“You blinked.” Ororo slammed the butt of her newly acquired pistol into the back of the faux blonde’s head, causing the shorter woman to slump in her seat, and her eyes to flutter closed. Wasting no time, knowing what was at stake, Ororo rushed to the small dresser beside the door, yanking open the drawers. She gave a disgusted grunt at the skimpy, barely there white lace and leather get up in the drawers.
Ororo snatched a pair of white leather pants, slit and tied at the sides and a white lace top, that offered minimal coverage, but she supposed it was better than running around naked. She hurriedly donned the White Queen’s garments, hopping on her bare feet and lacing the pants. “Blessed Goddess, woman, learn to eat,” she said to the unconscious Emma as she passed.
With quick, efficient moves Ororo turned the body guard, knowing he was dead, but unable to feel a shred of remorse at the killing, and searched his pockets. She found a clip and a small knife, which she took, slipping the blade between the small of her back and the tight, but stretchy leather pants. She reloaded the gun and made her way to the door. She had no idea as to how many guards were in the hallway, but she could hear footfalls near the door.
“Yo, Frank. Your shift is up.” A deep voice came from the opposite side of the ornate door.
Ororo tilted her head, staring at the gold swirls and dragons etched into the wood. Shaw really did live in excess, she mused. Pushing such meaningless thoughts aside she focused on the door, backing up a step as the handle turned. She’d have to take this guy down fast and hard. If she could prevent firing her weapon she would, not wanting to alert anyone of her impending escape.
“Frank, dude, what the fuck--Ugh!”
Ororo kicked the door shut in the new guard’s face, then jerked it open again, lunging into the hall, and plowing the guy into the wall, her knee raised, slamming into his groin. Ororo thwacked her bare heel into his face as he doubled over. “My son,” she hissed, wrenching his short brown hair. “Where is he?”
“L-lady…I don’t kn..know what the fuck--”
Ororo held his head and kneed his face. She was rewarded by the crunch of cartilage and scarlet spatter on her pants. “My son. Where?” she repeated, her voice like ice.
“I donnnknowww!!” the guy yowled.
“Too bad.” With a quickness that would have rivaled the Wolverine Ororo grabbed the guards ears and bashed his head into the wall. She couldn’t risk leaving him conscious. Witnesses were a liability and reduced her odds of finding her son and her husband. She repeated the motion for good measure, then bent and searched him for potential weapons. She removed his gun from its holster. She yanked his shoes from his body, unthreading the laces and tying his hands behind his back. It was a flimsy hold, but it would slow him down if he woke.
Ororo looked both ways, her mind frantic. Where would Shinobi have Chance? She bit her lip to prevent a mournful moan from escaping. She had to find him, and fast!
Logan. If anyone could find Chance he could. She only hoped she could find him.
Dripping.
Hnh.
He could hear dripping, echoing in his mind like a gong with each drop of blood into the pool at his feet. He was bleeding to death, his body not healing from his latest bought of torture.
Hnh.
‘Bout fuckin’ time…
Death. He closed his flat eyes. Death was a blessing at this point. He almost smiled. So close now…The pain was fading…
Shit. Ororo pressed against the wall, having run through three corridors, her bare feet flying across the carpet, only to realize she had gone in a circle. Calm down, Storm. Think. Focus. What do we know… Shinobi is a sick SOB. Check. This mansion is huge with a hundred plus rooms. Check. You are a very pissed off Mama. Check. Wolverine is alive. (Please.) Check. Shinobi was in a basement…Check. Move!!
Setting her jaw, Ororo sprinted down the corridor, this time taking a left instead of a right. She nearly cried when she spotted a flight of stairs. Down. Down. Down. Ororo raced as fast as she could, her chest tightening with every step. Someone would find the guards soon and Shaw would know she was loose.
Ororo jerked at the flash of pain in her temples. She slammed into the wall, holding her head. Keep moving. Down. Find Logan!
“Anything, Professor?”
Professor Charles Xavier shook his bald head at Jean, removing the silver helmet that was his connection to cerebro. “No. I am still unable to locate them. I thought I felt Storm for a moment, but the connection was too faint and too abruptly severed for me to be certain.”
There was a weighty silence following that statement.
“Professor, it has been so long now, perhaps we should stop and consider the possibility that they are dead.” Cyclops said, voicing a hard truth none of them wanted to face.
“Fuck you,” Ali blurted. “We are not giving up on them!”
“Easy, ma petite bella,” Gambit soothed, one partially gloved hand rubbing her back through her green tee.
Ali shook her dark head, tears flashing in her eyes as she addressed Scott. “If it was your precious Jean, you’d be knocking down buildings to find her, so don’t you dare tell us to give up! Not on Storm. And not on Wolverine. And never on Chance!” With that she turned her face into Gambit’s shoulder, trying not to cry.
“You do not have to,” Xavier said, closing his eyes. When he opened them the first smile any of them had seen in weeks graced his face. “We have a new arrival. To the foyer my X-Men.”
The lobby was empty when the four X-Men and Xavier exited the elevator.
Ali gave a grumble. “What are we doing? We should be planning our next--oh, my God!!” Ali clutched Gambit’s arm, her knees suddenly weak.
Jubilee came running through the front doors, her pretty face blotched red from crying. She was hugging a squealing Chance in her arms. Following her inside was a tall woman with black hair and a half smile on her bruised face.
“Tessa,” Xavier greeted. “you made it.”
“Barely.“ The woman nodded in acknowledgement.
“Gambit don’ understand? Where’s Stormy?” He moved to look over the woman Xavier greeted as Tessa’s shoulders for a glimpse of white hair or a puff of hazy smoke, telltale signs of his two best friends. “Or da Wolverine?”
“They are not with me,” came the cool, clipped reply. “I was only able to get the child.”
“Who the heck are you?” Ali demanded, rubbing Chance’s head as she and Jubilee cried over the cherubic child.
“Her name is Tessa Niles, Alison, and she works for me.” Charles supplied.
“Gambit seen you before, non?” Remy studied her face. “At da Club Hellfire.”
“Yes. I was employed by Sebastian Shaw to monitor his wayward son, Shinobi Shaw. I believe you know him.” Came Tessa’s smooth reply.
Ali released Chance and fisted her hands. “You work for the Shaw’s?”
“No, I work for Charles. I was spying on the Shaw’s.”
Several startled eyes swung to Xavier.
“You sick, miserable, cripple!” Ali ground out. “You had a spy already in place and you sent Storm in anyways!! She never needed to get close to Shinobi!”
“Alison, hold your tongue and remember who you are speaking to.” Xavier commanded.
Gambit’s eyes flashed red. “I suggest you do da same, homme.”
“Everyone, just calm down,” Scott said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.
“I’m gonna take Chance away from all this drama,” Jubilee said quietly. “We’ll be in my room, and none ya’ll come near us if your spouting trash. He’s been through enough.” She turned to Tessa. “Lady, thank you for my brother back.” To Xavier. “Find my Mom and Pappy, Professor X, whatever it takes, because that’s what they’d do for you. All of you.” Jubilee climbed the stairs, her head bent as she crooned to Chance.
Jean inclined her head towards Tessa, “You’re a telepath,” she stated.
“Low level. Nowhere near Xavier or your skills, but yes, I am a telepath. That is how I was able to fool Shinobi into thinking he had killed me along with his father.” Tessa was wobbly on her feet.
“Maybe we should sit,” Cyclops said, grabbing her by her forearms. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Tessa nodded. “Just a bit weary.”
“The library? For privacy.” Jean suggested.
Once in the library and everyone was seated comfortably, Ali said, “Start talking, lady.”
“I am sure you are all aware of how Shinobi was resurrected from the grave,” Tessa said, gratefully taking the glass of brandy Xavier had poured for her.
“Yeah.” Cyclops looked between Ali and Jean. “We know.”
“Sebastian, against my sound advice, allowed Shinobi to be removed from Emma Frost’s psyche and placed into a shifter. After a few weeks of recovery Shinobi was well enough to start using his new powers. He approached Sebastian as me and slit his father’s throat, he then approached me as Sebastian. He…used me, then beat me. I wasn’t able to prevent the attack, but luckily I was able to fake my death. When Emma scanned my mind to make certain I was dead, I was able to feign it. They stayed in Sebastian’s house that night. I could hear them, in his father’s room. But I also heard another sound. A baby crying. I had no idea that it was an X-Man’s child. All I knew was that neither Shaw had infant’s and that I had to get that child away from there.” She sipped the amber liquid. “Once I was certain I was relatively safe I contacted Charles. He helped shield me from Emma and Shaw’s other telepaths. Until I could get here.”
Jean raised one copper brow. “So, you knew Chance was alive?” she asked the Professor.
“Tessa was taking a great risk in rescuing Chance. I did not want to get your hopes up if she was to fail.”
“What about Storm and Wolverine?” Cyclops asked, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his tan khakis.
Tessa shook her head sadly. “Shinobi has an unhealthy obsession with your Storm friend and a reservoir of anger for Wolverine. I don’t know where they are, but it’s a safe assumption they aren’t enjoying themselves…”
Whump. “Hurgh!” Another guard down.
Ororo followed the hall she had spotted the guard in, moving as quickly as she could, while still being cautious. This was the bottom floor, no more stairs that she could find and she wanted to scream. She knew she had caught a glimpse of a basement before Emma had completely shielded that thought.
She turned, doing a slow full circle. Damn! Her throat tightened and she fought against the tears building. Crying would solve nothing. It wouldn’t help her find Logan any faster and it was a waste of time.
A low hiss caught her attention and she watched as the far wall shimmered and Shinobi seemingly walked through it. Given his original mutant powers that would have been possible, however she knew he did not have that skill now. She pressed herself into the shadows of one doorway, hoping against hope he would not look her way and see her or the fallen guard.
She breathed a relieved sigh when he made his way up the stairs at the opposite end of the hall. As soon as she was fairly certain he was gone she ran towards the spot he emerged from, running full tilt, crossing her fingers that she wasn’t about to put a dent in the wall.
“Ah!” she tumbled through the holographic wall, landing with a thud, the palms of her hands slapping cold cement. She lifted her head slowly, taking in the dim room. It appeared to be more cellar than basement, the walls made of crumbling earth and stone. It was probably the original cellar of the mansion, not disturbed for years, until recently. It was nearly empty, save for what looked like mechanic tools and a small television.
“Uhnn…”
Ororo jerked at the low groan, rolling and leveling one of her two guns in the direction the sound came from. What she saw made her drop the weapon and gasp.
Ororo lay frozen for a moment, unable to breathe or even think. Was this tortured, mutilated creature her husband? He was so bloody she could barely recognize him, half of his face burned away, only a charred mass remaining. She closed her eyes briefly trying to shut of the pain that seeing him flayed and beaten and burned caused her. Tears welled up in her eyes at the pain she knew he must have endured. She took a deep breath and forced herself to look.
Her beloved husband. She covered her mouth with trembling hands. Her fierce warrior, her beloved Logan, her Wolverine was helplessly strapped to an upright table, his hands shackled overhead, his body was covered in thousands of cuts, some shallow and some very deep. He was slumped as though defeated. What he must have suffered! Rage consumed her, followed by fear. Why wasn’t he healing? Had Shinobi taken his powers as well?
“Goddess…Logan.” Ororo scrambled to her feet. Grief was threatening to overwhelm her, but she stomped it into submission. Help him now, grieve later. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, reaching out to touch his matted and bloody raven-black hair gently.
She looked around the small room and spotted a small line of wire. It only took her a moment to fashion a makeshift lock pick and get to work on the manacles shackling his arms.
A low growl was her only warning. Black eyes snapped open and Ororo was staring into fathomless pools of venomous hatred. The second the shackle opened a hand fastened around her neck, cutting off her airway. Everything swirled black, then white. Her eyes locked with his and something sparked in his depths. She smiled tremulously at him, despite his death grip on her throat. His fingers tightened and she winced.
“Stop,” she croaked. “It’s me…”
He bared his fangs.
“..smell…me…”
He pulled her face closer to his, his nostrils flaring. Suddenly his eyes widened and he curled his fingers into her hair. “..’Ro…”
“Hey, love.” Her lower lip trembled.
“Ya’ve…got ta..run…”
“Not without you,” she said, pressing her forehead to his.
“Darlin’…I knew…I knew it wasn’t…you…”
Ororo bit her lip, her fears confirmed. Shinobi had tortured Wolverine guised as her.
“…tried ta…make me… hate ya. Couldn’t. Love ya…too much…” He was panting from exertion. “Always love…ya…my only…”
“Sshhh. It’s all right now. I’m here.”
“Hnh.” He closed his eyes. “Not..healin’…”
Ororo nodded, her eyes overflowing. “I know.”
“…not much…longer now…”
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, clutching his face in her palms. “Logan.” He made no response. “Logan?” She jostled his head. “Logan!” No!! No!! NOOOOO!
Frantically she undid the second shackle, his three hundred pound body slumping onto her. She grunted, lowering him to the floor. “Please, Logan” She pinched his nose, breathing into his mouth. “Please.” Nothing. With a strangled sob she pressed her face to his bare chest. “Please don’t leave me…”
Once again a sharp pain stabbed her in the temples and she jerked upright, holding her head. Unexpectedly an image of clippers shearing her hair at the temple invaded her mind.
Shinobi had implanted something in her head, blocking her powers. Perhaps he had done the same to Logan. Frantically, Ororo brushed his hair to the side, letting out a small sound when she noticed the shaved patch just above his ear.
“Hold on, baby,” she said, getting to her feet. She hated what she was about to do, or attempt to do, but she had no choice. She pulled the small knife she had confiscated from the dead guard from the back of her pants. She held the blade over Logan’s freshly shaved spot, but hesitated. What if she royally messed this up? What if she damaged him? Unwilling to use him as a guinea pig, she rose to her feet and raced to the table in the corner. She knew she had seen a mirror when she entered. Shaw always had to have a mirror nearby, plus she was certain he delighted in showing Logan his ravaged face.
With grim determination Ororo leaned the mirror against the table and wall, and brushed her soft curls aside, holding the razor sharp blade against the faint scar she bore at her temple. “Here goes…” she took two deep breaths and slit along the ridge, gritting her teeth. Thin rivers of ruby flowed, but she continued, pressing the tip under the flesh, prodding for a piece of metal or plastic. Anything that she could remove.
*Stop!*
One of the telepaths shouted into her head. Ororo grimaced. They knew now. Time was up.
*Stop now, Storm!*
*Fuck you!* She jerked the blade, flaying the skin and reveling a delicate looking microchip. She cringed at the pain, but smiled when she dug the small inhibitor out. It was a miniature model of the one’s Xavier had designed for her. Immediately she felt the hairs on her neck rise and the earth sang to her, and she could feel the approaching storm in her blood. She was once again Storm, mistress of the elements, daughter of nature.
She glanced at Wolverine, who lay motionless. “Hang on, honey, please.” She crouched beside him, gouging where she believed the chip to be, crying as she prodded, hating the fact that she was cutting him. She knew he could not feel it, but it sickened her to do it.
She pried the small chip free with her thumb and forefinger. Nothing happened. “Logan, please,” she said, pressing her lips to his cracked and scabbed ones. “Come back to me…”
~Logan-san~
~Huh?~
~Hello again, beloved.~
~M’iko.~
Soft laughter. ~Ah, you remember me at last.~
~I do. I’m dying, huh?”
~Yes.~
~Ororo.~ Logan felt warmth invade his body. Ororo. Storm. His One.
~Yes. Your One. Your soul mate.~
~Is she here?~
~No, she is not amongst us. She is fighting for you and your son.~
~Chance.~ Fierce waves of protectiveness.
~Yes. Go now, Logan-san. She needs you.~
~Why are you doing this? I killed your father? I am the reason you died…~
~No. You gave me moments of beauty in a desolate world. You loved me, and I you. But you are meant for her, and I was destined for this. To guide you. To help you.~
~I did love you.~
~I know, but not like her. There are legends among my people of two souls destined for each other, never whole until they meet. Sometimes it takes many lifetimes of loneliness to find the Other, but you have found yours, Logan-San...Go, now.~
“come back to me…”
He could feel himself being pushed back towards the pain.
~Thank you.~
“…Please…”
“uuhggh.”
Ororo lifted her tear dampened face from Logan’s chest, watching as his wounds slowly began to heal. Much more slowly than usual, but healing…
“Logan!” Ororo cradled his head in her lap, laughing and sobbing at once.
“…rrrruuunnnn…”
“Logan?”
“How touching.” Shinobi Shaw walked through the holographic wall, his face a dark scowl, a gun in his hand. “You can die together.”
