Chapter Eight: Liberty Island
It's not like you to say sorry
I was waiting on a different story
This time I'm mistaken
For handing you a heart worth breaking
And I've been wrong, I've been down,
Been to the bottom of every bottle
These five words in my head
Scream "Are we having fun yet?”
--Nickelback
The interior of the jet was tense enough without the ire rising in Ororo. She should stow it away until the end of the mission, not think about anything to do with Logan while they rushed out to save the world. She knew that was the right thing to do.
It simply proved impossible.
As she took her seat beside Cyclops, Storm offered no words. Their argument before meeting in the War Room was heated, more heated than she could remember any of them being. Though she hated the discomfort between the two of them, especially since Jean could peer into her head, Storm merely closed herself off. She refused to speak for several minutes, her back tensing when Wolverine’s heavy footfalls brought him into the jet.
“Hatch closing.”
Reaching up, Storm flipped the switch that would close the jet, the hydraulics hissing as the hatch slid into place.
“Preflight check complete.”
Scott’s voice was as hard as agates, less than friendly. Ororo ignored it. She could hear Jean telling Logan how to buckle into the jet, even as Scott lifted the jet into the air. Ororo wondered if the children were watching from their windows as the basketball court retracted to release the heavy, specialized jet.
“You actually go outside in these things?” Logan’s voice was derisive. Ororo fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“What would you prefer?” Scott asked sarcastically. “Yellow spandex?”
Jean’s giggle was almost lost to the roar of the jet engine, but not quite.
The metallic ringing that told her Logan had unsheathed his most lethal weapons put her back up again, taking away the humor at Scott’s response and Jean’s laughter.
He wanted her to sit at home like a good girl, did he? Logan had no idea what he was talking about. Ororo had lived for nearly ten years on the streets of Cairo, getting by on skills as a pickpocket. She had watched her family die, holding her mother’s hand as the last breaths were pulled from her body. N’Dare had called her ‘Little One’, even as she lay dying. Ororo remained under that accursed building for two days before someone found her.
After that, her trials had only begun. Ororo fought off the men at the orphanage until she ran away, turning to the streets when she had no other way to feed herself. She learned how to use knives, how to steal...Faurok made sure she could take care of herself.
When her mutation took her, though, Ororo ran. She ended up on the plains of Tanzania, drawn there by the powerful storms. When she was in her teens, Windrider was born, leaving the teenage girl to be worshipped by the tribe that took her in. Ororo was treated as a goddess, a leader for the plains people she loved.
It wasn’t until Charles Xavier turned up that she realized she was missing out on something.
Charles gave her a family, a home, released into the world an educated woman with the determination of a warrior. She bristled at the idea of being kept home, safe and secure while the big strong men went out to save the world.
Logan did not know her. He couldn’t know how much that insinuation she couldn’t care for herself and her family hurt her.
Reigning in her emotions, Storm did not acknowledge Cyclops as he asked her for a little cover. She filtered her doubt and chagrin into a thick, heavy fog. Her power reached out over the bay, cloaking their approach. Several cracks of thunder, heralding an oncoming storm covered the howling approach of their plane.
Scott’s landings were still heavy handed and the quartet of mutants thunked into the bay with the grace of a rushing rhinoceros.
Arching a brow at her friend, Storm was rewarded by a slight blush to Scott’s cheeks and a clearing of his throat.
“Sorry.”
Logan sniffed behind her, the sound slightly derisive. “You call that a landing?”
Jean and Ororo shared a look over her shoulder, one that betrayed limitless patience and amusement. Storm finished readying the jet to take off again, then unbuckled her belt to follow her teammates out of the jet. She did not spare Logan a look, even as he reached out to stop her. Feeling petty, she pulled her hand away, giving him a warning look that told her lover, on no uncertain terms, to back off.
The group moved onto the island with Scott taking the lead. Wolverine pulled in the rear, with Jean and Ororo taking flanking positions. It was with great surprise that Storm realized Logan was fitting into their formation without hesitance. He seemed to have the soul of a soldier, from the way he followed Scott without question.
“There are no guards.” Jean murmured to Scott quietly. “Logan?”
“They’re dead.” came the curt response. “I can smell the death, but its fresh. Got Sabertooth and that other bastard’s scents. They’re close.”
“Toad,” Cyclops said with an edge to his tone. “Magneto? Mystique?”
“Above.” Wolverine continued. “Best guess is to get to the top of the lady here.”
Scott led them all to the entrance, motioning Ororo forward when they found the doors had been locked behind Magneto’s crew. Ororo pulled the lockpicks from her uniform, crouching in front of the door without a word. Inside of ten seconds, her tools clinked as the lock released. She stood, holding the door open for her friends.
To his credit, Scott nudged her familiarly. “Thief.”
At his deliberate tease, Storm smirked wickedly. “The best.”
Logan’s brow was up in question as he reached out to hold the door for her. Though she hated the giddy, feminine thrill he gave her by holding the door, Storm swallowed hard. It was difficult to stay angry with him when he was looking at her like that. Damn him.
Scott, Jean, and Ororo went through the metal detector without a problem. When dealing with Magneto, it was best to have no metals on their uniforms. Even the bulletproofing was done with thick clay plates instead of Kevlar. Charles did not want them to be toys for his old friend, after all.
When Wolverine went through, though, the shrill alarms erupted. The trio of X-Men turned sharply, not surprised that the detector became nothing but a shred of metal in two flashes of adamantium. Of course, that meant the enemy likely knew they were here.
Cyclops gave their Wolverine a steady look, to which Logan replied by pulling back the two outer claws, leaving the middle one as a rude, if relatively subtle gesture. Ororo bit back the chuckle, but Scott didn’t bother.
They continued to move through the museum gift shop, alert. There were four powerful mutants here, they knew that. It wouldn’t do to be surprised, to be caught off guard, especially with the stakes so high. Magneto didn’t know that he could kill everyone in New York City in his quest to make mutants out of the world leaders on Ellis Island.
“There’s someone here.”
Logan’s words brought the three other mutants to a halt. They may not have known him well, but they could trust his mutation. Logan’s super-hearing and bloodhound-worthy sense of smell were likely to root out trouble before it found them.
“Where?” Scott asked, one hand drifting up to to the dial that controlled the optical blasts he was code named for.
“I don’t know,” Wolverine responded as he moved toward the opposite wall. “Keep your eye open.”
Jean and Ororo shared a smirk at his, moving to flank Cyclops as he swore under his breath. Almost without acknowledging one another, they agreed to stay put. Logan had an uncanny ability for tracking, it wasn’t a hardship to wait for the all-clear.
Storm rolled her shoulders. The level of tension had shifted. It was still incredibly awkward, though the reasoning was different. Now they were on the cusp of battle, the first time they would be tested in this new war Magneto wanted to wage. How could things have come this far already? Wasn’t it difficult enough to be a mutant in this world without mutants trying to outdo one another?
As Logan began moving back toward them, Storm frowned. It looked like Logan, and as he spoke, it even sounded like him. Fine hairs on the back of her neck, however, protested that something wasn’t right.
“Anything?” Scott asked, obviously seeing nothing amiss. Storm, however, took several steps back, reaching for Jean.
“I know there’s someone here,” the doppelganger said in a rendition of Logan’s gruff voice. “I just can’t see ‘em.”
Ororo glanced at Jean, her eyes widening when she saw another Logan running from the right. Before she could shout a warning to Scott, one Wolverine tackled another, the two of them rolling together into a small chamber just off the main corridor.
Storm rushed forward with Cyclops and Jean at her side. Staring from one Logan to another as they began their fight, she couldn’t tell with any certainty which one was Logan.
They broke apart, each turning to look at the assembled mutants. Scott had his hand on his visor, but hesitated as though he did not want to hit the real Logan by accident.
“Wait!” Both Wolverines shouted a beat before the one standing in the doorway flashed metallic claws, breaking the weighted chain and slamming the door shut behind them.
“Logan!” Ororo cried, rushing to the door, yanking on the handle. The thick steel would not budge, no matter how she pulled and tugged. “Logan!”
“Alright.” Scott ordered. “Back up, back up!”
Storm moved away quickly, trusting Cyclops to use his mutation to open that door. She needed to get to Logan, to pull him away from Mystique. The shapeshifter was one of the best they had ever seen at hand to hand combat. It did not matter that Logan was indestructible, Ororo had to get to him.
Before Cyclops could blast the door open, however, he was kicked in the chest and sent flying through the museum. Glass tinkled as his heavy body landed in a display, but neither Storm nor Jean could get to him without going through the small, green mutant that had just landed in front of them.
Toad, he was called, used the long, sticky tongue he was code named for to close another door, cutting Storm and Jean off from Scott. He turned, kicking both women so they fell back in opposite directions. Ororo was immediately dizzy, her head having come into sharp contact with the table that buckled under her weight.
Before she could get to her feet, that sticky tongue wrapped around her wrist. One thrust threw her upwards, onto the second level, where she fell into yet another table. Storm had a wayward thought that she was hell on furniture when she lost consciousness.
***
He laid on the floor for a moment when the sinuous blue mutant crawled up into the rafters. On a good day, he would have had some kind of sarcastic remark to the woman who seemed to think walking up a pipe, backward, with her hands was intimidating.
Right now, though, that mutant had just handed him his ass. He wasn’t really that interested in making some sort of witty remark. He needed to get the hell up and figure out what was happening with the rest of the group.
Shaking his head, Logan could have sworn he heard thunder. Was that...wind? Glass breaking?
“Storm.”
Hauling himself to his feet, Logan winced as internal injuries started to heal themselves. No matter how slender Mystique looked, the woman packed one hell of a punch. She’d damn near punctured a lung at one point.
Still aching, Logan moved along the maze of inner corridors, his hearing cluing in on where everyone was. He had lost Mystique, but he wasn’t fool enough to think she wouldn’t take another shot at him.
Moving along the hallways, Logan caught the scent of ozone, the faint murmur of a voice he knew better than he wanted to admit. She was up and from the noise level drowning her words out, she was fighting. Good girl.
Conflicted, remembering his words before they left the mansion, Logan paused as he reached the foot of Lady Liberty. He hadn’t wanted her to come here, to face battle and all the horrors it possessed. He could be proud, however, that his girl was upstairs beating the shit out of someone or something.
A careful sniff told him someone was coming closer. It wasn’t the acrid scent of Cyclops or the feminine fragrance of his fiancee. Logan paused, confused by the scent. It smelled like Storm. It had the hint of sandalwood, the tang of burning ozone...but it wasn’t right. It wasn’t clean. Something about the scent put his back up.
“Logan?” Her voice sent shivers down his spine. To his surprise, it wasn’t the tingle he associated with the woman that shared her bed with him. “Is that you?”
“Shh.” He immediately silenced her, trying to hone in. If he flashed adamantium and he was wrong...he couldn’t consider the outcome. “The other one ain’t far.”
She was moving closer, the tension in his back tightening until it was almost painful. It wasn’t her.
Was it?
“Come on,” she continued as she stepped closer still. “We have to regroup.”
The woman was close enough that he could feel her behind him. Logan took another whiff of her scent. He had to be right. He couldn’t make a mistake, not this time.
“Yeah, but there’s a problem.”
Turning, Logan released adamantium as fast as he could, grasping the woman’s shoulder as he slid the lethal metal into her midsection. For a moment, he was stunned, seeing Ororo at the end of his claws. Her scent, though, he had to rely on that. This wasn’t Storm.
“No two women smell alike.” His rough growl preceded Mystique shifting. She became an amalgamation of him, of Storm, of her own natural form as she crashed to the floor. Logan shuddered, pleased that she’d retaken her form.
Even the image of Storm dead at his hands was too much, no matter what he knew. Mystique lay still and quiet as the hum of silence echoed. Whatever had Storm in a tizzy upstairs was apparently, taken care of as the winds died down.
Stepping over Mystique’s body, Logan found the door she had slammed shut earlier, hefting it open as fast as he could. He only hoped that the end of Ororo’s tempest came because she defeated her enemy, not because she was knocked out. Or worse.
As the door slid open, Logan scented Cyclops and Jean. They came around the corner, with Cyke lifting his hand immediately to his visor, on guard.. Before the powerful mutant could blast him, Logan held his hands up in surrender.
“Hey. Hey, its me.”
Scott’s mouth was in a firm, untrusting line. “Prove it.”
A hundred things ran through his head, but Logan never changed expression, landing on one phrase that was mostly to convince him of his identity..
“You’re a dick.”
Cyclops immediately dropped his hand. “Ok.”
“Where’s Storm?” Logan glanced around them, realizing that she wasn’t with her cohorts.
“Toad attacked us.” Jean offered quietly, her eyes gaining that faraway look he already associated with stretching her mind out.
“If that slimy bastard touched one hair...”
“Hey.”
Logan’s rant was sharply cut off by her voice. As one, all three mutants looked up toward the walkway above them. Storm was leaning over the railing, looking disheveled, though unharmed. Logan felt the tension in his back ease, if only a little.
Her gaze locked onto his, those dark eyes scanning him as though for injury. He offered her a small smile, an almost imperceptible shake of his head to let her know he was fine. Logan didn’t want to dwell on what all of this meant, especially now.
“I found a way up. Come on.”
With that, the white-haired mutant vanished from sight. Logan, Scott, and Jean took the stairs two at a time, meeting up with Storm at the upper level. She led them to the elevator bay, which bore recent scorch marks. Both Jean and Cyclops pulled up short, leaving Storm to depress the button to call the elevator.
As one, her companions stared at her with something like fear and awe.
“Did he...?” Jean asked as they pushed the button that would take up upwards.
“Yes.” Storm’s expression was passive, though her tone said she was anything but placid.
“And you were able to...?” Scott chimed in. Alright, this was getting confusing.
“I handled it.”
The elevator door opened and Ororo stepped inside. Scott shared a look with Jean that Logan couldn’t read. They followed her without hesitation, the contemporary muzak playing in the elevator grating on his nerves.
“How can anyone listen to this crap?” Scott muttered, almost to himself.
“I’d rather let Magneto take the adamantium from my bones.” Logan agreed, watching as the lights above the door switched, indicating they had arrived at their destination.
They filed into the crown of Lady Liberty, glancing around to make sure no one was waiting for them. Logan could hear Marie crying, begging for someone to save her. Biting back a feral scream, Logan waited. He had to have a plan. He couldn’t go in there, claws blazing. Hell, he might hurt her. He didn’t know anything about the machine Magneto had built.
When he moved to step closer, hoping to find a way onto the torch to save his young friend, Logan found he couldn’t move.
“Everybody, get out of here.” Logan commanded, standing paralysed by an unseen force.
“Why?” He desperately wanted to look at Storm, to convey that she needed to stop asking questions and get the hell out.
All he could do was continue looking up, every word an effort. “I can’t move.”
The copper beams holding Lady Liberty’s head up were wrenched almost violently from the wall. Logan could feel them snap, feel his body be pulled away from where he stood. Cyclops pulled Storm out of the way just in time to avoid collision with his 300lbs body. With a grunt, Logan hit the side of the room, pinned there as someone would hang a jacket.
One by one, the X-Men were also pinned. Storm took her place directly across from Logan, her eyes wide with fright. A metal band strapped her to the wall by the midsection and throat, the wince she expressed told Logan the cuts on her throat were probably being irritated by the thick copper beam.
Moving wasn’t an option, but Wolverine didn’t stop trying. He found Jean and Scott pinned to the wall, facing one another with less than a foot between them. Cyclops struggling as feebly as Wolverine, fighting the urge to let loose when their bodies wouldn’t even respond.
As the ceiling ripped away, Magneto lowered himself regally into the crown. Sabertooth was right behind him, following his master as a repeatedly kicked puppy might.
“Ah, my brothers!” Magneto said almost jovially. The aged mutant turned to Logan, a small smirk covered his face. “ And you, let us point those claws of yours in a safer direction.”
Unable to control his own body, Logan’s arms raised from their prone position against the wall. Magneto’s power flowed through him, leaving his veins chilled. He watched as the old man crossed his arms, placing lethal hands against his own chest. Should Logan unsheath his claws, he would do himself more injury than, perhaps, he could heal.
Once that was done, Magneto seemed to forget he existed. Twisted metal trapped him against the wall, fists to chest, and the cool feeling of Magneto’s mutation fell away.
“You better close your eyes.”
Sabertooth moved forward, yanking Cyclops’ visor away. With a pang of something like empathy, Logan noted that the other man had his eyes squeezed shut. Should he open them, even for a moment, he would rip Jean in two. Of course, that was Magneto’s point. He knew Scott wouldn’t do anything that might harm the woman he loved.
That wayward thought brought his eyes to Storm. There was stark fear in that gaze, even as she struggled mightily against the bonds that held her against the copper wall.
“Storm,” Scott said harshly, “Fry him.”
“Oh, yes.” Magneto chuckled. “A bolt of lightning into a huge copper conductor. I thought you lived at a school.”
They could hear her, now, all of them. Rogue was trapped inside of a machine that was designed to kill her, screaming for help. Logan thought back to that moment on the train, when he promised he would take care of the girl that hid in his trailer outside of Laughlin City. He couldn’t let her down. He had to do something.
Even if he could get free, with Magneto in front of him, he would be back at the madman’s mercy.
“I saw Senator Kelly!”
Jean’s voice stopped the older mutant from leaving the room. He turned to her, a look of utter amusement on his wrinkled face. Logan struggled to free his arms, wondering how badly it would hurt if he cut himself from the restraints. Could he heal in time to be any damn good?
Was it worth trying? Hell yes.
“Ah!” Magneto was saying. “So the Senator survived the fall and the swim to shore. He’s becoming more powerful than I imagined.”
Jean’s voice was filled with hatred when she spoke again. “He’s dead. Just like all the people out there will be if you do this.”
“It’s true.” Storm’s clear voiced backed up her friend as Logan listened to the pitying screams from the torch. He had to get free, he had promised he would look after her. Logan couldn’t let her die for the sake of this insanity.
“I watched him die.” The white-haired woman continued, unabashed when the older man stepped closer to her. She met his eyes without flinching, though Logan could see her hands pulled tight into fists.
If they let her out, she just might finish Magneto off while the rest of them had a beer.
“Are you sure you saw what you saw?” Their captor remarked skeptically.
“I watched him degenerate, into nothing but a pile of molecules.” Ororo was saying as Rogue screamed. “He broke down until there was nothing left. I was holding his hand when it happened. Erik, this isn’t the way.”
With a huff, Magneto pushed away from the other woman.
“Why do none of you understand what I am trying to do?” Magneto practically shouted, his tone filled with righteousness. “Those people down there control our fate, and the fate of every other mutant!”
No one responded to his little speech, so Magneto turned away from them all.
“Well, soon our fate will be theirs.”
Above them, through the ringing silence, Rogue’s voice could be heard clear as a bell.
“Help me! Please! Someone, help!”
Logan snarled. “You’re so full of shit. If you were really so righteous, it’d be you in that thing. Not some innocent girl.”
Instead of responding, Magneto lifted himself back through the hole he had created in the iconic statue. When he was gone, Logan returned to his struggling, noticing that the hulking, hairy mutant known as Sabertooth had lingered. As he turned his eyes back up, he could see the creature moving closer to Storm.
Well, that just wasn’t going to work.
Snarling with rage that was building up in his system, Logan wrenched his arm so hard, he thought he slipped the joint from the socket. Rogue was screaming somewhere above him, but the cries had changed. She wasn’t screaming for help, she cried out in pain. That bastard was using her to absorb his power.
He had to do it. He had to.
Preparing himself for the pain, the rage that would cover it, Logan screamed.
Snikt! Adamantium released from his hands, biting through flesh and metal until he fell limply onto the floor.
“Logan!”
Storm’s startled cry fell on deaf ears as Logan fought to stay awake while his body bled all over the crown of Lady Liberty.
