Chapter #22 “Logan’s Run, pt. 3”
Tuesday, August 10th, 2004
Hammer Bay Internat’l Airport, Genosha
3:26pm Genosha Standard Time
The beautiful private jet slowed to a stop at the end of the runway, its engines powering down. A landing crew was standing nearby, waiting to assist the departing passengers. The rest of the airport was eerily quiet, considering that not even but a short time ago it was one of the busiest in the world.
Too bad a little thing like a disease epidemic had to change all that.
Inside the passenger cabin, Charles Xavier looked out of the window, his brow furrowed in concentration. Behind him, Erik was gathering up their carry-on bags while the small entourage assigned to them by the U.N. council took care of the larger items. Glancing down at his friend, Erik stopped for a moment, a look of worried ire on his face. “Charles?”
Xavier didn’t answer immediately, massaging his forehead as the lines on his face momentarily deepened. Just when it seemed like perhaps he hadn’t heard his name called, a tired but determined voice reached out from Charles’ mind to his friend’s.
*Yes, Erik?*
*Is that really necessary? The United Nations Peacekeepers have the airport and a surrounding ten-mile radius pretty well secured.*
Finally opening his tired blue eyes, Charles wavered in his chair a few seconds, catching his bearings before looking up at Erik briefly. *No offense to our hosts, but I’d feel much better about arriving here so ‘out in the open’ if I could be sure no unpleasantness awaits the moment we step off the plane. Besides, a brief ‘head-scan’ never hurt anyone; at least, not if I’m careful.*
Sighing as he kept his further remarks to himself behind a psi-shield (which only made Charles chuckle more), Erik came up behind the wheelchair, ready to head toward the departure door. While he was glad Charles was in a good enough mood to joke, Magnus couldn’t help but be concerned about the amount of stress it seemed to evoke just for the telepath to use his powers these days; just one more tell-tale sign of how weakened Charles’ body had become in recent weeks.
Pressing such thoughts far into the back of his mind, Erik paused as they entered the empty and presumed secured airport terminal. As he caught sight of the Genoshan officials waiting for them, a sudden sense of worry and maybe a little guilt washed over him as he thought about just how much Charles was potentially sacrificing by coming here, now of all times. With everything going so terribly wrong for the man health-wise, not to mention the ‘home issues’ that recently raised their ugly heads, no one could blame Charles for being distracted, at least.
Glancing down at him, Erik noticed Xavier’s head turned toward the West”Northwest, to be exact”and his eyes glazed over a little as he seemed lost in a thought. He didn’t have to ask what”or more accurately who”it was that had him preoccupied. She hadn’t returned any of their phone calls or emails since disappearing that night a couple weeks ago, and he knew it weighed heavily on Charles’ heart not to have cleared things up before leaving.
“Dr. Xavier, Mr. Lehnsherr, welcome.”
They stopped just short of a mid-30s-something woman impeccably dressed in a dark pants suit. Her glasses reflected the bright mid-afternoon light that shown through the high windows of the airport, as did her hair”a jet black for the most part but with telling signs of grey at the temples. Flanking her were two absurdly large gentlemen dressed similar to each other in dark fatigues and unashamed in their brandishing of rifles.
Never showing any mind, Charles looked up at the woman coolly, choosing his words carefully. “Madame Prime Minister DeMarc. I must say I’m quite surprised to see you here.”
She took Charles’ hand in greeting very briefly, a false smile plastered on her face purely for the benefit of the others; she wasn’t daft enough to think her show was going to get past him, of all people. Still, she lied, “I had to see to it myself for your safe arrival. GIA is thought to have been a recent target of rebel activity; it would do our cause no good to have the esteemed Ambassador meet an untimely end before Talks could commence, would it?”
Eyeing her ‘guards’ each in turn, Charles immediately responded, “I assure you the U.N. Peacekeepers are more than capable of keeping us safe. Considering how your predecessor met her demise, if I were you I would be more concerned for myself, Madame Prime Minister.”
A strained smile stretched over the woman’s face, her lips a tight line so she wouldn’t say something they’d both regret. As if words needed to hit the air for Charles Xavier to know exactly what was on her mind.
Turning on her heel, the interim Prime Minister of Genosha waved nonchalantly to them behind her. “Your concern is greatly appreciated, Ambassador; however I don’t have any plans on making my predecessor’s mistakes. This way, gentlemen.”
Erik & Charles exchanged looks as a small group of armored Peacekeepers flanked them, waiting for their orders. Charles nodded to the group’s captain, indicating that they’d follow the Prime Minister & her men. To Erik he thought, *Still think I was over-reacting?*
---
At that same moment, hundreds of miles away on Africa’s eastern coast in the prospering country of Kenya, Ororo stood on the balcony overlooking the Nairobi River (frmly. the Athi River). Her eyes were closed, chin tilted up toward the bright sun. She’d been standing there outside her guest-quarters bedroom for sometime, skipping breakfast even, to maintain the quiet solitude. She was glad that her ‘hosts’ had let her sleep in pretty late, as the time zone change was difficult on her, having traveled from New York to Cairo and now to Kenya in the space of 24hrs. Her jet lag had been pretty severe, but now she felt a little more refreshed, if not apprehensive for the day’s events.
The day before, the young man that had met her at Cairo Internat’l Airport had shocked her into speechlessness by introducing himself as her younger half brother, T’Challa. They didn’t favor each other at all, and when she’d made a similar remark, his eyes had shifted from her momentarily, before amending that, for official purposes, it was how they were to address each other. When she’d pressed him for details, one of his female guards shifted in her seat, a not-so-subtle message to him, which the Prince promptly ignored.
“No matter your paternal lineage, Ororo, you are still family,” he’d admitted in slightly-accented English. “The daughter of N’Dare is the heir to the Ivory Priestess legacy.”
Not really understanding what any of that meant, she cocked a brow at him, asking, “And where does that leave you, T’Challa?”
Smiling, he nodded at her perceptiveness, raising his hand to show the large ring on his finger. It was a fat gold band with sapphires, rubies and diamonds shamelessly decorating it. In the middle of them was a design Ororo recognized…
“I am the first born son of T’Chaka and N’Dare.” His words drifted off when she looked down to her arm, lifted the sleeve and leaned forward, showing him the tattoo of the symbol that matched that etched into his ring.
“I got it when I was barely out of high school. I never understood why I chose this design…”
---
“Your Highness?”
Coming out of the memory, Ororo turned to see one of the palace attendants standing in the terrace archway behind her, waiting. She didn’t know how long the woman had been standing there calling her name. “I’m sorry, yes?”
“Prince T’Challa awaits you in the courtyard. This way?”
Ororo was quiet as they made their way through the open spaces of the palace; she only caught glimpses of other people, and found it odd that the grand place seemed so empty. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but an empty royal palace wasn’t it.
Several minutes later, she saw the young T’Challa outside, standing near a girl that had to be in her late teens, at best, who sat on a stone bench beside him. She looked up at him with an adoration that tugged at Ororo’s heart as it reminded her of love lost…
“Ah, Ororo!” {Welcome, Sister.}* He bowed respectfully, then offered her a seat on the bench across from them. Once she’d sat down, he looked to the pretty girl, reaching for her hand.
“I’m sorry I slept so long, your Highness. Jet lag, you know.” Ororo sat straight on the bench despite the fact it had a curvy back support.
T’Challa waved that away, smiling at her. “Nonsense. I can imagine how tiring your trip has been. Did you sleep well?”
She nodded, a little unnerved by his hospitality; Ororo wasn’t sure what to expect of her ‘family’ either, but this congenial, curious young prince wasn’t exactly it.
“I’m sorry, forgive my manners,” he said after a brief pause, gesturing to the girl beside him, “Ororo I’d like to introduce you to Halima, my 1st wife. Halima, this is Ororo; she was born just 3 yrs before I was to N’Dare.”
The deliberate absence of a paternal designation wasn’t missed by Ororo, but she smiled anyway, dipping her head to the sari-clad maiden. Her bright brown eyes seemed fixated on Ororo, and she promptly knelt in the grass before her, taking Ororo’s hands and kissing them before raising her eyes in wonder and obvious admiration.
{Ivory Sister; your return honors us.}
Blinking several times, Ororo faltered before answering, “Uhm…t-thank you.”
When Halima got back to her feet, T’Challa smiled, nodding to her, and the young woman bowed to them both respectfully before leaving. As Halima retreated, he turned back to Ororo, explaining, “I thought it would be best if we spoke in private, before the Grand Hall meeting.”
“Oh? About?” She asked cautiously.
“What exactly you plan on asking my father.” T’Challa’s lips still held a smile but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Nodding knowingly, Ororo finally leaned back against the bench, her eyes cutting through him. “Ah, now I see. The pickup at the airport, allowing me to stay in the palace, all the polite but mute staff, and now you, T’Challa; I wondered at my hospitable reception.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He dragged out the game innocently.
“Of course you do,” Ororo laughed, as images of her mother’s frightened and tired face flooded back in crisp realism. “After 25 yrs of ‘pretending’ I had died in that explosion along with David & N’Dare’s other secrets, I can’t imagine that T’Chaka would so readily welcome me back into the fold. Especially since he still has no idea to this day whether I truly am his daughter or not. Is that why I was allowed to come here? To determine once & for all if I am the First Born, or just the bastard threat?”
The prince kept eye contact throughout her forward accusation, but he didn’t let his ire show through. “My father has never raised a hand against you, Ororo. If T’Chaka wanted you dead, dear sister, he would not have allowed the American to take you.”
“That’s not what I asked.” Her eyes flashed at the mention of Charles as much as at the insinuation. “Before I go walking into the lion’s den, I’d like to know exactly what’s in store for me. All I came here for was a simple answer to a 25yr old question: What happened to my mother in these halls that would make her want to die in the arms of a mad-man rather than spend one more day as T’Chaka’s wife?”
{Only N’Dare would know the answer to that, young one.} Came from behind them in a stern voice.
Ororo and T’Challa turned to see the King standing not far away, his hard dark gaze fixed on her. His right hand squeezed the top of his decorated, carved ivory walking cane, which matched the cream colored Egyptian cotton leisure outfit that loosely waved in the breeze. His sandaled feet stopped at the marble stones before the grass of the gardens as he watched them.
Standing, Ororo met his gaze, and immediately felt the coldness projected toward her. Between them, T’Challa looked from his father to his sister, unsure how to respond. “Father, This is”“
{Don’t be daft Son, I know exactly who she is,} T’Chaka interrupted, {What I want to know is what you hope to accomplish by coming here, stirring up ghosts.}
{Is that all N’Dare is to you now?} Ororo shot back in perfect Swahili, surprising T’Challa, while T’Chaka only lifted one thin eyebrow.
{You don’t know the first thing about what She meant to me, little girl.}The King said between clenched teeth, staring hard at her.
{Ororo…} T’challa reached out a hand to her, partially in warning as he saw the look in his father’s eyes.
Her gaze shifted between them before she answered, and as she fixed the older man with an angry stare, responded, {Look, I didn’t come all the way here just to make life hard for you, King T’Chaka. When I contacted your press office, they assured me I could come and have some questions answered. Now, before we waste anymore time trading smart remarks, is that going to happen?}
‘Just as arrogant and stubborn as her mother.’ T’Chaka watched Ororo for a few seconds, seeing his dead wife in her from head to toe even though N’Dare’s physical features”as beautiful as they had been”didn’t match those of the young mutant before him now.
Finally, he lifted his cane, waving it back toward the archway to the Hall. {When you’re ready, then.}
She walked up to him, keeping eye contact until they’d passed each other, muttering, {I’ve been ready 25yrs.}
---
Half a World Away, at an Undisclosed Military Location
A little after 5 a.m. EST
In the holographic training maze several floors below the secret base, two teams of Special Ops agents were gearing up to begin their 2nd day of hard physical training. The first team, headed by Logan, was comprised of his hand-picked rogue’s gallery: Ben Campbell (codename: Deuce), Silver Fox, Deadpool, Cortez, and the newest recruit Neena Thurman (Domino); the 2nd team was headed by Capt. Christopher Nord, a.k.a. Maverick (one of Logan’s former Lts.) and consisted of agents Madrox, Shatterstar, Mystique, Spiral, & WarHawk.
These core teams were often times given back up in the form of up-and-coming mutant agents newly recruited to Section X wishing to prove their mettle and become eligible for the next slot to open up on one of the field teams (much like Domino had just done). As the core teams headed down to the entrance to the Danger Room for their session, they kept to themselves, not mingling with the other team, keeping a respectable distance. It wasn’t just their leaders that held a distaste for each other, after all.
Tugging on his leather gloves, Ben walked beside Domino, who didn’t seem nervous at all of her first field mission with the notorious group Logan headed, nicknamed The Wild Bunch. Her eyes strayed to Maverick’s team, The X-Men. “A bit cocky, aren’t they?”
Ben didn’t even spare the other team a glance as they swaggered ahead of the Wild team, too loud and boisterous in their conversations. “Yeah, don’t believe the hype, Dom. When the Colonel comes, we’ll see what’s up.”
The teams entered the waiting area of the Danger Room’s maze, standing on either side of the hall, staring each other down. WarHawk smirked at Domino, making kissing noises at her and ruder gestures with his mouth. When her hand clenched at her side, Silver Fox glanced down the row at her new female teammate.
“Don’t pay him any mind, Domino. I guess it’s been a while since he’s seen a real woman.”
Mystique & Spiral glared at her from across the room; three of Rita’s six hands came up and gave Fox the Bird, while Mystique morphed her head into a perfect replica of Wolverine, stubble and all, retorting, “Oh, like this?”
“Fuck you, Mystique.” Silver Fox sneered.
“Sorry, you’re not my type, Fox.” Bright yellow eyes teased.
“No? What about me, Sweets??” Deadpool lifted his mask, immediately turning the stomachs of the other team as they got a look at his face.
“Jesus, kid! Keep that shit t’yourself.” Madrox laughed, standing beside a carbon ‘copy’ of himself that covered his eyes against Deadpool’s display. “Planning on scarin’ the enemy to death with that mug?”
“Don’t even start, ‘Multiple Man’ (snicker).” Cortez used air-quotes, elbowing Deadpool as they cracked up.
“I told you assholes that ain’t my name; it’s just Madrox, you friggin’ retards!”
“You’ll have to forgive Maverick’s team, Domino; they’re just still a little pissed at being the second fiddle to The Colonel’s crew again.” Ben nodded at them with a twinkle in his eyes. “Although, you’d think by now they’d be used to playing back-up, working with ‘The Poor Man’s Wolverine’.”
“Step a little closer with that, wise-ass.” WarHawk brought a menacing fist up.
“Can the chatter, you roughnecks.”
The two teams straightened up immediately at the sound of their commanding officer. Maverick and Wolverine came through the doors, each dressed and prepared for live-action training in the Danger Room. It was as close to the real thing they’d see out on the field as possible, and because there had actually been a couple fatalities over the years in training scenarios, the nickname for the special ops training facility had stuck.
Ignoring Maverick, Logan stepped in front of his team, meeting each of them in the eye, silently giving his approval of their physical readiness. It had been quite some time since he’d seen most of them except for Ben; he was just glad he’d been allowed to snatch them back up from their other assignments once he’d been put back on active duty. There had only been one original Wild Bunch team member that he couldn’t get back; hence Domino’s insertion.
“Welcome aboard, Marine.” He nodded at her stiffly and the young woman’s back went a little straighter beneath his scrutiny. “Trust me, this ain’t gonna be anything like what they taught ya in that outfit. Section X is a little bit…different.”
“Understood, Sir!” She kept her eyes forward.
Behind him, Maverick turned to glance at the new recruit, then to Logan with a sneering grin on his face. “Aw Hell, this isn’t fair; you’ve got a grunt on the team?”
Without turning to look at his adversary, Logan flexed his gloved fingers and rubbed the backs of his hands where the leather was pre-cut to allow his claws out. “Graduated top of ‘er class U.S. Marine Corps, quickest recruit to pass the Section entrance exams, and ah believe she broke some of your individual DR exercise records, Chris”“
Maverick clapped sarcastically. “Whoop-dee-doo. Another overachiever. On paper I’m sure that looks really nice. Let’s just see how she handles a real-world course. I don’t want you using it as an excuse if she screws up.”
“Fine by me.” Logan headed to the observation station where the DR control center was; he didn’t bother telling his team what to do, knowing Ben would fill in Domino & that the rest of the team was painfully aware of the routine. “Just don’t wanna hear any bitchin’ when the youngins kick yer ass.”
“Dream on old man.” Maverick followed him to the ops center as the two teams headed away from them toward the DR chamber. His piercing eyes watched Logan’s movements carefully as the more experienced man brought the DR’s A.I. to life with his private code and optical scan.
After several seconds where the powerful mechanics behind the training course shifted to life, Maverick caught himself eyeing Logan again, and couldn’t help another pot shot. “Ya know, I heard something funny.”
“An’ I’m sure yer just dyin’ to tell.” Logan’s fingers moved quickly over the manual controls as he chose the parameters of their first test mission from the computer bank of scenarios.
Ignoring his sarcastic air, Maverick leaned against the control panel, watching Logan carefully. “A little birdie in the medical dept. was just telling me the other day about some screws that were put to her boss; something about a soldier getting clearance from the MEB** before he was ready.”
For several seconds Logan didn’t respond, leaning over the control station to watch his team with red-rimmed eyes as they went through calisthenics prep. He hadn’t slept very well the night before, his dreams filled with disturbing images of his dying daughter, the catastrophe that was his last mission before taking a leave of absence…and then there was the dream he’d had about Ororo…
“You wouldn’t know nothin’ about that, would you?” Maverick teased with just enough contempt Logan really had to hold back a claw from puncturing something vital on him.
“’Shouldn’t trust every loose legged”uh lipped”intern ya screw, Chris,” Logan finally retorted.
His cool demeanor only goaded Maverick to try harder to rattle him, as the younger man verbally poked at Logan like a caged wild animal. “Oh can it, Wolverine. Why not just admit that you’re not prepared for this mission? Sabretooth is too important an objective to risk on a loose-ass canon like you. We both know if it weren’t for Gen. Ackens pulling strings””
Agile fingers stopped their tuning of the controls and flint-chip-colored eyes bore into the other man. “Who the FUCK d’you think yer talkin’ to, boy?”
The acid tone made Maverick pause, but just for a moment. “Tell me I’m lying then. Tell me”Aaacghh!”
Logan rushed him and had his subordinate pinned up against the wall near the door before Chris could think to do anything else but yell out at the pain when his neck was thrust back against the wall by the adamantium-laced, muscular arm cutting off his wind. Even though Maverick stood a few inches taller than Logan that small fact held zero meaning as the more experienced soldier kept him in the uncomfortable position, his canines bared and eyes narrowed to glowing silver slits. “You wanna play with fire, Chris? Hm?? I guess the scars I laid inta’ yer ass before didn’t hurt enough.”
SNIKT!
The sound did something to Maverick’s bowels, as his mind went back years ago to a close encounter between the two men when Logan was still his direct superior on The Wild Bunch crew. As sharp metal claws struck the concrete wall beside his head, Chris struggled to release himself from Logan’s grasp but it was no use, as the full weight of Wolverine’s body crushed him against the wall, pinning his arms and legs.
Exasperated and just a little frightened, he jerked against Logan, spitting, “Yer a friggin’ maniac! What the hell’s the matter with you?!”
A growl was bubbling up from Logan’s throat and melted into the words as they came out, becoming indiscernible. Behind them the panel flashed a few times, and then the comm. system crackled before Ben’s voice could be heard over the line.
“Sir? Everything alright? We’re ready down here when you are. Over.”
Silence answered Deuce down below, and he tapped his wrist comm. link, then tried again. “Wild Leader, do you copy? Sir?”
Above the two groups, a solid thud was kept inside the sound-proof ops deck as Maverick’s body hit the floor. Logan sheathed his claws, rotating his wrists as he breathed deeply, turning back to the control panel. His heart rate was accelerated more than it should’ve been, and he felt a little queasy from the adrenaline rush as he tried to calm himself. It had never taken so little to get him so close to a berserker rage; if he hadn’t been distracted by Ben’s voice and reigned that shit in, he didn’t know how much of his former 2nd in command would still be left intact…
Swallowing hard, Logan punched his finger against the response, his voice hoarse as he replied, “Roger that, Wild-One. Get yer team into position. I’ll be right down.”
Without looking at Maverick, Logan headed toward the door, but his deep menacing voice carried over his shoulder as he departed. “While ya pull yerself together, I’ll be downstairs. My team’s up first.”
Just as he was about to leave, Logan nearly ran into Gen. Ackens, who was dressed down in fatigues and his metals. His expression changed dramatically when he spotted Maverick sputtering behind Logan inside the room on the floor.
As Logan kept walking as if he hadn’t seen his superior, Ackens stopped dead in his tracks, looking from one man to the other. “What the hell’s goin’ on here?! Maverick? Logan?!”
Downstairs, the two teams waited in their groups, wondering what was taking so long, when Logan suddenly showed up, cracking his knuckles and neck in a way that sent an uneasy feeling down several spines. With a slightly predatory gaze he sized up members of both teams as he stood before them. “Alright I’m gonna make this quick: You all know what our mission objective is, so I shouldn’t have to explain how important it is to get this done right the first time. This simulation is the best we’ve got to let ya know what it’ll be like goin’ up against Sabretooth.”
He paused then, mainly for emphasis, as he caught each of their eyes before continuing, “Only problem is, Victor Creed ain’t gonna let ya hit the ‘reset’ button if ya fuck up. There aren’t any ‘do overs’ in this exercise, either. We’ll be using live rounds on targets that really can gut ya two different ways from Sunday if you let’em get too close, so watch yer backs.”
Above them in the control room Maverick & Gen. Ackens stood close, listening to Logan’s speech. At least, the General was listening…Maverick’s fingers flew over the control panel quickly, his dark blue gaze shifting every once in a while to the group below in the DR field.
Ackens calmly reached into his pocket and drew out a fresh cigar, searching his shirt for his lighter. As he brought the tobacco stick up to his lips to light he murmured, “This should be interesting.”
Beside him Maverick didn’t look up, deftly inserting his code into the system. “Yeah.”
Below, Logan was finishing his short ‘pep’ talk while adjusting the life-signs monitor on his outfit. Taking a cue from him the two teams began checking their gear as well, while still keeping an ear open to his rough voice. “Now then, since you don’t have the real Vic Creed to ‘practice’ on, we’ll just have to do ya one better…”
Looking up toward the ops. center, he gave the darkened glass where Ackens & Maverick were a quick glance before calling out, “Ya wanna get this shit up & runnin’ Chris, or do I have to come back upstairs & do it for ya?”
Beside him, Ackens turned worried eyes to Maverick, but he kept a somber line to his mouth as he chewed the cigar. “You sure about this?”
“Wouldn’t you want to be?” Was Maverick’s cryptic answer before leaning into the mic and replying to Logan, “Commencing training exercise JH-W01, on this mark…”
The wide-open space of the DR’s field began to morph quickly into a dense jungle environment as the A.I. pulled details from its memory banks to fill in the scenario. Before their eyes the previously empty room changed appearance & ‘depth’ to mirror that of Victor Creed’s alleged hideout”a secluded spot located in the so-called Savage Land of Antarctica. For just a few seconds the 2 teams’ members were absorbed into the creation of this frighteningly real”but nonetheless totally artificial”world, watching as a life-sized Brontosaurus and it’s baby began moving past them toward the open clearing only about 45 yards away.
“Son of a gun…” Domino’s eyes widened as she openly stared.
“Pretty neat program, boss…” Ben smirked, turning to Logan”only to be met with an empty space. “Boss?”
The groups turned to look around themselves, realizing the Wild Bunch leader had stealthily disappeared. No sooner had they realized this than the linked communication devices between them crackled a little over the wireless connection.
“Like I said, we’re gonna do ya one better. If you can find Me, then you can find Victor Creed.” His voice held no tease; on the contrary, there was something very serious and almost frightening in his tone as it spoke to them quietly through the link.
“What??” Spiral and WarHawk echoed each other, turning around themselves to make sure they weren’t being snuck up on.
“Boss, what’s goin’ on?” Ben kept his cool outwardly, but he still questioned, “This isn’t the right training exercise.”
“Yeah it is,” Logan’s voice answered, “And I suggest you all find a way to work together or it’s gonna be a long-ass day…”
The link suddenly went quiet and it was apparent that that was the only ‘tip’ they were going to get. Instinctively the nine remaining agents ‘circled the wagons’, forming a ring where they could watch their collective backs at once. In the middle of the jungle, they would have to distinguish between the ‘natural’ sounds and those made by the various targets they were after”now including Wolverine.
“This is bullshit!” Mystique spat, her bright amber eyes searching the semi darkness.
“Yeah,” Spiral agreed, each of her ½ dozen limbs brandishing weapons, as she turned to glance at Ben, “What’s up with your boss? This wasn’t the plan I was told about.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Silver Fox reached up to pull down her night-vision goggles. “This is news to all of us. But you’re just gonna have to get over it sweetheart, and get this done. Deuce?”
“Yeah.” Ben’s goggles had come down too.
“You’re on Point, right?”
“Roger th”“
“Hey!” Shatterstar interrupted, pulling out his sword, “Who put you in charge??”
“Get a clue, asshole,” Cortez kept watching the bushes to his right, “Who else knows The Colonel as well as Deuce?”
There was a pause as Maverick’s team pondered this, but Ben wasn’t in the mood to prove his worth. “You wanna strike out on your own, that’s fine. We’ll come back & collect what’s left of you when this is all over.”
“Muther fuck…” Spiral cursed lowly, as the X-Men team knew they had to defer to The Wild Bunch on this one. They’d all studied Wolverine as part of their basic training, but none of them had ever gone up against the man himself; not in the ‘real world’. The prospect of that now seemed more like everyone’s idea of their worst nightmare.
Above, Gen. Ackens took the cigar out of his mouth, leaning over to watch one of the views with Maverick. “What are they waiting for?”
Keeping his eyes on the heat signature of Wolverine as it crept closer back to the group, he grumbled, “I don’t know, but they’d better do something fast; he’s coming back for them.”
---
Meanwhile, in Kenya…
Ororo sat on the edge of the cushioned chair, her back stiff as she watched recorded footage from that fateful day 25 yrs ago. The clips had been edited together from several sources, none of which appeared very ‘official’. There was only a date & time stamp on some of the scenes, while others were undocumented and in terrible quality. Most of it was also the aftermath of the hotel bombing, like the royal funeral for her mother, some pieces of footage from just after the explosion from bystanders, and one public appearance by the King, confirming the deaths. In the funeral scene there’d been two caskets in the walking procession; one adult-sized, the other smaller…
{You knew I wasn’t dead,} she turned to glare at T’Chaka, who stood behind her at the private theatre’s entryway. {Why the casket?}
{It was decided that, for the sake of all involved, no one be led to believe that N’Dare’s child had survived.}
{Excuse me??} She balked, her eyes shifting from her brother to his father in obvious distaste. {What you mean is, you’d rather I had just ‘disappeared’ overseas, where you wouldn’t have to look at the constant reminder anymore. Isn’t that right?}
T’Chaka only glanced at her before looking back at the screen.
In his father’s absence of an explanation, T’Challa offered, {The Wakandan-Kenyan lineage could not be seen as weak, Ororo. The more distance put between David Munroe, N’Dare & you, the better.}
She shook her head. {”Weak”?? (scoff) That just doesn’t make sense. Besides, anyone who knew the truth could always try to track me down to New York. My fa”Charles didn’t exactly hide me as a child.}
{That is why any who were aware of the circumstances were…convinced otherwise.} T’Challa admitted, quickly glancing at his father as he said this. {Other than my Father & Me, you and the American Xavier, there are few others aware of your existence at this point. Certainly no one outside of the royal family that isn’t a sworn guardian of the House.}
Leaning over, she grasped her hands together tightly, staring hard at the floor. {So, basically you did your best to wipe me and my mother’s memory off the face of the Earth. And let me guess: what you couldn’t do on your own, you asked Charles Xavier to take care of?}
T’Chaka’s lip twitched, but he said nothing for a moment as he reached for the disc player to stop it. {I’ve given you more today than you ever deserved. N’Dare betrayed me with that lowly man, and for that you have had to pay the price, but I won’t be made out to be the villain. Your mother made her decision. So did I. Now, you have been indulged enough--}
“Indulged??!” She blurted out in English, standing quickly when T’Chaka turned to leave with the CD in hand.
{You helped him take away any memories I had of Her, you abandoned a first born child and covered up any evidence she ever existed, and when that child comes looking for her heritage, for her Family, you say she’s been “Indulged” enough?!}
At the heightened tone of her voice, two female guards stepped to the door, looking to the King. He waved them back, but they only went as far as the outside of the archway, eyeing Ororo with mistrust. Turning back to his guest, T’Chaka fixed Ororo with a very cold stare. {We do not know one another, young lady, and as such I’m sure it really isn’t me that you are angry with. What I would suggest is that you address that feeling with its true target; perhaps then you’ll get the answers you’re seeking.}
With nothing further, he turned away from her and left, leaving Ororo & T’Challa alone in the room. She shook her head, disbelief written clearly over her face. Her younger brother came up to her, holding her by the shoulders even though she tried to shrug him off.
“Ororo, please.” T’Challa waited until she raised her eyes to his; he genuinely regretted the hurt and fear he saw there, but knew there was little he could do to resolve it. “The King has spoken. Take what little comfort it is that you have your memories back and that you can remember our mother at all.”
She paused, searching his face to see some level of pain there as well, and her expression faltered for just a moment. Laying a hand on his she murmured, “You don’t remember her, do you?”
He shook his head slowly. “I was too young, and as the male heir she would not have had much time with me, regardless of how things turned out that day in Cairo.”
Sighing, Ororo tried to hold back the tears, smiling a weak smile to her brother before he brought her in for a close hug. She wiped at her aching eyes, leaning against his chest before whispering, “At least we’ve come to know each other, then.”
T’challa smiled as well, releasing her. He held her cheek, his eyes full of sympathy, and Ororo knew it was only their mother’s blood beating within their veins that separated this kinder man from his cold father. “My Sister. I know we have not impressed you as your family, and maybe we’re not exactly what you hoped to find”“
She scoffed a tight laugh at that.
“”But I want you to know Ororo, that you and I will always be family. You ever need anything from me, your brother will be there.”
They hugged once more, and Ororo knew that despite everything T’Chaka & Charles tried to keep from her, T’Challa’s words were exactly what she’d needed to hear.
---
45mins. Later, in the DR, the two groups working together hadn’t had much luck in trying to track Wolverine. They had, however, managed to lose two team members in the process.
Shatterstar and WarHawk had been taken out of commission, tagged with the power-dampening device that not only rendered the agents powerless but also paralyzed from the neck down. They could hear what was going on over their comm. links, but were helpless to lend the rest of the team any aid.
“Where’s Logan now?” Ackens questioned Maverick upstairs.
“Coming up on Spiral at 4:00.” The other man answered, inwardly angry that it looked as though three of his team were going down within less than an hour, while Logan’s own agents seemed to be able to side-step the traps he left in his wake…at least, for the moment.
Turning to the General, Maverick asked quietly, “I think we’ve let him get comfortable enough. You ready?”
The General only nodded once, replacing the cigar to take a long pull as Maverick’s fingers went to the board again.
“Computer, initiate sequence JH-W01A, on my mark…”
Downstairs, Deuce led the others through the woods, sweeping their heat-sensory eyewear left & right to try to keep tabs on the crafty Team Leader, who still managed to creep up on each of them.
“Keep your eyes open, dammit.” He cursed, angry that his boss had managed to get two of them on his watch.
“Yeah, for what?” Spiral shot back, keeping her arms moving as she brought up the rear in hopes that she wouldn’t be caught off guard, at least without being able to defend herself. “He’s picking us off one by one, and we can’t even get a bead on him with any of this high-priced shitty equipment.”
Ben held in a sigh, but didn’t turn away from his post as he whispered, “The equipment’s not the problem. We just can’t get too dependent on it. The GPS isn’t gonna help much, he’s too quick; but the heat goggles are still our best defense, as long as there’s no interference, copy? …Spiral?”
Silver Fox, on Deuce’s right flank, turned to look behind her and swore. “Dammit, he’s got another one. Deuce, we gotta change the game plan here, or we’re toast.”
Ben nodded, turning to signal to Mystique to take Spiral’s place at rear guard, and then to Fox he motioned a warning: watch for the treeline.
‘Think, Ben, Think, dammit. The Col. taught you better than this. Don’t let him down.’
While they tried to formulate a new strategy to flushing Wolverine out, the man himself was now up in the trees above them, tracking them from the air, having left Spiral below propped up against a large tree trunk, paralyzed and de-powered.
‘Come on, you guys are better than this.’ He thought, watching and shaking his head when he saw Cortez take his goggles up for a moment, pausing to make sure he hadn’t missed some clue and leaving the team’s left-center flank unprotected. It was the perfect spot for him to drop in and take out Mystique, who was now unprotected.
Quietly he dropped from the tree, stealthily hiding right near them behind the large trunk. Waiting for his moment, he let the front of the group pass by, waiting for the gap Cortez had left so he could swoop in and engage Mystique.
Only seconds away from being taken out of the ‘game’, the shape-changing mutant heard a different noise in her comm. link before her superior’s voice whispered in her ear. “Mystique, it’s time. He’s coming up on your six, where Cortez just left you exposed. Initiate alternate option A: NOW!”
Logan was crouched low, moving in on her when the environment around them changed suddenly, turning into the inside of a sterile hospital. The trees, grass, and wild life were replaced by off-white walls, linoleum and hospital workers. Stunned, Logan turned around, his extended claws slowly & silently retracting as his camouflaged face looked up and around himself.
“What the fuck--??”
“Logan?”
His blood went cold when he heard his name called in that familiar voice. His body whirled around to see his ex-wife standing in the doorway to one of the rooms: ICU-67. He remembered this room. He would never forget this room. ‘What the hell’s going on? This”this can’t be fuckin’ real’ “…Jean??”
She called him forward again, and he felt his feet propelling him toward her, until he was standing in the doorway, looking at the bed that was too large for the small body cradled within its sheets. Before he could turn away, escape the sense of déjà vu gripping his heart…
…a small red-curled head turned toward them, tired grey-blue eyes fixing Logan with their pain, stopping him in his tracks.
“Daddy..?”
Logan’s body wouldn’t move, couldn’t move, until he felt Jean’s reassuring hand on his arm, pressing him forward. “Go to her, Logan. She needs you.”
And just like that he found himself at the bedside, kneeling there in his black and grey special ops suit, his face still covered in camouflage. Shaking from head to toe, his wide eyes searched her face, anguished when he saw her body shaking with pain. Logan’s lips moved”he wanted so badly to make her hurt go away, to soothe her ill, but in his mind he knew it was no use.
“Daddy…am I gonna…die?” her precious, heart-shaped face turned toward him and one trembling hand reached out to touch his.
Logan felt his stomach weaken at her touch, as his mind tried to reconcile what his senses were trying to tell him. He couldn’t smell her or the metal of the instruments keeping her alive, but his eyes refused to be ignored; his sense of touch rejoiced & recoiled at her touch. He knew she couldn’t be, yet here she was…
…and it broke his heart all over again.
“The doctors say she won’t last the night.” ‘Jean’ whispered in his ear behind him, standing close.
Logan looked up at her, and she gestured behind them to the group of doctors standing on the far side of the room in a close conference, looking at them. His eyes clouded over, as Logan remembered what they’d told him about his daughter’s prognosis. He remembered the lack of any sympathy for the young girl, the prejudice he could smell like some thick stench rolling off of most of them as they looked over the chart of the two mutants’ sick young child.
“The doctors say they can’t stop the pain.” Jean’s voice whispered cruelly.
“No.”
Logan shook his head, looking at Amahra’s face as the life literally drained out of her. She just looked at him, her eyes blinking slowly, no longer quite aware of either of them.
“The doctors say…” Jean’s voice echoed in his head.
“NO.”
“…that it’s Your fault.”
“NO!!!”
His wild eyes were drawn back to the child, as the life support equipment registered a flat line, the piercing monotone wail of the machine stabbing him through the heart over and again.
It was then that something cracked inside of him, and as Logan’s head came up in a blood-curdling roar, the ‘doctors’ stopped talking, looking at him in fear. He could smell their fright from across the room, and as his red-rimmed eyes sought them out, he realized he liked the odor.
And he wanted more.
Breaking away from the bed, he headed toward the group at a dead sprint, eyes wild; initially they didn’t seem to understand his intent until it was too late and the air rang out the sound of rage and adamantium released.
One by one, Wolverine jumped from ‘doctor’ to doctor, his blood lust unsatisfied as he let his claws fly at any vulnerable piece of flesh in his reach. Bodies fell to his feet, most in pieces, as he tore his way through the group in little more than seconds.
I can't use it anymore.
It's gettin' dark, too dark to see
I feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door.
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
When he was left facing but one of the people responsible for giving up on his little girl, for refusing to even give her a chance, his feral gaze tore through the man like the wild animal he was. In his berserker rage, Logan couldn’t understand the pleas, the man’s words as he stumbled to his knees, already cut deeply, and holding his hands before himself like the useless shield they were.
With a fierce yell that sounded more like pain that fury, Logan reared back with a quickness that belied the size of his thick muscles, and drove his 3-clawed fist deep into the man’s chest.
As his senses told him the bodies at his feet weren’t moving, the urge to kill began to release Wolverine from its hold, and he stumbled backwards, looking down at his body, seeing himself covered in blood.
It was not his own.
The room began to spin, and suddenly then morphed back to the neutral grey and black of the DR chamber. Disoriented, Logan didn’t immediately hear the yells and screams surrounding him until he looked down at his blood-stained hands and saw what was left of his team lying at his feet.
I can't shoot them anymore.
That long black cloud is comin' down
Feels like I'm knockin' on heaven's door.
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door
Knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door…
TBC…
