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“Are you finished with your tray, James?” Terry motioned to the tray that had hardly been touched; the warming lid was slight askew, and when she lifted it, most of the contents were still there. The watery red Jell-O was gone, as were the crackers. “You weren’t that hungry today?”

“I’m done with it, if that’s what you mean,” he grumbled back, waving her away with knotty fingers as he turned his attention away from the sports program on the television mounted from the ceiling. “Leave it for ‘em t’take, so it ain’t in the way for the housekeeper.”

“You’re sure you don’t need anything?”

“There isn’t much anyone here can do for me, darlin’.” Her expression was quizzical and she gave him a sad little smile.

“Just ask. I’ll do what I can,” she assured him as she diligently assembled the napkin and discarded wrappers into a little heap and cleared the tray. Logan sighed as he watched her leave. It was almost time for his smoke break.

Ten minutes later, Matt ambled into his room and held up a brown paper bag. “I saw they had meatloaf on the menu today, sir. How was it?”

“Wouldn’t feed it to a hungry dog.” Logan chuckled at the young aide. His hair was doing something strange in the front that made him look like he belonged to a boy band, like the ones that Kitten used to enjoy so much.

“Wanna get some air?”

“Lead on, McDuff.” Logan smiled as he reached back and lifted the brake on his chair while Matt moved his sliding wheeled table away from the bed to give him room.

The other nurses and aides in the hallway smiled at them as they headed toward the exit. Mr. Howlett was more crotchety with most of them than he was with the boy on the alt shift, who was a lot more diligent than his buddy who didn’t keep up with the beds on the east wing. Of course, “less crotchety” didn’t necessarily mean more friendly. Terry and Nurse Kinney were fond enough of him, but they nagged Matt not to play favorites with the patients.

He was just so damned entertaining.

The blooms were off the magnolia tree, and the beginnings of rust-colored leaves began to drop from the tall oaks. “Haven’t seen a red maple in a long time,” Logan rasped, pointing to the spindly tree with pale bark and leaves that were beginning to turn crimson. Matt made a thoughtful noise as he opened his lunch sack.

“I didn’t know that’s what it was called.”

“Don’t they teach ya anything in that school of yers?” His eyes weren’t unkind, and Matt saw mischief twinkling in them despite his stern face. He extracted a plastic-wrapped sandwich that looked thick, as well as a bag of potato chips.

“My mom’s always asking me that,” Matt admitted as he divided the sandwich. “Want some of it before you light up?”

“Eh. Sure, why not?” He took the half Matt offered from him and sank his teeth - Matt still marveled at his canines - into the soft sourdough bread. He picked a bit of roast beef from his teeth and sighed in contentment. “Moira made a mean sandwich,” he remarked.

“She was the housekeeper?”

“More’n that. She was Charley’s right hand. Back in the day they had a thing going on, but the two of ‘em still fought like an old married couple. She was a pistol. Feisty and smart as a whip. Woman went to Oxford and came to the states after her husband was out of the picture.”

“Ugly divorce?”

“Nope. It’s complicated.” Matt handed him the bag of chips, and Logan extracted a few. “She was better off without that asshole.” Matt nearly choked on his portion of the sandwich. “She was frettin’ up a storm when we left fer that island. Irish wasn’t too happy leavin’ her behind, either. John an’ I had a helluva time yankin’ his chain on the trip over. Ya ain’t lived til ya’ve flown in a Blackbird, bub. First thing on my mind, though, when we came back was seein’ where I stood at that school. ‘Ro was already on my mind…”


~0~


“Tell me again why we hafta dress up in these monkey suits,” Logan grumbled as he tugged at the snug, stiff collar of his leather uniform. He was sturdy and strong, but the garments still seemed to weigh him down, almost like armor. Truth be told, he was more comfortable in as little as he could get away with when he wasn’t in polite company. He craved the cool evening air on his back when he was out in the woods, blowing a cloud with his Cubans.

“They could save your life,” Scott informed him, too occupied at the controls of the jet to face him.

“Mine ain’t the one that needs savin’. That’s why Chuck signed me on.”

“What makes you so special?” John scoffed as he toyed with the edge of his glove. He’d chosen to wear a necklace adorned with feathers, stone beads and bone tubs around his neck, a talisman that held special meaning to him. Charles didn’t press him when he balked at leaving it behind to keep it safe. “Aside from being able to drink any guy at Harry’s under the table?” The men on the plane had already soaked up some of the local color the night before. Without replying, Logan removed his glove. He balled up his thick fingers into a tight fist, and three gleaming, silvery blades shot through his skin as quick as a gun shot. John’s breath caught as he jerked back in his seat in surprise. He stared incredulously as Logan retracted them again and showed him his hand, palm down. The tiny wounds that leaked droplets of blood suddenly scabbed over, sealing the flesh until they, too, disappeared, leaving behind nearly invisible scars.

“Ain’t much of a parlor trick, but it gets the job done,” he muttered.

“That’s what we’re here to do,” Scott reminded him. “Save those for when we need them, Wolverine.” Logan couldn’t see much of Scott’s face from around the pilot’s seat anyway, but he guessed he was still wearing that constipated look of a guy still waiting to cop his first feel.

“Damn, what a bunch of freaks,” John grumbled.

“Watch yer mouth,” Logan snapped. It was becoming a habit. Across the aisle Ororo watched him curiously, measuring him in silence. He stared back at her in challenge. She hadn’t even flinched when he’d popped his claws, just like her reaction to Kurt. “Cat got yer tongue?”

“I’ve other things on my mind right now,” she admitted quietly, and she sat back in her seat, staring out through the window. Logan watched her twist the edge of her cloak in her hands nervously, despite her calm words. He grunted and went back to trying to find comfortable purchase in the hard seat and stifling uniform. He could still smell her tension from his perch, more distinctive among the mingled scents and pheromones surrounding him.

The jet lurched as it hit heavy turbulence, and he felt himself turn slightly green. “Petey, hand me some of yer gum.” Piotr whipped his head around to stare at him before he hastily dug in his jacket pocket and fished out a crinkled pack of Wrigley’s.

“I forgot I even had it,” he admitted as he handed him a stick.

“The nose knows.” He folded it into his mouth and felt better after a couple of chews. A brief flash of red flickered in his peripheral vision, and he turned his head in reply to the knock against the window. Shiro’s smug face greeted him and he saluted him, his face glowing as bright as the sun as he flew far and fast ahead of the ‘Bird. “Smug fucker,” he muttered. Ororo’s look of envy didn’t escape him.

“If ye’ve got it, flaunt it,” Sean reasoned dryly. “Yon laddie’s an arrogant young pup.”

“Dontcha fly, Irish?” Sean snorted.

“To be sure, I do. But if ye value yuir eardrums, it’s best if I stay in the plane, safe and sound.”

“I’m takin’ yer word for it.” The rest of the journey was spent in relative silence as they immersed themselves in their thoughts. Kurt lifted out a silver crucifix from the collar of his suit and dangled it thoughtfully in the sunlight. Piotr busied himself with a sketch with a small scratch pad and stub of a pencil he’d purloined from the kitchen. John occasionally peeked over his shoulder at it, lifting his eyebrows in admiration.

“Okay, folks, this is where we get off.”

“That was fast,” John commented. “Can’t wait to stretch my damned legs. Cramped as a sardine can in here.” Ororo smiled in agreement.

“Here’s how we’re going to do it, people. We pair up and do a recon from each side of the island, so we can cover more ground. Flyers will be on point to convey each of you to the ground.”

“Run that by me again?” John barked.

“Whatever got the drop on us before saw us coming and was counting on us to travel as a group. So we’re getting the drop on them this time. Literally. Storm, you and Colossus are phase one; take the north side. Banshee, you’re with Wolverine. And here,” he commented, tossing him an odd packet.

“What’re these?”

“Ear plugs.” Sean’s earlier remark no longer seemed so vague. He obediently ripped open the wrapper and stuffed them inside his ears. “Come in from the east. The Professor told me you had enhanced senses. You’ll make the best progress going through the brush.”

“Can’t wait.”

“I can track with the best of ‘em, One-Eye,” John reminded him arrogantly.

“Never said you couldn’t. I’m counting on it. You’re with me, Remember where we parked,” he quipped, straight-faced. “Nightcrawler, I want you to team up with Sunfire.” As if on cue, there was a brief knock on the hatch, and Logan smirked.

“Look who decided ta join the tea party.” Scott opened the hatch before anyone could protest for fear that the vacuum would suck everyone out, but Sunfire entered the plane without incident. He was the epitome of impatience.

“Get ready to head back out,” Scott told him cheerfully. “Thanks for offering us some of your time. We missed you.” The faint blaze of energy surrounding him dimmed as he stalked into the cockpit.

“What a motley, bizarre bunch you are,” he pronounced. His eyes lingered appreciatively at Storm’s uniform while Scott gave him his assignment. He instantly balked. “You want me to go with that…freak!”

“This freak has a new codename, mein freund. You would do well to use it outside of this plane.” His voice held no anger. Kurt’s expression was slightly droll.

“Of course. Nightcrawler. The Professor named you after a worm,” he jeered.

“Yo, Sunfire, stick it where the sun don’t shine. Don’t think yer doin’ us any favors,” John muttered. “And don’t think yer any less of a freak than anyone else here.” Kurt still bristled at the term “freak.”

“You two are heading south,” Scott intervened. “While you’re with us, Shiro, you’re a team player.”

“I’m also a Yashida. While you’re with me, you’ll remember to treat me with respect.” There wasn’t a hint of a smile on his lips. Ororo sighed as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“You get back what you give, my friend.” She gestured toward the hatch. “Shall we?” He nodded, the gesture almost resembling a bow.

“After you.” Before she even beckoned to him, Piotr was activating his power and creating an impressive display. Before their eyes, his firm, ruddy skin that shone with such good health seemed to ripple as he transformed it to shining organic steel; it was like someone was gradually coating him in silver paint. Ororo was astonished to notice that he grew even taller and more massive than before, even dwarfing John’s broad frame.

“Shit,” Logan muttered. Ororo’s eyes glowed the same eerie white that Logan remembered from his first afternoon in the study, and she slowly descended from the hatch before he could cry out for her safety.

He received his second surprise visit of the day when she pulled Shiro’s trick and waved to him from the porthole. A slow smile spread across Logan’s face, and he winked. She wrinkled her nose at him and drifted back toward the hatch.

“Take my hand, Colossus,” she called out.

“Nyet. I will meet you on the ground.” With that, he raised his arms over his head and leapt neatly from the hatch, prompting a string of curses from Logan, Sean and John.

“Is he fuckin’ NUTS?”

“Storm’s taking care of it,” Scott assured John. “Look.” His grin was wide below his visor.

Piotr yelped in surprise as he felt a tug at the scruff of his collar that interrupted the whistling of wind in his ears. “Boszhe moi! What - STORM!”

“Have you taken leave of your senses? You can’t fly!” Lightning flashed from her eyes as she met his indignant expression.

“I would have been fine, and at any rate, I would’ve made a decent dent. I’m too heavy for you to carry, Storm!” She chuckled as she settled him more comfortably within her grip, twining her arms under his armpits so that her chest was at his back.

“Now you don’t have to fly by the seat of your pants,” she soothed by way of apology. “And I don’t want to test your theory, Piotr. I like you too much.” His laughter was torn from his lips as they soared to the marshy beach.

Ear plugs, Logan griped to himself. Precious little good they did him. He was in for a splitting headache once he reached the ground.

The best he could describe Sean’s powers as was sonic yodeling. And Logan felt like he’d left his stomach behind on the jet as Sean launched them aloft. He was whiteknuckling his gloved hands in an effort not to let him drop him as they careened through the air toward the trees. His curses were snatched from his throat, and he wouldn’t have heard them, anyway, over Sean’s earsplitting screech that resonated through his whole body. He hadn’t even reached his full octave range as he brought them in for a soft landing.

Sunfire was already well ahead of him, but Logan was surprised to see him alone in the air. Suddenly, several exploding puffs of dark blue smoke appeared across the sky, rapidly descending toward the island. He focused his vision and shielded his eyes from the bright sun.

It was Kurt. “Sonofabitch,” he murmured.

“Never expected that,” Sean mumbled. “Never in a million bluidy years.”

“Might come in handy before the day’s out.” Logan shoved his ear plugs into his pocket. “Let’s motor.”

“We don’t even know where we’re headed.”

“That’s what these are for,” Logan informed him, tapping a small device that looked like a compass. “There’s one in yer belt. It’s got a GPS system with a relief map of the island. Charley’s chock full of neat shit.” He pressed a button on the side plate and Sean suppressed a gasp at the tiny digital array showing an aerial view of the island. A small red dot blinked, indicating where they stood. Three more dots appeared in different quadrants of the display. “There’s the rest of the cavalry.”

“Why isn’t it picking up the Professor’s other students? Surely we’d find them easily enough without having to be so covert.”

“There ain’t no such thing as bein’ too covert. Ya worked fer Interpol, so ya know that as well as I do, Irish.”

“Just for appearances’ sake, call me Banshee, boyo. It’s daft, I’ll admit, but I won’t argue the need for an alias. Speakin' o’which,” he drawled, “why ‘Wolverine’?”

“Eh. Why not?” Sean “hmphed” behind him as he took the lead. The beach was deceptively calm and they’d arrived during low tide. Logan wrinkled his nose as the odors assailed his senses. “Damn, that’s a stench!” Palm trees swayed overhead, seeming to reach up miles into the sky. Sean began to sweat.

“Give me the drafty keep and dreich any day, an’ not this blasted heat!”

“Suck it up. It ain’t so bad in these suits,” he admitted.

“Tisn’t just that, boyo. This place has me on edge.” Logan nodded in silent agreement as they trekked through a swath of beach grass. “Wish we could signal them somehow.”

“Ain’t that easy ta hide a jet,” he mused back.

A strong wind kicked up, rustling the leaves and grass, and Logan heard a flock of birds take flight. They sounded like seagulls, only louder, creating a deafening cacophony that put Sean’s sonar to shame. “Sounds like they’re about ta feed.”

“Wonder what kinds of fish are common to these waters?” The screeching increased in volume, and the flock created broader shadows as they circled above the trees. Logan scowled at the pattern of their flight, noticing it was a little off. Ice shivered down his spine and his gut clenched.

“They ain’t lookin’ fer fish! HEADS UP!” He popped his claws and stood ready to fight first. Demonic red eyes and razor-sharp talons descended upon them faster than Sean could blink.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God!” Logan suddenly wished he had his ear plugs again as Sean took to the air. The birds flew in a veritable cyclone of beating wings and attempted to claw at him, having the singular purpose of bringing him back down to the ground. He was suddenly thankful for the unstable molecules and Kevlar protecting his body, but his flight was nearly interrupted as the birds aimed for his eyes and mouth. He beat them away with his fists, but they kept coming.

His upward flight had the benefit of leading many of them away from Logan, but they were just as interested in their grounded prey. He didn’t waste any time, and he moved like a restless shark, never pausing and as though his life depended on it. And it did.

Gleaming claws sliced through sturdy, feathered bodies and cut off their shrill cries. Their beaks ripped at what skin of this that they could reach. He was seeing through the blood running down his forehead as he was raked by their talons, but he held his ground and sliced, skewered and ripped his way through the flock. He was a man possessed, and he was pissed off.

Sean upped the ante and increased his pitch. He flew in a clean, sweeping arc, vocal chords pulsating as he penetrated the wall of avian attackers with pure, searing sound that paralyzed them before it ripped them apart. They fell dozens at a time and littered the ground in his wake.

Logan was just dispatching the last one, catching it savagely by the neck and wringing it over his head like a pair of bolos. The bone snapped with a sickening crack and it gave a final squawk as he released it in disgust. He kicked it out of his way as they headed into the thicket.

“I’ll never visit a beach again for as long as I draw breath,” Sean swore.



Elsewhere:


“So d’ya want the good news first, One-Eye, or the bad news?” John inquired as they stomped through the brush.

“Shoot,” he replied, looking puzzled.

“We found signals from the others. Looks like they’re all in one piece, according to this fancy gadget you made me carry around.”

“It’s a mini-Cerebro unit. It’s keyed into the Blackbird. Full GPS. We won’t get lost.”

“About that. The Blackbird ain’t where we left it, buddy.” Scott spun around incredulously, then turned in a slow circle. Nothing but trees, cliffs and surf. The Blackbird was nowhere to be found.

“A jet doesn’t just disappear!” he flared.

“Ya think?” John’s face was hard. “Nice going. We’re up shit creek without a paddle!”

“Not yet. Now’s the time to put those fancy tracking skills of yours to the test. Let’s find the others and let them know what happened. Storm, Banshee and Sunfire might have better luck searching from the air.”

“We might’ve too, if we’d have stayed in the goddamned plane!” The two of them hugged a tall, craggy cliff face, searching for veins of rock and caves in the hopes that their missing companions might have taken shelter inside.

“Watch your step,” Scott warned. The rocks were slippery and gradually becoming eroded by the incoming waves. Suddenly a strange, resonant noise resembling an echoing howl cut through the air, giving John a chill.

“That ain’t natural,” he growled.

“What’s wrong, Thunderbird?”

“Proudstar,” he snapped. “Call me by my name.”

“Out in the field, your name’s Thunderbird. When you’re out of uniform, you’re Proudstar.”

“Whatever made that sound isn’t any animal you find in a zoo, One-Eye.” John enjoyed taking umbrage with Cyclops’ codename. “Hnh. Look at that.”

“Look at what?”

“There’s supposed to be a mutant signature on this island, right?”

“Sure.”

“Chuck never said anything about several mutants?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Doesn’t seem like one person coulda built that thing over there.” He pointed toward a thicket of dense trees that nearly obscured a small temple made from something that resembled sandstone. John could pick out elaborate, runelike markings and jagged turrets.

“Wow.”

“Guess we’re headed that way.” They maintained their footing with no lack of difficulty, cursing as they nearly slid from the outcropping. The waves came hard and fast, their rolling suction threatening to sweep them away. “I’d climb up this cliff with no trouble, but you’d hafta ride piggy back to keep up with me, One-Eye.”

“Logan would never let us live it down,” he deadpanned. John threw back his head and laughed.

“Bet he could dig in with those friggin’ claws of - HOLY CRAP! LOOK OUT!” His eyes bulged and he braced himself against the edge of the cliff just as they nearly reached the juncture where the stony path widened enough for an easy hike. The entire cliff seemed to rumble and vibrate beneath their feet, threatening to shake them off. The rattling was deafening, and Scott’s heart leapt up into his chest.

“Avalanche,” he cried. “HOLD ON!” Massive boulders shook themselves loose from above, bearing down on them perilously close.

“Like hell!” John corrected him, snatching him by the arm and leaping as far toward the path as he could, shoving Scott from the line of fire. Once Scott was out of less immediate danger, he clung to the cliff face and readied himself.

He easily crushed an oncoming boulder to pebbles with one blow. On and on he swung, one-handed, swatting them away like they were enormous flies, where they splashed into the ocean. Scott recovered himself and raised his visor. Above John, the rocks were blasted into smithereens, exploding into harmless dust. He coughed and spat, but the two mutants continued their counterattack on the boulders until they ceased enough allow John to reach the safety of the path.

He choked back dust and shook it from his hair with impatient hands. “Are you all right?”

“Just…*KAFF*!...dandy, One-Eye!”

“Then let’s go.” They resumed their trek toward the temple, but they couldn’t shake the feeling that more obstacles were waiting to keep them from it.


On the other side of the island:


“I’ve never seen plants such as these,” Ororo commented as her boots trod over rotting leaves and crackling brush. Dense moss and winding vines wrapped around and dangled from enormous palms, and various exotic, spiky flowers filled every empty space. Some of them looked tuberous, she surmised, as Piotr sped up to catch up to her. His steps were heavier due to his steel form; she didn’t blame him for keeping his mutation activated. They didn’t appear to have a comm. link in their GPS modules, so the only way they had of knowing where their teammates were was the map display. Ororo sighed to herself. This was going to be a long, difficult mission, and she knew Moira would be worried sick til they came back.

“It’s nearly impossible to walk,” he agreed, and he wasn’t having any easier a time attempting to keep his footing. He began to cut a swath through the thick vines and branches, cleaving them aside as they made progress toward the unusual stone building in the distance, nestled in low foothills. It was the only place on the island that wasn’t completely hidden by shade and thick cloud cover as it gleamed in the afternoon sun. It reminded Ororo of some of the ancient structures she’d seen as a child in Cairo, but she doubted that her people had ever traveled this far. There were no signs anywhere so far that anyone had arrived on the island by boat or other means. And in the meantime, her friends were missing. Her gut was knotted up in a tight, uncomfortable little ball, and she shivered.

“Are you cold?” Piotr inquired with concern.

“Never,” she replied, offering him a vestige of a smile. “My gift keeps me pleasantly warm or cool no matter what the weather conditions.”

“Good. I was worried. If I weren’t in my metal form, I’d be pouring sweat by now. You’re very lucky.”

“Even so, this isn’t typical of how I expected it to feel here, in such a tropical climate. The air feels thick, almost charged. The plants seem to be emitting different gases than any others I’ve sensed before. The air feels thicker. Moist, as it should in this humidity, but definitely thicker.”

“How can you tell it’s the plants?” Piotr tore down a swath of tangled vines that were proving difficult to avoid.

“I have a bond with the atmosphere and the earth itself. I can feel shifts in the tides, air and soil,” she explained matter-of-factly. “Plants feed on moisture, and I can affect that directly, and tell how much of it they have absorbed. It feels like it rained two days ago.”

“That’s a helpful talent. It would have come in handy on my parents’ farm. We lost a crop to blight two months ago. My father’s been trying to recover from it ever since.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured soothingly. “I wish I had been there, too.”

“You can’t be everywhere at once,” he reasoned, but he drank in her sympathy with a gentle smile.

“I can be there for anyone who needs me. And I will. Protecting the earth’s children is what I was born for, including providing sustenance for its creatures.” Her voice held conviction and personal obligation in its deep, smooth tone. Piotr frowned with confusion.

“You sound like some kind of bodyguard,” he muttered.

“Not quite. Once I was a goddess.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I lived in a village that relied on what they could farm and raise themselves, just like your family, Piotr. And it was my duty to take care of them, as they had taken care of me. The droughts that plagued them came to an end, and they prospered. I took great joy in that.”

“Then what made you come here, to be with the Professor and his school?”

“I had more encompassing duties than caring for one village.” Piotr mulled that thoughtfully.

“Then so do I.” The sounds of snapping vines and rustling leaves were their constant companion on their trek. Ororo felt the faint burn in her muscles as their path led up a steadily inclining slope. Ororo’s ears pricked up at the crackling of feet scrabbling over the brush, but when she turned around to trace it, she saw nothing except for more leaves drifting to the ground. They were about a meter closer to the clearing, but her ears dogged her to turn repeatedly toward the sounds.

“What’s bothering you so much, Storm?” He halted when she laid her hand on his arm and her fingers tightened on it convulsively.

“We’re being followed,” she whispered. “Get ready to fly with me.” A strong wind whipped up, and he felt the tense shock of anticipation wash over him. Flying in the open air unnerved him when the woman conveying him was so slight in build and he was so large. He felt himself snatched off the ground with her as her winds buoyed them up…

Only to be caught in a brief tug-of-war with thick ropes of vine that uncoiled themselves from the trees and snared them within their grip.

“GODDESS! Won’t…let go! Don’t let me go, Piotr! I won’t lose you!” The vines savagely yanked at her limbs, twining around her waist and chest to suffocate her. Snaking tendrils wrapped around her face to smother her. She saw dark spots before her eyes as she twisted and writhed to free herself, and she felt Piotr’s hand wrenched from her grasp. She flailed ineffectually as she heard his own shouts, the vines tangling him up in their web.

“STORM!” He snatched and yanked vines up from the roots, but they were sticky and they excreted a strange, gaseous toxin that weakened him, attacking his nervous system as he struggled for breath. He held his breath, filling his capacious lungs with the last vestiges of air, and he searched for gaps and chinks in the layers of vines, searching for a weak point.

And he found it. Piotr grasped as many layers of vines in his two hands as he could as he focused on the slender patch of light filtering inside, and she tore them apart. His legs plowed forward like a steer pulling a yoke behind it as he tugged himself free, muscles burning mercilessly, but he wouldn’t be defeated. He couldn’t. Ororo was depending on him.

“Storm,” he groaned, his heart twisting in horror as he saw her being swallowed up by the vines, her black uniform and white hair barely visible. The last sight he had of her was her wide blue eyes beseeching him, turning that eerie, glowing white. He bellowed in outrage, and he pulled and twisted at the weeds, bunching them up in his fists and pulling with all of his might until they snapped free from the ground and trees. Suddenly they withered into husks, desiccated and limp. He realized that they needed to be rooted into the ground or their host plant, or they would lost their source of nourishment. Storm had a chance. He just needed to act fast enough.

“I’m coming for you!” he grunted, going to work on the vines that balled themselves around her in a pulsing knot. Gleaming, thick fingers tore and yanked, but the weeds held fast and replenished themselves quicker than he could clear them. He felt her struggles beneath them, but they were weakening, and he cried out in denial.

Inside her cocoon, Ororo tried to scream. She was seeing spots that blinded her; she was trapped in the dark, clutched in its icy fingers. She was so cold; she hated her boast from only minutes ago, and her stomach rose up into her throat. Can’t breathe. Can’t think… The vines seemed to mock her, violating her and making her helpless. She could feel them crowing their triumph. She’d had enough.

Moisture…she felt it tickling her senses. Thick, overwhelming and insistent. Her own lips felt dry almost to the point of bleeding, and it hurt to breathe. The vines were feeding on her like leeches, depleting her and dehydrating her as they grew in strength. She harnessed her strength and called out to the Bright Lady for help, and she wanted to cry her relief when she felt a frisson of fresh air penetrate the weeds. It was a benediction, and she planned to thank her properly.

She braced herself and began absorbing the humid, cool moisture from the plants. Outside the thick husk enveloping her, Piotr felt his own mouth grow dry and the heat climbing nearly ten degrees. His efforts grew more sluggish but remained desperate in his attempt to free her. He could feel her helping him to free her.

The vines slowly began to ooze saplike fluids, and they twitched and rustled as they lost their deep emerald color and turned to a sickly yellow. The leaves wilted and withered and went slack. Handfuls of them gave way and he barked a laugh of triumph as he found Ororo’s hand reaching for him weakly. The weeds threw up a smell of rotting mulch and decay as they released their prisoner, coughing and gasping for air. She fell forward into his embrace and hung onto him for support. Her legs collapsed, and he shouldered her easily, even though his own strength was lagging from the dearth of moisture. There were cracks in her lips that began to bleed, and her skin was chapped. Dirt and bits of dried leaves littered her hair, and watery, bloodshot eyes peered up at him gratefully.

“Take us from here, my friend,” she pleaded. He nodded and threw aside propriety by sweeping her up into his arms for as much as the trip uphill as she would let him.



Base of the volcano:


“This place smells almost as bad as the stink you make when you ‘port,” Shiro remarked, wrinkling his nose beneath his mask.

“And only slightly less than your cologne, mein freund,” Kurt countered, shrugging as he scanned the landscape. “No signs of the others from here. I imagine Storm would have been visible from the air by now if they’d needed to get away from anything or to find us.”

“Or they would have seen me,” Shiro sniffed. His costume was unique; Charles had ensured that he was equipped with the same unstable molecules and Kevlar that were the standard issue armor for his team in the field, but Shiro insisted on a jacket with a red yoke, collar and sleeves that broke up the less conspicuous black. There was also an insignia on the breast of a rising sun. Kurt was content with his own uniform of black, cut simply and molding to his lithe, wiry frame. Even the boots were flexible enough for his toes to maintain their tactile agility.

“You stand out like a sore thumb,” Kurt grumbled under his breath. “And they could no doubt hear you rattling on with the need to hear your own voice from miles away.”

“Freak,” Shiro muttered back. He contemplated the sheer face of rock ahead of them. “We could fly over it.”

“We?” Kurt huffed. “Not likely.”

“Afraid?”

“Nein. I’m just not willing to be fried to a crisp if you misjudge how far across it you can fly. I’m not inflammable.” The volcano appeared dormant when they’d first noticed it during their recon, but Kurt felt the shifting beneath their feet and the occasional rumbles that broke through the sounds of native fauna skittering in their nests.

“It will take us all day to hike around it,” Shiro pointed out impatiently. “I, for one, don’t plan on wasting that much time. We’re here to get the Professor’s precious students and get back to the school. I won’t take up any more of my time than I have to with this mission, in such strange and unfortunate company.”

“In my life and travels, Sunfire, ‘strangeness’ is relative, and it can occasionally offer a pleasant surprise. No one thought it was unusual the first time you burst into flame?” Kurt’s tone was innocent, but mischief danced in his demon’s eyes. Shiro scowled.

“I could have lost everything, and I could not afford to. My family’s honor is all I live for. They could have seen my powers as a disgrace, and if they had, I would have been cast out in disgrace.” Before he turned his back on Kurt, his lips tightened and he clenched his fists at his side.

“I know something about being cast out,” he assured him. “I don’t think you have to worry about shame while you stay with us, and with the Professor.”

“My stay won’t be long.”

“Then godspeed. Until then, let’s go find our friends. They need us, and those fancy gifts of yours will come in handy.” It wouldn’t hurt to build him up, Kurt reasoned.

The entire time they talked, they were making good progress around the base of the mountain, but they coughed and sputtered over the clouds of volcanic ash the drifted down and littered the ground and settled on their uniforms and hair. The low rumbling that Kurt had noticed before returned and seemed to increase in volume. Unease prickled at the base of his neck.

Suddenly the earth rocked and nearly knocked them off their feet, and Shiro staggered for purchase on the shifting ground. Kurt maintained his balance thanks to his natural agility and center of gravity, and he leapt to a tree nimbly as a frog.

“Follow me!” he cried, and he teleported several meters away, then poofed away again, encouraging Shiro to fly after him. His companion had other concerns.

“It’s active!” he shouted. “The volcano’s active!” Terror bloomed in his chest as he saw the dark, rolling clouds of billowing smoke rise from the crater and smelled more of the noxious sulfur. Gouts of molten rock launched themselves from its maw like overheated kernels of popcorn, glowing orange and black and spitting fire. The barrage of flaming magma was rolling and splashing down the mountain and heading straight for them. Shiro was already hovering and bracing himself, increasing his body temperature and priming himself for the onslaught.

“GET AWAY, SUNFIRE! NOW!” Kurt shouted, wanting to jaunt him away to safety, but he was determined.

“Fight fire with fire,” Shiro murmured as he raised his hands and summoned blazing plasma, channeling it from his core and firing at the heated rock. Kurt watched incredulously and in awe as he blasted the flaming missiles and burned them out, disintegrating them before they could hit the ground. Kurt ported away, dodging debris and choking on the air that was too hot to breathe. He felt his hair and fur begin to scorch and he continued to port, creating a dotted line around the perimeter of the mountain with black puffs of brimstone-scented smoke. Shiro exerted his efforts tenfold, aiming faster and harnessing more energy as he glowed like a small sun.

A stray bubble of lava broke free from the roiling stew in the crater and bore down on his, gathering unnatural speed. His heat wouldn’t protect him; he had mere fractions of a second to fly free -

BAMF!

Shiro swallowed a cry as Kurt’s arms clotheslined him and dragged him clear, right before he teleported them just shy of being engulfed. It was jarring, and he nearly cast up his accounts. Shiro felt as though someone had turned him inside out.

“I’m sorry, but this won’t be pleasant, I’m afraid!” he apologized, and his grip around him tightened as he teleported again and again, knowing each jaunt was taxing Shiro’s reserves and making him hopelessly disoriented. He couldn’t risk Shiro not being able to fly fast enough or weakening from countering the rocks with his blasts.

His first responsibility was finding steady ground and evading the magma flowing in thick rivers down the crater and threatening the perimeter of the forest. He almost didn’t believe it when he felt gusts of cooler air and wind whipping against him each time he rematerialized, and Kurt smelled the tang of ozone. The sky overhead darkened this time with storm clouds, and rain from a sudden downpour drenched him and cooled his burnt fur and singed flesh. Ororo hovered a meter ahead of him, and Piotr gripped her hand as she wielded the maelstrom, looking the worn for wear but still in her element.

“I can fly,” Shiro grunted.

“Gut,” Kurt affirmed, “because I can’t!” He let himself go limp and allowed Shiro to shoulder him and hold them aloft.

“We almost didn’t make it,” Ororo informed them. “We can’t go by ground!”

“What do you suggest? I can’t stay airborn forever,” Shiro snapped.

“We won’t have to,” she informed him coolly, not the least put off. The wind picked up in its intensity, tearing at them despite the protection offered by their uniforms. The air grew chilled, dropping several degrees within minutes, and Kurt and Piotr could see their breath. Icy drafts crept beneath their collars, and Shiro was the only one who didn’t look affected. Rain changed to icy sleet and hail, and she swept it away from her friends, aiming it in a clean arc toward the crater. She pushed herself and her three charges higher in the air to avoid the resulting steam that threatened to sear them while she assaulted the molten rock. They felt a pocket of shifting warm air envelop them as she simultaneously protected them and froze the ground below until it sealed the rock in a solid crust of ice and several feet of snow. She gathered her reserves of strength and molded the blizzard around her, manipulating the currents and patterns of energy, reading its inconsistencies and anomalies. She knew the volcano’s spurt of activity wasn’t natural, nor was it in sync with the earth’s shifting plates.

They were being toyed with.

She was exhausted. Her entire body screamed for relief, and she nearly lost control of her winds, but she mastered herself and the gale. She began their slow descent to the ground, and she felt Piotr holding onto her fiercely. He muttered prayers in Russian and chiding her for endangering herself when she was already spent after her ordeal. She was too weak to laugh.

“Easy, Fraulein,” Kurt urged. His own lungs burned from the arctic temperatures, and he felt the laxity in his limbs. His uniform offered some protection from the sudden extreme, but he knew it wouldn’t be an easy journey through the snow. Shiro read his thoughts. Flame shot from his outstretched hand as he seared them a path through the forest, now a glittering tundra.

The temple, now closer, remained eerily untouched.

They hiked another two miles, gradually trekking through shallower drifts of snow and ash when they heard the familiar brogue and twang of two of their teammates. Joy suffused Ororo when she saw them both, and she stumbled forward to them, examining them with concerned eyes for signs of harm.

“Ya look like hell, darlin’,” Logan rumbled, his voice a hoarse croak.”

“We’re just glad yuir all right, lass!” Sean corrected, but he was also worried about her wan complexion and ruthlessly tangled hair, as well as the dust and grime smearing their clothing and flesh. Piotr looked unaffected, but even he was reduced to a stagger.

“Thank the Bright Lady you made it!” she cried, and she gently probed a sharp gash on Sean’s cheek. “What happened?” He was covered in shallow cuts wherever his flesh was bare, and Logan was just as bloodied, but she couldn’t’ see any broken skin. She thought she heard him growl, but she dismissed it.

“Ya ever seen that Hitchcock movie ‘The Birds?’” he piped up. She stared at him, and his face was resigned. He wasn’t smiling, and his dark eyes reflected relief in their depths as he inspected her. He nudged Sean out of the way and reached out to streaks of dust from her cheeks, cupping her jaw and making a sound of sympathy at the clots of dirt and blood-caked cuts on her forehead. Her hair was a dingy gray, and he smoothed it back from her face. Curious blue eyes flicked over him and followed the movements of his hands. When he realized what he was doing, he released her.

“We were attacked,” Sean explained. “Big feathered beasties with claws like daggers. Not so much as a warning before they tried t’tear us limb from bluidy limb.”

“We need to find the others,” Ororo insisted. Logan turned his head and sniffed the air. Various odors made it difficult; he was growing disoriented by the thick smoke and sulfur. A familiar scent of grooming products and antiseptic made itself distinguishable above the others, as well as the tang of worn leather.

“They already found us,” he confirmed, and Ororo turned a few moments later at the sounds of footsteps crunching in the snow.

“Thank God!” Scott shouted, and John followed him as he ran into the clearing. He followed Sean’s example and went straight for Ororo, gripping her. “You’re here!”

“We almost weren’t. All of us were lucky to make it this far.”

“Now that we’re all in one place, and in one friggin’ piece, we’ve got other shit to deal with.” John tapped his module with thick fingertips. “The storm knocked out this fancy gadget, so our layout of this heap of rock’s gone.” Logan checked his and swore when he noticed his wasn’t working either.

“We need ta rest,” Logan grumbled. “Wouldn’t mind some R&R in the jet for a spell.”

“We lost it,” John announced dully.

“What the fuck d’ya mean ya lost it?” Logan spun on him, disgust written on his face.

“It’s gone. I don’t even know how to explain it,” Scott cried helplessly.

“Try,” Logan barked. “Ya don’t have anything that’ll track us back ta the Blackbird? Not even these little gadgets?”

“They don’t work,” John reminded him, making him want to clout him upside the head, fuming and slightly sheepish.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He raked a hand through his hair, already wild and caked in blood and dirt. “Next time leave a friggin’ trail of bread crumbs.”

“Wouldn’t have helped if we did,” Piotr carped. “The same weeds that tried to eat us would have probably finished those off, too.”

“Would nae have been able tae follow them anyway, with the snow yon lassie cooked up,” Sean chimed in, gesturing to the snow.

“Feel free to hunt for the jet with those so-called sense of yours through all that ash from the volcano that nearly cooked us in our skins,” Shiro snapped. “Dig as deep as you like.”

“Enough,” Scott ordered. “Climb.” He pointed toward the temple. “We’re here. Why, we’re still figuring out. You all came here like we did.”

“Seemed like the most sensible course. We needed clues,” Kurt shrugged.

“Felt like something had other ideas. We had a devil of a time coming this far.” Piotr was already leading the pack of mutants up through the winding path, where John joined him, expertly climbing along the rocks. They created a chain, each helping each other, no one suggesting they fly them up the hill in their current condition. Not one of them could fly them all, and Sean’s sonar could easily alert anything else lying in wait.

The opening of the temple yawned open, larger than they realized from the ground. John’s suspicions were confirmed as he brushed his hand over the runes.

“Someone took the time to do some decorating,” he remarked.

“They’re beautiful,” Ororo agreed, squinting to read the symbols. “I can’t translate it.”

“No one’s expecting ya ta try, Storm.” Logan’s voice was suddenly rumbling over her shoulder, gentler than she was used to hearing it. “This place didn’t come with a tourist guide or a dictionary.”

“Charles loves languages,” she explained. “Particularly some of the dialects he picked up in the tropics. Cave paintings, hieroglyphics, and other inscriptions are some of the things he tried to teach me when I first came. It was a big order on top of learning English, but he enjoyed sharing it with me.” Her smile was warm and indulgent of the Professor’s eccentricities. “None of these look familiar.”

“Look again,” John suggested. “Sometimes it ain’t just about words someone left behind ta leave the folks that came after ‘em a message. Sometimes they paint a picture instead.” He brushed aside a thick layer of dust that settled over some of the carvings. “Check these out. Here’s the treeline over there,” he murmured. “And these little chevrons look like waves. Notice how there aren’t any indications of the people, though? Just the land itself. Here’s the volcano.” There was a rough, large shape depicting the peaks of the volcano that they easily recognized.

“Why would someone leave no sign of themselves, if they lived here?” Scott wondered.

“Maybe someone was warnin’ us away from this place,” Logan scoffed, but Piotr stared at him thoughtfully.

“Maybe they were. And we didn’t get the message.”

“We didn’t have time to scout this structure before,” Scott pointed out, and his mouth was a grim line. Ororo his thoughts were on Jean and their other friends, and she felt a pang of sympathy and sorrow for him. They’d both lost countless hours of sleep over the past few weeks.

“Now’s as good a time as any,” Logan decided, beckoning them inside. The entry way was open. There appeared to be no door. “Ain’t nobody ‘round ta tell us we can’t come in.” His teammates fell in step behind him. Ororo shivered at the dark confines, peering around nervously and startling at each minute sound. Logan smelled her fear and turned to face her. Tension was written on her face.

“It’s all right, darlin’, no need ta be spooked,” he assured her, even though he expressed confidence he didn’t feel.

“It’s dark,” she whispered. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t blame her,” Kurt added, “but thankfully I can see fine in here.” His voice seemed to come from nowhere, since he blended so easily within the shadows. Ororo could only see his glowing yellow eyes and the glint of his white fangs as he spoke. “You’ll be all right, Fraulein. We won’t leave you for a second.” She swallowed and nodded.

“I’m going to try something,” she announced, and John and Logan felt the odd tingle in the air, like it was being charged before a storm. A sudden crackling erupted and brought a blinding flash with it, and they stared at Ororo as a ball of something bluish glowed like lightning from her hand.

“Ball lightning,” she confirmed, naming it easily and stepping forward to help lead the way. It created enough illumination to show more markings on the walls. Again, they didn’t indicate a specific tribe, only showing some of the fauna that occupied the forest. Sean noticed the birds and shuddered. Nasty beasties.

“It feels damp in here,” Shiro complained. “We aren’t close enough to a source of water for so much moisture to seep in here.”

“The forest was damp,” Ororo pointed out.

“It don’t smell right,” Logan declared. “Stone don’t usually smell like this. Been in a whole shitload of caves, and not one of ‘em smelled like this. Dirt, sure. Different metals, signs that animals have used it fer shelter, whatever. Not this wet…” he sniffed again. “Smells like rotting meat.”

“We don’t want to know what’s responsible for it,” Kurt reasoned.

“We can classify it and type it once I finish gutting it. Put that in yer nature guide then.” John grunted in agreement with Logan.

“Could use a little huntin’.”

The cavernous hall of the temple widened, the corridor no longer as sharply carved and angular, as though someone hadn’t excavated it as deeply when it was built.

Something pricked at the corners of Scott’s mind. His breathing quickened. It felt so familiar, and it kept pushing at him the farther they traveled. They followed the hall as it turned and winded around, and the air once again thickened, the walls becoming more moist. The pictographs disappeared, as though someone lost their tools and didn’t finish it. Ororo was having a hard time maintaining her ball lightning, and she despised the lack of contact with currents of fresh air. Her breath felt clogged in her throat, and she couldn’t escape the feeling of gnawing dread.

She nearly jumped when a large, solid hand reached for hers and gently closed around her fingers.

“Easy,” Logan whispered. “It’s gonna be okay. Yer okay. Don’t let this place get to ya.” He offered tangible comfort. He was close enough for her to feel his breath against her cheek, and she stopped trembling. She carefully studied him, mindful of her lightning and of not shocking him by bringing the illumination too close. Rugged features were lined in faint blue light, his dark, tousled hair falling over his forehead. His hand squeezed hers, and she squeezed back. She nodded, swallowing again.

“Thank you,” she whispered back.

Scott was fidgeting and tense. “We’ve got nowhere else to go. No door. No way out.” They were blocked by a solid wall.

“Then we make one,” John decided. “Move it, One-Eye.” He plowed forward and lead with a mighty right, pounding through the dense rock. “Give it some elbow grease, Tin Man!” Piotr looked surprised, but he too began hammering at it with blows that made the walls shake.

“Is this wise?” Kurt inquired.

“Don’t see any other way around it, laddie,” Sean muttered back. Ororo jumped back from the spraying rubble.

“Then we do this right,” Scott announced, and he lifted his visor. “Get back.” VRAMPFFT! A long, sweeping arc of force and red light hit the wall as his companions moved out of his way. He fired long and hard until the face of the rock gave way and collapsed in a heap of debris. Ororo felt herself knocked backward, trapped beneath the solid bulk of a stocky body that shielded her from the blast. She heard the “bamf” sound of Kurt’s teleporting and the scuffle of several sets of feet. Logan’s breath huffed out above her as she scrambled to get up, and she smelled his perspiration. Dark eyes swept over her briefly, and he cleared his throat, reluctant to let her up but dutifully pulling her to her feet.

“Was that friggin’ necessary?” John barked. Shiro looked annoyed, but he helped Sean to his feet where he’d fallen in his efforts to get free.

“Yes,” he countered. “And it did the job.” He paused before leading them inside, holding up a hand to halt their progress. “Jean,” he murmured.

“What?” Sean asked.

“Jean,” he repeated more loudly. “She’s here.”

“How d’you know?” John pressed. “Don’t look like anyone’s been here.” There were no footprints or signs of a disturbance or scuffle to his naked eye.

“I’m gonna go with One-Eye on this. It don’t smell the same as it did before. Still that smell o’ decay, but there’s other scents, too. Ain’t animal. Human. Recent.”

All they saw were damp walls that seemed to pulse, and the floor seemed to give with each step that they ventured inside.

“I can hear you,” Scott whispered. “I can hear you, Jean!”

“How?” Kurt was dumbfounded.

“Hell if I know,” John shot back. “Just feels like we ain’t alone.”

“I know she’s here.” His felt along the walls desperately as if looking for a latch or an opening. “I can feel you. I can feel you, damn it. Jean.” His voice climbed in pitch as he clawed at the rock, which was crumbling beneath his gloved fingers.

“I got this one, Cyke,” Logan insisted, unsheathing his claws and driving them into the stone. He cleaved at it, nearly throwing off sparks as he went through layers of shale and flint.

“Nay.” Sean risked life and limb coming so close to Logan’s claws on his backswing, and he cautioned him. “Cover yuir ears. All o’ ye.”

“Shit,” Logan yelped.

His scream was resonant, climbing and warping as it grew in volume and intensity. He rose two octaves, air bursting from his diaphragm and up through his lungs. John and Piotr both staggered despite their best efforts to remain steady, and all of them clenched their ears. Kurt and Scott both felt their noses bleed. Ororo fought to create a boundary layer of wind around them to buffer the sound.

The walls surrounding them crumbled like dust, revealing what they concealed. Scott was the first to recover, and he stared ahead, shaking as he pulled himself and stumbled forward, reaching for someone choking on the dust.

“JEAN! OH, GOD, JEAN!”

“Scott…oh, God!” she cried, her face barely visible, seeming to float out from the wall of ooze that trapped her and held her immobile. All around him gazed the graduates of the first class at Xavier’s, looking stunned and dazed as they hung suspended by the same muck. Long vines snaked over them and pulsed. Logan knew that was how they fed.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Bobby rasped. “Cuz now we’re all done for.”





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