted a large roman style coliseum. Grant stone pillars surrounded the voluminous stadium walls, with a dirt pit in it center were the combatants fought. The simulated battleground was also filled with breakaway walkways and various other goodies and traps to keep things lively, but small tidbits such as that didn’t bother the Wolverine in the slightest. The huge looming shadow that was descending from up above him was what he was more concerned about.

The Wolverine gritted his teeth. With a flash his claws were to his side as he deftly hopped back, just seconds before the massive metallic form of Colossus crashed down onto the floor in front of him. The metallic Russian, dressed in a red body suit with golden designs, grinned at his opponent, but he only had a moment of reprieve, before the Wolverine’s fist lunged forward. Colossus dropped his shoulder, (like Logan taught him) taking a glancing swipe while burrowing in fast, his massive fist shot forward giving Wolverine a moment to react.

But that proved to be more than enough time.

The Wolverine somehow used the giant’s approaching wrist as a springboard, vaulting his whole body over the Russian somewhat in a perverse game of leapfrog, which allowed him to slip down behind the steel titan’s back. He then nearly dropped to his knees then threw himself up in a backwards somersault, just as the pulverizing double-fisted blow of Colossus obliterated the earth. The Wolverine landed to Colossus opposing flank, seeing the wide exposed back of his opponent, he decided to use two meaty hands and took hold.

Now reason dictates that when you are seven and half feet tall, weighing five hundred and fifty pounds and are made of solid steel, that there are very few things, if any, on this world that can overpower you. Therefore the Wolverine cannot overpower this being called Colossus. He should not be able to break him, move him, or budge him. He shouldn’t even dare try. But the problem was that the Beast had long ago cast aside concepts such as reason. It does what it damn well pleases.

The Wolverine’s foot shot out in between the steel giant’s legs, just as he dropped down low to compensate for such a colossal frame. He then pulled down with all his might, which was like moving a mountain, yanking the titan completely off of his feet completing the hip toss. And soon Colossus experienced the weightless sensation before the wind was blasted from his lungs from the massive devastating slam.

Before the Steel giant could even get the chance to get his bearings or recover, three twelve-inch long claws made their presence known just below his nose, “Tag,” a raspy voice replied, “Ye’re it, bub…”

OoOoOo

Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
X-Men’s Male Locker Room

“What's troubling you tovarisch?” Peter Rasputin asked as he came out of his shower. While he toweling himself off, he found that his body was aching in places that he didn’t know existed. Internally though he smiled. His body might ache, but it was a good ache. From his super strength and near indestructible body, he had been hard pressed to find a single person to have a good sparing match with since he started at the mansion. But it seemed his newly found friend from Canada was more than willing to take up the challenge. Granted Rasputin wasn’t sure if that was due to guts or pure insanity, either way his Danger Room sessions were sure to be more interesting from now on.

Already showered and fully dressed, the Wolverine frowned while looking up to the younger man, “What makes ya think I’m troubled?”

Colossus paused while in the middle of getting dressed to take a contemplative look. He then finally said, “You're mind is here, yet it isn't,” he stated, not commenting on the slash marks on his back that were on the road to healing from a few close calls. “It's like you're a thousand miles away from here, yet you're still standing in front of me.”

For a minute Logan thought to dispute him but he then blew out a long breath, “This all stinks, Pete,” the Wolverine growled out, “This Trask guy, that Magnet friend o' yer’s. All o' it.”

“Cyclops and Forge are working with Cerebro as we speak,” Rasputin supplied, feeling more than confident in his teammate’s capabilities, “I am certain we will find something soon.”

“Don't know how much longer I can take this Pete,” Logan shook his head in frustration, “E'ery minute o’ e’ery day I keep seein' that girl's face. Her soul ain't gonna find peace till I put that fucker under.”

The younger man paused for a moment to regard his distraught friend, “And will that bring you peace?” he inquired solemnly. Logan paused at the pointed question. He started to speak but realized he truly was at a lost to an answer. His eyes then fell over to the tall Russian man. Rasputin came around placing a large comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Give it some time Wolverine,” he advised sagely before walking out of the locker room.

In the empty room of the men’s locker room, Logan was alone to his thoughts. Every thing in his world used to be so clear-cut up until a week ago. It was bleak and unfulfilling, but it was simple. Now he was at a school of all places. Surrounded by children and so many lives that never would have to go through the experiences that shaped him into the person he was today. Now there were people that actually enjoyed his company outside of how well he did in the ring, or how much money he could win them.

And ‘Ro…

‘Ro was an entirely different subject altogether, one that even with all his years, he still couldn’t explain. The woman seemed to challenge him on every step of the way, yet still kept him honest with himself and her. The great unrest that always seemed to be brewing inside him, calmed whenever she was near.

After sometime Logan returned to his feet making his way outside the locker room. In the back of his mind for some reason his thoughts went back to the last statement Xavier had made before they had to break their session to meet with Forge. “Logan, is what you're willing to risk, worth all that you will lose?”

OoOoOo

Xavier Grounds
Westchester, New York
A few hours before nightfall

Strawberry orange skies greeted Marie as she wandered through the wooded forest outside the Xavier mansion. Her mission, as always it seemed these days, was in search of Logan. It had been a week already since the two of them met in Alberta and she decided to have a mini celebration. She wasn’t planning on anything too big; she just remembered a few dishes that she wanted to cook for him. But as always the Wolverine proved to be a difficult quarry to find.

The southern girl had scoured all over the mansion without any luck. When she recalled the affinity he held towards the outdoors, searching the expansive grounds that surrounded the mansion was the next option. And that option was proving to be a colossal task; the girl had no idea that the grounds that Xavier owned were so large.

“Rogue!!!” Marie stopped in her track as she heard the familiar voice of Bobby Drake. Rogue turned around to see his tall slender form hightailing over to her. She thought for a moment to ignore him, the southern girl had made it a point of not speaking to the boy for the rest of the day from his action from before, but she decided against it instead welcoming the company. Although it didn’t mean she was going to let him off the hook easily.

The poor boy nearly collapsed when he finally reached her. “I (pant) wanted (pant) to apologize (pant) for before,” he coughed out in between catching his breath. Bobby felt ridiculous; he played basketball normally with the rest of the kids. He shouldn’t have been this winded. The teen boy then took a long deep breath that seemed to straighten him out. “I kinda owed Jubilee and…”

“Save it,” the southern girl barked flippantly, “D’ye know how much ye emb’rassed me?” she point blank asked him. Her small face frowned deeply at him with her arms crossed under her breasts.

Bobby sighed while his hand raked over the back of his head, “I know I’m sorry. I realized everything kinda went overboard,” Drake returned, “All I knew was that Kitty and Jubi were worried about you. And when I heard that I kinda wanted to help out,” he explained without thinking.

That comment put made Rogue all ears. Her brown eyes widen in interest while looking at him, “Why’s that?”

Bobby whole face flushed with that, “Oh shit I wasn’t supposed to say that” look. “Errr…Uh… Well you know you’re still new and all,” he feebly added while trying to recover, “I just didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

The southern girl’s whole demeanor seemed to change as she just smiled prettily at him. “Ok…” she conceded while accepting his apology. “But!” she then straightened, “If yeh do that again, Ah’ll skin ye from ye head tah ye toes,” Rogue responded with no remorse.

Bobby straightened like a board in salute, “Yes Ma’am!”

The girl’s brown eyes then flashed; “Then Ah’ll tell Logan…” she finished with a vicious grin.

And the earth under Robert Drake nearly gave way as thoughts of getting on that guy’s bad side surfaced.

Bobby had never voiced this openly, because one Rogue was the guy’s friend and two more importantly she was a girl, but the tall lanky boy had a small ingrained fear of the short stocky Canadian man. He couldn’t help it. Every time Logan walked into the room the guy looked like he just got done beating the shit out of someone. And it didn’t settle Bobby’s fears in the slightest when he found out Logan used to do bare-knuckle boxing steel-cage fights for shits and giggles.

Yes, the Wolverine was diffidently on Bobby’s list people he never wanted to piss off. He was placed right next to Gandhi, but that was another story altogether.

OoOoOo

In another area of the grounds…

“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” Ororo said calling up to the air above her. Her sapphire blue eyes looked up and saw perched high along one of the sturdier branches the elusive Wolverine sitting barefooted with his back to the base of the tree, his thick legs crossed comfortably in front of him with one his few remaining cigars burning from his lips.

Logan looked down, regarding her for a second. A thick black eyebrow rose from her comment, “I ain’t hidin’,” he indignantly grumbled, “Jus needed a place ta be alone, ta think,” he finished with blowing out a small ring of smoke.

“So you found it by climbing up a tree?” Ororo countered, her tone seemed to question the sensibility of the act.

“Yep…” he responded simply, not rising to the bait. Another cloud of smoke blew from his lips as he sat there quite contently.

Ororo pressed her full lips together into a smile. Her eyes then briefly blended to their milky white color as she summoned a gentle gale wind that carried her up to the full height of the tree. Logan watched almost memorized as she masterfully rode the winds till she floated in the air in front of him. Her long mane of hair was now collected in a small ponytail seeming like a living thing as it rive around her like a serpent.

It didn’t come to him, till a moment after to scoot over a bit to make room. Although, she didn’t appear to be the least bit perturbed or agitated, she simply took the spot provided to her, right next to him. His thick arm then came around falling onto her hip as he pulled her a little bit closer to him. In return she nuzzled into his shoulder and remained there. A fact he wasn’t complaining about.

He couldn’t help but take a small whiff of her; her scent always seemed to be addictive. The rain and breezy air that she normally carried seemed to be overshadowed this time by a spray of sandalwood and lavender. She impulsively kicked one of her legs, which drew his attention to the long shapely limbs and the dainty bare cinnamon toes of her feet. She had changed out of the wrap-around skirt she was in earlier, now she was wearing a V-neck t-shirt and a comfortable pair of cut-off jeans, which more than once made him, think of those legs in various scandalously positions wrapped around him.

“You found a good one,” her voice said sometime later, “I used to climb up this tree all the time, when I was a little girl.” Logan briefly grunted and nodded, his mind clearing, returning to his original train of thought. She closed her eyes briefly as she felt his blunt fingers drawing small soothing circles along her side. She blew out a silent breath, painstakingly trying to ignore how incredibly right this moment felt. “So what are we thinking of?” she asked, coming out of his spell.

Logan turned to her and slowly an ocean of blue sapphires returned his gaze. He sighed while putting out his cigar. “What brings ya peace?”

Ororo drew back momentarily, her blue eyes peering strangely at the man. She briefly wondered what brought on such an uncharacteristic question. But it appeared he didn’t seem to be forthwith with any more responses, so she had to make due. She brought up one of her legs to her chest, allowing the other one to dangle casually from the edge of the branch as she pondered the question for a few minutes more.

“One thing is gardening…” she commented softly, “Working with the soil, feeling the earthly elements at work between my fingertips. There is something soothing when you’re able to witness a little life that you nurtured with your own hands. Then see it grow and blossom into a beautiful arrangement of hues and colors, knowing that you had a part in its journey.”

“Kinda like wit you an’ teachin tha rugrats,” he thoughtfully pointed out.

“Huh?” she turned to him not catching on.

Logan shrugged his shoulder, “Jus sayin’, same principal.”

Ororo blinked a few times as comprehension started to set in. A gentle beautiful smile then eased onto her face, “Yes,” she nodded her head; “I suppose I’ve never considered it that way.” He winked at her, causing her to smile again. “What of you?” she turned to him to ask, “What brings the infamous Wolverine peace?”

Logan paused for a moment in consideration. His gray eyes then sharpened before returning to her, “A six-pack of Molson would be a good start…”

OoOoOo

Rogue and Bobby Drake continued their trek through the forest. The southern girl had informed Bobby of reason for her venturing so far into the grounds. Granted the boy wasn’t overall thrilled with the prospect of finding the Wolverine, but any time he spent with Rogue, he figured was well worth it.

It seemed though that they’re journey had come to an end as the woods filled with the cackling laughter of Ororo Monroe. The two teens looked up to see quite a sight. The usually regal and very proper weather goddess; was now draped haphazardly around the notorious Wolverine, shoulders quaking as roaring laughter flew free from her lips. She only briefly stopped to catch her breath that was till a few gravelly words mumbled from Logan set her off again into another giggle spree.

Marie pressed her lips between her teeth in bewilderment and frustration. She felt almost foolish now for wasting all this time trying to find him, when he was there with her. “That’s so weird?” Rogue heard from beside her.

She whirled around and blanched; suddenly remembering that Bobby was still standing there. “What is?” she asked him.

“Miss Monroe,” he answered while motioning to the African woman, “I’ve never seen her laugh like that before and so much. She’s always so…” he paused as he considered the best word to describe it, “…reserved, in class and in the Mansion.” He also secretly thought that Logan appeared less scary too. Although the Wolverine still maintained that omnipresent scowl that was starting to become legendary around the mansion, there was a light in his gray eyes and a slight energy in his tone that he never recalled when ever he stalked the mansion halls. Granted this new revelation wasn’t about to stop the boy from sleeping with one eye open, but it was still progress.

Rogue turned her scowling eyes away from Bobby and returned to the unconventional couple. She sighed deeply as she realized, if she allowed a moment for her own jealousy not take reign, she could say that he looked truly content with her there. He seemed to be simply at ease with her, as if he let all of his guards down finally. A task Marie with all her efforts was never able to fully accomplish.

“Bobby have ye e’er had a cheese shrimp an’ grits casserole?” Marie turned to the boy and asked.

The Drake boy paused at the sudden change of topic, “A what?”

Rogue flashed a grin at the poor deprived boy. “Come on, Ah’m gonna treat ye tah some o’ mah world famous cookin’,” the girl cheered while taking the boy’s hand and leading him back towards the mansion.

OoOoOo

“Come on…”

After watching the fleeing form of Maria hand in hand with that Drake boy, Logan snorted briefly before turning to Ororo with a questionable look, “What?”

“Come on,” the African woman encouraged again. There was a small flash of light and he watched as she sailed down to the ground below on a gust of wind, “You’ve been thinking for far too long. I’m going to take you to some place to take your mind off of things for a little while.”

After seeing her display, Logan just let out small, “Hmph”. Then tossed him self over the edge of the branch. His burly arm snatched out an instant later grabbing hold of the limb underneath him, throwing his body into a brief somersault that made him land just step behind the Windrider. “Darlin’ are ya taking me out?” he asked a moment later while he was rising to his feet after touching down. A small smirk was on his face, as he found a little more than amusement from the notion.

“Goddess forbid,” ‘Ro scoffed while turning away. She then considered something for a moment before returning with, “Think of this more like a kidnapping.” Her eyes then flashed before thinning to devious blue slits, “Either way Logan you have no choice in the matter.”

Logan’s thick eyebrows narrowed as he took up a defiant air. “Many o’ men have tried ta make that same claim darlin’,” he then grinned flashing a threatening assortment of razor-sharp incisors, fists stuffed casually down into his pockets as he took a stance, “Didn’t bode well fer ‘em.”

Ororo glared at him as she crossed her arms and stepped forward, making a point to invade the bullheaded man’s personal space. “Well not a tenth of them had the fortitude to back it up, Cowboy,” she replied icily, her face just inches away from his own.

The Wolverine sent her a threatening look, one that would have frozen the blood of most men.

And Ororo returned with one that was more than up for the challenge.

Logan sighed clearly beat. “I’ll get my jacket,” he grumbled while slipping on his boots and marching back to the mansion. He was getting soft he knew it. And the dang woman was to blame. A smile broadened on Ororo’s face as they both made their way back to the mansion.

And the brightness of that smile lasted all until he gave her hair a nice tug.


To Be Continued…

Chapter 14: Rogues

Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
A quiet evening…

Robert Drake, the future X-Men hopeful, was now currently faced with one of the most morally defining decisions of his young life. Perhaps I should explain the situation.

An hour or so ago after he successfully found Rogue wandering the grounds outside, he was promptly dragged back to the Mansion’s kitchen. The southern girl, after hearing he had never experienced some of the southern classic delicacies she mentioned, had promised him a feast like no other.

So now said girl was before him cheerfully singing the lyrics to some Billy Ray Cyrus song that he didn’t know. Her subtle hypnotic hips swiveled back and fro, her cute little round bottom shifted side to side to the beat. All of these actions young Robert was respectfully trying to ignore, but a young man’s resistance was only so strong, and when it came to Rogue his threshold was even smaller.

Unaware of the Drake boy’s current plight, Marie D'Ancanto better known to her friends as Rogue was also at war with her own inner demons. Her thoughts constantly drifted over the events of the day: from her talk with Logan this morning, to finding him later in the woods with Miss. Monroe again.

She knew that right now Miss. Monroe and Logan were both in town. The pair didn’t call it a date, but Marie wasn’t stupid and she wasn’t blind. She saw how at ease the two of them seemed to be with each other, something that her own relationship with Logan didn’t seem to posses. And the more she had been thinking about it recently, the more she believed it never would, at least not on that intimate level. In the end, the girl was at a lost at to how to make him love her, like she loved him.

Rogue lowered the mixing bowl to her hip and slowly stopped singing. “Bobby,” she suddenly said which broke the boy from his mild delirium, “Have ye e’va been in love?” she asked, without turning around.

“Huh?” the boy’s voiced wavered in response. The cheeks on Bobby’s face started to flush from the very intimate beginning this conversation was taking. He hoped that he didn’t somehow come on too strong too fast, but he instantly sobered after her next words.

Rogue sighed while placing the mixing bowl on the counter. She turned her doe brown eyes onto the tall boy, holding a steadfast stare on him, “Ah, keep tryin’ tah tell mahself that what Ah feel is real,” she admitted, “Ah, know Ah’m young,” the girl then flushed, “Well, very young, an’ Ah, can’t give ‘im everythin’ ‘nothah girl can give but shouldn’t that not mattah? If true love really conquerors all then shouldn’t none o’ that matta?” The girl than turned away from him, placing her gloved hands on the kitchen island, “Why can’t he see what’s in front o’ him? Why can’t he see me?”

Bobby realized, who the ‘he’ she was talking about instantly. He wasn’t ignorant to the very deep relationship that was held between Rogue and Logan. There was a bond there that was formed that night they met in Alberta that no one would ever be able to break. Bobby assumed they’re friendship was more of a platonic nature, but he realized at least someone wanted a lot more.

He slowly stepped down from the stool he was perched upon. The boy’s movements automatically drew Rogue’s attention; she whirled around to see Bobby standing before her, very close. She looked up to see his cool blue eyes, which reminded her of a cold winter storm, peering deeply into her eyes. He then moved, tenderly brushing a stray lock of white hair from her face, while maintaining his stare, “Rogue, just because he doesn’t see you like that,” he said softly, “Doesn’t mean that no one does.”

Marie noticed their close proximity. She felt Bobby’s lean but very tone body pressed lightly against her. He was so close she could feel his breath, tickling her nose. Suddenly the whole room felt ten degrees hotter. “Ah’m gonna hurt ye…” she replied weakly, trying her hardest not to notice how appealing his soft lips looked right now.

Bobby’s face spread into a lopsided grin, his eyes never falling away from her. “Some things are worth a little hurt,” he dared. His tone was low but deathly serious as he leaned forward to try to steal a kiss.

Rogue nearly arched her head up, desperate for a small taste of his lips, but instead she moved back just beyond his reach. Automatically Bobby thought he went too far but the bright yet flustered smile on her face cleared any doubts he had. “Ye’re crazy ya know that?” she jested, smile never dimming. She then moved forward her gloved hands falling onto the boy’s cheeks bringing him down to her level. She then gently kissed the top of his head before releasing him. “Crazy,” she insisted her brown eyes shining brightly, “But sweet, like a big ol’ bowl of sugah.”

“We’ll I am crazy about you,” Bobby returned, another lopsided grin formed on his face while he pulled the girl in close to him.

“Gah! Git back! Shoo, shoo!” the girl playfully chided him, while slapping him away, “Ah, have tah get back tah yer food,” Rogue firmly protested with her hands placed on her hips. Laughing lightly to himself Bobby returned to his seat across the room, with a silent promise to behave while she worked.

“An’ stop starin’ at mah butt!!!” she hollered over her shoulder.

OoOoOo

Xavier Grounds
Westchester, New York
A few minutes before ten…

Logan hated to admit it, but he had a good time. The place ‘Ro chose was far tamer than the dives he usually frequented but the booze more than made up for the atmosphere. He could fondly remember the moment when the bartender slid that first frothy mug of beer in front of him, he nearly swore fealty to her and all of her ancestors right there on the spot. It was a nice night, a few beers, a few games of pool, and good company. It all seemed like just what the doctor ordered.

Now, his large leather jacket was draped over her narrow shoulders almost like a cape. The black slides that she had worn tonight dangled from his fingers as he watched her walk barefooted through the grass. Her tall slender silhouette was bathed in the radiant silvery light of the moon. Its beams all fell around her like a veil, almost as if she was some sort of earthly deity. He wondered briefly if tonight alone she had decided to adorn the guise of the goddess once again or was this, the true beauty that was Ororo Monroe.

“Darlin’,” Logan said, while drawing her attention, “I have ta say as far as kidnappin’s go, this by far was tha best.” A brief smile touched his lips while his gray eyes focused solely on her.

“I aim to please,” Ororo smiled brightly back at him. A notable flush of red stained her caramel cheeks, a sign of the traces of alcohol that still lingered in her system. She sighed and closed her eyes, her head falling back against the tree she was standing in front of, the warm security of Logan’s jacket surrounding her. Even though she was never affected by the cold, she appreciated the sediment anyway. The jacket bore the very male scent of leather, sweat, and cigars. A combination that she felt was completely Logan.

“Ya know, I’m thinkin’ I should return the favor,” he commented lightly, although his eyes still held that steadfast sharpness.

Ororo let out a bemused laugh. Her bright blue eyes were filled with humor as she gazed at him. “You want to kidnap me now?” she asked him coyly, her eyes seemed to dance at the fun that attempt would bring.

Logan’s eyes flicked over her. His gray eye stare wandered slowly up those long soft caramel legs, ending at her scandalous mini-skirt covered hips. His eyes continued their journey further, taking in her lush, amble breasts contained in a buttoned up blouse that completed her perfect hourglass figure, finally settling on her almond-shaped sapphire blue eyes. He grinned at her, a sharp incisor glinting briefly in the moonlight, “Somethin’ like that…” he put it mildly, before continuing, “But instead o’ a nice cozy bar an’ dine-in. I’m thinkin’ more like a low-lit room, with silk sheets an’ a roarin’ fireplace.”

She bore a devilish smile while looking at him, her mind vaguely playing out the scene of his fantasy. “Oh?” Ororo then looked at him with spurious innocence, “Why, what ever would we do there?” she asked, before briefly closing her eyes.

When next she opened them, he was right there in front of her. His strong thick arms posted around her tall lithe body, with his whiskered face just a breath away from her lips. Logan looked up cutting her with a sly look, one thick eyebrow raised, “I think I got a few ideas,” he added suggestively, before claiming a kiss.

Ororo felt like she was dying. No, scratch that. She was dying. This man should not feel this good. She was left breathless as they’re lips fought for dominance. She gasped for a moment during a break. Heated pants echoed from both of them, all semblance of thought gone; all they wanted was that feeling that heated want again. She attacked him a moment later, sucking hard on his bottom lip, before massaging his tongue with her own.

His blunt fingertips fell, briefly caressing the edge of her breasts igniting a blaze of desire in her, before sweeping down capturing her soft hips in his large hands. His palm grazed lower over the smooth flesh of the underside of her mocha colored thighs, giving it a good squeeze, before wrapping it around his waist. He rocked his hip into her. A quiver of heat brewed between her thighs as she became very aware of the large iron-like hardness that pressed against her.

“That might prove to be interesting,” she whispered a few moments later when she could finally think/breath again. Her blue eyes were wide and wild, almost as if she was on the brink. With the moment’s reprieve she briefly considered summoning a short rainstorm, although she doubted that it would cool the inferno that was brewing inside her body. She kisses his lips softly once, twice, three times even before saying, “But what of tonight?”

“Tonight?” he echoed while pondering her notion. His eyes then sharpened slyly while looking at her, “Let’s call this practice,” he grinned before kissing her thoroughly again.

OoOoOo

Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
A few minutes till midnight…

Upon returning to the mansion, Logan and Ororo’s gaze fell to the television room from across the hall. The channel was flipped to some continuous Abs-exercise machine infomercial, but the viewer had long since fallen asleep. Marie was bundled under a warm blue comforter with her head prompted up on one of the couch’s pillows that would probably leave her neck sore in the morning.

The two of them shared a look for a moment, before Logan went to collect the slumbering teen. Being careful to mind any skin contact, he easily shuffled the light as a feather girl into his arms. Ororo, sensing that they’re time together had come to the end, approached him with a short but deep kiss. “I had fun tonight…” she whispered, careful not to awaken the girl.

“Ya, me too…” he replied sincerely. She smiled briefly before ascending up the stairs to her loft. Logan allowed himself a few minutes to admire the curves of her sashaying bottom, before he headed over to Marie’s room.

OoOoOo

Nice and tucked in, Marie was soon safe and sound in her bed. Logan hadn’t a clue to where the room’s two other occupants, Kitty and Jubilee was. After making a mental note to go search for the girls, Logan started to make his way out of the door.

“Logan…” he heard the southern drawl voice call softly from behind.

The Canadian man turned around to see Marie’s droopy brown eyes staring lazily at him. “Sorry Marie didn’t mean ta wake ya,” he said while closing the door to the room. He figured Kitty and the Sparkler would be ok for the time being. He briefly recalled that Marie came looking for him earlier this afternoon. Then he also remembered whom the girl had left with. “How’d it go wit that Drake kid?”

“How? How did’cha know ‘bout that?” she asked while sitting up in the bed, apparently more awake now. The southern girl then shook her head, making her stark white bangs shake. “Never mind, that’s not impo’tant,” she commented while straightening herself.

Logan peered at her questionably, “Somethin’ on ya mind?”

The Mississippi born girl rubbed her eyes, clearing away some of the sleep in them, “Ah, was tryin’ tah wait up fah ye. Ah, wanna tah continue our talk from b’fore,” she finished then held a steadfast stare onto him.

Logan drew a long deep sigh, while coming over to sit on the edge of the bed, “‘suppose that’s fair,” he returned firmly. He then set his chin while settling his eyes on her again, “In that case, when ya wanna leave?” he casually inquired.

Marie blinked, hard. “What?” stared at him wide-eyed and completely amazed, “Ye still want tah go?” she looked at him like he just grew two additional heads.

The Canadian just shrugged his shoulders, “Don’t know really,” he returned honestly, which seemed to deflate Marie. He then fired a deep look to her, “But I figure after I settle up wit Creed, we can head out if ya want. I owe ya a trip like ya said.” He then smirked, “Plus I ain’t leavin’ ya Marie,” he finished with playfully ruffling up her brown and white hair.

Marie didn’t care about the annoying habit he always did when he saw her, the man’s words now seemed to be too good to be true. A smile that was brighter then a ten thousand watt bulb lit on the girl’s face, the idea of the two of them back on the road again, her Logan all alone to herself once more. Marie then paused because for some reason this all didn’t seem right. “But these last days ye’ve been wit Miss. Monroe,” she stated not believing the words coming out of her own mouth, “Ye jus gonna leave her? Doncha care ‘bout her?”

Logan sat back in reflection of the last few days that he spent with the African Windrider who also had somehow found a place in his heart. He remembered every conversation they had, every kiss they shared the very taste and caress of her skin. Silently, he then bid them farewell as his eyes returned to the teenage girl in front of him. “‘Course I do. Ain’t no other person in tha world like her,” he said just as surely, as if there was never any doubt in his mind about the fact.

The then girl deeply frowned, her face contorted into a completely confused expression, “Then why leave?”

Logan then smiled. Marie instantly felt touched because she realized that with all his interactions with people even with Miss. Monroe, that little smile was still reserved solely for her. He then said, “’Cause there ain’t no other person in the world like you too.”

Marie felt like the ground from under her instantly collapse, she blinked away the tears that were steadily forming in her eyes. Her breath was completely stolen by the pure honesty of his sediment. Guilt instantly swelled inside her. “Logan ye don’t owe me nothin’!” she shouted, angry that he would be so selfless for her. “We ain’t blood, we ain’t kin,” she argued, “Ah’m not like her. Ah can ne’er be,” she blinked away the tears again, because it hurt so much to admit that, “Why would ye give up someone like her, fer me?

That was all he could take, he couldn’t stand to hear anymore.

Before she could even blink, Logan had reached across the bed pulling the girl deep into his arms. At first she seemed startled by the intimacy, but then she wilted molding into the embrace that she so desperately needed. Her forehead rested on his shirt-covered chest, so she could hear the soothing sound of his heart beating.

Logan waited a few moments for her to collect herself and then he spoke. He made sure to speak slowly and clearly so she’d understand everything he said fully. “Marie, we ain’t blood, I know. And we ain’t kin,” he took a breath before continuing, “But tha one thing I got from Chuck an’ all his borin’ speeches is family,” he pulled her back so she could see the honesty on his face, “You an’ me, we ain’t related, but that don’t mean we ain’t family. An’ family sticks together, ya got me?” the side of his face quirked into a small grin, “I know ya, been alone, hurt, an’ afraid fer most o’ yer life. But I’m here now, an’ I’m gonna do what I can ta keep bein’ here ta make sure ye’re never hurt again.”

And the dam that was holding back everything inside of her started to crumble. All the fears and insecurities that had been building inside of her head for days now instantly became undone. “Why couldn’t it been ye, instead o’ him!” she cried while openly weeping into his chest.

“What?” Logan called out, confused by the seemingly random words.

“Ah’m sorry!” her muddled voice cried out, “Ah, don’t wanna go. Ah, don’t wanna make ye go. Ah, wanna stay here wit ye an’ Kitty an’ Jubi. Ah’m sorry fer bein’ so selfish!”

Logan inwardly smiled as his fingers gently stroking through her hair as he held her. “Shhh…S’alright sweetheart,” he quietly hushed her. He continued to tend to her while she finally released all the pain, anguish, and anxiety she had been feeling for the past days, maybe even months and years.

After minutes passed, when Marie could collect her self, she looked up and fixed another stare onto Logan. She took a deep breath; finally able to speak the other secret she was hiding. “Logan, there is somethin’ else I have tah tell you.” The older man stood firm, looking as though he was ready if the whole world was going to suddenly collapse. The southern girl took one breath and spoke again, “I kill’d him,” Marie said, finally after all this time.

One of Logan’s thick black eyebrows rose in alarm, “Killed who?”

“My pa!” she answered back, “That’s why I ran. That’s why I was in Albertah.”

“Oh, my God,” Logan gapped at her in disbelief. He quickly schooled his expression when he noticed the worried look in her eyes.

“Ah, can still feel ‘im in here,” she said while tapping her forehead, “He’s still yellin’ at me,” she wept, “It wasn’t mah fault Logan,” she protested, “He was gonna kill me. He found out I was a mutant an’ he was gonna kill me,” she stressed in between sobs, “Ah’m sorry Ah, didn’t tell ye b’fore. Ah, didn’t want ye tah send me away...”

“Shhhhh, it’s ok,” he whispered, while his head started to swim under the weight of the girl’s confession. For a moment all he thought about was taking her back onto the road this very night because he wasn’t sure of which side Xavier would take from all of this.

Logan liked the old man a lot. Xavier had showed him that not all of life was as bleak and scornful as he originally thought, but the old psychic was also a man that lived with a righteous heart. Logan wasn’t exactly sure how he would take it that his school was harboring someone with such a past.

The Wolverine finally just shook his head. He would have to take a chance. This all was just too much foreign ground for him and it was something that completely right up Xavier’s alley. And if they wanted to take legal action or even try to take her away from him. He ultimately decided he would have to see just how good the X-Men really were. “Let’s go wake, tha Professor.”

OoOoOo

Lower level Infirmary
Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Several hours later…

Logan stared through the observation window to see Marie peacefully slumbering in the bed in the next room. Ororo stood by his side, a comforting arm draped around his waist. His face was grim, but calm as he watched and heard the girl’s gentle breathing. The last few hours of his life were an ordeal that he never wanted to experience again. The trek to Xavier’s study earlier seemed to have taken an eternity. The anxiety and consequences for what the old man would say seemed to weigh on his thoughts every step of the way.

After some minor digressions, when he finally came clean Charles immediately took charge of the situation, seemingly knowing exactly what to do. What happened next was a whirlwind of events that still kept his head spinning. Logan, with a polite ushering from Ororo, was asked to wait outside of his study while Xavier counseled Marie alone.

Seeing that Logan was situated into one of the seats outside of Xavier’s office, Ororo started to go off in search of Jean, thinking the psychic Doctor would be of some help to the Professor. As soon as the African woman took a single step towards the adult wing, a firm but gentle grip halted her. The former goddess gazed down to the thick sun-kissed hand that held her. She then looked to Logan as he kept his eyes firmly on the door, but she knew he was completely aware of where her eyes roamed.

There was a significant paused in time where everything in the background seemed to stop and it was only this moment between them that was in effect. Then all at once the moment passed, Ororo slowly drew into the seat beside him. She gently pulled his hand into her lap; gently rubbing soothing circles with her thumb into the back of his palm.

And then two of them just patiently waited.

OoOoOo

Logan blinked away the memory as his thoughts returned to the present. He glanced over his shoulder watching as Xavier continued to explain the situation to both Scott and Jean, who both looked as worn and weary as he did, but the determine gleam in both their eyes said there was no place they’d rather be.

A brief frown crossed Logan’s face. He barely caught the tail end of Jean’s words. From what he was told it was normal for most of the new mutants that came to the Mansion to seek Xavier or another adult from the faculty with help managing their powers. It seems in the case of Marie though; the girl never sought counsel from anyone.

“She never honestly requested for any,” Charles returned. The older man then frowned, “I always believed it to be strange, but originally I conceived that her years of abuse from the hands of her father placed a deep seeded fear of being in placement around people, specifically speaking men,” his blue eyes looked up as he motioned to the Canadian man. “In fact Logan I believe yourself and now Robert, are the only males she’s allowed to have a more intimate relationship with,” Xavier continued, “I decided then not to pry into her privacy. Hoping that in due time when she felt more comfortable around the mansion, that she would ask for help,” the older man then sighed with regret, “Now, in hindsight I wish I hadn’t been as complacent.”

It seemed that just as the girl claimed there was a very strong hostile persona dwelling in her mind. Xavier later explained that theoretically normal baseline humans would not have held such a strong influential presence in hindering Marie’s thoughts and emotions. But the girl’s close relationship not to mention the fear instilled by years of continual abuse, preserved Marie’s father’s presence in her mind. In fact her fear seemed to empower him.

“Ain’t yer fault, Charles,” Logan stated resolutely, “Ya couldn’t’ve known.”

“Scott and I, always found it strange that there were no missing girl reports that matched her likeness,” Jean commented, “I’d thought at least the girl’s mother would have inquired about her whereabouts.”

Logan shook his head to her, “Marie’s mom left her dad, six months ago. It’s been just tha two of them since then,” he then folded his arms together, “That’s when it was gettin’ real bad fer her.”

Xavier just shook his head. “My hands still shake in anger at the thought of laying a hand on such a beautiful child,” he stated, Charles then looked to Logan, “You’ve been an anchor for her, Logan. Since she left her home in Mississippi, you’ve been the first constant thing in her life. Probably even before then.” His blue eyes then grew very serious; “She’s going to need to rely on you in the future. I don’t want to influence your decision if you still would like to leave, but you’re stable presence has been strengthening her overall resolve,” Charles continued, “I have now, placed a series of blockers that should be able to suppress, her father’s persona. But ultimately Marie’s own strength of will, will determine the effectiveness of the bonds in place.”

“Chuck I already made a promise to her,” the Canadian began, “I ain’t so much o’ a bastard that I’d tuck tail an’ run, ‘cause of this.”

“And you won’t be alone either,” a male stern voice said. Logan looked up to see the determined gleam to Summers’ visor. For the first time since Logan arrived, the two men appeared to see eye to eye on something. Logan nodded his thanks to him.

The other occupants of the room all traded hopeful glances. It was as if something substantial was forge this night that everyone present was apart of.

OoOoOo

After another half and hour of discussion Jean and Scott decided to retire back to their bedroom. Jean managed to somehow drag Ororo along with her, stating that the two had some important topics they needed to discuss. After seeing how fixated Jean was on his intimacy with Ororo, Logan could take a good guess what they were talking about. Xavier was about to depart as well, but the older man drew Logan close for another private discussion.

“Since my analysis of Marie’s condition,” Charles began, “I have a sneaking suspicion that the abuse she suffered at the hands of her father and her mutation are somehow related,” Xavier revealed to him. “I would need to run a series of test, with her permission of course but right now those can wait.”

Logan shook his head. He didn’t want to think of putting her through any more tests at the moment in light of everything that’s happened. Instead he simply asked, “Can I see her?”

“Of course,” Xavier stated while motioning towards the door. The older man then nodded, “Well, if that will be all. I believe I shall retire as well.”

“Charles…” Logan hastily said, stopping the older man, “Thank you.”

The old man returned a warm smile to him, “You’re quite welcome, Logan. Good night.”

OoOoOo

The Wolverine quietly stepped into the infirmary room. The gentle sounds of Marie snoozing echoed within the four corners of the small room. After giving the slumbering girl a brief once over to make sure she was ok, Logan tried to make a quiet escape but he was halted when he heard, “Stay, fer a while?” He turned to see Marie holding a stare onto him.

The Canadian born man just smirked at her while stepping back into the room and pulling up a chair from the corner, “Ya’d have to beat me wit a stick ta keep me away, kiddo.”

She grinned at him, settling back onto her pillows. Her brown eyes then light up like a wildfire with intrigue, “So…tell me all ‘bout this hot date yea had wit Miss. Monroe...”

Logan sighed and rolled his eyes at the girl, before regaling the tale for her.


To Be Continued…

Chapter 15: Want

Ororo’s Loft
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
1:05AM

Tick…
Tick…
Tick…

Ororo Monroe groaned, blowing out an irritated breath, while her blue eyes continued to stare vaguely at the digital clock on her bed mantel. It’s low neon blue light glared right back at her in angry betrayal before she turned back over in her bed, folding the sheets around her. The former goddess turned X-Woman had been continuing this cycle for the passed hour now and it still seemed that sleep would evade her.

She considered going over all the courses she had planned for the approaching day’s classes, but having accomplished that task two times prior, she decided that a third time wasn’t necessary, which of course brought her back to where she started, instead now her clock read, “1:07 AM.”

“Oh, for Goddess sake…” Ororo cried in frustration as her long legs kicked off her covers, launching herself to her feet. The thin sky blue nightgown that she wore fluttered around her like a shroud as she walked over to her loft’s circular windowpane. She pressed her forehead lightly against its cool surface, watching as the small rainstorm continued to brew outside.

The Windrider could sense the complex currents and patterns in the air as they shifted and mixed within the clouds. It was so if she desired to, she could pluck out the inner workings of the tempest in an instant, which would return them to the normal calm winds of the night. Granted, Ororo was never as haphazard with her gifts to temper needlessly with a budding storm just on a whim. Instead the thought of journeying outside to be cradled in its embrace while soaring through the refreshing midnight storm air was a very tempting alternative.

But in the end she knew that would only be a temporary reprieve to what was really bothering her. Ororo knew exactly why she was wide-awake this night and the passed ones before. Ever since that outing she had with Logan almost a week ago, something occurred between them that awakened something inside of her that she now was desperately trying to take reins of.

OoOoOo

Xavier Grounds
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Five nights ago…

Ororo remembered the moonlit walk through the grounds they shared, especially the cool feeling of the blades of grass being crushed between her toes as Logan walking behind her, silently watching her. She could recall with certain amount of clarity, the little light that appeared in Logan’s dark gray eyes whenever he looked to her or whenever they talked. But most of all she remembered the heat! The heat of his large barrel-like body as he pressed her firmly against that tree, with her fingers laced around the back of his head pulling him closer to her awaiting lips.

She had lost track of when the necking started. The man’s tongue was lethal and his hands were just criminal. All she could do was hold on, enjoying the sensation as they’re lips nibbled, dueled, and fought. Not to mention the quivering jolt as the man’s devilish fingers caressed and explored up the valley of her inner thighs till they rested, taking a hold of her supple round bottom through her short skirt.

She remembered it all. How close he was. The feeling of his tense solid body against her, the heat, lust and Goddess, he was so hard…

Then just like that Logan broke away from her and despite herself she remembered licking her lips afterward. Ororo managed to untangle herself from him, which involved to her embarrassment, removing her legs that she tightly wrapped around his waist. The upper-left corner of Logan’s mouth tilted up as he grinned slyly at her. “I think ya want me,” he boldly taunted her. His voice had a cool controlled edge, as if the episode they both share hadn’t a single effect on him, although his dark intense eyes never left her for a second.

Ororo ran a shaky hand through her wild loose ivory hair; she then tried to coolly smooth out her completely wrinkled skirt in a vain attempt of indifference. After mentally counting down from ten to one in her head, she finally addressed him. “Don’t be absurd,” she scoffed in an almost even voice.

But it seems the Wolverine wasn’t buying it. “Hmmm…nope,” he said while steadily approaching her. His face lingered real close to her. His nostrils flared briefly as he took in her seedy scent. Logan’s steel gray eyes then locked onto her. “Tha nose don’t lie.” His large hands gently brushed against her cheek, his thumb stroking over her plump bottom lip before sliding down her neck. And despite the coolness of her words just moments before, Ororo openly shuddered under his touch.

Storm swallowed deeply before returning with, “It does in this instance,” she managed to defiantly utter, but the Wolverine appeared to ignore her response completely.

His eyes currently were gazing down to the chocolate valley of her cleavage, which was crowned with two dark perk nipples that protruded through her silk button-down blouse. Logan’s eyes returned to her as his hand trailed down her front gently glossing over the underside of her amble breasts. The brief tantalizing contact sent a blazing flame of desire through the woman’s entire body as Logan’s locked his eyes on her. “Ya should be more honest wit yerself darlin’,” he firmly admonished, while capturing a taut nipple between his fingers which instantly caused Ororo to draw in a swift intake of air, “Yer nipples are rock hard an’ I’m willin’ ta bet yer panties are soaked…”

“Only one way to find out…” a voice replied that Ororo could not believe was her own.

Eagerly taking up the invitation Logan’s hands searched underneath her skirt, instantly finding the elastic waist of her panties. Seemingly without her own accord, Ororo pressed her full caramel brown thighs together, watching as his hands tugged down the corners of her moist bikini briefs. They soon pooled at her feet and with lifting one dainty foot she kicked them to the side.

Why wasn’t she stopping him? She knew she could have. She had the power, but yet she didn’t. Curiosity and too much cursed intrigue prevented her. Not to mention a third element that she openly wouldn’t have admitted, pure animalistic lust.

Logan then flipped the edge of her skirt up, gazing almost lovingly at the small “V” of ivory hair that rested between her thighs. A deep grin formed on his lips. “Yer mouth may lie…” she heard him say, “But here…” His thick blunt finger suddenly trailed unbelievably slowly across her dripping wet slit. She meant to say, “Don’t!” but a deep throaty, “AAAhhhhh…” echoed from her mouth out instead. “I think ye’re a bit more honest here…” he continued, while the hot scent of her feminine musk washed over him. “Ya smell so fuckin’ good,” he exclaimed, “I wonder how good ya taste…”

Before she could even respond, Logan’s tongue slithered out of his mouth, causing Ororo to openly cry out for her Goddess. Savoring the taste, he then prompted her thigh on his shoulder as he buried himself deep between her legs. His ‘Ro threw her head back in wanton abandonment the instant his hot thick tongue lashed at her slit, again and again. She took fistfuls of his unruly black hair, pulling him towards her as she slowly rocked against him, driving his tongue strokes deeper inside of her, devouring her.

Ororo honestly didn’t know what she was doing anymore. Words of protest were held in the pit of her throat burning to come out, but yet she couldn’t speak, because she realized she didn’t want him to stop. She just continued to thrust her hips against his face as wave after, rippling wave of pleasure washed over her, while he continued to viciously lap at her hot dripping wet sex.

It was all just too much; “Lo-Lo-Logan…” came out as her breathless response.

But he simply continued, briefly muttering, “Just givin’ the ‘lady’ what she wants darlin’,” he commented before he drawing his tongue deep along her velvety folds once again. He then plunged his thick fingers in and out of her while his eyes locked onto hers again. “Now come fer me baby,” his husky voice beckoned. Ororo bit her lip and clenched her body tight, in mild protest to his demands. “Come fer me baby…” he called again. But this time as if on cue, Ororo felt the inside of her world collapsing as she succumbed to his command. Her body quaked from one of the most powerful climaxes she’d ever experienced in her life. Logan even could have sworn he heard an echoing rumble of thunder in the distance before he turned his attention back to his Windrider.

The strength gone from her legs, Ororo fell forward on top of him, into his arms. Her thick white hair lightly whipped his face as she brushed her lips against his, roughly kissing him. She sampled the bittersweet wetness of her own sex from his lips, not even caring about its source. “Logan…” she whispered to him, but there were no words left to say. Her wide wild sapphire blue eyes spoke volumes of her honest want.

Needing no more encouragement, Logan simply took her hand, “Let’s get back inside,” he softly stated, “I want to take my time wit ya.”

OoOoOo
Ororo’s Loft
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
1:36AM

Tick…
Tick…
Tick…

Ororo opened the window to her loft. The chill late night air entered her room as she extended her hand outside feeling the icy drops of rain sliding between her fingers. Her blue eyes shimmered briefly as she continued to reminisce over the events of the past few days.

Regretfully, they never got a chance to finish what was started in the grove. Upon returning to the mansion, the both of them found them selves swept up in the whirlwind of the tragic tale of Rogue’s past. Through the entire night Ororo continued to stay by his side. Somehow feeling internally, that it was where she was supposed to be. Something had shifted between them, something that drew them closer; something that made everything deeper.

The pair of them was seemingly joined at the hip through all the events that occurred, an observation that didn’t go unbeknownst to a certain Dr. Grey, who was always ready for a tiny bit of mansion gossip. And as soon as the moment arrived she whisked her African friend away to finally find out just what was the deal between the two, who seemed to be growing closer and closer as the days passed on.

She remembered uttering a number of excuses to Jean, all at which the psychic doctor seemed to weigh with a grain of salt. Eventually Ororo broke down and revealed the events that occurred on the grounds. And despite her misgivings, Jean was remarkably supportive. The saying, “It’s about time…” came from her friend’s lips more than once. When Ororo inquired what she was talking about, Jean commented that it had been a long time since her relationship with Forge and also, “It’s about time you got a little something-something…” Jean’s emerald eyes lit up with devilish delight.

Ororo just sighed, rolling her eyes at her clearly manic friend. “I think you’re taking this completely out of context.”

A frown adorned the beautiful doctor’s ruby lips. “Right…” Jean agreed sarcastically, “So I should ignore how you guys were practically falling over each other before.”

Now it was Ororo’s turn to frown, “Logan’s had a very trying time this evening,” she tried to explain, “Since we’ve somehow become closer over the last few days, I just wanted to be there for some support and comfort.”

“And the fact he gave you a toe-curling orgasm didn’t have anything to do with it?” Jean quickly returned.

Ororo’s white eyebrows furred at her friend’s implicating tone. “What are you trying to say?” she inquired icily.

Seeing the drastic turn that the conversation was quickly taking, Jean decided to put on the breaks and threw her arms ups in pacification. “Honey, I’m not trying to say anything,” she pleaded while shaking her head, “You’re taking this all wrong. You’re supposed to be supportive to your man.”

“Logan is not ‘my man’. As you like to put it,” the Windrider commented dryly. And Jean could have sworn the former goddess was about to pout. “We just have an understanding,” Ororo continued, “Something I can tell you just do not seem to comprehend.”

“Uh-huh…” Jean accepted, while giving her friend a sly glance, “You mind if I get a little ‘understanding’ from him also then?” the redhead grinned suggestively to her.

That statement alone seemed to strike a chord deep inside of the former goddess; her blue eyes iced over flashing a look that contained nothing but the blackest murder. She did not see her friend of thirteen years. Instead all she saw was Jean with her flowing red hair and bewitching smile, her scheming and conniving claws, trying to seduce ‘her’ Logan away.

Jean’s emerald eyes lit up again in excitement, “See told I you!!!” she adamantly cheered, catching every single dark thought her friend just had, “You’re whipped…” she teased, seemingly quite pleased with herself.

Ororo instantly blinked away the rogue thoughts. Confused, feeling foolish, not to mention completely stunned by the viciousness of her, own emotions.

Instead of basking in her little victory, Jean frowned catching the jumble of conflicting emotions brewing within her friend. “Sweetie, why are you freaking out about this so much?” Jean pried, while taking the other woman’s hand, “Logan, even though he’s a little rough around the edges, seems like a good guy. He dotes on Rogue like he was his own daughter. And I see the way he looks at you. If I were you, I wouldn’t be sitting there moping. I’d be going upstairs to get ready. So when Mr. Short, hairy, and studly returns, I’ll be there to greet him in one of his flannel shirts with a big ol’ smile on my face and nothing else,” she grinned, while patting Ororo’s hand for comfort.

But her words fell on deaf ears, because Ororo just couldn’t get passed, “I almost struck you,” she admitted quietly.

“‘Roro?” Jean looked confused, “You didn’t do anything,” she reminded her.

“I wanted to,” Storm countered, “In that brief instant.”

“You don’t think we have inner struggles at one time or another?” Jean returned, “We might have powers, but we’re still human, Sweetie.”

Ororo thumped her head onto the Kitchen table, “I don’t know,” her muffled voice said, “I don’t know anymore. Ever since Logan came to the mansion I haven’t been able to think straight.”

“Oh honey,” Jean called in sympathy while wrapping her arm tightly around the African woman’s waist, “Don’t you know that’s the best thing about love?”

“This wasn’t about love, Jean,” Ororo firmly refuted, “It was purely sexual and I should know better. I should be better than that. I’ve spent years trying to hone and control my abilities; I cannot allow one man to undo that hard work and effort now.”

Dismissively Jean shook her head. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little bit?”

Ororo spotted her reflection in Jean’s green eyes. The African woman sighed in defeat again, “I-I don’t know anymore.”

“How about this? Take the night and sleep on it at least,” the psychic doctor suggestive, “Logan probably would want to stay with Rogue for the night anyway.” Ororo nodded mutely in agreement. She then promptly said her; ‘Good nights’ to her friend, then ventured upstairs to her loft.

It was many hours before sleep finally found Ororo that night.

The following day had Logan and Rogue shut up together as they tried to hash out the new leg of their relationship they suddenly developed. Ororo hardly saw either of them for the next few days following; but the time apart allowed her some more time to reflect. Which often time isn’t the best of things. The more she put thought to it, the more embarrassed she was of her own actions. How easy it was for her to give in and allow lust to color her thoughts.

Her encounter with Logan however incredible it was, she still believed it was no excuse to lose who she was in the process.

OoOoOo

The Skies over the Xavier Grounds
Westchester, New York
Three nights ago…

A breezy autumn wind blew through the night air. Up in the skies, dark midnight clouds parted way as a heavenly body sailed alongside their breadth. Hair as white as stardust and skin of the richest ebony, Ororo Monroe threw her self back against the winds drifting afloat along a stray air current, like you or I would flow along a lake’s surface.

Her hand passed through the moist vapor of a storm cloud to her right, before she sensed a sudden shift in the currents then turned. Storm promptly released her hold plummeting down to the earth in a freefall. The cool twilight air whipped, zoomed and rushed all-around her nude body before she summoned her gift once again. Her body then twirled, spinning in a pirouette, which marked the beginning of her dance.

Ororo abandoned herself to her gift, throwing herself in the blossoming twists and spins. She glided through the air briefly before committing another twirling pirouette before she broke off into another intricate whirling routine.

For an hour she danced with the midnight sky before she returning to the earth, feeling breathless but nonetheless refreshed. She knew Scott and the Professor hated when she did this, but up there she had to answer to no one. All the problems of the world seemed so trivial. All the troubles of the world seemed insignificant up in the heavenly skies. It was like being born once again.

Ororo’s bare feet padded through the blades of grass as her tall lithe silhouette went to the tree that held her things, her mood bright and her spirits high. That of course ended when she spotted the person that was standing next to her gown.

Inwardly she cursed. The Windrider knew he tended to wander around the grounds at night. It was somewhat of a self-imposed perimeter check he did before he turned in for the evening. She thought her late night flight would have gone unnoticed, but she considered that hardly anything tended to slip pass the Wolverine’s watchful eyes.

Logan dressed in his leather jacket and blue jeans, looked up appearing to be searching the skies above, unaware of her approach. Then the winds chose that particular moment to change and he instantly caught her scent. As soon as he turned around, it seemed that he was completely mesmerized by the sight before him. Ororo, her long white hair trailing down, managed to cover over the tops of her breasts, but besides that the rest of her tall curvaceous body was bare before him.

Paying not the least bit of attention to his presence, Ororo brushed passed him seeking to retrieve her clothes to get dressed. Granted she couldn’t help but throw out a subtle, “You know I’ve been told it’s not polite to stare…” she smirked to herself slightly, remembering his words to her from earlier. (See Chapter 10)

“I didn’t,” he sputtered, fumbling with his words. He then promptly turned his gaze away. Ororo smiled briefly, before returning to her task. “Uh…sorry,” he said again after a few minutes, “Jus ain’t every day a guy gets ta see somethin’ so beautiful.” The African woman paused, staring after Logan as he continued, “Kinda, like wakin’ from a dream, ya didn’t know you were havin’,” he finished. He turned back around sensing that the woman was finished. Ororo appeared to be speechless, bound by some type of trance from the blunt sincerity of his words.

Logan then cut sideward a glance to her. “’Course if it’s still buggin’ ya, this ol’Canuckle Head could strip down fer ya,” he enthusiastically elected with a grin, his thick fingers reaching for the waist of his jeans ready to pluck out his shirt.

The spell broken, Ororo blue eyes widened incredulously while looked at him, “What?”

“It’s only fair…” Logan returned, wriggling his thick eyebrows at her suggestively.

“What!?! Go, you ridiculous little man!” Ororo laughed while pushing him away from her, back towards the mansion.

“Spoilsport…” Logan pouted as if wounded. He then slung his hands into his pockets ready to take the lonely walk back inside. He then paused in his step shedding a look over his shoulder in her direction.

Ororo casually tucked a stray strand of ivory hair behind her ear, trying to make a show of pretending not to notice his attention on her. The action alone made Logan frown. There was something different to her these last few days he noticed. She was a bit more reserved, closed off even. He knew he had himself tucked away with Marie for the passed few days but he could tell it didn’t have anything to do with that. Something was different about her now. It was in her movements and in her scent.

“Still waitin’ fer ya darlin’…” he stated honestly.

He noticed that she visibly stiffened before returning with, “Why whatever do you mean?” she responded with a voice of cool indifference.

Logan just paused. “Hmph…” he grunted silently, before continuing on his way back to the mansion.

Ororo’s blue eyes followed him until he disappeared from sight. As soon as he was gone the African woman slumped back against one of the trees blowing out a breath of exhaustion. “Bright Lady strengthen me,” she said to herself, while trying to cool the fevered flush that flared on her cheeks.

OoOoOo

That night Ororo had her first erotic dream about Logan.

In the past she was willing to admit that she’s had a stray daydream or passing fantasy that just happened to have him present. But this dream was a full-blown, very hot and very steamy. So much so that when she awoke she still was left hot and aching. More than once she had to talk herself out marching from her loft to his room in the middle of the night. But her pride would never allow it.

So in the end she did nothing. And after some time… A lot of time, the feeling eventually passed.

OoOoOo

The Greenhouse
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Earlier this morning…

Sunday mornings were always a specialty between Ororo and Kitty. Back during the first days when the young girl first arrived at the mansion, she took an instant liking towards the regal African woman. There was hardly a place that Ororo roamed that she didn’t have young Kitty accompanying her. The young girl was completely enthralled by the strength, beauty, and grace that seem to exuded around the African Windrider. And for Ororo, Kitty’s presence was a breath of fresh air; the young girl was immensely bright and talented. Which after some time began their Sunday morning ritual in Ororo’s Greenhouse.

All though the years as Kitty started to grew older and more children started to flourish in the school. The complete idol-worship she possessed as a kid, matured into a deep admiration and love for the Windrider. And despite all the pitfalls that may have occurred the two have always maintained two constants. One, they’re deep-rooted open friendship and also their Sunday ritual.

“I was completely embarrassed!” the Kitty exasperated while throwing up her arms. The young girl had just finished recalling the tale of her latest debacle in her pursuit for Peter Rasputin’s affections. It seemed the more she tried to impress the boy; the more foolish she turned out to be.

Ororo had to fight the lingering chuckle inside of her due to the young girl’s story. Instead she said, “I sincerely do not think Peter would think less of you simply because of that.” Her blue eyes were still a light with imagery from the episode.

The young brown haired girl turned back to Ororo. “Ororo, you think so?” Kitty inquired weakly. Her wide brown eyes filled with what could be akin to hope.

The former goddess smiled while lovingly placing her arms around the girl’s slender shoulders giving her a big hug, “I know so…” she encouraged.

Kitty smiled in returned, feeling immensely better. Her brown eyes then drifted to the clock that was over Ororo’s shoulder. “Oh shoot!” she shouted in alarm. She glanced at Ororo who stared at her like she had just grown two heads. “I have to get ready soon,” Kitty supplied, while starting to clean up her station.

“Oh?” Ororo called over her shoulder, returning to the watering that she previously was doing.

“Yeah, it’s just a shopping trip. Or “Mall Extravaganza!” what Jubi likes to call them,” Kitty supplied while rolling her eyes. Ororo couldn’t help to nurse a small laugh. The African woman was well versed in how much Jubilation savored her bi-weekly shopping trips. She often times was the chaperon of choice for said outings. She briefly wondered who the poor soul that was drafted for today’s venture. “Jubilee wants Rogue to experience everything our malls have to offer. The girl’s been slaving over every inch of the place to make sure we hit all the major sales!”

Ororo smiled, endeared by the young Pryde girl’s enthusiasm. “I’m sure you girls will have a lovely time.” She also had to admit the last few days Rogue never appeared to be brighter. The girl was all smiles and laughs now; Ororo inwardly smiled as well, because she honestly believed that was the way youth should be spent.

“Mr. Logan’s taking us,” Kitty interjected suddenly, looking to her friend trying to gauge Ororo’s response.

At hearing his name Ororo hand jerked slightly, spilling some of the water. She cursed silently under her breath from her error, before getting a towel to clean up the mess. “Oh that’s nice…” she finally responded, praying that her voice didn’t waver too much.

But Kitty, who knew Ororo almost better than anyone in the mansion, frowned instantly. She quickly noticed the change within the woman. “He asks about you all the time,” she decided to add while wading the waters.

“Oh, he does?” Ororo inquired, trying to keep her voice aloof and detached from the subject as much as possible.

Kitty shook her head, sensing the brick wall that was steadily approaching on the subject. “Yea, he’s a bit subtler though. Jubi and Rogue usually don’t pick up on it,” she then smiled sweetly at her, “But he does. Why don’t you go talk to him?”

Ororo then paused as she straightened up. For another moment she was silent before she finally returned with, “If Logan would like to talk to me, he knows where he can find me.”

Dejected, Katherine just sighed as she looked to her long time friend, some would even say surrogate mother, but there were few people that knew Ororo better than Kitty. The young girl knew how stubborn the woman could be at times, so she decided not to press the issue. She hoped that Mr. Logan and Ororo would work out whatever problems they had, because honestly she thought they made a cute couple.

“I got to go Ororo, Jubilee and Rogue are waiting for me.”

OoOoOo
Ororo’s Loft
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
2:44AM

Ororo watched as a light stream of rainwater made its trail down her windowpane. She blinked while drawing in a breath. The reminiscing of the past days seemed to do nothing but fuel the longing she had for him. She couldn’t understand how someone that she couldn’t even stand less than two weeks ago could have such a detrimental impact on her.

Ororo walked away from her windowsill pacing lightly in her room as the conflicting emotions continued to turn inside of her. “I have to face this now,” she said quietly to herself as she decided to finally address the feelings in her heart.

Being honest with herself she acknowledged that she was attracted to Logan, physically and as well mentally. There were so many ways that she felt completed while being in his presence that his absence now brought to light. The way he talked to her, touched her, the way she felt comfortable when they were together as if they’d known each other for years instead of weeks.

“I’m falling for the Wolverine…” she said to herself in full revelation, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from her chest. She then paused. Now what was she going to do about it?

OoOoOo

Logan sat alone in his room thinking. The vibrant orange flame of his last cigar burned brightly from his lips, illuminating his body that was covered only by a sheet, as he lounged on his bed. He wasn’t bothered by the depleted supply of his beloved vice. He had too many thoughts brewing through his muddled head at the moment to be really concerned. Either he go into town to get more or he’d figure something out, right now; he just wanted to enjoy the peaceful tranquility that this stormy night offered.

The girls had fun at the mall today. He still didn’t understand the sheer excitement behind the whole “shopping spree” process. The way he saw it, if he needed something, he went out and bought it, case closed. It didn’t need to be a big planned goddamn outing. But he also decided it was probably some internal female thing, so he probably would never understand it anyway.

He loved seeing Marie like that, though. Carefree. Happy. It was like watching any other teenage girl, having a good time with her friends. Giggling, talking about boys and clothes, the regular stupid shit a teen girl should be doing.

Speaking of which, he had to remember to have a long talk with that Drake kid. He trusted that Marie knew how to take care of her self and all, not to mention the deal with her skin. But Logan knew how inventive guys could be when determined. Besides it wouldn’t hurt any to set the boy straight on a few things, specifically three things. He had to smirk at the thought. That was diffidently going to be the highlight of his day tomorrow.

Logan turned over to his mantel, stubbing out his stooge. He then threw himself back onto the mattress watching the ceiling to his room. He was trying not to think about her again, but he couldn’t help. ‘Ro. The woman simply made him crazy. He couldn’t think straight with her around. How could he when she looked so fucking sexy all the time.

He frowned, considering the dismal turn that relationship took. After the few days he spent with Marie, things seemed to change with ‘Ro. She was standoffish, the little inside jokes they sometimes shared she seemed to ignore. It all left him baffled. Maybe she was having second thoughts about everything? He considered. So in the end he decided to put some distance between them. Give them a small breather and also give her some time to figure out what she really wanted.

It seemed like a great idea in the planning but the execution was a killer. The woman was hard to get out of the system. And the mansion was only so big, so they were bound to run into each other quite a few times during the course of the day. And even then he wasn’t exactly sure he wanted her out of his system.

Logan wasn’t a big romantic. He didn’t cry at those sappy films and he didn’t get those love stories that Kitty was so fond of. But he knew there was something different about that woman. He felt different, at ease. Like the great unrest that always been brewing within his body, since those first days when he was trekking alone in the forests of the Rockies, was at peace. That was it, the woman brought him peace. Something he didn’t have a large commodity of. It was only in her presence, he realized did the tingling hairs on the back of his neck relax.

He then frowned, while turning over on his bed. He’ll give her another few days, and then…he didn’t know.

*Knock, knock, knock*

Logan shot up from his bed. A quick glance to his clock read, “3:00AM” His eyebrows furred, wondering exactly who would be up at this hour.

*Knock, knock, knock*

Came the insistent knocks again and Logan whirled out of his bed, slipping on a pair of his jeans as he approached the door. His large hand grasped the knob before his nostrils flared. He stiffened briefly as he caught the refreshing scent of rain. Even more determined than before he swung the door open and looked on as a pair of sapphire blue eyes stared back at him.

To be continued…

Chapter 16: Fears

Logan’s Room
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Late…

Ororo’s breath was held captive the moment Logan’s door swung open. He was bare to the waist, massive chest heaving with every breath as a fine sheet of sweat clung to his sun-kissed skin. Later on in reflection of the moment, she would recall that he told her previously that sometimes the heating in his room ran a little too hot for his liking, but she couldn’t think of that right now. In fact producing any coherent thought was a problem at this moment, because it was taking all the willpower she had in her body to fight the impulse to run her hands all over his hairy glistening chest.

As Logan opened the door, he looked to her in stark amazement. For nearly a week he hardly seen neither hide nor hair of her, and tonight here she was right at his doorstep. He allowed his eyes to slide up and down, eyeing her. She wore a silky sky blue nightgown with a low ‘V’ cut that gave a pleasant viewing of her ample chocolate breasts. Its baby blue material trailed down to the floor with a slit parting up the side that allowed plenty of her long delectable caramel thighs to be seen.

Logan tore his eyes away from her dress, his stare redirected back to her blue eyes, waiting for some sort of explanation for the late night visit. “Yea…?” he curtly barked after five minutes of complete silence passed between them. And Ororo was completely at a lost.

All the anxiety she was feeling before, came rushing back to her ten-fold. What was she thinking? This was nuts. No, this was worst than that, this was insane! “I…Well I…I wanted to check on you if…I…” she fumbled on her words, instantly feeling more foolish. She just couldn’t remember anything she wanted to say. How could this one man, this simple man, still have this much power over her?

For some reason a sly smile found its way to Logan’s lips. He then just kicked the door open for her, turned, and then sauntered back across his room. “Come on in darlin’, ya’ll let a draft in,” he casually tossed over his shoulder, while heading back to his bed. He stripped out of his jeans, seemingly not caring if she looked at his nude body or not, before sliding underneath his sheets.

If Ororo was overwhelmed by his presence before, she was completely flabbergasted now. The callousness and indifference of his tone as he turned his back on her, hurt. Wasn’t he supposed to be glad to see her? Wasn’t he the one that said how much he wanted and desired her? With all the misgivings and inter turmoil she had about coming here, she finally decided to take a chance and look how he treated her.

Ororo stood alone in Logan’s doorway staring at the prone figure lying peacefully on the mattress. For a moment she contemplated returning to her loft, unwilling to deal with any more humiliation for the night, but something stopped her. Slowly the former goddess closed the door behind her taking a tentative step inside while eyeing the bed that Logan currently occupied. Prideful, head held high, Ororo crossed the distance of the room. She refused to be made a fool of. ‘Only for five minutes,’ she told herself. She would remain for five minutes of his company then he’d realize how big of a mistake he made when she was gone.

“Five minutes…” she whispered to herself as she approached the edge of the bed. After five simple minutes she would be allowed to finally let this whole matter drop and continue on with her life. Wolverine, be damned.

As she closed the final distance, it was as if everything suddenly played in slow motion, Logan moved. He turned over onto his back, his deep dark gray eyes looking up, now staring up directly at her. Looking at, not Storm, not Ororo Monroe… Looking at his ‘Ro. The mantra of “Only five minutes”, died on her lips when she saw the depths of emotion that was swelling in his dark eyes.

His hand came up, outstretched towards her almost as if he was beckoning her. Wanting her. And she unavoidably fell into his embrace. He pulled her towards him, his lips wetting her neck with burning kisses. Ororo gasped her heart racing as well as relieved; her promise of “Only five minutes” long forgotten, as he kissed her and she kissed him.

And if she believed he had any reservations about her for the last few days, his words next made those doubts disappear. “I missed ya, ‘Ro…” his deep gravely voice rumbled into her ear. And suddenly everything was right with the world.

OoOoOo

A deafening silence reigned within the small room as the two occupants shared the single bed in the room. Logan’s hand lightly brushed against Ororo’s cheek as his eyes continued to fall on her, “So now what?” he suddenly asked her.

Lying next to him completely at peace, Ororo appeared so much at ease that she nearly missed his words. “Huh?” her bright blue eyes blinked several times, “Whatever do you mean?” she asked, seemingly more alert than a moment before.

Logan turned onto his side, drawing his full intense stare on her. “Well, this is yer fantasy ‘Ro,” he commented. He then moved again, across the bed.

Ororo moaned lightly, as she felt his large strong hands reach over seeking the curve of her swan-like neck, his fingers gently massaging her. “Oh?” her throaty voice replied a moment later, “How do you know I did not simply want company?”

“I don’t mind a little comp’ny either, darlin’,” Logan returned easily enough, enjoying the pleasing sound of her throaty moans. He then raised a thick eyebrow to her, “Actually yer tha bit o’ company I was hopin’ fer.” He then stopped his ministrations, his hand sliding down the curves of her body till his hand rested on her soft hip.

Seeing the small reprieve, it was now Ororo’s turn to take the initiative. The African woman slid inside of his reach till she was practically on top of him. His arms surrounded her as she kissed, licked, and suckled on his lips. She gasped when she felt his hands cupping her breasts through her gown. His thumbs briefly flicked over her hard inflamed nipples, before she pried his hands away, pulling them above his head while she continued her work.

Her eyes seemed to be glued to the sinewy cords of his chest. Seeming to act on their own accord as well as giving in to her desire from before, her hands reached down, glossing over the solid, steel-like muscles of his pectorals as well as the thick mantel of hair on his chest. Unashamed, Ororo fondled and caressed him, amazed at the inner strength he possessed as she felt him move against her palms. His body was hot to the touch and was slowly approaching scolding the longer her fingers lingered. And linger they did, falling down the tight ridges of his abdomens and falling further still. She tattooed his flesh with moist licks before he pulled her to him for another smoldering kiss.

She then fell back away from him, her full thighs straddling his waist while she looked down at him. “My company you wanted?” she said repeating his words from before, “Not Rogue?” she asked him.

Logan took a few shaky calming breaths while looking up to her. He then simply shook his head, “Not tonight…” he responded almost in a grunt.

Her long white hair swayed as she tilted her head to the side, her shimmering blue eyes still on him. “Not Jean?” she asked again a bit more serious.

At that one, Logan nearly threw his head back against the mattress and laughed, hysterically. “Hah! Not even…” he firmly assured her.

The sincerity of his words went a long way in comforting Ororo’s fears. Despite the various claims she’d received through the years from several different people, there were few scant moments when insecurity did seep into the Windrider as well. Then she said, “Why me?”

Logan paused in amazement as well as confusion as he continued to stare at her. He then moved, lifting himself off the mattress. Instinctively Ororo moved as well, her smooth caramel touched legs wrapping around his waist as he pulled her towards him. Their difference in height, made her sit just a bit above him, but at the moment he could care less about that.

His hands came up, pulling down the thin straps of her sky blue nightgown till it pooled around her waist. Her large firm breasts were now bare to him, each topped with perk chocolate dipped nipples. Ororo looked to him, a faint crimson hue stained her cheeks, but other than that she was not ashamed. Logan’s large hands then abandoned her slim shoulders; they slid down her front till they entrapped her immaculate breasts. He sampled their softness, their feel…His thumbs sliding over her ripe teats that seemed hard enough to cut diamond.

Ororo’s breathing panned out in shallow pants from his exploration. And she nearly cried when he brought his lips in close, tasting her. His thick hot tongue toyed and fondled her nipple. Suckling it hard till it almost ached before he drew his attention to the other, giving it such equal lavish attention.

They were sweet just like the rest of her. So much that he then brought her closer to him, burying himself deep in the valley of her bosom, her scent of rain, wind and sandalwood washing over him. “Ain’t no one drives me crazy like you do,” his muffled voice said finally answering her question. “Ain’t no one, makes me hard every time I see ‘em,” he continued and for the life of her, Ororo could no longer ignore the very large ‘presence’ that was firmly pressing between her legs. The thin material of her panties were the only thing; preventing her from being skewered. “An’ ain’t no one’s pussy tastes as sweet as yers,” he ended while gently rocking her to her back.

Ororo took a moment to catch her breath. Her naked breasts rose and fell with each cycle as her blue eyes continued to watch him. “Aahhh…!” Ororo cried, not even realizing when his hand trailed underneath her gown. She felt his fingers sliding up the edge of her thighs.

“Panties….” he nearly grinned while looking at her, “Ya know darlin’,” he began again; his voice was deep and low. Its sound seemed to rumble the whole bed. “In my fantasies,” he then pressed closer to her, till his lips were within an inch of her ear. “…Ya never wear any,” he ended with a devilish grin.

The man was sin incarnate. She was sure of it.

In the next second there was a metallic flash of adamantium steel then her precious panties were no more. Those were some of her favorites too. Her eyes then flicked over to the hungry gleam that was in the Wolverine’s eyes. She just would have to get more.

…Maybe.

Her blue eyes sought his for a second time, “What else happens in these fantasies?” she asked him, very much intrigued. And Logan seemed to grin even more. Pleased, that she was enjoying the game.

The palm of his hand slid across the flat plain of her soft stomach. “Sometimes I take ya fast an’ hard,” he began, his tongue wetting the dip of her navel. “Sometimes I take ya soft an’ gentle like,” Logan continued while spreading her thighs further. Ororo then nearly jolted from of the bed as she felt his finger trailing along her wet opening. “Sometimes I jus take my time,” his voice continued in a low murmur, his finger decreasing in speed as well, making his ministrations seem painfully unbearable. “Slow, patiently… Lettin’ tha seconds…minutes…even hours go by pleasurin’ ya.” Ororo thrashed and trembled under his touch. If he kept touching her like that she’d…. Then all at once he stopped. Her eyes snapped open and looked up to see his face just inches away from hers. The devil’s grin was on his face as he eyed her. “Till ya underneath me, beggin’ me ta let ya come,” he finished hotly.

“Logan,” she tried to admonish, but it came out more as a gasp as he plunged two fingers deep inside of her. Ororo’s hand gripped his as she was trying to hold on…still fight. “I don’t know the women that you’re used to,” she managed to utter out, “But…Ahhh…I…do not beg…”

At that the Canadian paused in his actions. He stared down at the extravagant African woman underneath him that was completely without breath. Her eyes were wide and wild. Thin beads of sweat fell from her brow. She looked as though she only needed one gentle push before she would be sent over the edge to blissful oblivion and yet here she was, never giving in till the very end. A genuine smile graced his face, “Ye’re a stubborn dame, ya know that?” He seemed almost appreciative.

A weary but still bright smile crossed her lips. “You wouldn’t have me any other way, Cowboy,” she responded back with such conviction and confidence that it even surprised her. Logan’s face quipped up in a small grin. His hands then ran through her thick white hair as he still sat above her, in between her legs. Ororo then suddenly asked, “Logan…What’s happening?”

Not taking his eyes away from her, he responded softly, “Nothin’ ya don’t want ta happen ‘Ro…” She could tell he was deadly serious. Regardless of how much she could tell he wanted her, he wouldn’t do anything that would come close to bringing her harm.

“Good,” she confirmed while taking his hand. She then brought it to her lips. Logan’s breath ran short, when he felt her hot plumb lips nibbling playfully on the back of his knuckle. Her eyes no longer showed defiance or rebellion, just the infinite flame of lust that was burning, begging for sedation. “Then whatever you do my Logan, please don’t stop…”

OoOoOo

He kissed her.

The two of them might have shared kisses in the past. These were always in passing or apart of some internal game they somehow started to wage against it other. But this…She swore to her Goddess, there was nothing playful about this. This was bare. Unbearably honest, hot, and so emotionally driven that, neither of them could draw breath.

His hands caressed, parting her snow-white hair from her face, his eyes were completely fixated on her. Ororo blinked dreamily as she felt him kiss her lips hotly once more before he pulled her to him. She sat on his lap as she felt his attention fall down the slope of her neck. Ororo shivering openly as his enlarged incisor skimmed down the side of her delicate ebony skin, his lips soon devouring her flesh. She then looked over to him, barely on the verge of ecstasy and reality, but she managed to say, “I want you inside of me…” Ororo then pulled away from him taking a place onto the mattress. Her almond-shaped blue eyes stared at him lazily, awaiting his next move.

Logan carefully approached her. His hands glided up her thighs to the bend of her knees, slowly separating her legs. She half gasped, half called his name out in the next moment when she felt him enter her. He went slowly at first. Savoring the experience as every inch of him filled her. “So tight…” his nearly hoarse voice cried through the journey, “‘Ro, ye’re so fuckin’ tight…”

Ororo was in a different state of agony. Every shake, every tremble from him sent parading flares of sensations within her. Never in her life had she ever felt so full. And what was worst he, he was painstakingly taking his time increasing her torment ten-fold. She then moved her hands cupping his buttocks. They both called out as she made him drive into her till his hilt. She then paused while holding him, allowing a few seconds to adjust to his girth. “Ok…” she whispered after sometime and he laid her back down onto his mattress.

They started slowly again, finding a gentle rhythm. Allowing the heat, lust and sensation to build inside of her till she started to cry, “Har-Har-Harder…” she demanded when she finally could find breath again, “Harder, Logan! Oh, Goddess! Please harder!”

Logan needing no further prodding, shifted forward allowing her ankles to lock behind him as he drove deeper and harder into her. The bed creaked with each maddening thrust. The room was becoming increasingly hot as their sweat soaked bodies moved through the darkness. “Ahw, fuck, ‘Ro!” he shouted out, soon to be overcome by the feeling. He was close. Usually he’d be able to go twice as long, but something about her was different. The Beast was letting go. No he was making the Beast let go. He wanted this all for himself. He didn’t need any other. All of his string of one-night stands and parade of flings utterly paled in comparison. This woman, this goddess, this Storm was everything he didn’t know he was searching for.

“AH, Logan!!!!” she cried out one final time as her fingers drew red lines down his back. She pulled him close as explosion after explosion of hot white ecstasy racked through her body threatening to consume her with their bliss. And then after a few moments, all the world was settled.

Words wouldn’t come…

Thoughts wouldn’t surface...

They just held each other in the darkness.

His lips brushed over hers briefly. Enjoying her touch, enjoying her scent, enjoying her… “You bring me peace,” he uttered softly before darkness claimed them both.

OoOoOo

Logan’s Room
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Later than late…

It was silent in the room that Logan occupied during his stay at the Xavier Mansion. Just the pleasant sound of soft breathing could be heard as two very different people started to come to terms with all the events that occurred this night.

For Logan, he was just peacefully resting. His eyes were shut, but she made no mistake that he wasn’t as alert as ever, just simply at ease. The swirling thumb that rested just below her tailbone, slightly above her bottom was evidence enough. And for Ororo it was a moment of deep contemplation. Her baby blue nightgown, which was a birthday gift from Jean a few years ago, was a long forgotten memory, a simple casualty from their heated encounter. He promised to get her a new one. She readily agreed, but only if he was present to help her select a new one.

It amazed her how thoughts like that came to her now and with such ease. Even though they made love three times this night and it was she that called for the temporary ceasefire so she could reclaim her breath. Now as she watched him lying peacefully next to her, his presence, that was strong, savage and yet beautiful all at the same time, was starting to stir more carnal desires inside of her, which was both amazing and frightening at the same time. “You scare me,” she said to him finally, breaking the silence that was held for twenty-five minutes now.

Logan’s eyes opened as he turned to her.

“I can’t explain it,” she continued, “How you, who have only been apart of my life for a few weeks and yet I’ve come to care about you so much.” Ororo’s gazed then fell away as she continued to speak, “So much that I nearly electrocuted my best friend over some light teasing.” She shook her head in disapproval at that last confession. The African woman then sat up, drawing the sheet away from her body. Logan’s eyes briefly glossed over her seductive curves before returning his attention to her. “I’m not supposed to fall for you this fast…I’m not supposed to want you this much…But I do and it scares me to death.”

For a long time Logan didn’t say anything. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, while considering her words. After nearly a full five minutes later he spoke, “Gimme, yer hand,” he asked her while holding his up in offering. She frowned at him in more confusion than anything else but complied nonetheless. Logan then took the delicate fingers in his own hand, running his thumb lightly against the smooth silkiness of her skin, before placing her hand on the left side of his chest. “Tell me darlin’, whatcha ya feel?”

Ororo frowned at his instruction and then responded bluntly, “Hair…”

One of Logan’s thick black eyebrows nearly broke a hole through his ceiling so fast that it jerked up. “What else?” he nearly barked out curtly. Not to mention suppressing a few obscenities under his breath.

Ororo rolled her eyes at his tone, but decided to indulge his request anyway and concentrated a little harder. Then she felt it the deep rhythmic pounding brewing below his skin. “You’re heartbeat…” she then added almost astonished, “It’s beating a mile a minute.”

Logan nodded, “Ya ain’t tha only one nervous about this Ororo.” His stern expression accompanied with the use of her full name seemed to give more weight to his words. “Somethin’ ‘bout ya has gotten ta me. Mixes things up,” he tried to explain, “Can’t see straight, can’t think straight. All I do is want ya,” he then shook his head, “Don’t be foolin’ ya self thinkin’ this is only ‘bout sex. Red’d be more than willin’ if that was tha case.”

The mention of Ororo long time friend in that instant was probably the worst possible thing to hear at this moment, making the woman’s eyes almost see red. “But I ain’t wit her,” Logan strongly confirmed. His hand tugging on her ankle a little, giving her some brief but noted contact. “I don’t want her. I only want you ‘Ro…” he finished by pulling her to him.

He smirked when he thought he heard her mutter, “You better…” under her breath, but decided not to comment. He was satisfied with running his hands through her thick white hair, just holding her. And Ororo seemed to settle as well, being almost lulled to sleep from the constant rhythmic beating of Logan’s heart.

“So…you an’ red got into a tiff, eh?” he asked her some minutes later.

Eyes still closed, she just simply answered, “It didn’t escalate that far,” Ororo conceded with a yawn. Goddess, didn’t the man ever grow tired?

“Ah…That’s a shame,” Logan muttered back, sounding quite disappointed.

Ororo’s head popped up while looking at him, “Why?”

Logan’s eyebrows wriggled at her suggestively, “That’d been hot,” he replied just as shameless.

“What!?!”

“I’m just sayin’,” he stated trying to clarify. His eyes then cut to her slyly, “Get a bit o’ jello…”

Of course that statement only made it even ten times worst! Ororo was nearly speechless, from the audacity and the nerve. “Get out! Get out now!” she shouted while playfully trying to push his massive three hundred pound frame off the bed.

He then took her arms by the wrist another daring grin on his face, “This is my bunk darlin’. Can’t kick a man outta his own room. T’ain’t proper…”

Ororo scoffed at him. Here he was suggesting she fulfill some deplorable male fantasy with her best friend of over ten years and he had the nerve to comment on what’s proper. Ororo then flashed a firm grin on her lips as she rolled away taking a sizeable amount of the covers with her. “Perhaps,” she coincided finally. Then her eyes cut to devilish blue slits, “But I don’t know how much you would enjoy the stay with a rain cloud appearing over your head every night.”

Logan just puffed out his broad chest while folding his arms behind his head. He then turned to look to her, “Lil’rain never hurt no one,” he returned just as easy.

His words seem to turn on a light switch in Ororo’s eyes. She then moved landing on top of him, her long legs on either side of him, straddling his waist. “Hey…” Logan tried to complain at the intrusion, but Ororo wasn’t hearing none of it.

“Quiet!” she snapped sharply while slapping on his stomach admonishingly to keep his mouth shut. Surprisingly enough Logan obeyed on command, which made Ororo grin inwardly and it also helped to distract her from the very firm thing that was currently poking her butt. “What you just said reminded me of something.”

“What?” Logan asked, although he was starting to like seeing her from this angle, especially the way her breasts raised and fell with each breath. His hands started to skim up her thighs hoping to seize her hips. It should have be plenty of time for her to rest anyway, right?

But Ororo seeing his intent, promptly slapped his hands away while continuing, “You stated before you wanted to know my fantasy,” she stated to him hoping to distract him from their current position, “I think now, I’ll inform you.”

Logan looked to her thoughtfully if not a least bit interested. Ororo seeing she had a captive audience decided to begin telling him about the dream she had a few nights ago. “It began out in the forest. The same grounds where we…” Ororo clamped her mouth shut a noticeable blush staining her cheeks. Logan could only grin at the memory. Ororo noticed the particular gleam in his eyes, and she knew if she wasn’t careful they’d be doing a reenactment very soon. Not that she’d hate it, mind you. “Anyway, I found myself one night walking through the brush…”

“What were ya wearin’?” Logan cut in.

Ororo paused as she started to recall. She then grinned, “That white nightgown with the black embroidery. My feet were bare and…I’ll allow your imagination to fill in the rest. Now no more interruptions,” she sternly chastised him. Logan grumbled again, this time about “…Bossy women,” which Ororo decided to allow to slide…this time. “I do not recall how long I was walking, but every step I took; I could feel your eyes on me. I’m not afraid,” she stated to clarify, “I’m just waiting. Then suddenly a flash of lightning brightens the sky, before a stampede of dark clouds roll in. I then see you before me.” Ororo held her breath for a moment before continuing, “You apparently were not as modest in dress as I. There you stood bare before me…” she paused; her pink tongue wetted her full lips. “Bare and very hard…”

Her hips shifted briefly while she still straddled him, the heat of her story starting to overtake her as well. “Don’t stop now darlin’,” Logan implored. She noted to her delight his breath was running a little short as well.

Taking another breath Ororo continued, “You moved, your lips touching mine. And at that very moment a roll of thunder echoed in the sky and heavy drops of rain started to fall.” Logan’s head turned to the side his interest obviously peaked from the tale’s twist. “Instead of fleeing to take cover,” she continued, “You lay me down on the forest floor, stripping me out of my nightgown.” Her thighs rocked back over his chest as she closed her eyes. Her voice was deep throaty as she recalled all the heat, sensation and intensity of the vision, “You spread my legs wide and just take me over and over again. For hours the two of us continue to make love in the rain…”

Logan threw his head back onto his pillow while blowing out a shrew whistle at the end of her tale, “That certainly beats tha pants offa anythin’ I thought of.” He shook his head, “Ya sure could give them author’s of tha books Kitty reads a run fer they’re money.”

As she looked down at him, Ororo just smiled, quite pleased with herself. Logan supplied a smirk of his own. His hands then playfully started to run up the curve of her thighs, “I love yer legs,” he whispered in earnest.

She tilted her head while looking at him. “Do you?”

“Yep,” he nodded, “I love that they’re attached to the rest of ya,” he grinned while running his hands back down the smooth flesh, “Especially here,” he cheered while his hands raced around giving her rump a good squeeze. Ororo found herself giggling like she was twelve years old again from his boldness. Logan then shifted back and Ororo fell on top of him. She lifted herself briefly catching his lips, which he eagerly returned. He then frowned, “‘Ro…”

The Windrider folded her arms underneath her head over his chest and just looked at him. The African woman automatically knew what that ‘look’ meant. She smiled briefly and sighed, “Again?”

Logan just nodded, “Healing factor,” he supplied, “Plus ya don’t know whatcha do ta my sensibilities.”

Ororo pouted, patting his head with mock sympathy, “You poor man…”

“I know,” he sadly conceded, “Ye’re a tyrant…”

Ororo buried her head into his chest. The quaking of her shoulders were tale tell sign of the laughter erupting from her. Her head then came up a small but content smile on her lips. His deep gray eyes stared back at her as the bright light of her eyes continued shining. The next moment he then said, “I think I'm fallin' fer ya bad, darlin'...” his voice was dead serious.

”Good...” she returned her snow-white head fell back onto his chest enjoying the pounding of his heart. “I'm glad I’m not alone on the trip,” she finished, hoping her words would be enough to illustrate just what she was feeling. She smiled when she felt his strong arms surround her, “So what should we do?”

“We could play it by ear fer now,” Logan then appeared thoughtful for a moment before next saying, “But I gotta warn ya. I don't tend ta let go o’ anything I get a hold of.”

Ororo’s head came up. A sexy smirk on her lips, “And I can fly, so that should make for some interesting chases.” She then leaned forward bridging the gap between them. Goddess, she could kiss this man a thousand times and she believed she could never tire from it. She then rose up, her legs straddling either side of him. Her fingers glossed over his pectorals before she said, “Now, my Logan, I believe this time I’ll lead,” an ivory eyebrow rose with devilish intrigue, as she purred, “And I think you’ll find that the wind is not the only thing I’m capable of riding.”

OoOoOo
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Two months later…

It is utterly amazing how so much time can breeze by but yet still seems like a short instance. Here he was always contemplating leaving the mansion, but now he some how become apart of the family. Sure there were a few troubles here and there, but through time and effort they managed to press on together.

Logan stared up to the vast open blue sky that sat above him. His gray eyes then closed, feeling infinitely content at that particular moment as a cool gentle breeze caressed his face. “Comfy?” a dry velvet voice above him asked.

“Yep, yer a real peach darlin’,” he returned easy enough.

“Happy to be of service,” Ororo sarcastically replied while looking down at the obviously appeased form of the Wolverine, who was currently using her lap as a pillow. Logan briefly opened his eyes to look at her. He then winked mischievous, before closing them again, which made Ororo sigh once more.

They currently were under one of the grand oak trees in Xavier’s forest. A large blanket was spread out underneath them, as well as an overflowing picnic basket sat to their left. Both their shoes were cast to the side as some soft music was playing in the background.

The smallest hint of a smile curled onto Logan’s lips as he felt Ororo’s soft hands smoothing underneath, undoing the buttons of his flannel shirt. He opened his eyes again staring into the sea of blue that was her eyes. The African woman then moved, capturing his lips in an upside-down kiss that a certain wall crawler made famous.

Logan tasted and savored her juicy lips before he heard… “HEY, OLD PEOPLE!” a voice suddenly hollered from across the field. The two perturbed adults looked up as Jubilee had her hands cupped before her, “GETTA ROOM!” the Asian girl finished with the utmost rudeness. Kitty, Marie, Bobby, Peter and John were all in the background, their shared laughter told that they equally enjoyed the hilarity.

“Old people?” Logan repeated incredulously, while looking to Storm.

The Canadian mutant started to get up, to give that particular motor mouth, “what’s what”, that was before Ororo tucked his Stetson over his face. “Ready to leave me so soon?” she asked, while pulling him back to her. Grumbling a few things under his breath, Logan sat back down, remaining with her. He tipped back his hat from over his eyes, so he could watch the kids, who were occupied with a game of Frisbee.

The day was in mid-November, but an unexpected warm front, thanks to a certain Weather Witch, brewed through Westchester putting the temperatures in the mid seventies. Jean and Scott opted to take the weekend off for themselves, as well as Xavier took a flight to D.C. for a conference, which left the care of the children in Logan and Ororo’s hands. Since the rarity of weather everyone voted for a day outdoors before the normal chilly temperatures returned.

Ororo soft soothing hands rubbed through Logan’s hair matted chest, as the couple watched the kids at play. Laughter seemed to be contagious as the antics raged between the teens, although they tried to keep the power usage at a minimum. Even Logan, who had a reputation of being a grump, found laughter to come easy that day. The more time that passed the more he found the old uneasiness that fueled from his past, slipping away. He realized he truly was finding peace.

He fell back onto the quilted blanket, his mind and body invigorated by the feeling. His nose then twitched he sensed Ororo’s approached, “Now you do stay put, while I’ll get your birthday cake,” her light velvet voice whispered to him.

“Birthday?” he frowned. His eyes opened to look at her.

“Of course, you did not think we’d allow such a day to go by uncelebrated did you?” she grinned while kissing his forehead, “Now sit back and relax, it’s your day remember,” she cheered.

Logan did what she said and laid back onto the blanket. He the paused rolling to back up, “‘Ro ya don’t have’ta. Jus stay here, wit me,” he called to her, but then she was gone. “‘Ro? ‘Ro?” he repeated. In fact all of them were gone. Jubilee, Peter, even Marie, all of the kids vanished.

*CRASH!*

The Wolverine’s head whipped around as he heard the echoing chime of glass shattering. Within an instant he zeroed in on its source…back inside the mansion. Bare feet trucking through the grass, the Wolverine did not even register when he summoned his claws, but somehow he knew he’d need them soon.

Within thirty seconds he’s already back into the mansion. Inside its walls is just as vacant as the grounds outside. Another resounding crash, rings through the walls, triggering the Wolverine movements to herd toward the kitchen. But when he crosses the threshold instantly his breath is caught in his throat. Standing in the center of chaos, it was him!

The mutant stood at a staggering six and half feet height, with long blonde hair and thin silvery eyes. His powerful body was draped in animal furs, all except his hands, which were adorned with black three-inch claws, which currently held Logan’s precious ‘Ro by her throat.

“Creeeeed…” the Wolverine’s gravely growled through clenched teeth.

Sabertooth could only grin as he turned to his diminutive foe. “Ah, thought ya fergot ‘bout me, petunia.” Creed’s teeth flashed as he taunted. His oversized incisors glinting as he pulled the African woman close, “Now scream fer me sweetie…”

Ororo’s blue eyes swam for a second before locking onto Logan. Her eyes pleading, “Help…me,” she managed to gasp between Victor’s tightening grip.

Logan’s eyes went from Ororo back to Sabertooth. His heart was pounding so hard he was certain that it would burst from his chest but he kept a deathly calm face. “Creed, if you…” he began.

“Too late!” the sadistic mutant suddenly cut in. Then with a twist of his wrist the resounding *snap* of Ororo’s neck echoed within the room, before she fell lifelessly to the ground.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” the Wolverine shouted, as he rushed forward into the enveloping blackness.

OoOoOo

“NO!” Logan called out while springing up from his bed. His left arm came out in a death strike, claws extended but nothing was there. No Sabertooth, no nothin, just his normal room. In that instant some soft murmuring sounded from beside him. He turned and was instantly relieved when saw the peaceful vestige of Ororo sleeping soundly at his side.

He rubbed his eyes, realizing the dream for what it was, but it still didn’t calm the beating of his heart. He took one more glance at her making sure she was actually here and not another delusion. After he was firmly convinced, he laid back down on the mattress. His arm came around enclosing around her while she slept, watching her.

Sleep never found him for the rest of the night.

OoOoOo
Logan’s Room
Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
A whole lot later than late…

The following morning found Ororo Monroe in the most interesting of predicaments. As her weary blue eyes opened to the first light of dawn and spotted the strange narrow ceiling overhead, she instantly realized she wasn’t in her loft. That the fact she was very naked and was harboring a defining ache in her lower half determined that what happened last night was not another one of her fervent dream and it very much did happened.

After coming to that conclusion Ororo decided to take the next logical course of action. Her hand slid across towards the other side of the bed seeking her bedmate. But she instantly frowned, feeling the coolness of the sheets; although for some reason she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone. A low exhale of breath triggered her ears, making her rise from the bed and there she found him.

Logan stood patiently before the drawn window. He was already fully dressed; the blaring beams of sunlight seemed to illuminate the black fitted t-shirt that covered his torso and dark jeans on his legs. His brown Stetson was pulled low almost over his eyes as he watched the sunrise. Although she noted that he seemed rigid, almost tense. Then as if sensing she was awake, Logan turned to regard her.

She smiled briefly at him and she wanted to say she could take comfort in his piercing gaze, but instantly she could tell something wasn’t right. His eyes looked troubled, clouded, as if the truth of the world had finally been revealed to him and he didn’t like the answer he received.

Suddenly she felt like almost an outsider in his room. Like the passionate hours they just spent together never happened. “What’s wrong?” she asked him finally.

Logan just shook his head in remorse, “I can’t stay here anymore…”


To be continued…

Chapter 17: The Protector

Xavier’s Headmaster’s Office
Westchester, New York
A little after breakfast…

Charles Xavier suppressed a grimace as he hid behind his ‘steepled fingers’. The gesture was a common action he was known for performing by his students and faculty. When he carried it out, the motion often put people on edge. Automatically they usually assumed that his great mind was at work, ready to bestow some seed of knowledge that would not only be profound but astonishing. The gesture worked to his benefit in this way, because in actuality it was a simple practiced method that bought him a few extra moments of time, whenever he was placed in a precarious situation where he truly was at a lost.

Here it was barely a little after nine in the morning and it already felt like a full day had passed. His clear blue eyes stared from across his mahogany desk toward the two figures that was now acting out one of the scenarios he most dreaded to come true.

“Are you certain this is the course of action you would like to take?” Xavier asked; his eyes directed to Wolverine.

Since the Canadian had taken refuge with them over two weeks ago, Xavier still hadn’t made any ground in penetrating the Wolverine’s powerful mental defenses. All the psychic could ever hope to register were faint traces of emotions that somehow managed to seep through the cracks in an otherwise powerful psychic block that barricaded the Wolverine’s mind. But the emotions that Xavier could read in this moment greatly depicted the seriousness, the Canadian mutant was portraying. There was no apprehension within him, only the cool, keen air of clarity that came from when one firmly put their mind to a set course of action and was planning to complete it to its fulfillment.

Before Logan could even fathom a response, Ororo, the other figure that stood across from Xavier’s desk quickly spoke, “Cerebro has been working around the clock, day and night searching for any trace of Magneto and his minions with absolutely no results,” the African woman began, then she leveled a heated glare in Logan’s direction, “How is it do you plan on finding him?”

Xavier was not surprised at Ororo’s sudden outburst. The past few weeks he noticed that the usual regal and reserved African woman, had slowly become more expressive and he even might add, a bit more livelier. He had been contemplating the anomaly for some time now, but in light of this morning’s confrontation, it amazed him how simple the answer truly was. His surrogate daughter Ororo was in love, or at the very least falling in love. And despite the obvious conflicting emotions brewing inside of her at the moment, she still didn’t want to see Logan go anymore than Xavier himself.

The only real problem Charles foresaw was that the normal tight reins that she usually held on her emotions were slowly unraveling. The piercing pain of hurt and rejection was concealed with a seething hot plate of anger that radiated within her. There had been swirling dark clouds that appeared over the mansion all morning, depicting her anger and frustration.

“The traditional way,” Logan shot back evenly to the African woman, “look,” he candidly replied, his own dark gray stare openly daring her to refuse him.

Ororo’s eyes widened from the audacity, while Xavier wearily pinched the bridge of his nose and wearily sighed. Before Ororo could produce an even more heated rebuttal, Charles decided to intervene, “Logan, I’m well aware that you’re very capable in defending yourself, but I’m afraid you are unaware of the great danger you’ll be placing yourself in when dealing with Magneto,” Xavier noted pointedly, “I assure you, he’s not a foe anyone alone in the mansion could face lightly.”

Logan considered his words for a moment then chewed the inside of his mouth before returning with, “Magneto ain’t who I’m after…”

“What?” Both Ororo and Xavier parroted.

The Wolverine crossed his thick hairy arms over his chest before answering, “Creed wasn’t wit yer boy, Mags when he attacked that girl,” Logan reminded them both, “He left her fer me as a callin’ card. This is somethin’ personal between me an’ ‘im,” the feral mutant’s frown deepened, “I aim’s ta end this fer good.”

“Be that as it may…” Xavier started again watching as the Wolverine impatiently paced back and forth in front of him like a caged lion.

Logan then unleashed a low growl of frustration, before shouting, “That girl died because of me Chuck!” the Canadian mutant thundered back, cutting the older man off, “Because of me!” he repeated, his hand striking his chest to emphasize the point.

Charles took a deep breath before continuing. “Logan, I understand your feelings,” Xavier calmly returned, “But this is no time for personal vendettas.”

“No, ya don’t know!” Logan thundered; his massive fist smashed against the wall he was nearby. Not a moment later, three razor sharp adamantium blades exited from their sheath. They’re emergence instantly put the two on edge. The Wolverine issued a low growl before he slowly retracted the claws. He then wheeled around on the two of them, his eyes taking a deadly sharp edge. To an outsider it would have looked as if he was preparing to strike, but instead Logan spoke in a deadly quiet voice, “If Sabertooth,” he momentarily shook his head, “If Creed didn’t know I was here. He wouldn’t have touched her…He would never have …” he broke off, unable to complete the sentence. But they both knew the degree of horror that poor girl suffered.

“I can’t do anythin’ fer her, jus waitin’ ‘round here,” he stated nearly pleading, “What if that was Marie?” he offered them both, who could only remain speechless. Logan then turned to Ororo who for the last couple of moments had become strangely silent. “Storm,” he stated drawing the woman from her contemplative trace. Her blue eyes met his gray ones. “What if that was Kitty?”

Ororo drew a breath while gazing into the determined pool of Logan’s eyes. His words instantly drew images of the young Jewish girl for the African woman. So bright and full of life, love didn’t begin to describe the feelings Ororo had for the young brown haired girl that was almost like a daughter to her. The thought of someone harming or trying to harm her in that way was worst than a blade piercing her very heart. “Then Goddess help him…” Ororo whispered venomously.

Catching her words Logan instantly looked up, his troubled gray eyes settling on her. She equally met his gaze, and for a moment it was as if the two of them finally understood each other. Charles observed the interaction between the two and while drawing a troubled frown. The ramifications of Logan venturing off on his own could be tremendous. There was no way of telling what the circumstances would be when Logan found Sabertooth, or even if he’d be able to find the elusive mutant at all.

There were just too many unknown variables, to take such a risky gamble.

Although now, seeing the steel resolve of the Wolverine and the lost of Ororo as an ally, Charles had no chance of changing the tenacious Canadian mutant’s mind. But it seemed that fate was on Xavier’s side this day, because that very same moment Scott Summers burst into the Headmaster’s Office. His hurried footsteps clicked rapidly as he rushed to stand before the Xavier school head. Cyclops’ briefly made an acknowledging nod to the room’s other two occupants before turning back to Charles. “Professor,” he began, his voice reflecting the urgency of his news, “Cerebro’s picked up on something. I think we’ve found Magneto.”

That statement alone seemed to change everything. Charles almost voiced a word of thanks to the lord above, before taking the reins as the head of an elite Mutant team. His clear blue eyes instantly focused on Scott, “Cyclops, alert Jean and Colossus. Everyone is to suit up and meet me in the Blackbird’s hanger, while I configure with Cerebro to verify Magneto’s location.”

“I’m goin’…” Logan muttered in a no nonsense type of tone. His wide barrel-like body then stalked across the room heading for the door, openly daring anyone to refuse him. His eyes fell onto to Ororo during his trek. The two held a gaze for a moment, before Logan broke contact and closed the door behind him. The Windrider frowned for a moment, watching his exit. She blinked a moment later as if not understanding; Ororo then crisply followed right behind him out of the door. It would seem, that they’re discussion was far from over.

Scott Summers noticed the pair’s departure, most notably the Wolverine. With a grim expression on his face he looked to Charles, “Professor, are you sure it’s wise to allow him to come?”

“No,” Xavier shook his head honestly, he sighed again, “But I do not think he would remain, otherwise.”

The younger man shook his head while also making his way to the door. His grip on the knob tightened as he spared a look to Xavier through his crimson visor. “If anything should happen Professor, so help me, I’ll…” he drifted off, shaking his head in frustration. Scott was well aware of just what the Wolverine was capable of, but when it came to the protection of his team and family, there would be no danger he would not face to keep the people he loved safe.

Charles frowned in light of the opened ended threat. He knew Scott and he knew, the young man would not hesitate to make his words a reality if need be. “Then let us both pray Scott, that nothing does occur,” Xavier concurred, “Besides this time you’ll be facing the Master of Magnetism and his Brotherhood. You all will need to rely on each other in order to prevail.”

Scott’s boyish face then cut grim frown, “And that’s what worries me most of all, Professor,” Scott replied ominously before finally taking his leave.

OoOoOo

Meanwhile…

Ororo didn’t know why she was still chasing after him. To be honest she should be getting ready for the major up and coming encounter. Plus the feral mutant obviously made his intentions clear, earlier this morning. A piece of her heart still ached from his statement from before and no matter how much she tried to fill the void with anger, it couldn’t replace the damage done.

Didn’t he know how much he was starting to mean to her? Could his want for more violence and bloodlust overcome all the happiness he experienced in the few weeks he spent in the Xavier’s house? All the things she shared with him? How could he do this to her?

These thoughts and more continued to brew through her mind as her heels clicked against the tile floor. Her actions now were of pure madness, but here she was still following him. The look he shed to her right before leaving Charles’ office, triggered something in her, motivating her pursuit now.

All this morning he had been talking about striking out to find Sabertooth for an act of revenge, infusing his world with more bloodshed. And yet that look he gave her, it betrayed something else. Something she couldn’t understand. And as she looked to his broad back that was finally in earshot, she now was going to find out.

“This is about more than that poor girl and Silver Fox, isn’t it?” she shouted, making the Wolverine draw up short. His head slowly turned; his piercing dark gaze fell onto her from over his shoulder. Cautiously Ororo tried to bridge the brief distance between them. But the moment she advanced, seemed to only provoke him into fleeing. He turned back ready to continue on his way. Seeing his flight, gave voice to Ororo’s heart. “Talk to me!” she pleaded her hand latched onto his arm halting him, frustration and desperation seeping into her voice. She was no longer the X-Woman Storm or even the regal Ororo Monroe. She was ‘Ro, his ‘Ro.

Instead of the mask of fury and rage she was expecting to see on his face when he turned to her, she saw the crumbled mask of a broken man. And before Ororo could question him on his erratic behavior from this morning, Logan moved impossibly fast, pulling her into a tight yet caring embrace. He closed his eyes as he breathed in her cool, relaxing scent of wind and rain. Feeling for the moment, truly at peace.

Ororo was speechless.

She didn’t know what to do with this man. He spent all of last night saying and showing how much he wanted and cherished her, but in the light of the morning the first thing on his lips was his need to leave and now this. Before she could draw a second thought, Ororo pushed him away from her, twisting out of his grasp, seemingly more angered than a moment before. “No, don't touch me. Don't touch me. You don't have the right,” she shouted, her own ire flaring from his invasion and her own weakness for craving his touch. “We spend the night together making love and in the morning you tell me, "You have to leave..." How dare you! How dare you!” she shouted again, trying in vain to fight the tears that were escaping from her eyes.

For a moment she thought he was going to ignore her, then all the anger and frustration she had been feeling the entire morning evaporated in the light of his next words. “I ain’t lettin’ him get you too…” his finger brushing back the silvery tear running down her cheek.

Then all at once the tightening vice that had been suffocating her heart all morning was released. “Oh Logan…” she said falling into his arms, her lips brushed briefly against his. It finally all made sense to her. How could she have doubted him?

Logan shook his head while looking at her, “Don’t tell me I’m crazy or actin’ like a fool. Ya, donno him like I do.” He then closed his eyes as he whispered, “I can’t lose you too.”

The African woman smiled brightly at him while wiping away one of her last remaining tears before she spoke, “Logan, you sweet, caring, but misguided man. I honestly would like to tell you, that you’re not acting like a fool,” she said while slowly shaking her head, “But I’d be wrong.” At this Logan frowned, but Ororo was far from finished, “I’ll have you know, I am fully capable of defending myself against the likes of Sabertooth. Nor do I have any plans to play the damsel in distress and sit on the sidelines while you carry on some insane loner’s crusade in my honor,” she instructed while placing both her hands on her hips. “That’s not how the X-Men work and if you want things between you and myself to continue,” she said while placing both of her hands on either side of his face so his attention would be solely on her while she said softly, “You have to learn my Logan, that’s not how I work.”

Logan snatched himself out of her grasp. ‘The nerve of her,’ he thought to himself. Here he was doing all of this for her. To make sure she was safe. But not only did she not care, but seemed more irritated that he even made the attempt.

He looked ready to share some of his opinionated views with her but the moment he began to open his mouth, the African woman raised a slender white eyebrow to him, openly daring him. Ultimately Logan just narrowed his thick black eyebrows to her, “Ye’re a stubborn broad, ya know that?”

“And you’re a bull-headed caveman…” she keenly shot back, more than ready for a fight if warranted.

Logan saw the all too familiar stubborn gleam in the woman’s eyes set in then sighed. “I ain’t tryin to get into any pissin’ contest wit ya darlin’,” he tried to explain. The softening of his voice seemed to pacify Ororo as well. “Since I started livin’ in tha mansion, I’ve got things I care ‘bout.” He then frowned as he grudgingly admitted, “Even Scooter’s pansy-ass, when he’s not bein’ a complete an utter dickwad.” Ororo did her very best not to smile, deciding to take the higher ground and listen while he continued. “Creed,” Logan shook his head, “He took away my family once, I ain’t gonna let him do it again.”

Ororo took his hands into her, while saying, “And you have to understand something my Logan,” she then pressed her lips against his forehead, leaving him with these parting words, “In this family, we fight together.”

OoOoOo

He remains silent as she walks down the hallway out of sight. He holds his tongue allowing her to think she’s won this argument, but he knows better. A dark light is cast over his features as he continues on his trek in silence. He doesn’t doubt her strength. In his eyes, she’s the strongest person he’s ever known. Just as mighty and beautiful as a morning storm.

But he knows Creed better than anyone. Only, he knows what that murderer is capable of. So in the end, he knows what he must do. For her, he has to unleash it. …The darkness. The very thing that he’s come to hate and loathe about himself, he will embrace it because in the end he realizes, she’s worth it.

Even if she comes to hate him, even if she despises him, even if it means losing her, he’ll do what’s necessary to keep her safe.

Deep in dark cavernous recesses of his mind it waits for him. As if welcoming back a long lost love, the Beast embraces him with open arms. It doesn’t boast or brag. It doesn’t have to. You simply can’t fight fate. Besides this time their cause is bigger than both of them, because this day his blades will be tainted with venom of vengeance.

Woe to all that oppose him. The Beast is on the loose.


To be continued…

Chapter 18: Unleashed

The X-Mansion Underground Hanger
Westchester, New York
Fifteen-minutes after Cerebro’s Signal…

She knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into the jet.

Fully outfitted in his blue and yellow combat uniform, the Wolverine prowled through the Blackbird’s corridors like a wraith with Ororo’s eyes closely following him. Jean and Scott were both busy in the cockpit doing some last minute preflight checks. Peter, bless his heart, was trying to catch a small nap before they touched down. But Wolverine, his dark eyes never once strayed to any of the other occupants. It was if they didn’t exist to him or rather they didn’t matter.

He took the seat across from her, never once looking her way. He just drew into himself, closed his eyes and waited. His nostrils flared with each intake of air. His body seemed tense almost rigid, like a coiled cobra ready to strike.

For a moment she considered to ask if he was ok, but then thought against it. Of all the moods she’s seen him in; this by far was the most unsettling. Storm frowned while adjusting one of the straps to her cape. She had hoped their talk from before would have calmed some of his anxiety, but at the moment he seemed more anxious than ever before.

Her brief flare of distress instantly drew Jean’s attention. The scarlet haired woman looked up from her video screen over to her friend’s direction. She watched as Storm watched Wolverine, the African woman’s gaze never straying from the Canadian feral for a second.

A moment later Storm was almost startled as she felt the small mental prickling of her psychic friend. ‘What’s wrong?’ Jean’s mental voice inquired. Before Storm had a moment to even answer, a medley of her distressed thoughts proceeded her parading into Jean’s mind. The psychic took a second to register everything; then the woman’s emerald stare went to the Wolverine.

Jean focused a condensed mental probe on him for a moment and then withdrew her attempt. ‘I don’t sense anything wrong…’ Jean answered back. In the light of everything that statement didn’t amount to much because from the very first moment that the feral mutant arrived at the Mansion neither she nor Charles was able to penetrate his mental blockade. And granted this attempt wasn’t a complete success like all the other times, but she usually was able to receive some emotions that skimmed from the cracks. This time though she didn’t sense anything alarming from him. In fact she didn’t sense anything at all. There was a cool air of silence radiating from him, almost as if he wasn’t there.

This in itself could have been perceived as a threat, but then she considered that perhaps this trance was something he did before every battle he engaged. There was still so much they all really didn’t know about the Wolverine that it was hard to hazard a correct presumption. But for some reason, there was a tingling sensation in the back of her mind that stated that this sensation was somehow familiar but she couldn’t exactly place where.

‘I don’t think there’s anything wrong, but I can keep an eye on him if you like,’ Jean offered to her.

The Windrider considered it for a moment then shook her head, ‘It’s probably nothing. We had a small disagreement before we boarded. It most likely involves that.’ Jean left her consciousness giving her a small parting jab about their first “Lover’s Spat.” The African woman decided not to encourage her with a comment but instead decided on clearing her own mind and focusing on the encounter again.

Soon all distressing thoughts of the Wolverine were well in the past.

OoOoOo

The Beast is dormant.

It hears four select heartbeats that echo within the metallic casing. Signals ring. Machines hum. The dull roar of fire, octane, fuel, oil, steel, adds to the medley. The Beast hears it all and yet it hears nothing.

It inhales four different scents. One male, mouthwash, mint. The large pup, charcoal and acrylics. The red haired female is in the beginning of her cycle. His mate: the cool rain. The Beast can smell it all and yet it smells nothing.

They are there, and yet they irrelevant.

So the Beast waits.

It knows that soon it will get its chance…so it waits.

If there was anything the Beast has learned well, it is patience.

OoOoOo

It was a remarkably beautiful day outside of the Xavier Mansion, as the runway for the Blackbird rose from its underground lair. The area was clear as the large black jet prepared for take off.

It started as a mild spark. Then from in its midst the dull thunder of two supercharged turbine engines started to roar to life. The colossal thrust fires the stealth jet forward. Within moments the sleek black form of the Blackbird soars through the skies, parting through the clouds as gracefully as the animal of its namesake.

OoOoOo

Within two minutes of attaining a cruising altitude, the view screen aboard the Blackbird switched on with Charles Xavier’s face on display. “Good morning X-Men,” the psychic began, “As you all know at 9:13hrs this morning, Cerebro picked up a distress alarm from the PSYCOM research facility in Annapolis, Maryland. Since then Cerebro has received various other reports of mutant activity at this location and which has leaded us to believe that Magneto and his Brotherhood are responsible.”

“Understood, Professor,” Cyclops nodded, who already had been briefed on the events. His eyes behind his crimson visor narrowed as he asked, “What information does Cerebros have about this facility?”

Instead of Xavier answering outright, the old man hit a switch on his terminal. In the next second several small compartments placed around all of the Blackbird’s seats started to open up, each producing a small monitor for every occupant to view. The screen black flicked on, instantly shifting to a view of the actual blueprints of the PSYCOM center itself. The side panel on the monitors started to list off some basic statistics that Cerebros was able to decipher.

The PSYCOM was a massive facility, four hundred meters by a hundred meters in diameter. It was three hundred and fifty kilotons in weight, with a total of fifty stories in depth. From a side profile the facility held almost a diamond like shape with various segments that appeared to be turbines positioned around the based that maintained the facility’s flight. A real time image then replaced the blueprint depicting that; yes in fact PSYCOM was a floating technological center that retained its height exactly eight kilometers above the city level.

“PSYCOM,” Xavier’s voice came in, “Is a company that specializes in various types of propulsion methods. It’s privately owned, but does hold several government contracts from time to time, just like Stark Industries.” The sole image of the PSYCOM center shifted to the side, allowing Charles Xavier image to be seen on the screen as well, “I’ll be working on getting the last of the air space restrictions lifted so the Blackbird should be cleared to land unhindered. You’re mission will be two fold. First repel and or apprehend any of the terrorist mutants present and most importantly assist in rescuing any faculty remaining in the facility.” The image on the monitor shifted again to a green wire frame image of the PSYCOM; this time several moving red dots littered the screen in various locations of the facility. “Cerebro has confirmed that PSYCOM has two hundred and fifty personnel at the center. It is unknown at this point if anyone has been able to escape, but at the moment there is complete radio silence from PSYCOM. So currently we neither know the amount or the conditions of their employees are in.”

“I pray that Magneto hasn’t kept them in hiding like before,” Storm supplied, “Although we were fortunate that Wolverine was able to locate them, we may not be as lucky next time.” At her words, several sets of eyes shifted to over to the Canadian mutant, who still remained in his deep trance. It appeared that he even hadn’t take notice of the information on display. He just remained quiet and still like a statue. Only the deep intake of air as he breathed was the only sound he made.

Suppressing a frown, Cyclops returned his attention to Xavier. “Is there any other information you can give us, Professor?”

Charles Xavier shook his head, “That’s all I can provide you with at the moment. In the amount of time it takes you to reach Maryland, I should able to provide more, as well as free up the last of the air space restrictions,” Xavier concluded before the monitor screen went to black.

“Ok, people,” Cyclops began drawing everyone’s attention back to him as he began his own instructions, “You heard the Professor. There is a chance that the facility is still manned by the workers, so our priority is to aid with their escape first and deal with Magneto afterwards,” the X-Men leader’s focus then went to the still silent feral mutant, “Wolverine, I’m assigning you to point man. Your senses and tracking ability should be a great help in alerting us to any approaching danger.” Summers concluded before turning his attention to the others, “Besides that alteration, we’ll be using our basic Bravo pattern. I’ll pull up second with Jean and Storm to my side flanks. Colossus you’re going to be rear guard.” Each person nodded accepting their assignments.

Cyclops then paused taking a small breath and allowing a few moments for the information to sink. He then added, “I know it’s been a few months since the last time we’ve been in live combat, but if all else everyone remember your training. I want everyone to come back home in one piece from this, so no heroics.” Scott paused again as he felt a light touch on his hand. He then looked over to see Jean smiling warmly at him. It was then for the first time he realized exactly how tense he was. To be honest he couldn’t help it. Almost everyone on this jet was someone dear to him. Some he’s known since he first started at the school and as leader he was responsible for everyone’s safety.

“We know sweetie…” Jean’s mental voice said to him.

Scott sighed briefly, before returning her smile. “Ok, everyone we have about fifteen minutes before we reach Annapolis, try to get whatever rest you can,” he finished before returning to the Blackbird’s controls.

OoOoOo

Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Meanwhile…

“Good mornin’….” Rogue merrily greeted her two roommates/best friends while throwing her arms around each girl’s shoulders. It was the first break of the morning classes and she found the girls outside in the courtyard.

One look to the Southern Belle and Jubilee bared her bright teeth. “Grrrrrrrr!” she growled at her, like she was a rabid Chihuahua.

Kitty, apparently the sane one at the moment, looked away from Rogue to her very odd friend. “Psycho much, Jubilee?” she chided momentarily, before drawing a narrowed glance back the Mississippi born girl’s way. Rogue just looked at the two of them questionably drawing a step back, unsure to why she was being delivered such hostility. Before Rogue could even ask, Kitty beat her to the punch, “You’re still not off the hook,” she stated while placing her hands menacingly on her slender hips.

Rogue’s large brown eyes widened, “What?!? It’s been ah'most a week,” she complained. It finally came out that Rogue almost tried to run off from the Mansion with Logan in tow last week. Granted she changed her mind in the end, but the fact she even considered leaving the two of them, hurt tremendously. Rogue assumed that she would be forgiven since the two didn’t make a big deal of it at the time when she first told them. But now she was starting to reconsider.

The southern girl decided to give them her patented ‘doggie pout,’ that always seemed to be the weakness for both Logan and Bobby. “Ah, said Ah was sorry...” she pleaded.

“Sorry?!?” Jubilee repeated incredulously, which made Rogue sigh. Apparently the Asian girl was immune to her pout’s effects. “You nearly left us for a piece of ass,” Jubilee then paused in consideration, “Granted a nice piece of ass,” she conceded with a crisp nod. The girl paused again after some more deliberation and a notable sliver of drool, “A really, really, really, nice piece of...”

That’s when Kitty decided to cut in by clearing her throat, “Jubilee stay focused...” she concluded with a slight nudge to the younger girl’s shoulder.

The Asian girl instantly blinked out of her trance, “Ok, ok...” Jubilation conceded, “But you still you were gonna leave us,” she asked while placing an affectionate arm around Kitty, making sure to include the girl in her statements, “Us, you're best buds. How can we be the three Amigas without you chica?” she asked in all seriousness.

The Southern girl just bowed her head. The blaring white bangs of her hair fell in front of her as she spoke softly, “Logan's jus wus tha first guy Ah've been wit that nevah hurt me,” she honestly confessed, “He made me feel safe, like Ah didn't havetah worry any’moah. An' wit ‘im bein’ wit Miss. Monroe, Ah thought that Ah was gonna lose ‘im. It don't make it rightah an' Ah know nothin' Ah say can make it rightah...” she then just took a breath and said, “Ah'm jus so sorry.”

For a long time nothing was said between the three girls after Rogue’s confession. Then all of a sudden Jubilee crossed her arms underneath her breasts and leveled a stare at the Mississippi born girl, “It was his abs wasn't it?”

Rogue’s jaw visibly dropped. And loud popping sound could be heard as the Kitty slapped her forehead in complete disbelief. Rogue looked over to the Jewish girl, silently asking for some assistance in what to do. Apparently she was still too far in beginning of her teachings of Jubileese. After sighing again, Kitty just nodded numbly to her, as if to say, ‘Just, go with it…’

Rogue then cracked one eye open and looked to the girl sheepishly, “Uh…ye got me,” she weakly replied.

Jubilee slapped her hand down into her fist. “I KNEW IT!” she openly declared. “That man has the abs of a god!” the girl felt the need to share with the whole area. “His butt is amazing too,” she was inclined to add. Finally Jubilee sighed, her brown eyes looked over to Rogue, “Ok, I guess I can forgive ya chica. Just don't make it a habit. We only have auditions once a year for this group and the next time we'll make ya go through tryouts again.”

Kitty pinched the bridge of her nose, already feeling the symptoms of a major headache approaching, “Jubilee, I swear you just get weirder and weirder everyday...”

The yellow jacket-clad Asian girl then just grinned brightly at her. “But yet you still loooooove me,” she cheered while placing a big wet kiss on the Jewish girl’s cheek.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHH! Get away from me!” Kitty hollered while pushing the girl away. The brown haired girl then made a big show of wiping her cheek in disgust, “Great, now I’m infected!” she complained.

Rogue laughed at the two and then cheerfully hollered, “Group hug!” before springing at the two, being mindful of no skin contact. Jubilee and Kitty both grinned slinging an arm around their Southern pal. It would seem that finally all was forgiven. Shedding the goofy smile that spread across her lips, Rogue then adopted a contemplative look. She turned to her two friends, “Ya’ll know wheah Logan went tah? Ah haven’t seen ‘im all mornin’.”

Her inquiry seemed to have a sobering affect on both Kitty and Jubilee. The two shared a grim look before the youngest of the pair turned to Rogue. It was strange seeing Jubilee looking so serious for a change but she slowly answered, “He and the rest of the X-Men left in the black jet.”

“Oh…” the southern gal frowned, upset that her friend didn’t at least say, ‘Good bye’ before he left. She then cast another look at the two girls, noticing they still wore apprehensive expressions, “What’s wrong?” Rogue asked them, “They left ‘n tha jet be’foah…”

Kitty shook her head, “This is different though?”

Rogue frowned, still not understanding, “Why?”

“When they left they were in they’re uniforms…” Kitty supplied ominously.

And before Rogue could even ask what significance that meant, Jubilee decided to answer for her, “It means they’re most likely have to go fight someone.”

Rogue blinked several times allowing this tidbit of information settle in. She then smiled, “Ev’rythin’ will be fine. No one can beat mah Logan.”

“LOGAN’S NOT THE ONLY ONE THERE!!!” Kitty shouted back in response. Her usually calm brown eyes seemed to widen in burning with rage.

Rogue was simply stricken speechless from the girl’s sudden outburst, but Jubilee was present by Kitty’s side. The Asian slung a comforting arm around the brown haired girl’s shoulder as she said softly, “Kitty she didn’t mean anything by it. You know both Ororo and Pete will be fine,” she said to her encouragingly, “Ororo, she’s a tough cookie. Plus she won’t let anything happen to Pete either. Not to mention Professor Boy Scout is with them too. His trig class might be as exciting as watching paint dry, but Scott’s a hellavah fighter.”

Kitty’s scornful eyes drew away from Rogue; looking instead to Jubilee, “Yeah…” she nodded her head and agreed. It was that moment that Jubilee made the most bizarre face possible, instantly drawing a small laugh from her long time friend. Kitty hugged her back appreciating the sentiment.

As Marie watched the two, the southern girl couldn’t help but feel completely horrible. Here she was once again, so lost in her own little world with Logan; that she failed to notice anything else. There were a lot of good people here in the Mansion and even though Jubilee named specifically Ororo and Pete, Rogue could tell Kitty’s concern extended to everyone that left. Mr. Summers, Miss. Grey, Miss. Monroe, and Petey, they were not just the school’s teachers and guardians; but they were family.

Rogue hung her head low as she stood before the slender brown hair girl, “Kitty, Ah’m sorry,” she apologized softly.

Quietly Kitty regarded at her for a second before a smile crossed her lips. “It’s ok, I’m sorry for yelling at you,” she said before welcoming her into their friendship circle.

Rogue wiped a tear from her eyes before returning the girl’s embrace, “Sometimes Ah’m too hardheaded tah pay atten’ion.”

“Don’t worry she gets used to it,” Jubilee replied, a big bright smile on her face, “She’s gets a lot of practice from me.”

The three of them shared a laugh and just enjoyed the rest of their time before they had to return inside for their next set of classes.
OoOoOo

Skies above Annapolis, Maryland
Mid-morning…

From above the clouds the dark sleek form of the Blackbird tore through the blue sky, the ground rushed underneath them as the X-Men started to advance onto the PSYCOM facility.

Within minutes the massive floating facility came into sight. PSYCOM looked exactly like the all the surveillance photos Cerebro presented. The facility was massive with a myriad of small glass solar panels along the area where they advancing upon. There were several smaller segments of buildings that surrounded the main structure that showed signs of mayhem and destruction, with fire and swirling clouds of voluminous gray smoke scattered all over.

Although the center was in complete disarray at the moment, it seemed as though PSYCOM attempted some retaliation. It appeared that PSYCOM had some manned gun turrets as well as a small security force that tried to repel the invaders. But everything now was completely destroyed. Jean cast a few psychic probes trying to discern if there were any survivors, but it fruitless.

Meanwhile…

Inside the cockpit the view screen signaled again with the image of Charles Xavier coming into view. “Cyclops, the last remaining air space restrictions have been lifted. You are free to land,” Xavier notified him, “I also have some good news. There have been reports that a number of the PSYCOM faculty escape vessels have been launched. The Coastguard and local Fire Department units have been working jointly in recovering all the PSYCOM escapees. There is a good chance that a majority of the civilian faculty evacuated during the ensuing chaos, but be mindful that it is possible that not everyone was able to escape.”

Xavier’s words sent a wave of relief throughout the group. Witnessing the level of destruction that was dealt to the facility, it seemed like a miracle that so many people were able to flee. “They gave their lives to make sure the civilians escaped,” Colossus whispered out loud, his dark eyes directed to the PSYCOM security force. Everyone remained silent, unable to refute the claim.

Charles then paused as another bit of information started to feed in, “Cyclops, I’ve been notified that several units from S.H.I.E.L.D are now enroot to your location,” the great psychic then frowned as more information piped in, “It would seem that we are officially, ordered to cease and desist and to wait for the S.H.I.E.L.D units to arrive to deal with the threat. I have reports that the first S.H.I.E.L.D operatives should arrive in approximately twenty minutes.”

Jean and Cyclops both frowned, sharing a troubled look at this latest development. “What would you have us do, Professor?” the scarlet haired X-Woman asked. Twenty minutes would be more than enough time for the Brotherhood to accomplish whatever task they set out to do and then flee the scene.

“Charles the longer we wait…” Storm began to say. But there was no need to continue, the threat that Magneto poised was too great to simply lie in wait for the government sanctioned units to arrive.

“I know Storm,” Xavier conceded. The older man had a moment of indecision. Then the next instant his hands came forward into the familiar ‘steeple’ action, as he began to speak again, “You are all to proceed as plan. I’ll deal with the S.H.I.E.L.D officials in the meantime.”

Cyclops paused after Xavier’s statement. The X-Men leader knew how extremely difficult dealing with S.H.I.E.L.D could be. The superiors that ran S.H.I.E.L.D were exceedingly dedicated to their duties and protocols and held little tolerance for anyone that acted outside of them. The Professor having to contend with them will be no easy task even with his great influence. “Understood, Professor,” Cyclops consented grimly. He decided that it was a matter out of his hands. In the meantime he had his own problems to deal with.

Cyclops returned his attention to flying. The X-Men leader smoothly dropped the Blackbird down from its cruising altitude as they steadily started to approach PSYCOM once again. Cyclops gritted his teeth in anger from all the mindless devastation, but he quickly cooled his rage. He had a mission to do and there were many people he was responsible for. ‘A level head is needed not a hot temper,’ he mentally instructed himself.

The Blackbird flew a tight circle above the center, performing a single fly by to get a basic lay of the land. The information from the layout they received from Cerebro determined that the helipad docking area was on the west side of the facility. Cyclops quickly sought out the section. In the next moment the repulse engines of the Blackbird started to kick in, allowing the black stealth jet to hover briefly before it softly touched down. Not a moment after landing did the runway ramp lower down and the members of the X-Men started to file out.

Cyclops, dressed in his form fitting blue uniform with the protective padding, was the first out. The X-Men leader scoured the area first before he directed the others to follow. Jean proceeded second. Dressed in her emerald green suit with the wrap around gold skirt, not to mention the golden phoenix design on her chest, she sent out a broad mental probe to blanket the surrounding area. Detecting neither threats nor any survivors, Jean descended the ramp to stand beside Cyclops. The towering form of Colossus proceeded next; he was dressed in his usual sleeveless red and gold body suit. With only a handful of live missions under his belt, the young man was still very vigilant and alert to any threats. Lastly the regal weather goddess Storm brought up the rear. A flowing silver cape that matched her full bodysuit, danced along a current of wind that surrounded her. Her eyes flashed white as she started to call upon the power of the elements. The horror that was visited upon these people would not go unchallenged.

The X-Men quickly fanned out taking a moment to scan the area. Each of them was speechless as they looked over the devastation. Cyclops was about to give the order to proceed inside; when he noticed that the newcomer Wolverine still remained perched at the top of the Blackbird’s plank.

OoOoOo

He was close; the Beast could sense it.

Relentless the Beast continued to scour over the area, its cold dark eyes taking in every stray rock, every smoking slag of debris, and every charred husk of a corpse. Every so often the Beast’s nostrils would flare as it took in strong deep breaths. It pitched its head back, its nose tipped to the sky as it took in all of the scents of the area, searching…

“Logan?” its mate asked, her silk like voice depicting nothing but concern as she watched him. She started to take a step closer, but the towering pup with the strange metallic scent stood fast in front of her, blocking her advance.

That was something the Beast didn’t like.

“Nyiet,” the whelp whispered. Slowly the clanking of metal started to echo as his skin became steel. His massive fists covered his front as he took a defensive fighting stance. “That is not Wolverine,” he continued, his cool eyes borrowing into the feral mutant.

The Beast’s upper lip curved rumbling a low warning growl as its dark eyes drew to the young pup that issued a challenge for its mate. The Beast dropped down to its haunches; it’s large burly fists coming to its sides. It could feel its claws resting behind its knuckles, each itching to be released. The group behind the whelp started to tense, they all regarded him wearily and they rightfully should, none could contend with the Beast’s might.

The blood coursing through the Beast’s body started to boil. The energy, the anticipation from the challenge seemed to rise inside of him till it was nearing its breaking point. His body tensed as if he was ready to strike but suddenly…

“No!” a thundering voice cried with the might of the heavens behind it. His mate, his goddess stepped forward, her eyes shimmered as the unlimited power of the elements course within them. “Wolverine, please…” she pleaded while stepping away from the others. “Storm!” “Storm!” “’Roro! Stay back!” The words echoed in the background, but the goddess ignored them. “You won’t hurt me,” she declared while taking another step forwards, “You won’t…”

The Beast paused. It rose, drawing to its full height as he regarded the goddess. It shook its head while taking a tentative step toward her, when unexpectedly a loud shrill whistle cut across the field drawing everyone’s attention.

Standing in the central building’s doorway there he stood. A smug grin was on his harsh face showcasing a maul full of razor-sharp teeth. His wild blonde hair blew around him as the wind changed direction, his silver eyes flashed with cruel delight. “Here boy…Here boy!” he taunted while giving another shrill whistle, like a master summoning its beast. Then without wasting another second Sabertooth dashed inside the facility.
OoOoOo

The Beast unleashed a harrowed roar that pierced through the mid-morning sky, after seeing its long desired prey. Storm called after him but he ignored her completely. Then with his powerful legs it leapt! The bound threw his body clear above the X-Men’s heads; he landed in a deep crouch several paces away, nearly half the length to the entranceway.

“Wolverine!” He heard behind him. The Beast’s response, six adamantium blades summoned to his fists as he darted after the murderous mutant as if the dogs of hell were at his heels.
OoOoOo

“Wolverine, get back here! Damn it!!!” Cyclops cursed out loud, still completely stunned from the sudden twist of events. He then sighed while shaking his head. “That was almost to be expected,” he muttered while considering the current situation.

Jean then turned to him, “What do we do now?”

Cyclops sighed again, at the complete foul-up this mission was starting to be. Then after a minute he straightened up, “We proceed as planned,” he confirmed in clear crisp voice.

“What about Wolverine?” The two of them turned to look back at Storm. Her concern over their wayward friend was evident.

“We can’t break group to go look for him. Not at this time,” Cyclops responded. His face then softened, “Storm, I know you care a lot about him, but we have a higher priority at the moment.”

Storm allowed another moment for her thoughts to dwell on the conflicted man. Then the purpose of why they were here in the first place returned to her mind. Her clear blue eyes then sharpened. “I understand, Cyclops,” she stated while moving in front, “We should move. There is no telling what else Magneto might have in store for us.”

“Agreed,” Cyclops confirmed, “I’ll take point. Colossus you follow.”

The large Russian man who remained silent for the passed few minutes nodded. “Da…” he affirmed while taking his spot behind the X-Men leader.

Cyclops’ then touched a dial that was on his visor. “I should be able to retrieve the blueprints remotely from the Blackbird’s computer and upload it into my visor,” he stated to the others while making the attempt, “Which should be able to give us some direction of where to look.” It took him a few more moments to make all the proper alterations. “Ok, there we go. Everyone, follow me,” he instructed while heading inside.


To be continued…

Chapter 19: Ugly

PSYCOM Industries
Skies above Annapolis, Maryland
Mid-morning…

“Storm, on your six!” Cyclops shouted the warning to his teammate as the set of the motion sensor beam cannons fired another volley of energy rounds down on them. The shots splintered the ground they walked upon but the X-Men scattered, springing into action.

They had barely made it inside the PYSCOM facility before the group was under heavy fire. Electronic eyes, motion sensors, beam cannons, laser energy grids, and automated rail gun turrets sprang up all around them, surrounding the four-person group. It soon became apparent that all of the center’s automated defenses were still online and had registered every one of them as hostiles. Endless hallways of gray stainless steel metallic corridors littered within the technological center and it seemed that every bend they turned was met with more of the facility’s mechanical resistance systems, which in total was hindering all of their progression.

Storm the weather goddess, quick to react, called on her other call sign. The gale of wind she already summoned previously instantly surrounded her. She somersaulted in the air dropping into a low dip as shots rained upon the place she just was standing. The weather goddess then strafed along the floor barrel spinning onto her back, Storm’s velvet voice rang out as she asked the elements to lend her their aid. Her eyes were like ivory flames surging with the uninhibited power of the elements. The next instance the hallway flashed white as she unleashed an erratic bolt of lightning from her fingertips that not only demolished the beam cannon, but the four others that happened to be nearby it.

Cyclops watched for another moment as Storm flew overhead, a series of explosions following her wake as she proceeded to smite any and all that dared to fire upon the weather goddess. Tearing his attention away from the Windrider's display, the X-Men leader quickly whipped his head around. His crimson visor flashed in three successions, sprinkling three more turrets into metallic confetti. Cyclops then did a quick once over to get a momentary scan on everyone’s status.

He saw the younger man Colossus, in steel form, soaring through the air. The young Russian lunged into the huge barrel of one of the rail guns. The high-tech aluminum-cartridge weapon managed to set off one more shot that was completely in point blank range, exploding with fiery light right in front of the Russian’s face.

It succeeded in titling the steel Titan’s head back…slightly.

Colossus then took his massive hands, the high-pitch squealing of metal wailed in protest as he ripped the weapon’s nozzle clean from off its mount! Colossus then hurtled the damn thing through the air like a steel missile. The long metal pole blasted through a neighboring rail gun turret, flipped over then crashed through the wall behind it.

If there wasn’t a hallway present in the original blueprints, there was one now.

Nodding at Colossus’ control of his situation, Cyclops then turned to Jean, who at the moment, held a look of mild interest. An air of alarm flared within him as he looked beyond her to the pulse gun that wheeled around to her direction. Automatically his hand went to rim of his visor, preparing to fire, but then he heard a soft, ‘I got it sweetheart,’ Jean’s voice whispered into his mind. He then felt the certain mental caress that she often performed on him, which was like a telepathic kiss.

Jean’s eyes flared in that next moment, she whipped her hand out throwing up an invisible barrier of psychic energy that repelled all the shells fired. Jean concentrated for but a moment, then slowly closed the palm of her hand and that very same instance the mounted gun that was her agitator started to crumble under an awesome compressed field of telekinetic force. The psychic then elevated the fragments from the wreckage into the air. With a quick flick of her hand she sent a hailstorm wave of shrapnel and steel tearing through at least a dozen other pulse gun mounts.

Cyclops couldn’t help but grin, feeling almost foolish for worrying. The stern leader quickly cleared his thoughts, regaining his game face. Most of PSYCOM’s defense systems were either destroyed or out of commission. Now it was time to do clean up. “X-Men…TUCK TAIL!” he shouted in warning to his other teammates. Each of them quickly made sure to stand clear.

Cyclops then threw his hands back as if to brace. The X-Men leader’s head pitched back as his eyes started to build with the full unrestrained might of his mutation. Cyclops then threw himself forward unleashing a crimson blast so massive it completely covered the expansive of the entire hallway. For a few moments it was as if everything was stained with red then finally the lights died down.

The hallway was a smoldering wreck, leaving the group a clear way. The X-Men converged around Cyclops in moments. The stern man gave everyone another once over, noticing that they all appeared to be uninjured. He nodded, “Good work, team. Let’s keep moving,” Cyclops instructed, while taking the lead again.

OoOoOo

Victor Creed moved slowly through shadow.

Soundless were his actions as he crept through the dark corridors of PSYCOM. Victor knew he was very good at what he did, but more than once Creed looked over his shoulder, watching back the way he came. Only the eternal darkness of the hallways stared back at him. Even though Sabertooth had perfect vision in the dark, in this instant he honestly wasn’t expecting to see much in the first place. He couldn’t see him or smell him, but Victor Creed knew he was there.

Sabertooth still could recall that coot, Magneto’s words, “Do whatever is necessary to make sure the Wolverine is kept separate from the other X-Men.”

“Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” Creed muttered grimly to himself. Sabertooth’s clawed hand then went down to inspect his ribcage. He winced slightly from a little bit of discomfort but fortunately, enough time had passed and he was almost fully healed. There were merely only eighteen angry lines that littered his side, not the eighteen gaping slash wounds he previously had from those hellish twelve-inch claws. Taking a breath wasn’t a bitch anymore either.

Creed remembered being so ready to get even with the runt after that bullshit fight they had in Alberta. Victor even went so far as to leave him a calling card when he and Magneto’s boys hit Seattle.

Now that he was thinking about it, that Squall sure was nice. It brought back some real good memories. The two of them almost fucked the same way and her blood was just as sweet.

Anyway…

Creed was ready. Damn, ready for that fucking runt. But the thing chasing him now wasn’t the runt. It smelled like him, looked like him, but that thing wasn’t Wolverine. It diffidently was something else.

OoOoOo

The Beast silently watched as the huge murderous Mutant finally began to move again.

Deep in the belly of the darkness, suspended upside-down the Beast’s powerful arms and thighs clutched the cool steel pipeline that ran along the ceiling. The Beast first released its burly arms, allowing its torso to swing down. Not a moment later did it release its legs, flipping its body to the ground, landing on the balls of his feet without making a sound.

Creed…

That was what the Coward called him. Although names and labels matter not, this Creed dared to take what was rightfully theirs. That warranted enough.

Silent, like a shadow the Beast moved. It knows how to travel without being seen. It knows how to remain hidden. The Beast knows it could easily overtake the Coward’s Creed this very moment, but it now relies on the other skill attributed to a great hunter.

Patience…

The Beast knows it was too hasty the first round; because of this the threat to his mate was able to get away that instance. It is not an event that will occur a second time. The Beast has learned from its previous mistake, so now it lies in wait. It already knows what the outcome will bring; it now just simply waits for the opportunity to present itself.

As it moves through the air condition vents, the Beast hears a familiar reverberation. The distant rumbling and thunder of explosions echo through the building’s intricate network to his very ears, the sounds of combat. Instantly its mind returns to his mate and the others in her pack.

While cloaked in shadow he briefly pauses, hesitating for the first time in his steps. Maybe the Beast should join them; make sure that she’s safe. It…The Coward would want that.

No…The Beast shakes his head, his pace now doubled. He has a far nobler task this time. And his mate is strong; she’ll not die in a place like this.

OoOoOo

Within forty-five minutes of entering the PYSCOM compound the X-Men finally managed to reach the heart of the facility, the Operations Center. As the Mutant team made their way inside, they started to spread out, scanning the perimeter while taking in the vast mechanical room.

In some ways the Operations Center reminded each them of the chamber for Cerebro back in the X-Mansion. It was a large expansive room with a single walkway along its center that led to an impressive terminal station. But instead of the metallic panels lining the spherical room, this room’s walls were filled with different monitors in some of the segments. Others parts held large clear panes of glass for the many different viewing rooms. The place gleamed with that sterile clean look you would find common in medical centers or research facilities. Various types of machinery were lit up, which added to the metallic palette of grays, blues, gold, and reds. The walkway in the center had a guardrail trailing along its rim to prevent falls to that cavernous floor. The bottom portion of the center was very deep, seemingly bottomless, filled with several enormous supercomputers that housed all of the servers running through the PSYCOM facility.

As everyone continued to look around, they all couldn’t help but get an eerie feeling tingling in the back of their heads. Something wasn’t right and several things didn’t add up. The outer portion of the PSYCOM facility was virtually in ruins from all the destruction the Brotherhood’s initial attacks caused, but on the inside everything appeared to be undisturbed and even abandoned. Not only that but the sudden loss of the Canadian newcomer Wolverine, was an equally unhinging blow. Since they started moving through the hallways of the facility, they hadn’t come across any trace of the wayward feral mutant.

The sudden thoughts over the fate of the Wolverine made Scott take a momentarily glance over to Ororo. As usual he didn’t know the details, but apparently there was something deeply rooted that passed between her and Logan. The Windrider appeared to be calm and collect as ever. Her hands were as still as a rock; her bright eyes were sharp and attentive. Scott silently sighed to himself.

Just that moment Jean must have picked up his thoughts because the psychic briefly met his gaze. Her green eyes fell onto the weather manipulator for a moment, before returning to him. Ororo might have been able to fool Peter, who hadn’t known her for as long, but her apprehension was apparent to Jean and the X-Men leader. Jean nodded slowly before the two of them returned to their investigation.

“I don’t understand Cyclops,” Storm stated a moment later, “There appears to be no one here.”

Cyclops frowned. His arms crossed over his chest, equally puzzled, “I know, I don’t understand it either.”

“Is it possible the Brotherhood has already left?” Colossus suggested.

“No…” Jean replied; her green eyes were now closed. The lines of her brow frowned as she increased her level of mental concentration. “I’m having a hard time focusing on them, its like some sort of wall is blocking my telepathy. But I know they’re still here.”

“Besides,” Storm added, “I do not believe Sabertooth would remain behind completely alone.”

“Agreed,” Cyclops nodded, “Lets see if we can get a lock on them from the building’s motion sensors,” Summers stated while walking towards one of the functional main terminals.

OoOoOo

Jean Grey was puzzled.

There was a certain presence her mental telepathy was detecting, but the feeling was wrong, maybe even backwards. It was like it was buffered by something, but she had no idea what.

The scarlet haired X-Woman was aware of Magneto’s involvement in the development of Cerebro, not to mention his extensive history with the Professor. So if anything the Master of Magnetism was well versed in the ways of avoiding psychic detection. But Jean was certain that Erik wouldn’t be so bountiful with the gift that he would outfit all of Brotherhood with such equipment. The only other person she could think of was…

Then in that next moment Jean’s green eyes widen in horror. “Peter!!!” she shouted but it was already too late.

Breaking through the wall right behind them, came the thundering steps of a man that looked almost like a human freight train. At six foot nine and over nine hundred pounds the wall of a man steps never faltered, barreling right into the chest of the young Russian mutant. Colossus despite his merit, tried to brace against the impact but the enormous giant was like an unstoppable force that would not be denied. The two great bodies collided; there was a clap then an explosion of rumble as the pair blasted through the railing tumbling over the side. They were a weightless tangle of meaty limbs and hands as Colossus and his aggressor continued their freefall. It seemed like an eternity passed before the pair finally landed at the bottom of the server pit completely obliterating the floor!

“Colossus!” the young Russian heard Cyclops’ voice cry from up top, but he didn’t have any time to respond. Colossus in his steel form stood fast. The younger man didn’t wait for pleasantries. While his opponent’s huge hulking form tried to scramble to his feet; Colossus ran full speed driving with shoulder tackling bum rush, which flung the two Titans through a wall, decimating it by the way, into the following room.

Piotr Rasputin already knew who this was. At six foot nine with a nine hundred pounds weight, which as he witnessed right now was all solid muscle. A sort of auburn colored body armor was forged on the giant’s great hulking body, which also included series of reddish-brown bands that wrapped around his beefy arms. His head held a massive helmet of equal color, only permitting slits for his eyes and mouth to be open. Piotr Rasputin already knew whom the man standing before him was.

Every since his first day of becoming an X-Men, Peter had made sure to study as many of the hostile mutant files that Cerebro had available. There even was a special exception made for this human, the unfortunate Professor’s stepbrother who always seemed to be on the wrong side of the law. The young Russian didn’t have time to falter now, not when he was pitted against the Juggernaut.

OoOoOo

“Colossus!” Cyclops shouted as he watched the youngest member of the X-Men fall over the railing. The next few moments after his descent were quickly followed by the thunderous sounds of devastation and mayhem from below. Whatever was happening down there, those two didn’t waste anytime.

The determined leader quickly turned back to the remaining X-Men members. “Storm, Jean, we have to get down there fast!” the leader instructed, the two women merely nodding grimly at the sudden turn of events. The Juggernaut wasn’t a foe any of them could take lightly. So busy were the three occupied with their young team member’s fate that they didn’t happen to notice the slender stalking figure prowling around on the ceiling above them.

Cyclops’ boyish jaw was set in firm determination; his mind was already formulating a plan of attack when… Suddenly a sharp sound of something cracking snapped above them as a thin vine or tentacle type thing snaked out snatching the X-Men leader’s visor from off his head and flinging it away somewhere.

“No!!!” Cyclops shouted. The action came so abrupt, so fast, that all he could do was turn his head skyward in the last second before the crimson riptide from his eyes poured out. The red blast instantly punched a hole through the ceiling, before the man was able to shut his eyes, cutting off the beam.

“Scott/Cyclops!” the two women cried. Jean hurried to her lover’s side while Storm continued to scan the area above. Then in the next instance a slender form descended right in the midst of the three. His long legs whipped out in a surprise split kick that caught Jean square in the gut; wrenching the wind from her. Ororo, who managed to catch a hint of motion in the last possible moment, was able to pivot to side taking only a glancing blow.

The figure in between the two women, grinned a putrid gnarled-toothed grin. He then sprung backwards from the palms of his hands, landing perfectly on his feet. “Ladies, ladies, ladies…” the figure hissed delightfully to the pair of fallen women, not to mention take an additional moment to admire their curves. The next moment the man opened his mouth and a long black tentacle-like tongue slithered out. It curled around his lime-tinted face, brushing back a few strands of its oily unkempt dark hair in a vain attempt at grooming. “It always is a pleasure,” he concluded with a sharp bow.

He then promptly pivoted his body to the side, which was very fortunate for him because a harsh wave of crimson energy just came within a hairbreadth of sending him to oblivion. The dingy figure, who reeked of an unkempt toilet might I add, sighed dismissively then sprang on its long legs into the air. The tails of the long dark trench coat he wore, which looked as though it was just fished from a dumpster, fluttered around him as he moved. He spiraled once coiling his body before dropping his entire weight onto Cyclops’ shoulders instantly flooring the X-Men leader.

Scott Summers was boarding on the line between pain and obliviousness. The lone figure looked down at the famed leader discontentedly, “Come on, you people aren’t making this even challenging…” he uttered, before a full two thousand watt jolt of electricity knocked him off of his feet.

Rippling currents of white lightning ripped and coursed around the African weather witch, Storm’s body. Her bright white eyes burned with contempt, “Perish the thought Toad,” she muttered, her arms then reached for the heavens a course of air lifting her up. “Perhaps a blast of artic wind will chill your tongue,” the Windrider suggested and already he could feel the temperature in the room dropping tremendously.

A chilling gale of wind whirled and whipped all around her, blowing past the former goddess smacking into the amphibian mutant, instantly coating his body in a sheet of frost. A secondary gust stronger than the first, smashed into Toad throwing him up against a nearby wall. Storm kept the bombarding tempest of wind on him, as tiny blades of icicles started to crystallize all around his body, holding him in place. “I’ll say this only once,” her soft velvet voice had a deadly serious edge, “Where is Magneto?”

Suddenly an eruption from above broke her concentration. The colossal reverberations broke apart tons of steel and glass shards that came down, hurtling towards Ororo. “STORM!” a voice cried, then the all the metal and debris looked as if it was held suspended in the air by invisible strings. Storm looked over her shoulder to see Jean finally returned to her feet. Her face was in pained concentration while she used her telekinesis to hold the monumental amount of wreckage at bay. The Psychic then drew in deep within her self and grunted with all her might, casting every piece of debris aside. Jean grinned briefly before stumbling on her feet; the act of such great exertion winded her temporarily.

Toad, who used the momentary distraction to wiggle and break his way free of the ice, burst from off the wall. He hurtled towards the weaken Jean, both his feet flying for a devastating dropkick. An act which would have occurred, if a blazing red beam didn’t cut through the air slamming into his chest, sending his limber form barreling off somewhere to kiss blissful oblivion.

Cyclops who finally retrieved his visor, quickly jogged over to the two women. “You two ok?” he asked, obvious concern etched on his face.

Jean coughed briefly, while rubbing the soreness that still lingered in her chest from that kick, “I’ll live…” she replied evenly.

A gust of wind blew around them as Storm circled above for a moment, before descending right next to the duo. “I am uninjured,” she answered him, “But I’m afraid this is far from being over.”

Just as if on cue, the platform of one of the upper observatories started to shake and rumble. That whole section seemed to blast apart as the reverberations continued to build. Soon the whole room started to tremble, sliding all the contents and equipping to one side. Through the ensuing chaos, one lone figure walked through the platform seemingly unaffected by the turbulent eruptions.

Jean sighed dismally, “Speak of the devil…” she muttered while her other team members started to get ready for this latest threat.

OoOoOo
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Lunchtime…

“Hey guys…” Bobby greeted as he and John spotted the female trio of Rogue, Jubilee and Kitty lounging on one of the larger couches. Since Professor Xavier decided to end class for the remainder of the day, the girls opted to spend their lunch together in the video room. It was just a bit of light talking while some of the midday soap operas played in the background, while they ate.

The Drake kid smiled a bit brighter when his eyes fell to the Southern belle, Rogue. They’re current ‘involved’ status was hardly a secret anymore between the rest of the group. Rogue’s cheeks flushed brightly, before she returned with a shy smile of her own. She then joined Bobby in the loveseat across from them.

The small confines of the couch made it absolutely impossible for their hips not to touch. The Southern girl then seized his hand, her gloved fingers interlacing with his own. Bobby winked mischievously to her, before they both returned their attention back to the group. Seeing the two together, made Kitty smile sweetly at her friend’s good fortune and made Jubilee roll her eyes from the excessive sugary overload.

John, suppressing the urge to comment on how much of a pansy his best friend was becoming, instead decided to ask about the one thing that’s been on the lips of every student in the school today, “You guys know why they’re out this time?” he said, while taking a single seated chair.

There was no question of whom he was referring to. The reason why today’s classes were let out early was mainly because a number of the senior teaching staff members were away. Each of them was taking up the mantel that’s been the secret envy of so many of students at the school of Xavier. Being an, X-Men had become a badge of courage and honor to everyone that resided in the mansion. It proved that with determination and hard work, that you too can make a difference in this world.

Kitty and Jubilee both shared a look before the young Asian girl spoke, “Kitty thinks it has something to do with that Magneto guy again,” Jubilee concluded with a loud pop from her gum.

“The dork from the TV?” John asked, never being one without a witty retort on hand.

The two girls nodded.

Rogue brown eyes then lit up as if something just occurred to her. “Is it true he used’tah teach heah?” she inquired. Since the girl was still so very new there was a lot she didn’t know. Unfortunately, from the blank faces that the other four teens shared, it seemed no one had the answer. A wave of silence brewed through the group, as the Mississippi bred girl question was held in the open air.

Bobby Drake’s eyes then went to the young Pryde girl. “Kitty, you’ve been here the longest, don’t you know?”

The brown haired Jewish girl paused as she put some real consideration to the question. She was about to tell him, ‘No’ when she recalled something. “Well…” she paused momentarily in concentration. She then nodded her head, “I think I remember Ororo telling me that he was here when Mr. Summers and Miss Gray first came to the school.”

Scott and Jean both were some of Professor Xavier’s first students. Scott was the first; he arrived at the school when he was thirteen. He had no family and virtually no place to go. A year later it seems that Jean enrolled as well. It was only after a few more years later, when the school finally started to flourish. Besides Ororo joining, there were a number of other mutants that would arrive daily at the school, till it attained its current status.

If this Magneto clown was a teacher back when Scott and Jean were students, then… “Whoa,” Jubilee exclaimed as the young girl put the pieces together, “He must be really, really old then.” Rogue, Bobby and John eyes widened for a brief moment before the three of them all broke out into hard chuckles. John wouldn’t ever admit it openly, but Jubilee diffidently had her brilliant moments.

Rogue was almost into the brink of another giggle fit, when she saw the worried expression on Kitty’s face. “Hey,” the Southern girl said, while drawing the Jewish girl’s attention, “They’ll be okah,” she stated firmly, while giving the girl’s knee a little encouraging squeeze.

“Yeah, Scott’s with them,” Bobby agreed as if that fact alone justified his belief.

John’s interest seemed to be peaked from Bobby’s mentioning of the X-Men leader. “Scott was there, when the Professor first talked to your parents’ right?” the blonde boy asked. As long as he’s known Bobby they never ever really got into the story of how either of them came to the mansion.

“Yeah,” the taller boy nodded, recalling that day three years ago. “It was weird,” Bobby, admitted, “I honestly didn’t want to go,” Drake confessed to them, “I mean I thought this place was for freaks,” boy then frowned, realizing just how bad his words must have sounded, “I knew I could do some weird stuff with ice and I knew that wasn’t normal. But if I left and came to Mutant High it kinda would make it official,” he shook his head again. He didn’t look up till he felt Rogue brush her thumb against his hand. His blue eyes looked up to her’s large brown ones. The boy couldn’t help but smile. “Scott was cool though,” Bobby, continued, “We just stood outside, talking about whatever. He was more interested in the things I liked to do for fun more than what I could do with my powers. After that talk, I felt a lot better about coming,” Drake then grinned, while throwing a slung to John, “What about you? What made you decide to come here?”

“Jean…” John firmly answered without the least bit of hesitation, “Diffidently Jean,” his eyes then flashed to Bobby lecherously, “As soon as I saw her and those hips, I was sold.”

All the girls and Bobby paused. Bobby, who had known John for a good two years now and was well aware of how his friend’s warped mind worked, could do nothing but burst out laughing, while the trio of brown-eyed girls suppressed their own groans from fire starter’s perverted mind.

“Like Ewww…” Jubilee complained while making a face, “Keep it in your pants, John boy.”

John then leaned back in his chair. His arms were crossed behind his head, while he kicked his feet up. “Can’t blame a man for having good taste,” he returned slyly, his blonde eyebrows wiggling suggestively. His eyes then narrowed at her, “It’s not like anyone would come here to see you.”

“As if!” Jubilee shouted while launching to her feet. She then smirked while crossing her arms, “I’m more woman than you could ever hope to handle.”

“More like stomach…” John grumbled, while rolling his eyes. Of course his eyes then widened when he noticed the menacing shadow of Jubilation Lee standing overtop of him. The girl was fuming and looked ready to launch.

Luckily for John, his best friend decided to intervene. “Ok time out you guys,” Bobby declared while sliding in between the pair, “Now both of you go back to your corners.” Which was more like, ‘Jubilee, please sit down, before something explodes.’

While watching her new boyfriend play peacemaker, Rogue’s mischievous brown eyes darted back and forth from Jubilee and John repeatedly. It only took her a few moments before she started to entertain a certain devious idea. “Ye know Bobby, ye might be onta somethin’,” the Mississippi girl stated, while motioning towards Jubilee and John, “Ya’ll two really should go out.”

The declaration was too much for Kitty who outright fell out of her chair and nearly dissolved through the floor from laughing so hard. And Jubilee was, on another rare occasion, speechless. She looked as though all the color was drained from her face. The girl was simply flabbergasted from her former best friend from the south’s words. “Rogue! You-you-you traitor!” she accused with a shaky finger, obviously still in shock.

It was at that point; John burst to his feet and started to make towards the hallway. “I’m gonna play a few dozen games of Madden now,” he stated shakily to no one in particular, the blonde boy then openly shuttered, “Hopefully that will be enough to erase, the horrid memories this conversation has brought.”

Bobby chuckled to himself while also climbing to his feet, “I better go,” he stated, “Gotta, make sure he doesn’t nuke the X-Box or something.” Rogue giggled at the claim. But from what she’s already knew about Johnny, it honestly was most likely a real danger. He and Rogue shared one last look before the boy finally headed after his friend.

Marie sighed contently as her eyes continued to follow her boyfriend before he finally disappeared from sight. The Southern Belle from Mississippi then fell back onto the couch. It was hard keeping a smile from her face. A certain, vivaciousness coursed through her young body, every time she laid eyes on that boy. It was a very new feeling to her, but one she realized she easily could get used to.

Rogue then snatched up the remote, ready to see the rest of her soaps. She cast a look over to Jubilee who still appeared to be in a daze. The poor Asian girl rocked back and forth as she continued to shake her head, all the while muttering, “Unbelievable…Unbelievable…” over and over again.

The Southern girl turned away from her, to look at the other side. Kitty, it seems, was also off in her own little world. Every so often she would laugh and mumble little things to her self. Rogue swore she heard the girl say something about, “What would their kids look like?” then the Jewish girl would break out into hysterics all over again.

Rogue turned away again and smiled. As weird as her life was right now, she honestly wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. The Southern girl then paused thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “Kitty, next time we go out, why dontcha ask Petey tah come wit all us?”

Whatever spell Jubilee was previous under seemed to be broken from the sudden suggestion, “Thank you!!!” the young girl cried, lauding Rogue’s intuitiveness, “I'm glad someone else besides me finally said it!”

“Jubilee shut up!!!”

OoOoOo
PSYCOM Industries
Skies above Annapolis, Maryland
Lower Sanctum
12:01PM…

Victor Creed looked down at the dark corridor. A river of water flowed alongside of him as he stood on the pathway. The sounds of dripping water echoed in the distance as the complex network of pipelines connected and interconnected in front of him, leading him to a virtual dead end. “Shit…” the feral Mutant grumbled to himself. He must have taken a wrong way somewhere.

Creed was hoping to end up back at the helipad. The plan was to take one of the PSYCOM escape pods or even hijack that spiffy Blackbird the X-Men keep priding themselves about. Either way, Creed had enough of the old man’s schemes for one day. Now his only thoughts were getting the fuck out of Dodge. Not to mention he needed some time to reevaluate what the hell was up with the Runt.

Sabertooth took a few more moments to readjust the GPS tracker Mags gave all of them, when he instantly tensed. A low threatening growl suddenly rumbled from behind him. Shit, he didn’t even hear the guy approaching. Creed didn’t need to turn around. He didn’t even need to use his nose. He knew what was behind him. “So…good buddy, looks like ya finally caught me,” tall mutant replied evenly as he wheeled around to face the shorter mutant that was standing in front of the only entrance and exit to the pipe room.

The shorter Mutant that looked like Logan but wasn’t; sat low on his haunches, his thick burly arms was placed evenly at his side. The claws weren’t out, but hell that didn’t make a difference. Vic knew that the runt could summon those hellish things to his side within an instance.

He was wearing a ridiculous yellow and blue outfit that Creed never seen before. The Runt’s head was low and that weird mask he was wearing even added to the menacing effect, burying half his face in shadow. His dark eyes cold and emotionless, they never strayed from Victor’s person for a second.

This was not good.

Victor grinned, “Now, now, I know yer still not sore ‘bout that lil’ Injin broad from Seattle.” The Runt remained silent. Creed continued to eye the crazed mutant. Ever so slightly, he took a few steps every few seconds trying to get a path around the immovable feral. “’ey, that was jus a bit o’ fun. No hard feelin’s an’ all,” Creed stated, all while trying to take an additional step forward.

As soon as he did, the Runt snarled. His lip curled, flashing a razor-sharp incisor to represent its displeasure. Instantly Victor froze. The next moment the blonde mutant blinked then threw his head back and laughed heartily. “Man, they really fucked ya up, didn’t they?” the taller mutant taunted, “So dis is tha extent o’ all their work, huh?” Victor continued, “Tha mighty Wolverine, reduced tah an overgrown mutt,” Creed’s face then cut into a vicious grin, “Fox’s gotta be real proud.”

For some reason hearing him utter that name triggered something deep within the psyche of the Beast. The calm timbre it possessed up to now was shattered. Its mouth dropped open unleashing a bellowing roar that would make a lion cringe. Its hefty hands stabbed down into the ground in front of him. The splintering sound of six blades releasing, pieced the concrete. The Beast then swiped its hands to either side in open challenge.

Which, at this point was fine with Creed, he gotten tired of running anyway, “That’s it, I’m through playin’ wit you runt!” he shouted, while taking a stance. His razor-like black nails extending to their full five-inch length. “Fido,” Sabertooth began, “I thinks someone needs tah finally put ya tah sleep.”


To Be Continued…

Chapter 20: Rage

PSYCOM Operations Center
Skies above Annapolis, Maryland
A crawl after noon…

The floors under PSYCOM Industries trembled.

Massive vibrations rippled; as quake after earth shattering quake, shook the facility to its very foundation.

The hulking metallic body of Piotr Rasputin fell back, blasting through two reinforced steel walls with the menacing Juggernaut hot on his heels, unrelenting. Crumbling rubble of debris showered down from the ceiling as the tyrant giant’s approached, the floor quivered with each of his heavy steps.

Colossus took a minute to shake his head, trying to clear the swirling stars in his vision, but then he was back on his feet in an instant. He returned firing a quick medley of body punches against the brute. His steel fists hammered into the ribcage of that tyrant giant, delivering a machine gun barrage of devastation. The young Russian then ducked in swiftly, ushering a shout with all his considerable might, crossing over with a staggering right hook that cocked the Juggernaut’s head clean back…a full three inches.

Cain Marko’s lips curled in bright anger and annoyance. His hefty fist flew; erupting with a small shockwave as he dug right into the midsection of Colossus, instantly curling the younger mutant’s body over the ruinous blow. The Juggernaut then collected his hands in a knot overhead. His mammoth fists slammed down with more ferocity than an atomic bomb. There was a perverse arrangement of clanging steel, as Colossus’ metallic body clapped onto the ground in a helpless heap.

Momentarily dazed, the young metallic mutant, tried to scramble to his feet not to mention fighting to keep his mutation in place. If that fell, he couldn’t even hazard the thought. But all that came to a screeching halt when the Juggernaut took a handful of the younger man’s garb. He chuckled darkly for a brief moment, before slamming the young fighter’s metal body back down through the titanium floor! Marko was relentless now. His fists kept pounding and pounding, driving into Colossus’ prone form; never letting the younger man to get a moment’s reprieve.

The Juggernaut then grinned viciously underneath his helmet while looking down at the metallic Mutant, “Heya punk, don’t tell me you’re already tired,” he smirked with a light chuckle, “…I ain’t even breakin’ a sweat over here,” he taunted before he lifted his gigantic boot and drove its heel into the steel titan’s chest. The Juggernaut sadistically laughed as he twisted this way and that, feeling the body underneath him rive in pain. The young man continued to howl as Marko increased in pressure.

OoOoOo

The echoing sounds of the colossal quakes seemed little more than distant rolling thunder as the Beast and Victor Creed continued with their murderous clash. Adamantium steel was met with razor-sharp claws. Ballistic rage was met with cool predatory cunning. The two continued to circle the other in that dank underground waterway; like performers in a dark deadly dance. Twirls, echoing with bestial roars howled as they crashed, fought, and moved.

Victor Creed winced painfully as felt that sharp pain again in his ribcage whenever he breathed. Those eighteen slash marks that just recently healed had returned with a vengeance, now accompanied with six additional friends. He was in bad shape. He was starting to lose more blood than his healing factor could handle. And all he could think was that this all was complete and utter bullshit!

Normal men, he could make them piss right in their pants and women, heh, he was downright terrifying. Hell, even mutants like those pansy-ass X-Men, he was able to at least pissing them off so they’d get sloppy and make a mistake. But this animal, this Beast in front of him, it was unshakable.

This Beast that wore Logan’s skin was almost like a completely different being. It kept itself low to the ground sometimes on all fours and sometimes not. Its movements were clear, crisp, precise and ultimately deadly. It didn’t speak. It responded only in low growls and snarls. But most of all were its eyes that were completely unnerving.

Its dark piercing gaze never left Victor Creed for a second. Even during its barrage of attacks it kept its haunting gaze forever trained on the sadistic mutant, like a silent, subtle reminder of the grim death that was slowly approaching. Even now, its dark steel gray eyes were drilling holes into Victor by the second. Waiting…patiently.

It was enough to piss a grown man off!

“I’m gonna rip yer fuckin’ head off!” Sabertooth roared as he charged forward. His black claws aiming to tear that smug bastard’s heart clean out of his body then cook it like a steak.

The Beast witnessed his prey’s ferocious approach without batting an eye. A low growl was the only warning Creed was issued before the Beast went into action. A yellow three hundred pound bullet of adamantium claws blasted into Sabertooth’s chest like a mach truck, slamming him back. Two sets of adamantium claws ripped and slashed in diagonal lines across Victor Creed’s abdomen, the Beast then deftly dropped down low twisting away and in the next seconds it shot up again impossibly fast. Its booted feet snapped Creed’s head back with a launching flip kick, which ended with the Beast’s dropping back down low to all fours.

Sabertooth tried to stumble forward but the Beast was already moving. The Beast was always moving.

It came low crossing with a spinning slash that tore at Creed’s hamstring. Yet still moving; the Beast then coiled its body in mid-swing, this time striking high with a swipe that cut along Victor’s face temporarily blinding him. But Sabertooth hand shot out making an attempt, gripping nothing but air, because the Beast already retreated back, falling to the outside of Creed’s reach.

Sabertooth’s reprieve was only for mere seconds, because the Beast came at him again, this time up high. Three twelve-inch long adamantium claws tasted the meat of his shoulder. The Beast then spun away, its other claws tearing at Creed’s Achilles tendon. Victor Creed howled out in agonizing pain as he dropped down to one knee.

He then looked up and there was the Beast, not five inches away from his face. Its gleaming claws were up, it looked poised, prime, ready to make the final killing strike, but instead it dropped back again and continued to watch and observe, not to mention wait.

It was in at that moment; Victor knew exactly what it was doing. This Beast that stank of the runt, it was testing him, torturing him and mocking him, all at the same time. It had complete and utter control of the situation. And the most fucked up thing was there wasn’t shit Creed could do to stop it.

OoOoOo

Painful retribution was the Beast’s goal.

A clean honorable death was something that was only reserved for the worthiest of opponents. Worthiest of opponents it noted; but not this one, never this one... This animal, this dog will howl and bleed like the coward he was.

It was all he deserved.

OoOoOo

Meanwhile, several levels above…

“Storm, Alpha pattern: Zulu go!” Cyclops ordered, his voice carrying over the swirling howl of ruinous chaos that surrounded the trio. Brief thundering eruptions continued to rage down below from the cataclysmic battle between Colossus and the Juggernaut, but up topside the remaining three X-Men had their hands full, the evil mutant known as Avalanche was using the extent of his seismic powers to bring the whole expansive room down around them, sending tidal waves of destruction and wreckage their way.

The battle hardened Ororo Monroe nodded in agreement to the X-Men leader’s instruction despite being in the middle of such calamity. “Cyclops, cover me!” she replied in earnest then in an instant her bright blue eyes flashed white as a current of air carried her up. She then ascended with swirling silverish blue streams of lightning flaring and coursing around her, building in their intensity.

Storm looked ahead as larger and larger segments of the room started to dislodge and fall into the swirling turmoil, as if the whole room was trying to tear itself apart by the seams. But the African Windrider held no worries because the astonishing might of Cyclops’ optic blast made itself known while covering her. Meanwhile beside him, Jean Grey stood, blanketing the two of them under the cover of an invisible dome of psychic force. Storm, the currents of lightning still coiling, fearlessly soared straight into that center of chaotic madness, all the while Cyclops’ blazing crimson beams ripped continuously sailing around her, obliterating any debris that dared to impede the former goddess’ journey.

It wasn’t long before the Weatherwitch’s approach drew the attention of Avalanche. He saw the extreme care their Cycloptic leader took in her advance, not to mention the swirling serpent of blue electricity that rived around her. Avalanche might not have been the brightest of the Brotherhood’s pack, but he recognized great threats when he saw them. And that African woman was as deadly as they came.

Avalanche then concentrated. The Mutant allowed his mind to expand for a briefest fraction of a second before triggering his gift. His hands sent out a highly pitched frequency that allowed him to find all the intricate lay lines that lied within every solid inanimate object within the room. He then with his own will alone, caused small shattering collapses within those lines resulting in cascading floods of ruptures within the ceiling, tearing apart three-meter large fragments that hurled to the floor, not being impartial to anything that lied in their way. Only problem is, he would have had better luck trying to catch the wind with a stringed net, than the X-woman named Storm.

There is a reason why Ororo Monroe better known as Storm, has also been given the nickname the Windrider. She not only guides the wind, or uses it to glides upon its currents; she also can completely command it. So when the fragmented pieces of tile, steel and cement attempt to make their murderous play they are always only within a hairbreadth of striking, because Storm not only is the Windrider but if the need is great she can also turn into the Wind Dancer.

The Wind Dancer, she jigs and twists. The Wind Dancer zigzag and twirls. She cast such a chaotic line of approach that the full extent of Avalanche’s concentration was solely poured into defeating the woman, while she simply wore an expression of mildly annoyance.

Storm barrel rolled spun, blazing across making a lightning trek. She collected all that build up natural electricity to her both hands before freeing a bolt so massive that the light nearly stole all shadows from within the room. Avalanche had only a moment to react. He thrust his pad down hard and fast, that very same instance a four thousand pound block of cement came crashing down in front of him, just seconds before that titanic bolt’s impact. It met that immovable object and instantly the room was flooded with another massive detonation. Its quake rocked the foundation of the room for several seconds before finally coming to an eerie calm.

Unbelievably shaken by the extreme close call; Avalanche’s eyes widened in amazement. He then took a quick breath to restore his resolve, his lips tightening in a smirk as he looked up to the African Woman hovering in front of him. He was slightly pleased to know that, that tremendous effort did take some of the wind out of her as well, although she didn’t seem too worried.

Avalanche’s grin turned into a ruthless smile as he started to refocus his mutation for another attack. “Close but not close enough, X-bit…ARGHHH!!!!” he violently choked out as he lurched forward; tumbling into a crumbled heap, a burn mark sizzled angrily on his back.

Just beyond his fallen form stood Cyclops; the X-Men’s leader drew his gloved hands smoothly away from his visor. Jean stood readily beside him, her emerald gaze falling on Avalanche. She did a quick mental scan, and then nodded to Cyclops determining that the mutant was out of commission. Summers then looked over to Storm as she touched down right next to him. “Good job,” he congratulated her.

A bright smile from the African woman was his reward, “Anytime…”

Alpha pattern: Zulu was one of the X-Men’s more advance battle tactics. It initially involved Cyclops keeping the bait, which in this case was Storm; under cover fire while the bait advanced on the target. With the target’s attention shifting to Storm, Cyclops and Jean would be free to circle around to seize the target’s unopposed rear, basically outflanking him before then striking. It was a tactic they rarely practiced outside of the Danger Room but it proved fruitful in its first live attempt.

Cyclops paused for a moment as he tried to reconfirm their location, when a loud eruption from down below nearly sent them all off of their feet. It took but a moment for recollection to set in then the three of them all had one thought. “Peter!” Storm cried, voicing their fears a loud.

Grimly, Summers nodded his head, “We got to get down there fast.”

OoOoOo

Colossus’ breath was heavy.

In reality for the metallic Russian, breathing was a process brought more from habit than actual necessity. When you’re made of over five hundred pounds of living solid steel, little things like breathing are no longer necessary. But such thoughts weren’t on his mind at the moment, the breathing helped him focus, helped him stay conscious.

He couldn’t believe the might of this demon, this seemingly invincible Juggernaut. No matter what he threw at him, the unstoppable Titan would just shrug it off. Piotr couldn’t believe he failed. He couldn’t believe his strength had failed him.

Ever since he was a young boy, Piotr was always the biggest and the strongest amongst the others in his village. Being as such he quickly fell into the role of a protector. The courage in his heart reinforced by the strength of his body aided him throughout many troubles that befallen his village. Even when he departed from his small village in exchange for bright lights of New York City and the many welcoming faces of Xavier’s School, his heart of a protector followed with him intact, because it now became the cornerstone of whom he was and his strength was the foundation of that cornerstone.

Piotr Rasputin, also known as Colossus, now could only stare in horror at the towering armored giant lumbering towards him, because his strength wasn’t enough, because he wasn’t good enough.

OoOoOo

Cain Marko looked over his fallen opponent. The silver glimmer of the kid’s mutation gleamed brightly for a moment longer then in an instance the gray of steel turned to the pale pink of flesh. The Juggernaut issued a low grunt as he decided to finally bring this party to a close. His massive palms snatched up the younger man’s body as he held it in front of his face. Cain’s rank breath washed over the boy as he spoke, “Punk, this lil’ game is over…” he muttered while cocking back a massive fist for the final blow.

Not a second later screeching sound echoed in the room as a crimson beam of light cut across the air, blasting Juggernaut in his back. Marko felt the impact of the wave of energy as it hit him squarely across his shoulder blades. Puzzled; he turned around the very next instant as another massive shot off again, this time hitting him square in the face, blasting him off his feet.

The Juggernaut and his captive fell to the floor. It took the tyrannical giant a few moments before he could scramble up to his feet, all the while he heard the rhythmic clicking of boots as they slowly approached from a darken corridor. When he was able to stand once more, Cain swore he saw in the distance two burning embers of red, glowing the darkness in the hall across from him.

The burning embers were the foreground to a silloute, which then soon took the shape of a man a little over six feet in height. His dark auburn hair was keenly cut, not a single hair out of place. As he slowly came into the light it could be seen that he wore a tight body suit of navy blue. His chiseled looks would be considered boyish by some standards but undeniably handsome, especially when he laughed. Unfortunately laughing was the furthest thing from his mind right now.

“Consider those first two, warning shots…” The Juggernaut heard the X-Men leader say as he continued his approach. The man’s voice was utterly calm and completely cold as ice. The armored giant was going to reply but it was that moment that Marco noted something else, the X-Men Leader’s signature visor. The ones he was seldom ever without, was held precariously in his hands.

Scott Summers looked on at the Juggernaut, with his own two smoldering eyes of red. The blazing fury of his mutation precariously held in check. “Now, get your hands off my X-Man, you son of a bitch…”


To be continued….

Chapter 21: Unstoppable

PSYCOM Operations Center
Skies above Annapolis, Maryland
Three minutes before one…

You know, every so often while living in the Xavier Mansion, you may run across all sorts of tales about the X-Men’s leader Scott Summers. Some of those tales will regal you about his stiff demeanor and the rigid discipline that he seemed to live by. How he always eats his vegetables. How he never cuts corners and how he follows every rule to the letter.

But that’s all the boring stuff.

Now, some of the fun stuff you might find out is how he’s one of the top hand-to-hand fighters in the X-Men. Heck, the guy has been the top self-defense instructor for the Mansion for the last eight years. You might also find out that when it’s just Storm as his co-pilot, Scott sometimes likes to push the Blackbird to its very limits its thrusters can take it. Flying fast enough to break the sound barrier is a thrill little else can compare to.

But above all else, the most popular tidbit about Scott Summers is kind of an urban myth around the school, to be honest. You know the one about how Cyclops’ optic blast on one particular occasion was so powerful that he was able to punch a hole clean through a mountain. Well let’s let the record be known, this last one is no myth. He has done it in the past and most likely he will do something similar it in the future.

As he stands here now deep in the sweltering darken bowels of the PYSCOM technological center with an opponent dangerous enough to crush every single bone in his body with hardly a bit of effort, it is this instance that Scott Summers will rely on that might. Because in this moment, little things like his own safety, fatigue, weariness, and exhaustion are no longer an option. Because right now, a member of his team, no… A member of his family is in danger, and he would make even the devil himself come to pay for ever allowing such an act to occur.

OoOoOo

The Juggernaut stared down in disbelief at the clearly insane X-Men Leader. To actually challenge the Juggernaut! Was the little jerk out of his fucking mind? Marko originally had plans to finish off that pup Russian, but now he didn’t see the harm in spending an extra minute to make this weakling a dark stain on the metallic floor.

The towering Giant then suddenly slumped his shoulders as if in defeat. He took a tentative step away while turning his back to the Cycloptic Leader as if his change of heart was completely genuine. Then with blinding speed that belied his tremendous size, he hurled his titanic body at that pathetic little man to erase his very being.

The only problem was the exact moment back when the Juggernaut first turned away was the very same instance when Scott Summers made his move. Cyclops drew deep within himself. Deeper than his moral confines, deeper than his conscious self, drew deeper still, to sever the dam within himself to unleash the flood.

A riptide of energy, force, and pure raw power was set loose that not only stopped the Juggernaut, it picked him and carried him into another room…thirteen floors below. Storm and Jean Grey moments later entered the room, both managing to catch the tail end of their Leader’s display. And if asked later about it, they both would recount that the spectacle was like peering into the Sun for the first time only to discover it was blood crimson red.

A few moments after he reined in the tide, Summers stumbled down drunkenly to one knee while scrambling to slide his visor back in place. His vision was hazy, making it hard to focus. It’s a herculean effort to remain upright. The exhaustion from releasing so much of his mutation, so readily, immediately started to take affect on his body making him feel it like it was made of lead. If Jean hadn’t stepped in to help him up, he surely would have collapsed. Only a few minutes… He just needed a few minutes to take a breather then he’d be fine.

Cyclops watched as Ororo raced passed, going to Colossus’ fallen form. Summers furrowed his brow, fearing the worst. “How is he, Storm?”

As soon as the Windrider pressed her fingers to his forehead, the young mutant started to stir. “Peter?” she asked her concern evident.

Piotr choked out a few hacking coughs before he finally answered. “Da, I will be fine…” he muttered weakly. The young Russian then took another minute before he started to press himself up. Ororo immediately slung her arm around his waist to help get him standing. Colossus then looked around the room, taking in all the devastation that wasn’t present when he was last awoke. “Where is the Juggernaut?”

All at once everyone’s eyes directed to Cyclops but instead of answering, he shifted his gaze to the scarlet haired psychic. “Jean?” he asked his intent to find out the condition of the tyrannical titan.

Jean drew her eyes close as she began to concentrate. A few uneventful moments passed as she continued searching for his psyche. Then all at once she paused as her concentration heightened. Another few idle seconds went by before she winched violently, breaking out of the spell. “He’s still up,” she responded unhappily. Her emerald green eyes then cast a look Scott’s way. “But you successfully managed to piss him off,” she added dryly.

“Great…” Scott replied with fake mirth. At the end of his sentence, the whole floor started to tremble.

Then from out of the hole a meaty fist the size of an anvil shot up grabbing hold of its edge. A moment later the bulbous armored head of the Juggernaut came into view. He grunted again while hoisting himself up. His beady eyes gave Cyclops a dark glare. “I have to give it to ya, asshole,” he snarled menacingly, “That almost tickled…”

Cyclops returned the towering giant’s glare, with a grim smile. “Good…” he taunted back, before quickly firing off a chest sized blast of his optic beam. Unfortunately this attack hadn’t a tenth of the power and the ferocity of his earlier attempt. So when it struck the Juggernaut, it was little more than a brief annoyance to the seemingly unstoppable menace. But an annoyance, however brief was more than enough time for Colossus to bridge the gap between them.

Within two steps Colossus’ mutation fully emerged, its metallic chime rang defiantly as it sculpted his massive form in steel. By the third step he twisted low to the waist, cocking back a mighty fist. It was during the fourth step that Cyclop’s beam finally died down, but Colossus followed right behind it, not missing a beat. His devastating punch connected with a resounding crash that whipped the Juggernaut’s head violently back. Not allowing the murderous Giant any quarter, Colossus reversed his motion, this time his fist cycling low with a blow aimed for rupturing the Juggernaut’s side.

“Colossus!!!” Rasputin heard the velvet roar of the Weather goddess as she soared down from above. The younger man didn’t ask any questions, he just immediately lunged back. Not seconds later a colossal bolt of blue-white lightning struck home, flooding the room with its light.

The buzzing of electricity dancing within his body was a jarring sensation only for but a moment, because to the likes of the Juggernaut it’s not even a scratch. With a bellowing howl he thrusts both of his fists upward, completely uprooting the ground around him creating seismic explosion of alloy, cement, and mortar.

Flying jagged shards of debris careened from all angles, causing the X-Men to scatter. The only one not really affected by the disorder was Colossus, but then the thundering approach of the Juggernaut soon foretold he wouldn’t be unmolested for long. The unstoppable Juggernaut stomped across; he coiled using all of his tremendous momentum, hurling a hefty fist that struck the young Mutant head on. There was a crack that sounded like lightning striking and Colossus was gone. Sparks flew as his metallic body slid over forty feet across the floor, flipped then crashed into some office’s coffee maker.

Colossus was down for the moment but not out. So the rest of the X-Men had to make do. Jean’s green eyes brighten for a moment as she was hit with some momentary inspiration. Mentally she then signaled to both Scott and Storm for a synchronized attack. Cyclops nodded then quickly moved to take point position.

The Juggernaut seeing that the pup Ruskie had been taken care of for the time being, suddenly felt the slight nudge from a full-blown blast of crimson energy. He turned, his armor-covered face holding an expression of the darkest horror; his dark eyes caught the image of the navy blue adorned man. The Juggernaut then started his trek again, this time to trample the X-Men leader into paste.

As the Juggernaut moved, so did the flying Windrider above him. With her arms outstretched, Storm called up to the heavens for the aid of her Goddess. She summoned winds; the icy chilling winds from the farthest reaches of the arctic. She then funneled their direction towards the advancing titan.

Cyclops’ blasts ripped into a continuous scarlet stream. The crimson tide had no chance of felling the Giant like they did before, but the on pour of the energy did slow his approach. Tears from exhaustion started to fall from his eyes as he maintained his effort. A slight throbbing in his head started to develop, but he was relentless, the leader of the X-Men would not cease.

Meanwhile Storm was still at work. Not only did she call for artic winds but she also added the torrential gales of a typhoon. The temperature started to plummet substantially. Shards of ice started to form blanketing along the ground; especially in the pathway of the Juggernaut as whirlwinds of snow, wind, and rain continuously bombarded him.

A staggering stalemate was now held, between the indestructible Juggernaut and the combined efforts of Storm’s wintry maelstrom and Cyclops’ unending onslaught of optic might. But still, he’s called the Juggernaut for a reason.

Cain Marko growled; the muscles in his thick neck bulged in tension as he took each harrowed step. But still, he’s called the Juggernaut for a reason. Sheets of ice started to spread, rooting his boots, causing him to have to rip them free every instant he moved. …Still, he’s called the Juggernaut for a reason. The glare from the scarlet beam was blinding, forcing him to throw his hand up to wade through the tide. …Still, he’s called the Juggernaut for a reason.

He would not be stopped. He could not be stopped. With each step he gained more ground. With more ground, his seemingly endless strength started to increase its endurance. It looked as if for a moment Cain might have made some headway but that was when the fiery redhead Jean Grey stepped forward.

She took a long deep breath, before parting her stance. She cleared her mind of absolutely everything. All the stray thoughts within her group members, the muddled murderous thoughts of the giant before her, even all frenzy notions between the two berserkers squaring off in another location.

Jean Grey cleared it of everything. Her one, singular thought was…push. Her green eyes snapped open not a second later. Her thoughts took shape and that shape took volume as she hurled a bulldozing tsunami of psychic might right into Cain Marko.

The Juggernaut tried…He tried to plow through. He tried to overcome. He was the unstoppable! He was the invincible! He was an act of nature… A force to be reckoned with… Yet still his feet started to slide back ever so slowly over that frozen walkway of ice, he just couldn’t get a grip on. The endless crimson beam of light, he normally would be able to shrug off, started to press back him more and more. And then that wave…a wave strong enough to rock the whole facility they were standing in. That wave struck home, and the Juggernaut shot off again. His massive frame careened, dropping right back down that hole he visited earlier.

When Cain came to five minutes later, the all four members of the X-Men surrounded his form, more than ready to carry on the fight. “ENOUGH!!!!!!!” a voice thundered from up above.

To be Continued…