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Chapter 27

At Death's Door, part 1

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After breakfast was completed Scott took his leave of Bobby and Kurt and headed to the lower levels. Jean had already gone to the Medlab to assist Hank and relieve him of the morning shift. Warren hadn't joined them for breakfast, but Scott hoped that the information regarding the horrors of Wolverine's past, which Dr. McCoy had relayed to them the day before, might sway Angel's animosity toward Logan.

As he entered the elevator, and pushed the button for the lower levels, he caught sight of the movement of shadow in the corridor outside the elevator and instinctively put his hand out to interrupt the closing of the door. His eyebrows raised above the top edge of his visor in surprise as Warren stepped up to the door. The two men regarded each other briefly, Scott taking note of the unusual outfit that the winged X-man was wearing, before stepping back to allow the man entry into the small chamber.

Warren inclined his head silently in acknowledgement and stepped into the lift. Scott backed himself up against the front corner of the cubicle, turning his face away slightly as Worthington rotated his position to face forward. His large wings, abundant with thousands of pristine white feathers, nearly filled the small area to capacity and brushed against Summers before the mutant came to rest, finding a position that afforded both men a little personal space.

"Up or down?" Scott asked politely as if to a stranger, not sure at this point of Worthington's frame of mind.

"Down."

"To Medlab?" he asked, already sure of the answer.

"Yes," Angel replied without flair.

Scott sighed, his thoughts once again focusing on the ongoing contention between the two men under his command. The door closed with a soft hiss and they were fleeted away from the main levels of the mansion. Both men stood in silence; Warren standing tall with his back straight, shoulders square and staring straight ahead. He seemed unconcerned by Scott's presence, neither angry nor intimidated. He looked, for all intents and purposes, like a man on a mission.

Scott scanned Warren's attire and had to wonder about it; where he got it and what it's purpose is supposed to be. It was an attractive, sleek outfit but with a somewhat menacing appearance. It appeared to be a type of Kevlar body suit, completely black with heavy jack boots that covered his legs to just below the knees, they were secured by four heavy straps with large buckles and topped with knee protectors that appeared to be armored. Worn atop the body suit was a heavily padded gambeson and thick leather forearm protectors. In his right hand were a pair of black leather gauntlets.

Warren seemed to take no notice of the scrutiny he was given as he continued to stand at attention beside the X-Men's leader. Scott's brow knitted as he wondered what his long-time friend was up to. He certainly hadn't been behaving as his normal self since returning from his extended vacation, now many weeks past. In an attempt to sort this out, Scott ventured to question him about it.

"Nice outfit," he offered, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Thank you," Warren replied without moving. Scott watched him for a moment more before continuing.

"Get it while you were on vacation?"

"Yes."

"It's interesting."

"Practical," Worthington corrected in a serious manner, still not turning to address his commander face to face. The only sign of discomfort that Scott could see was the tiny flutter of feathers as the giant wings shuddered in irritation, much like a squirrel would twitch its tail when stressed. Scott glanced up at the flashing numbered lights indicating their position between floors, to determine how much time he had before the doors opened. Taking a deep breath, he took half a step to the front and turned to look at Warren face to face.

"Practical for what?" he asked. This time his tone didn't feign pleasant curiosity, but serious interest. As Scott held his ground and waited, Warren's eyes slowly drifted toward him. As their eyes locked, Angel's head slowly turned to meet Scott's stare head on.

"My mission," Warren stated simply. Scott's eyes narrowed behind his visor and, setting his jaw hard, he pushed on.

"And what mission would that be?" he inquired as all of his internal alarms sounded, but as the doors opened behind him and Warren took one step forward, he didn't think he was going to get an answer, then Angel paused to look him in the eye right before stepping out.

"To bring death," he informed Summers forthright and proceeded out of the elevator and down the corridor.

The answer he was given left Scott dumbfounded and speechless for a moment. The doors were about to close at his back when he regained his wits and skirted between them, hurrying after Worthington as he realized that whatever had been a burr under Angel's blanket these past couple of months was about to be brought out into the open.


* * *

After leaving Wraith's office, Victor Creed had gathered some essentials into a pack and, strapping them to the back of his motor, sped out of the city limits. "Do nothing," he'd been told. 'Like hell,' he seethed, as he roared past the troops gathering by their vehicles. The camouflaged soldiers watched him speed by, some with confusion on their faces and others with merely curious interest as they checked and stowed their equipment and locked and loaded their weapons.

Leaning forward over the handlebars, Victor kicked the bike up another notch and roared past them without so much as a sideway glance. He was a man on a mission... and nobody was going to stop him from doing what needed to be done. Not Wraith, not the military, not the Guardian... not even Weapon X himself.


* * *

Scott caught up with Angel just before he reached the doors to the infirmary. Coming up behind him, Cyclops grabbed Warren's elbow to impede his momentum. He gave a slight backward jerk which pulled the man slightly off balance and caused him to stop. As Warren turned to question his team leader, Cyclops moved swiftly in front of him to block his entrance into the medical bay.

"Don't do this, Warren," Scott protested. Angel looked at him for a moment, then his head tilted slightly.

"Don't do what, Scott?" he asked in a friendly tone, as if he didn't understand what his friend was referring to.

"You know 'what'."

"No. I'm sorry, but I do not," Warren countered calmly and placed his hand lightly on Scott's shoulder. "Have no fear, my friend. All will be well." With that he moved to step around Summers, who immediately blocked his way with a quick side step. Checking up once more, Warren scanned his opposition from head to toe and cocked his head. "Scott.... you must trust me. Once death has come to Wolverine, we can all rest easy again."

Scott frowned, not believing what he was hearing. He opened his mouth to rebuke Worthington's observation, but found himself at a loss for words. Had Warren lost his mind? Did he honestly believe what he was saying with such conviction that he didn't even feel the need to hesitate before speaking? Did he really believe that his need to be rid of Wolverine's presence was so justified that he had no qualms about declaring it openly? Could he possibly believe what he was saying? - so much so, that he saw no reason at all to keep his intentions hidden?

It seemed like an eternity that he stood there staring at his old friend when Rogue and Gambit came down the corridor and approached them. They too, were coming to the infirmary to check on their teammate. Warren became aware of their presence at the very same time Scott glanced their way and turned toward them. He and LeBeau shared an intense stare, Gambit nearly sneering at the winged X-Man, then Angel's eyes dropped to Rogue and his face lit up. Warren clutched Rogue's arms and smiled brightly.

"You! You touched him...! Did you see? Did you feel him? Tell them! You understand, right?" he asked nearly shouting with excitement as if realizing that there was someone here that could actually collaborate with him on this.

"What's goin' on here?" she asked, looking to Scott with huge eyes. A second later she was ripped from Angel's grasp by strong hands.

"Get your hands off o' her!" Remy ordered, shielding her with his body as he stepped between them. Angel's expression and atttitude immediately darkened and he glared at LeBeau, but he didn't respond before turning sharply toward Scott.

"I'll be back! And when I come back.... no one will keep me from what I have to do. No one!" He was nearly shouting as he repeatedly jabbed his finger into Scott's chest and, with that, the blond X-Man turned on his heel and marched down the corridor. Remy continued to scowl at Warren's retreating back as Rogue turned to Scott.

"What in the world was that all about?"

"I have no idea, but I have a really bad feeling about this."

The three stood there for a brief moment before Scott turned toward the doors behind him and they slid open with a soft hiss. As they entered the infirmary, Ororo stood up from the edge of the bed where she'd apparently been leaning closely over Logan for some reason. The smile on the professor's face disappeared as he picked up vibrations of deep concern and turned toward Cyclops with a frown of his own.

"What is it, Scott?"

"I'm not sure, Sir," he replied, looking perplexed.

Ororo now stood beside Logan's bed, not realizing that she was holding his hand lightly as she listened, trying to figure out what was going on. Logan watched, still a bit drowsy from his intense awakening, as Rogue and Gambit entered and stood beside Scott as the three spoke with the professor.

"I think there's something seriously wrong with Warren," Scott mentioned, and his two companions nodded in agreement. Rogue's expression was serious with worry, but Gambit simply looked angry. "He hasn't been the same since he returned from his vacation."

"Yes," Charles agreed softly, "I, too, have noticed a drastic change in his behavior."

"Did he happen to mention to you why he needed the extension?" Scott asked and waited for the professor to answer, but he seemed as though he was lost in thought for a few moments.

"Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry, Scott. What was your question?"

"His extended vacation... did he happen to mention to you why he needed to be gone for so long? Originally, he was only scheduled to be away for two weeks. Then we got that phone call from him, vaguely stating that he needed more time and would be away longer than anticipated, and he shows up nearly three months later?" Scott recounted the events that had taken place. "And he's never said a word as to why he was gone so long or where he's been?"

"No, he never said a word. Perhaps I should've asked, but I try not to intrude on personal business," Charles mentioned, but they already knew that. He'd never inquired as to Logan's whereabouts or personal business, even when he'd disappear for weeks at a time. He didn't ask for details of personal vacations, especially regarding the Worthington family affairs, since most of Warren's so-called vacations were usually business trips for the Worthington empire.

As the silence lengthened, Gambit finally spoke up. "Dat boy got serious issues wit' Wolverine."

"Me an' Wings ain't never gotten along," Logan mentioned. He sounded tired and drained but felt as though he was beginning to regain some clarity in his thoughts. "I don't think that's much of a secret," he added and struggled to sit up in the bed. Ororo turned to help him, propping a couple of pillows behind his back. He fell back heavily onto them, glancing up at her with a nod of thanks.

"No," Scott replied, "it's no secret, Logan. But this... this is different. He's fixated on you... he's obsessed with your death."

No one knew what to say to that. It had been made quite clear to everyone in the mansion the past few weeks that Warren's displeasure with Wolverine's presence had spiked. Although the two mutants had never gained a true friendship through the years, they had found a way to compromise, or perhaps it had simply been an unspoken agreement to tolerate the other's presence on the team.

The resurgence of Angel's unrepentent anger over Wolverine's existence had them all totally perplexed, but it was the magnitude of Warren's hatred that unnerved the team. He didn't just want Logan gone... he wanted the feral dead. Scott frowned as Warren's words echoed in his head, and realized that Angel didn't just want the Wolverine dead but he intended to take the matter into his very own hands.

How in the world did Warren honestly believe he could accomplish such a thing? Especially when so many others have tried and failed? Wolverine was practically indestructible.

What did Warren know, or think he knew, that the others didn't?


* * *


As he drove his motor out of the city limits, the echo of Wraith's voice saying 'Do nothing, Victor' started chanting in his head. 'If you jeopardize this mission again... I'll kill you myself.'

That last was sort of humorous, as many have tried and none have succeeded as yet. Creed sneered at the thought of that piece of military waste threatening him.

"You and what army?" Victor growled at Wraith's voice in his head, then kicked up the throttle and sped up the long and winding wooded road of Graymaulkin Lane.

There was no way in hell they were taking him off this assignment. He'd spent too many years and had invested way too many hours sitting-in-wait for this very opportunity. Sure, he'd made some blatantly obvious mistakes, but he'd never intended to get himself taken out of the line up. Things had been going great, going according to plan. His plan, not the one the Project co-ordinators had drawn up. Always so arrogant they were... to think that they were the ones in control of the entire situation. Now... the clock was ticking... ticking like a time bomb and it was up to Victor Creed to diffuse it.


* * *

Warren exited the mansion through the front door and descended the stairs. He was angry. For years, the X-Men had gotten in his way; had always gotten between him and Wolverine, always succeeding in keeping distance between them.

He stood on the manicured lawn of the estate, fuming as his thoughts focused inward. His face was tense with a deep scowl as his brain whirled to find alternative solutions. Angel's eyes darted about, not focusing on the outward things but the internal churnings deep within him. A moment later he turned to look up at the looming fortress behind him, taking in a slow deep breath. Then, as if he'd made a decision, he turned his back to the great edifice and unfurled his wings to take to the sky.

Like a massive seabird he soared high above the trees as he made his way toward the city. As he lazily followed the direction of the winding road below him, his flight path would intersect with its twisting turns as he crossed over it from time to time; catching his attention as the black pavement flashed through the breaks in the dense green forest. Something caught his eye on one of his crossovers and he turned his head to keep it in view as he passed overhead.

He veered to his left to make a turn around, like a buzzard circling overhead, as the object disappeared beneath the long branches of the forest canopy. Warren made a large lazy circle as he scanned the ground below and saw the object reappear through a break a short distance further down the road behind him.

The long-time X-Man recognized him immediately. Still circling high above, Warren tightened his circular pattern as he began to descend, picking up great speed as he prepared to strafe his target. It was Sabretooth... and he was heading for the institute.


* * *

Victor stared straight ahead; his hands gripping the handlebars tightly, his focus entrenched on his destination and the obstacles he knew he'd have to overcome in order to get to his target. At a high rate of speed he maneuvered the road's twisting path with an easy, almost careless abandon. He'd driven this road many times and knew it well. He'd been driving the past twelve miles or so with unfocused attention when suddenly a large object overhead blocked out the sun for a moment as its shadow passed over him.

He blinked, coming out of his thoughts, and looked skyward, squinting his sensitive eyes against the sun's glare just as the object flew over again. It blocked out the sun for a split second and Creed dropped his head to watch the road as he tried to make sense of the image he'd picked up. It was large, like a small plane, but not a plane. It had wings but.... the wings weren't fixed though, he saw them flap just once before the sun blinded him again. And the wings had feathers. If that was a bird it was the biggest freaking bird Victor Creed had ever seen.

'Angel!' Sabretooth's brain shouted a warning as he put two-and-two together.

Creed jerked his head up quickly trying to find the winged X-Man to pinpoint his location, but he never got the chance. He nearly cringed with a start as something very large appeared in front of his eyes in a flashing blur of black and white. It slammed into him at tremendous velocity, throwing him backward from his chopper, which continued at its own great speed in the direction he'd been traveling until the front wheel twisted, sending it nose over tail across the road and tumbling into the dense underbrush.

A loud rush of air exhaled from his lungs as the wind was knocked out of him and Creed flew fifty yards in the opposite direction. He hit the pavement hard, tumbling out of control and finally came to a stop, lying half in a ditch, unconscious.

Angel never took his eyes off his target as he regained some height in order to circle around again above the trees. He watched as Creed came to a violent halt, ending up like roadkill on the side of the peaceful country lane. Lining himself up with the center of the road, Warren came in for a landing like a plane descending onto a runaway. As his feet touched down, he pulled his wings in tight at his back, ready for take-off, as he slowed his approach toward the unresponsive feral.

He'd gotten within twenty feet or so when he heard a soft moan come from the ditch. Warren stopped and stilled, staring at the large booted feet that were clearly visible above the edge of the road's soft shoulder. Toes pointing downward, it was evident that the giant had come to a stop face-down on the roadside. Warren remained like a statue, watching and listening, when one booted foot moved. Sabretooth stirred slowly, his moans turning to growls as his healing factor kicked in and he began to get his wits about him again.

Angel watched as the boots disappeared, sliding into the ditch, toes dragging in the dirt. He imagined Creed pulling himself together, getting to his knees as he assessed his injuries, which should be healed by now and... there he was. Warren straightened and let his eyes dart about as Creed stood up in the ditch baring his fangs at him and stepping back out onto the road, ready to fight.

Worthington's expression suddenly changed, from Warren's insecure doubt to Angel's challenging sneer. He stared at Sabretooth as the giant feral stalked closer coming right down the center of the road. Angel's head cocked slightly to the side and he took a slow deep breath in preparation for combat. Straightening his head again and squaring off with the massive mutant in front of him, Angel reached over his head. Drawing a large shining sword from a scabbard strapped between his winged shoulder blades, he held the large heavy sword in both hands at waist level. Angel sneered at Victor with an almost evil humor.

"What the hell are you doing??" Victor reprimanded the X-Man. "I have to talk to your people! I have information..."

"Information?" Angel repeated for clarification in a patronizing tone and cutting the man's words off in mid-sentence. "Information about what?"

"It's about Wolverine."

"Of course it is," Angel smirked.

"Look," Victor replied angrily, "It's not what you think. This is for real. No bullshit this time. It's beyond just me an' Logan, okay? We're talkin' military here. Government."

"So?" Angel asked. His entire behavior was sedate and Victor surmised that the X-Man was simply feigning interest in what he had to say. Sabretooth studied him closely, sensing something was drastically wrong about the man challenging him. Creed lowered his head slightly and watched Warren with sharp eyes beneath his furrowed brow.

"It's not just military... it's Weapon X," Victor quietly informed him as he watched Angel closely.

"Weapon X, huh?" Warren repeated again, casually. "What about him?"

The question made Victor blink and he tilted his head to the side as he considered Worthington. He'd known the man a long time and this behavior was not like him at all. Unless something drastic has happened and life does have a way of doing that to a person; changing who they are deep down, whether it be by tragedy or loss. It happened quickly sometimes, Creed knew, and sometimes not so quickly.

Warren Worthington was a changed man, Victor sensed that clearly. Even his scent was off. It wasn't normal. It wasn't Warren. But it wasn't fear and it wasn't rage either. It was... something else. Sabretooth took a step to his left and Angel followed suit, also stepping left he kept an even playing field as he watched Creed moving for position.

"What do you want, Sabretooth?" Warren asked and Victor's eyes narrowed at the tone of the question. The tone of Angel's words... it was as if he already knew the answer and simply wanted to hear it for himself.

"I'm going that way," Victor told him, pointing down the road toward the mansion.

"No, you're not," Angel replied with a smirk, brandishing the sword. Creed glanced at the large shiny weapon. It was easily four feet in length with a straight, double-edged blade and it was heavy he could tell by the way Worthington held it aloft with both hands. "I was warned about you," he told Victor.

"What'dya mean?" Creed asked slowly, feeling a burning chill settle in his belly. He already knew the answers too, he realized. "What'dya mean you were warned about me?"

"You're not in this game anymore, Victor," Angel told him. "You had your chance. You blew it. Many times."

Victor blinked, then swallowed hard, as he listened. He already knew he'd blown it. He'd gotten himself taken off the mission, taken out of the line-up. His obsession with taking care of Wolverine had caused him to lose his focus; to lose track of his actions and misactions and allowed himself the mistake of getting thrown out of the loop. Victor knew this... but how did Angel know this?

"What're you talkin' about?" he asked the X-Man. "Nobody takes me out of the game," he growled back.

"You're not a factor in this anymore, Victor. You messed up too many times for anyone to have any confidence in your abilities to complete any task given to you. I, on the other hand, have a clean slate... and you... are old news. You're a has-been, Victor. It's time for a new breed of hound."

Victor stared at Angel, his mouth slightly ajar as he realized that, although the military and the government scientists simply saw his actions as obsessive and simply poor judgement, Angel seemed to know exactly what his motives had been all along.

"I was charged with bringing Wolverine in... and I'm gonna do that, whether they.. or you.. like it or not," Victor growled but Angel simply gave him a crooked grin and shook his head.

"You're pathetic, Victor," Warren told him then began to circle Sabretooth still holding the sword high in front of him. "You no longer have the responsibility... or should I say "the honor". That honor is assigned to me now. I shall be the one to bring him in... to bring death to the Wolverine."

"Oh man..." Victor muttered under his breath as his fears were confirmed and his blood ran cold in his veins. "You're him." He continued to circle, keeping distance between himself and the X-Man. "You're.... The Guardian."

Angel's eyebrows lifted and he smiled, as if pleased to find that his name was known outside of the small circle within the government sanctum. "I am The Guardian, yes," he confirmed for Sabretooth. "And before I bring Wolverine back to Weapon X to complete his re-training... I shall dispatch you first."

With that warning, Angel lunged at him with the sword, covering the distance between himself and his target with one strong solid flap of his wings to help propel him forward. Sabretooth ducked and somersaulted out of reach, coming to a stop again on his feet facing his opponent. His years as a soldier, as a warrior and a savage, had kept his reflexes sharp and his body quick.

Angel sent himself aloft, just high enough to land a solid kick to Creed's face. The impact sent the larger man tumbling backward on the asphalt and from high above Warren took aim. Creed opened his eyes, squinting into the sunwashed sky and as a large silhouette suddenly blocked out the blinding sun, he understood. With an expression of sudden alarm, Victor rolled again quickly out of harm's way as Angel drove the broad sword into the asphalt where he'd been lying.

He set himself with a wide stance, wings flapping slowly with deliberate power as The Guardian tried to free the sword. Creed pushed himself up and got back to his feet, realizing the X-Man had been turned - re-trained, as he referred to it. Conditioned! The X-Man was now, quite clearly, a product of the Weapon X Project's new Weapons Plus Programming. Victor had known all along what they wanted with Wolverine and he'd managed, all these years, to continually put himself between Logan and the fate the government scientists had planned for him.

He'd even managed to get in their way again this time, by getting word out to Colonel Fury and the X-Men, anonymously of course, where Wolverine had been taken and was being held. And still, no one had suspected that Sabretooth's thoughtless acts of vengeance were anything but that. He'd fooled them all... for decades.

Now he had to get to Wolverine - to the X-Men - but first he had to get through The Guardian.


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TBC in At Death's Door, part 2






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