The faded green heavy bag bore broken scars and bloodstains from the repetitive beating it was receiving from the brutally angry feral pounding into it. Fresh smears of crimson marked the worn tape and hard grunts filled the small gym area. Sweat shimmered over muscles that coiled and flexed with each solid strike, a demonstration of raw power held in barely controlled restraint.

“Why do I suspect that you wish that bag was me?”

Logan didn’t glance up from his barrage of punches, simply growled, “I don’t beat on women.”

“I guess I should count myself lucky then.”

Large hands wrapped around the swaying bag, halting its motion. Dark eyes, the color of black obsidian, glared through the chain, “Somethin’ you want?”

Alison Blaire stepped forward, her hands spread in a placating manner. “I know you probably hate me right now--”

“No probably about it.”

Ali sighed heavily. “Look, none of this was my idea…”

Logan grabbed his towel from the bench and wiped it down his face, hoping the woman across the room would simply disappear. When she didn’t, he snarled, “None of what, exactly? You’ve been lying to ‘Ro for years, and now because of those lies she’s eyeball deep in shit mixed up with Magneto.”

“Ororo is my best friend! I never, ever, meant for her to get involved.” Ali snapped back, just as angry. “I did my damndest to keep her out of it!”

“Sure, if by damndest you mean coming here after your attack instead of calling Fury.”

He had her there, she knew. She had panicked, thought herself to be dying and all she could think of was getting to Storm and telling her everything and how sorry she was to have kept that part of her life a secret. Had Xavier not shut her mind down, she would have done just that.

The truth of the matter was that Alison was a long standing member of SHIELD. Covert operative, trained and determined to help those like her and never, ever fall victim to people like MoJo ever again. She and Art had been recruited by Nick Fury personally after their escape from Genosha. They had both climbed the ranks steadily and given their background were easily accepted into most places more uptight and straight laced agents could never hope to penetrate.

Over the years it became obvious that Art had not given up his vendetta against Mojo, and that had truthfully torn him and Alison apart. He was hell bent on revenge and she on moving on. When the opportunity to infiltrate Mojo through Magneto presented itself, Arthur had jumped at it, leaving Ali and SHIELD behind. She never quite got over that, and she was sure she never would. She had managed to keep in touch with him through their personal correspondence network, but over time the letters and communication lessened and then stopped altogether.

“Look, I know how you’re feeling. I miss her too--Christ!”

Ali’s fingers scrambled for her throat and the hand locked around it in a death grip. Fangs bared in an angry sneer. “You don’t have a fuckin’ clue how I’m feelin’!”

Ali choked, spittle dribbling from her mouth. He had come at her so fast she had no chance to defend herself. Her eyes were wide, fingernails digging into his hand to no avail. A rim of black began to edge its way into her vision. This was it, she was dead…again.

For a moment Logan seriously contemplated strangling the life out of her. With a disgusted snarl he dropped her to the floor where she gasped and wheezed for air. “Don’t come near me again.” The hydraulic doors hissed shut behind him.

Crouched on the floor Ali made a mental note to never get in a room alone with that man again. All she had wanted to do was explain everything to him, personally. She knew he cared about Storm, and that Storm had fallen hard for him, and out of respect for her friend, the diplomatic “need to know only” answers Fury was feeding the X-Men weren’t satisfactory to Ali.

Ali leaned back, banging her head into the wall. She had never wanted to involve Storm, that was true. She had avoided it or years. When Storm had joined the X-Men, Alison had thought that maybe then she could tell her, but it soon became clear that Storm was not at all happy with the route she was on.

Storm was a wanderer. Like her namesake she blew in to your life, made and impact and moved on again. It was her way--who she was. Ali suspected that Logan was very much the same way. No wonder they connected so well.

She shook her head. Not that it mattered now, because Logan was right, Ororo was eyeball deep in shit with Magneto all because of her. She had never expected to play dead. Would have gotten word to Ororo if she could have, but Xavier had put up mental blocks, keeping her comatose until she was safely removed to SHIELD headquarters. He had even manipulated Jean into believing that Alison was well and truly dead. Granted, he had only been complying with Fury, but it still left an unclean taste in Ali’s mouth.

Fury had deliberately dragged Wolverine into the mix. Handing him a file on her, sending him out to “find” her, knowing damn well he knew where she was. He was an intentional spark to smoke out the mole Fury suspected they had in the covert ops group. Word spread quickly through SHIELD that the legendary Wolverine was hunting down a suspect and Brody Anderson knew he’d have to make his move.

Ali had not ever met Anderson or she would have recognized the shit-fucker for who and what he was, but he had taken the bait and made a move on her, revealing himself as the traitor. However, unexpectedly, his attack had been successful. Had she not stumbled her way to Xavier’s then no one would have known--well, that was until Brody ended up fried in his kitchen.

Art had avenged her.

That shouldn’t please her as it did, but some sick girlish “damsel” gene in her body made the idea of him coming to her rescue give her the flutters. She sighed, rubbing her sore throat. No amount of “I’m sorry” or “It was my job” was going to make what had transpired right. All she could do now was hope that Fury had a plan and that somehow, someway, Storm would be unharmed.

Somehow she doubted it.

Upstairs

Logan slammed his fist into the shower tile. Ceramic tinkled to the tub. He leaned his head forward, closing his eyes. “’Ro…” He cursed himself and their failure to get her from Genosha for the hundredth time. He had been so close. He could still see her sorrow filled eyes in his mind’s eye as she boarded the helicopter. It ate at him.

He knew that Xavier had never expected them to be able to retrieve her, nor was it entirely desirable to have her returned. Right now, Xavier and Fury had an inside man--whether she knew it or not--and he knew, without a doubt, that they intended to exploit that.

Xavier had called the decision not to immediately follow and conront Magneto: “For the greater good”. Logan called it bullshit. Tangled web didn’t even begin to describe the deception surrounding them all at the moment. Everyone suddenly had ulterior motives and everyone was suspect to them.

He knew, deep down, that Alison wasn’t entirely to blame--hell, maybe not even partially, but it was her deception, her “death” that had broken Ororo. Had broken them. He only hoped there was some way to fix it. Otherwise, Xavier and Fury would have a far greater threat than Magneto to worry about. -SNIKT-

Savage Land

Ororo watched the large prehistoric reptiles racing below her in the dense jungle with unseeing eyes. The double paned, bullet proof glass kept her from the edge of the cliff Magneto’s glorious fortress stood atop. A glass cage. The thought skittered across her mind like a pebble on a lake, as all her thoughts seemed to lately. Making ripples but nothing really seeming to matter.

“There’s food in the dining room.” Longshot stood several feet away, giving her room, but never any real privacy. There was always someone nearby, watching her.

“Not hungry.” Came her usual, flat toned response.

He strode up alongside her, carrying an apple. “You need to eat.” He held the fruit out towards her. “It won’t bite. I’m no snake.”

She turned cold eyes on him, taking the apple. “This is hardly the Garden of Eden.”

He shrugged. “Paradise was forever lost. I don’t kid myself into thinking it can be rebuilt.”

“What do you kid yourself with?” She asked idly. “That Magneto can help you right all the wrongs against mutants?”

His right eye blinked to life with a yellow glow. “Someone has to.”

“And then who rights the wrongs you will commit against the rest of humanity? Someone has to. It’s cyclical.”

Longshot shrugged broad shoulders. “Not my concern at the moment. I think day to day.”

With barely a glance at the handsome activist Ororo walked away. “I can tell.”

The expansive and ridiculously decorated dining room was manned with four guards, with Magneto seated at the head of the table. He was adorned in familiar red, his color of choice, and as always he looked pristinely groomed. Ororo assumed that even if he lived in a sewer Magneto would carry about him a kingly air. He was born to lead, that much was obvious.

Ororo swiveled the chair nearest her, straddling it so that she faced the white haired man over the antique back.

One eyebrow rose, knife and fork paused mid cut of a juicy steak. “Am I to assume you are joining me for dinner?”

She gave the armed guards a pointed look. “It appears you have more than enough company.”

“One can never be too careful.” He finished his cut. “Betrayal happens even amongst the tightest folds.”

“Perhaps if loyalty wasn’t paid for, then it wouldn’t.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Storm. Loyalty is always paid for.” He met her gaze. “One way or another.”

Ororo carefully and deliberately placed the unbitten apple in front of her on the pristine white tablecloth. “Some would argue that, ‘Loyalty cannot be blueprinted. It cannot be produced on an assembly line. In fact, it cannot be manufactured at all, for its origin is the human heart-the center of self-respect and human dignity. It is a force which leaps into being only when conditions are exactly right for it-and it is a force very sensitive to betrayal.’“

Magneto smiled. “I see your time at a school wasn’t entirely wasted. I could argue philosophical quotes such as, Aye, but isn't the man who chooses the bad in some way better than the man who has the good forced upon him? to no end, my dear, but for me, philosophy is no more than educated fodder. Useless.” He chewed his steak slowly. “That is where Charles and I always differed, he chooses to live in an ideological fantasy world, and I choose to remain grounded in reality.”

“Is that what you call it?” Ororo rose to her feet, already tired of the conversation. “You and Xavier are far more alike than you’d like to believe. Both of you think you are absolutely right. Your way is the only way. The ideologies are different but the mentality and methodology are frighteningly similar.”

Magneto seemed less than impressed by her observation. “Leaving so soon?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite.” She tossed the apple the length of the table.

He caught it deftly in his hand.

“For some reason the fruit in your garden tastes bitter.” she remarked.

He took a hearty bite. “Tastes fine to me.”

Ororo shook her head walking away. Exchanging any amount of debatable words with Magneto gave her a headache. She strode the halls, ever mindful of the watchful eyes following her every move. They made her restless and edgy. She felt trapped. Not a good feeling for her--the result of which was usually not good for those in the surrounding areas either.

As if echoing her thoughts, thunder rolled in the distance, a baritone of sound that shook the windows and drew two more armed guards from the shadows. She gestured to them with one finger, rounding the corner towards her room.

Once inside she sank to the floor behind the door, head in her hands. Life had never been easy for her, or a sure thing, but one thing she had always been able to count on was herself, and now--without Ali and without Logan--she felt utterly and totally lost. Her internal compass was swinging like a pendulum and she didn’t know where to turn.

She closed her eyes, their dry sting reminding her that she had cried herself out. With a resigned sigh she moved to her bed, crawling on the coverlet and letting her mind drift to her secret haven. Her fingers curved into the pillow, a shuddering breath leaving her lungs, “Logan…”

Two weeks after Genosha
SHIELD DC Offices

Nick Fury analyzed the documents before him carefully. Everything seemed to be in perfect order and detailed within the pages was a plan to lure MoJo to the US and perhaps trap Magneto and Longshot. “See to it that the President reviews and green lights this before we take any action.” He slid the classified folder back to his assistant.

“All of it, sir?”

Fury’s lips curved. Sylvia was no fool. “What he needs to know.”

“Of course, sir.” The well groomed woman left his office with a sharp clack of her designer heels. “By the way, Mr. Logan is here to see you.”

“Show him in.” Fury leaned back in his chair. He had known that this meeting was unavoidable. Ever since Alison Blaire had insisted on revealing herself to the X-Men, Fury had known there would be repercussions, especially from Wolverine. He had managed to be conveniently out of reach for the past couple of weeks, but he had known sooner or later Wolverine would be at his door.

Despite his best effort to appear calm and collect, Nick flinched when his office door slammed into his wall with enough force to dent the wall.

“You had better have a fuckin’ real good explanation worked out for me now, Nicky.” Logan’s eyes shone with agitation, their rims red. His face was masked by a near full beard and his hair, always in disarray, hung towards his eyes in limp clumps. “I’m sick of your cloak and dagger shit.”

Fury sniffed and grimaced. “Jesus, Wolverine, did you come straight from the bar?”

Logan stiffened indignantly. “So what if I did.”

“Maybe you should come back when you’re sober.”

Two large palms slammed onto the desk top. “We both know I don’t get drunk.”

“Perhaps you should.”

Logan growled.

“Sit down, Logan. You and I both know you won’t do anything until your friend is safely returned. I‘m her best chance.”

“Stop playing stupid, Nick, it doesn’t suit you. She is far more than my friend, and you know it. I am only too eager to spill some blood, so let’s quit playing these trivial little games.” He leaned over the desk until his nose was inches from Fury’s. “I can smell a liar, and you reek. Talk.”

Nick steepled his fingers, his solitary eye watchful of the man snarling in front of him like a caged beast. “What is it you want to know?”

“Just exactly what you’re planning on?”

“We plan to capture and incarcerate Magneto.”

“Oh, yeah, cuz that plan works so fuckin’ well.”

“You asked. Now, either shut up and listen or use the door.”

Logan leaned back and shot him a look that clearly said he wasn’t leaving. “Fine. Keep jabbering.”

“As you know one of our agents infiltrated Magneto’s organization awhile ago.”

“And turned rogue.” Logan felt compelled to remind the General.

“So it seems.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means that Centino is known for being unpredictable. You and he have a lot in common, actually.”

“Hnh.”

“Seeing as how we are uncertain as to his motives, Centino is considered a class 3 threat.”

“Is that what you label me under?”

“No.”

Logan chuffed.

“You’re a Class 1.”

“Storm isn’t one of your agents. She doesn’t belong with Magneto.”

“She’s an X-Man and as such she is under SHIELD jurisdiction. You know this.” Fury countered.

“Bullshit.” Logan snapped, teeth gnashing together audibly. “She left the X-Men. The only reason she was at that damn place was because you hauled her ass in to stop a hurricane.”

Fury cocked his head. “Is it me you’re pissed at , Wolverine? Or yourself.”

Logan grit his teeth, trying in vain to ignore how Fury’s words hit home. If he had been more receptive to her hurt, been more understanding, then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have felt the need to leave them. To hunt down the bastard she believed killed her friend. Or at the very least--she would have taken him with her.

“All you had to do was let her know Blaire was alive.”

“And compromise a shot at MoJo or Magneto? No. Sorry, Wolverine, but your girlfriend’s piece of mind just wasn’t worth the risk.”

“So instead you’ve thrown her to the lions.”

“I didn’t throw her anywhere. She went all on her own.”

Something in Fury’s tone pushed Logan even closer to the edge. He regarded the General with harsh, calculating eyes. “You knew she would go after Centino.” Logan wanted to drive his fist through Fury’s smug face. SHIELD had a team of psychoanalysis specialists that ran profiles on all agents and all perps. Their assessments were by and large surprisingly accurate. Logan’s profile read: dangerous, unstable, and unpredictable risk. Pieces were falling into place in Logan’s mind, the puzzle starting to make a picture.

Nick didn‘t bother to lie. “We suspected.”

“Son of a bitch!” Logan’s grip on his anger slipped a notch. “You miserable son of a bitch! You used her to track him! Give me one reason I shouldn’t gut you right now.”

“I can tell you where she is.”

Logan’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, claws itching to burst free. “I know where she is. Magneto’s little hole in hell. The Savage Land.” The place was impossible to penetrate, surrounded by a magnetic field that rivaled the one barricading the planet. Not even the X-men’s Blackbird could penetrate it.

Fury nodded. “Yes. But we can get you in.”

That caught Logan’s attention. “How?”

Fury leaned back in his seat. “We’ve developed a suit that can pass through magnetic fields undetected.”

Logan crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s the catch?”

“We can only get within a hundred miles of Magneto’s base.”

“And let me guess. Your boys keep getting eaten by lizards.” Logan’s teeth flashed in a wolfish sneer.

“Something like that.”

“And you’re giving me this information out of the kindness of your heart, I suppose.” Logan snorted. “What is it you really want?”

“For all intents and purposes it appears Magneto and Centino have gone idle, therefore, making Storm’s presence amongst them relatively useless.”

“What’d you expect? An all out assault on Genosha?”

“We had hoped for an inkling as to what Magneto was planning. Had hopes that Storm‘s joining Centino may motivate them to make a move.”

“Mags isn’t a rash man.” Logan stated. “He’s not about to go all gung-ho stupid because he has a new recruit.”

“So it seems. But now that we already have one potential trump card in place, I figure we toss in another.”

“You’re full of shit, Nicky, you know that.” Logan rocked back on his heels. “What you really want is to wash your hands of this whole bunged up mess, so you’re sending me in to clean up.”

Fury smirked. “You usually make the messes.”

“Hnh.”

“But yes, to put it simply. I want you and Storm to clean out Magneto’s base.”

“What you want is suicide.” Logan’s voice was more growl than anything. “Two people taking on a fortress.”

“If you don’t think you’re up for it--”

Logan shook his head, his jaw tight. “You knew I’d do anything to go after her.”

“Again, we suspected.”

Logan stood for a moment, his blood boiling over at the well placed maneuvering Fury had pulled off. The man took every opportunity he saw and used it, expanded on it, and made it happen--one way or another. Going up against Magneto with an army was foolish, but only the two of them against his hundred…it really was suicide. Especially, one of the two didn‘t even know she was a player in the game.

Odds were clearly against him. The likelihood of penetrating the fortress was slim to none, couple that with finding ‘Ro and convincing her to take out Magneto--he had a better chance of spontaneously growing breasts and becoming a woman. He glared over the desk at the general. “When do I leave?”

Fury smiled.

There was no getting any sleep for her this night.

Resignedly, Ororo rolled off of her bed, scrubbing her eyes with her fingers. Lurking in the background of her mind was the conversation she had earlier that evening with Longshot. Like obsidian fingers, shadows of doubt were creeping into her heart and mind--shadows that had always been there, she confessed to herself, but were now making themselves more prominently known.

She wrapped her arms around herself in a vain effort to ward off the inner chill she felt as she approached the large bay windows on the far side of her room. She pressed her forehead to the glass, her soft sigh fogging the windowpane. When had everything become so cloudy? She wondered. When had she lost her way? What had started out as simple, angry retribution for her fallen friend had taken a sudden and dramatic turn today, and deep down she knew that something fundamental within herself had changed. For better or worse, she couldn’t say. That remained to be seen.

Faced with her phantom reflection in the glass Ororo let her thoughts wander back to earlier that evening…

earlier

She had only just left Magneto’s dining hall when Arthur had knocked on her door. “Come with me,” he had said when she reluctantly opened it-- only after his incessant pounding and the threat that he could get in whether she liked it or not.

She was in no mood for more psycho-babble and she told him so. “I’m not in the mood to listen to anymore of your anti-human propaganda. You and Magneto and your quaint little mutants are superior bullshit tagline can rot in hell for all I care. I want Mojo and justice for Ali. That’s it.”

Longshot had reached out, offering her his hand. “Come with me. See what I have to show you, and then, if you still want to walk away after we hunt down Mojo I’ll help you.”

One brow lifted skeptically.

He leveled her a dead stare. “I swear on Ali’s grave.”

“Fine.” She hadn’t taken his hand but instead gestured for him to lead the way. She was more than a little doubtful that anything he would say to her would matter. She hadn’t known. Nothing could have prepared her for where he was taking her.

“Where are we going?” She’d asked when he began taking her through hallways she had not seen prior. Hallways that were heavily guarded. Even more so than Magneto himself.

“To the civilian quarters.”

Incredulous, Ororo swung her head around. “You have civilians here?”

He ignored her. “It’s a tight fit,” he warned at the elevator station. “I know you don’t like being closed in.”

Before she could ask how he knew of her fear, she knew. Alison. She must have told him. How much did Longshot know of her, and she so little of him? The lies ate at her. Deceit and untruths never sat well with her, and they never would. There was so much of her friend that it seems she hadn’t known at all. She felt resentful of that fact.

“I’ll be fine,” she said icily.

Longshot pressed the call button.

The cylindrical elevator’s doors hummed open, allowing them entrance. He hadn’t been kidding, she realized. It was a very snug fit. Ororo’s shoulders had pressed flat against the wall to allow him room in the elevator with her. Despite her assurance that she would be fine, Ororo had closed her eyes and counted slowly beneath her breath as the elevator descended, focusing on anything but the strict confines. She had made it all the way to one hundred before they had stopped.

“Are we underground?” she asked, sensing different energies surrounding them. Wherever they were the soil was rich with metallic minerals. The air practically hummed with it.

“About a thousand feet.” Longshot confirmed.

The door opened.

Ororo’s mouth dropped.

An underground city lay sprawled before her. An amazingly developed underground city. Subterranean suburbia would be an accurate description, she thought, slowly stepping from the shaft. Petite houses lined a vast semi circle area, complete with small yards, drives and mailboxes. Hundreds of homes.

And hundreds of people.

“Who--?

“Are they?” Longshot finished for her. His voice was tight with hostility. “Refugees.” He made a sweeping gesture with his arm. “Victims of a war they didn’t start, casualties of the Genoshan government‘s twisted tortures for mutants. People we saved from the depraved and indifferent clutches of the flatscans you so eagerly defend.”

A young voice caught their attention before she could respond. “Longshot!”

“Hey there, big man.” Longshot crouched low, swinging a frail looking boy up onto his shoulders. It was a child of no more than eleven, with a pointed tail. The boy reminded Ororo of Kurt--only Kurt was covered in soft blue fur where the child was covered in green scales

“Who’s she?” The boy asked with childlike curiosity, intensity and trepidation all rolled into his small voice. His clawed index finger pointed at Ororo.

“Her name is Storm. Storm, meet Foster.”

“Hi.” Ororo said for lack of anything else.

“Hi.” The child turned to face her squarely and she had to force herself not to recoil. Ugly, rigid scar tissue rose across the scales on the boy’s forehead; the words and symbols Mutate: 17684-A had been burned into his flesh, the wounds long healed, the remains irremovable.

Seeing her stricken expression, Longshot put the boy back on the ground. “Run along now, Foster. Go play with your friends.”

“Okay! Bye!” And just like that the boy was off and running, whooping with that irrepressible joy that only kids carried.

“What happened to him?” Ororo asked the very second she believed Foster to be out of earshot.

Longshot met her gaze steadily. “On Genosha all mutants are branded. Tagged.”

Ororo had let her eyes travel over the people around them, really taking them in. Almost all bore scars across their foreheads and for those that didn’t, she got the very distinct impression that all had been victimized in some way. She recognized the hollow look in some of the eyes that flickered her way. It was a look of desolation, of souls ripped clean from the body. In most, however, she saw a burning ember of life. Whether it was hope, or sheer resilience she couldn‘t say. Whatever it was, she felt it clear to her core. “So many…” she whispered.

“There’s more.” He took her by the elbow. “Come.”

Longshot had taken her to a building designated The Lost Children House--an building selected for those children with no one left to care for them. Orphans.

Babies.

Tiny, helpless souls with their lives, homes and families raped and torn from them.

Familiar pain knocked against her heart. A part of her didn’t want to see…didn’t want to know. The stronger part needed to see. That part of herself put one foot in front of the other and forced her to face truths she had preferred kept in shadows.

Inside the home, the two of them had been greeted by a matronly woman in her mid-forties. Her plump face split into a beaming grin. “Here to visit, Arthur? Good; the children have missed you.” She gave Ororo a once over. “And you brought a guest.”

Longshot bestowed a warm smile on the matronly woman, the first Ororo had ever seen him really give. “Dolores, this is Storm.”

Dolores had granted her a tentative smile. “Any friend of Arthur’s…” She motioned towards a set of double doors. “Go on in. Tammy and Bryce are doing some feedings, but otherwise activity is at a minimum right now.”

“Thanks.” He grasped Ororo by the elbow once more. “This way.” The beige and white double doors swung behind them and Ororo was a bit surprised by the homey feel of the place, despite its very hospital-like design.

Children of varying ages milled about the rooms, some curiously observing, others apparently oblivious to the newcomers. Ororo followed Longshot as he led her from room to room, introducing her to one child after another. Eyes that should have been alight with mischief and youth were flat and dead as the adults she had seen outside.

“So young,” she murmured.

“Yes,” Longshot agreed. He stopped at a cradle.

Curious, Ororo bent over the side, staring at the angelic face of the tiny occupant. The baby was breathtakingly beautiful. Shiny blond curls, and aquatic blue eyes glinted beneath the overhead lights. The baby girl, unfamiliar with Ororo, let out a muted wail.

To Ororo’s infinite sadness and instant anger it became apparent the baby’s tongue had been cut out. She looked toward Longshot, horror on her face. “They cut out her tongue,” she hissed, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“Her parents did,” Longshot acknowledged quietly.

Ororo gasped, appalled. “Her parents?”

At her horrified intake of breath, he quickly added, “To save her life.” He stood beside her, cooing at the young baby. “If they hadn’t a much worse fate would have been bestowed upon little Alice. For their efforts, her parents were executed.”

Icy apprehension twisted along her spine. “Executed?”

“They defied Genoshan law.”

She sent him a hostile look.

“By law if you bear a mutant child you are to tell the government so they may remove the ‘unclean’ one from your home. Alice was born with a forked tongue. It wasn’t something they could hide, as they did with their son.”

“Where’s he?”

“Dead.” Longshot’s voice was flat. “Shot in the head like his parents. He was sixteen.”

Ororo closed her eyes, a hot tear scalding her skin. She wiped it away visciously. “How did Alice survive?”

“Despite the fact that it would cost them their lives, her familu hid her when they saw the soldiers coming.”

Ororo could only imagine the kind of courage that had taken. “And all of these children…” she gestured towards the other rooms.

“Victims. Simply because they carry a ‘defective’ gene.” Longshot straightened, his right eye glowing. “This is why I fight, Ororo. These are the people to whom I answer to. Not Magneto, not some government agency. I have to look at their faces every day and ask myself, did I do enough? Did I fight hard enough? Will what I do today make a difference? And if that answer is ever anything other than a resounding yes, then the fight is lost.” He lifted baby Alice from her cradle. “You may not agree with the doctrine behind all of Magneto’s actions, or his methods, but can you look me in the eye and tell me your Xavier does as much for mutant-kind? Can you look at Alice and honestly feel like the dream of co-existence is the right one? Ask yourself this, Ororo. Who have the X-Men really helped? Who are they saving?” He settled Alice back into her crib. “I’ll tell you who--whoever General Fury tells them too. Whoever can fork up the dough for their services, that’s who. Xavier talks a big game, Storm, but where are the results?”

Ororo ran her hand through her hair, hating the way his words echoed in her own mind. “Mutant-human co-existence won’t happen overnight, Longshot. It takes time…time to change perceptions, and make permanent changes.”

“Time is something these people don’t have in abundance.” he reminded her. “Their lives are being lost as you and Xavier’s precious X-Men sit on the sidelines, waiting for--for what I don‘t know. People are dying. Our people are dying. If mutants won‘t stand up and fight for each other, no one will.”

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe Magneto does this all for altruistic means. He’d cut your throat if he thought he could take advantage of your death.” She’d thrown at him.

“I don’t doubt it. Magneto believes mutants are superior than flatscans. Seeing what I’ve seen and the horrible things flatscans do to us, I’m inclined to agree. However, I don’t fool myself into thinking Magneto is the mutant Savior. He is a means to an end for me just as I am for him. He gets my ‘luck’ and I get to help my people. Tolerating his arrogance is a small price to pay.”

“And if he gets you killed?”

“Then at least I died making a difference. Will you be able to say the same?”

She had no answer for him. He didn’t press for one. Instead he continued to show her around the subterranean area, showing her the shelters and houses of the occupants. It was far from a thriving utopia, but it was safe haven for many that hadn’t felt safe in a very long time.

Ororo had taken her time, looking around the city, focusing on each childless parent and parentless child. Each person was a potential lost soul, pulled from the carnage of their lives by Longshot and his ruffian crew.

Longshot had shadowed her tour through the underground city, but had refrained from doing any more speaking, unless to answer a direct question. Once complete he had taken her back to the upper levels and left her at the threshold of her room. His parting words were what were keeping her awake now. “The choice is yours, Storm. Stay and help fight Mojo and those like him, or have your revenge and wash your hands of it all.”

Currently

Ororo stared out the window into the darkness, her mind unsettled and no answers forthcoming. She wished she had Ali to talk to. Ali always told it to her straight…well, not always, she reminded herself sadly. Ali had kept a part of herself carefully hidden away. Was there no one she could trust?

Logan.

The answer to that particular question was immediate.

Ororo closed her eyes, the pang in her heart causing her physical pain. She missed him. So much it terrified her. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his arms around her, almost smell the warm, male scent of the wild that clung to him…she could almost forget…that she’d left him. Almost.

She pressed her forehead to the cool glass. She wondered if a person could die of a broken heart, and then she wondered if he missed her like she missed him. Did he miss her touch? Her scent? Her love?

She had been trying fruitlessly for days to push him from her mind, and realizing the foolishness of that endeavor, she had resigned herself to the aching longing she kept in her heart.

Her last image of him was forever burned into her mind. Scorched, charred, broken and still he tried to reach her. He would have crawled to her, she knew. His pride alone demanded that he not fail. He was strong, stubborn and unfailingly loyal.

And how did she repay that? She stepped into a helicopter with their enemy. She forsook their chance at reconciliation for revenge. The simplest truth was the hardest for her to swallow. She betrayed him.

She sighed, heading back to her bed. “Goodnight, Logan. Wherever you are.”

175 Miles Southeast of Magneto’s Stronghold

“So what’re we going to do when we get there?”

Logan ignored the voice trailing him, focused solely on using his surgically sharp blades to cut through the thick undergrowth blocking his path.

“Yo, Wolverine! I said--”

“I heard what you said,” he growled.

“So, then answer. What’s the plan?”

“Look, I didn’t ask you two to tag along, so the last thing I have to do is answer your fuckin’ questions.”

Alison wiped her brow, swatting at the insects swarming her. “Well, too fucking bad,” she swore right back. “We stowed away. Deal with it.”

“I think what Ali means is, we’re here. Whatever the circumstances, so let us help.” Lorna provided, quickly trying to avoid yet another shouting match between the two. “We all want the same thing, so let’s work as a team.”

Logan snarled. “I work alone.”

“Well, not right now you don’t,” Ali snapped. She stopped, wiping at her forehead again. “Damn it, these suits are heavy.”

Lorna smirked. “They look it.”

Ali huffed. “Just because you don’t have to wear one--”

“Shut up!”

Ali whirled. “Look, assho--”

She hit the ground hard with Logan crouched over her. “Shut the fuck up. Listen.”

They all sat silent. Footsteps, scurrying rapidly on the ground.

Six blades were immediately poised. “We got company.”

Lorna screamed as fangs exploded from the foliage around her. Instantly the large head of a lizard dropped to her feet, blood spewing out across the fronds. “What is that thing?”

“Modified raptor,” Logan informed them. “Magneto’s personal pit-bulls. We’re getting close.” He resumed his slicing of vines. I’m coming, Storm. I’m coming to take you home.