A warm breeze stirred the muggy afternoon air as Cyclops, Wolverine and Storm strode through the crowds on the Las Vegas Strip, having left their avionic masterpiece cloaked in the desert. The city was alive with people, making their search for their former teammate all the more difficult.
“Any idea about what Rogue got herself into?” Storm asked, dancing around a puddle of Goddess knew what on the asphalt sidewalk.
“Not really.” Cyclops replied, holding up the small locator he carried in the palm of his hand. “But if she called for help, then she‘s in real trouble. We need to find her and get her to the Bird fast. I‘m picking up incoming Sentinels.”.
Ororo raised one hand over her sparkling blue eyes, peering through the crowd, looking for any sign of Rogue. Hearing of Rogue’s Cajun companion’s death had made Ororo subtly withdrawn. Tall, and lean with thick, wavy auburn hair, blessed with the face of an angel and devil eyes, he had been a striking man, and from what Storm had seen of him in battle, he was a fighter. Street tough and hard. She had felt a connection to him almost immediately. Kindred. Street urchin knew street urchin. His death served as a grim reminder of what her fate could have been if she had remained on the streets.
“Whatchya thinking about so intently, darlin’?”
Wolverine rumbled, jolting her from her thoughtful trance.
She gave him a veiled look. “What’s his face,” she said with a wave of her hand, aiming for nonchalance. “The guy our girl Rogue took off with.”
Immediately Wolverine’s scowl deepened. “What about him?”
“Nothing in particular,” she shrugged, her gaze lingering over his solid frame. The three of them were dressed in their uniforms, and she had always admired how he looked in his. The black synthetic material stretched taut over his broad chest and thick, muscled arms like a second skin. She turned away, a flush creeping up her neck to bloom in her cheeks.
From the corner of her eye, Storm caught sight of a glint of metal in the afternoon sun. She turned towards it mere seconds before Wolverine shoved her aside roughly and deflected three razor knives heading straight at her with a deft -SNIKT-.
“I think we’ve been made,” he snarled, his stance all at once predatory and ready.
“Get down.”
Storm found herself once again momentarily distracted by Wolverine. Sunlight sparkled off his dark sunglasses as he turned to face their unseen enemy. His upper lip curled back, ever so slightly, revealing his stark white teeth and longer incisors. He looked feral and sexy.
Wolverine scented the air, a growl rumbling from deep inside, spewing forth a single statement that made his two companions tense further. “Weapon X.”
Storm raised her head, searching the rooftops of the casinos and restaurants. “I can’t see anybody.”
“You wouldn’t.” Wolverine snarled, his entire stance predatory. He was lethal. In every sense of the word. She would do well not to forget that, she reminded herself, with a shake of her head.
“Well, Wolverine, can you narrow it down?” Cyclops asked, pressing against the brick side of the building behind them.
Wolverine sniffed, scenting cooking grease and rotting garbage, sweat and money. He gave a short snort telling his frustration. “This whole damn city smells. Can’t make heads or tales of what belongs where.”
Cyclops lifted the locator, giving the green blinking dot a once over. “Storm, get me an aerial view,” he ordered, dodging as yet another set of blades was hurled at them.
Storm peered towards the sky. “Oh, yeah sure. I’ll just float on up overhead while highly trained soldiers, with a penchant for mutant mad-ons, take aim at me with their high powered scopes and blast a nice hole in my head. Good plan.” Blue eyes clouded white as she called forth a thick, dense fog.
“Now we can’t see them,” Cyclops complained.
“We couldn’t see them before, but at least this way the odds are a bit more even.” Storm countered.
Wolverine shifted, catching movement in his peripheral vision. “Both of you, shut up,” he growled. His shoulders hunched forward and his lip curled even further.
Noticing the shift in him, Cyclops asked, “What do you got?”
A slow smile spread on Wolverine‘s face and caused Scott‘s blood to cool. He had seen that smile once before…
“Prey.” Wolverine took off down the street, people screaming and running away from him and his six blades.
“Wolverine!” Cyclops hollered. He sighed in frustration. “That man doesn’t know the meaning of the words ‘team work.’”
“Oh, Ah don’t know. Ah get the feelin’ there are a lot of words Wolverine knows, he just don’t like tah use ‘em.”
Storm whirled around. “Rogue!”
The young girl stepped forward, the fog parting to reveal her haggard form, and something unexpected. Ororo gasped. Rogue’s eyes glittered back at her, a devilish red on black that Ororo had only seen once before. Rogue ran a hand through her chestnut and snow hair, giving Ororo a half smile. “Storm.”
“Are you all right?” Storm reached for her, but Rogue pulled back, a look of wariness on her pale face. Ororo held up her hands, revealing the black gloves encasing her fingers. “Okay?” she reached for Rogue again. “What happened?”
Rogue winced. “Some people are aftah me.”
“Why?”
“They think I have something of theirs.”
“Do you?” Storm asked.
Rogue smiled wistfully. “Not anymore.”
Overhead the sudden roar of what sounded like rocket ships echoed. Sentinels.
Storm maneuvered Rogue behind her. “Cyclops, we have Rogue. Let’s go.”
Cyclops looked frustrated. “We need to get Wolverine.”
Storm shook her head. “He’ll manage.”
“Storm, take Rogue back to the Blackbird, I’ll try and track down Wolverine.” Cyclops opened the locator he still carried.
“Good luck with that, pal. He looked like a man on a mission,” Ororo mumbled.
“He’s gone aftah the people aftah me?”
Cyclops nodded. “He thinks they’re Weapon X soldiers.”
Rogue swore. “Then Ah’m going too.”
“Halt mutant!”
Storm and Cyclops turned to see a giant robotic mutant hunting Sentinel lower itself to the ground, stirring up heated blasts of air. They glanced at each other, then at Rogue, noticing that she was in civilian clothes, detectable by the DNA scanners of the Sentinels.
“Move!” Cyclops barked, firing a red-hot optic blast at the towering monstrosity.
Elsewhere
A wounded soldier leaned against the postal blue mail box, trying to catch his labored breath. He glanced behind him, but couldn’t see anyone tailing him. He closed his eyes, giving a weary sigh. He knew better, he knew that the Wolverine was hot on his tail. He had been cocky, careless, uncaring if the filthy mutant had seen him. After all they were just going to capture it again and cage it like the animal it was.
Originally the plan was to take in the southern teen mutie that could absorb powers and shit, and interrogate her about what information she had absorbed from the Cajun thief she had been traveling with; However, there had been a change in plans, the Wolverine was too good of a prize to pass up.
Brown eyes snapped open when he heard a faint growl and a subtle -SNIKT- from behind him. He turned slowly, guardedly. “Easy, friend…”
“I ain’t yer friend.” Wolverine strode forward, his eyes hidden behind his shades, but the soldier got the distinct impression he was being stalked. “Where’s Rogue?”
The man took a step back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Wolverine cricked his neck. “Ya must be new, so I’ll give ya a little heads up. I can smell a lie. Rogue. Where is she?”
“Easy. I-I-I don’t wanna--wanna fight.” Up close the intensity of the feral was overwhelming.
“Hnh.” Another step closer.
Wolverine watched the soldier through narrowed eyes. The guy was shifty, and he didn’t trust him, knowing all too well that the most innocent in appearance were often the most deceptive. It was apparent this soldier was of lower rank, and useless to him by means of information. Wolverine felt his blood boil in anticipation. One corner of his mouth tilted up as he thought about the beating he was about to deliver.
Seeing the tilt on Wolverine’s lips the soldier closed his eyes. He knew he stood no chance. “Wolverine? Right?” he asked, maneuvering away. “Look, just walk away. I won’t t-tell anybody I saw you.”
Nothing from Wolverine.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” The young man raised his handgun.
“Can’t say I share the same sentiments, Bub.
”
A dark stain appeared on the soldiers dark pants.
Wolverine smirked.
A sudden rumble of thunder alerted Wolverine that all was not well with his teammates. He turned quickly, seeing one of the governments building sized robot firing towards the ground. Sonofa--!
A bullet slammed into his chest. With a viscous snarl he turned on the soldier, slicing through flesh and bone, rending the man’s arm from his torso.
“AAAAAAUUUUUGH!”
“Better learn ta wack off with yer left hand.” With that Wolverine took off towards the explosions.
“Nice of you to join us,” Storm said to Wolverine as he rounded the corner. She reached down pulling Rogue to her feet. The broken, smoldering metal form of the US government Sentinel lay in a heap a few feet from the two women. Cyclops was on his cell, most probably relaying the events of what happened to Xavier.
“What happened?” he asked.
Ororo raised one brow, gesturing to the fallen robot. “It’s a neopet gone awry. What do you think happened, Wolverine? We were attacked, and as usual you were off playing lone soldier.”
“Look--” he began, but Storm was already walking away.
Cemetery
“Hey.” Ororo sat on the grass, leaning against the marble tombstone that marked her best friends grave and opened the book on her lap, uncapping her ball point pen. Rogue’s retrieval had been chaotic to say the least, but eventful, making for a good journal entry…except it wasn’t the Sentinel battle on her mind.
She chewed the end thoughtfully, trying to formulate the words to convey her confused and swirling emotions from mind to page. Ever since she was a little girl Ororo had loved to write, had loved words. She had been fascinated by them, intrigued with how very powerful they were. It was one of the many things she had loved most about Henry. The man was a walking dictionary. Words she had never even heard of before spilled from his lips in fluid sentences that made even the most paltry phrase and topic seem mesmerizing. His extensive vocabulary combined with the deep baritone of his voice made him her favorite thing to listen to.
~I’m flattered.~
Ororo closed her eyes, picturing Hank in her mind, leaning her head back. “Hi.” she whispered.
~Hi. You seem troubled.~
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
~I take that to mean you do not have the inclination to verbalize your current vexation?~
She smiled at that. “Not particularly.”
~Care if I make a conjecture?~
“Could I stop you?”
~I’m certain you could if you so chose. I am, after all, a figment of your imagination.~
“Hm. Good point.”
~As far as imaginary friends go, you have impeccable taste.~
“When did you get conceited?”
~There is no conceit in self worth.~
“Are you about to get all philosophical on me?”
~When am I not?.~
“Should it concern me that I’m talking out loud to a dead guy?”
~Probably. Of course you could always cool down the mansion and run room to room whispering ‘I see dead people’ with that neat little puff of breath hovering in the frigid air.~
“Yes, people think I’m spooky enough.”
~You are not spooky.~
“Thank you.”
~You’re weird.~
“Henry.”
~Wolverine.~
“What?” That caught her off guard.
~Wolverine is headed this way.~
“Now why’d you have to go and ruin my mood.” Ororo opened her eyes and sure enough Wolverine was striding up the cobbled path towards her. He had changed from his uniform into a plain white t-shirt under a beaten denim jacket and a pair of faded jeans. His face was shadowed from his cowboy hat, but she could see the burning tip of his trademark cigar, and a beer can in his hand.
With a feeling of unease she slowly got to her feet. “Wolverine,” she greeted, knowing even at a distance he could hear her. “What do you want?”
“Came ta pay my respects ta Beast.” He replied when he was closer, his eyes moving from her to the tombstone. “Fer what it’s worth, I thought he was a good man.”
Ororo nodded solemnly. “He was. The absolute best.” She ran her fingertips lightly over the cool headstone, saying a silent farewell.
“You two were close?” he commented when she started away.
“Henry was my best friend,” she responded tightly. “But you knew that.”
“Look, ‘Ro. I know ya got a stick up yer ass about me givin’ Scooter the heave -ho, but could ya cut me some slack. I didn’t come up here to fight with you.”
She sighed heavily, the days events and her emotional turmoil making her tired. She and Wolverine had never really been friends but she had been all about giving the former assassin a second chance, but that was before he had betrayed the team and before Henry’s death. She remembered all too well the last conversation she and Wolverine had shared before he and Scott took the assignment in the Savage land. The one assignment that had changed everything.
Several months ago...
Ororo was seated on the brown leather couch in the rec room beside Wolverine watching comedian Dane Cook on the television.
“It’s so wrong that I find this so funny,” she said, her face sore from smiling.
“Ya do seem ta be getting a kick outta this,” he had commented.
She lifted one shoulder. “It’s good to laugh, Logan. Reminds me that I’m still human and more than an obligatory action figure in Professor X’s dream of a brighter tomorrow.”
Wolverine gave her a lingering once over, taking in her white tank and short black skirt. “I ain’t never seen an action figure look like you, darlin’.”
Ororo laughed. “Would you have played with it?”
“There’s a loaded question.” Wolverine took a long drink of beer.
Ororo punched his arm playfully. It was then that Jean and Scott had entered the room, holding hands and fawning over one another. Wolverine had become very tense, his gray gaze deepening to black as he watched the young couple. -SNIKT- He had growled low and forcibly retracted, trying to control his rage.
“Must be hard watching the woman you love with someone else,” Ororo commented softly.
“Love,” he grumbled glaring at Scott and Jean’s cuddling backs. “Who the fuck needs it?”
Ororo took his hand, the one his claws had extended from. She rubbed his knuckles, her finger tips removing the faint trace of blood the extension caused. “I think you need it more than anyone.” She stood, deciding to give him some privacy. “Good night.”
Wolverine and Scott had left the next morning for the Savage Land.
Thinking back now, Ororo wondered if maybe she should have seen the danger Wolverine posed to Cyclops. Knowing that such questions and ponderings were useless and ridiculous she recapped her pen. “I don’t want to fight with you either, Wolverine. If we’re going to be forced to work together, then I think a civil relationship would be best.”
He gave her a long stare. “Whatever happened to Logan?” he asked, referring to her only calling him Wolverine.
She met his stare with a weighted one of her own. “I could ask you the same thing. Excuse me.”
Logan watched her go with a mixture of emotions he didn’t want to deal with. He turned to the headstone. “So,” he said after taking a drink of his beer. “Yer dead.”
Leaves tumbled across the ground.
“Sucks ta be you.” He walked away from the grave.
“Goooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalllllllllllll!!!” Inside the Mansion’s recreation room, Bobby Drake lifted his arms over his blond head in a victory ‘V’ and raced around and around one of two foosball tables.
Kitty gave him a disgusted look, angrily spinning the handle of her goalie. “You suck,” she told the little inanimate object.
“Aww, play nice, Kitten,” Ororo teased strolling into the room. “You’ll hurt the little man’s feelings.”
“Ororo!” Peter rose from the oversized recliner he was seated in, smiling in welcome. It had been awhile since Storm had joined them in the rec room, or anywhere else, for that matter.
“Peter.” She acknowledged. “What’s everyone up to this evening?”
“Well, Katya and Bobby just finished a rousing game of fake soccer, and Alison is currently whomping Kurt in Tekken.” He gestured to the carpet where Alison lay on her stomach and Kurt sat cross legged beside her, video game controllers in hand. “And I am reading.”
“Fascinating.”
“It is good to see you here,” he said sincerely. He looked around, as if expecting someone. “Where is Wolverine?” he finally asked.
Though they had just parted ways, her response was a flat, “Don’t know. Don’t care.” Ororo plopped herself onto the couch, one arm flung over her head, her long hair trailing to the floor. She yawned as she stared at the large screen television and the Tekken match taking place there.
“I’m right here, Petey.” A low rumble caused all activity in the room to momentarily cease. Ororo sighed, knowing it had been a futile wish to get some time to veg. No way could she relax with him around making her stomach somersault and her heart beat pound so hard her teeth clinked.
“Hello, comrade. Are you up for a game of pool?”
Wolverine gave nod making his way to the dark green felt covered table. “Sure. I got nothin’ better ta do.”
“You do now,” Cyclops said, walking into the room, with Jean beside him. The lovely red-head cast Wolverine a wary look. In response he grinned wolfishly, causing her to gasp and look away. “You and Storm are wanted in the Professor’s Office.” Cyclops continued. “Now.”
Wolverine replaced the pool stick he had just removed from the wall. “Looks like it’ll have ta be another time, Pete.”
“Why?” Ororo asked Scott, unmoving from the brown leather couch.
“The Professor didn’t say,” Jean answered. “He just told us that he wanted to see you and Lo-- Wolverine.”
Ororo grunted, sitting up and running a hand over her hair. “I don’t suppose I could call in sick?”
“Why not? Cyke and Jean get days off to fuck.” Alison said from the floor.
“Alis--” Cyclops began.
“Bite me, Visor boy.”
Wolverine smiled. “I’m starting to like her.”
“Gee, you like me? Wow, now I’m giddy as a school girl.” Ali guffawed in thick hillbilly accent.
“Alison, what have I told you about that kind of behavior?” Ororo admonished.
Ali hung her head, pouting slightly. “It’s not nice to mock the stupid?”
Ororo smiled, pleased. “Good girl.”
“Enough you two.” Cyclops said, clearly exasperated. “Storm, Wolverine, the Professor wants you. Alison, shut up.”
Ororo and Ali winked at each other, untroubled by Scott’s reprimand; it was a usual enough occurrence. With a resigned sigh Ororo stood, stepping over Ali and Kurt, giving Nightcrawler’s tale a gentle pull as she passed. “Whoop our girl’s butt good for me, okay?”
Kurt laughed. “I’ll try, but no promises. She tends to cheat.”
“I do not!” Ali protested, gently shoving Kurt.
“Doing the same combo over and over is not cheating?” He playfully pushed her back.
“Not when it works,” she retorted. “Now shut up and play.”
Ororo could hear Ali’s triumphant yell as she and Wolverine made their way through the long corridors. Never had the school seemed so large as it did now. Walking through the building, alone with Wolverine was disconcerting.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and Ororo knew he was studying her. She stopped abruptly, casting him an annoyed look over her shoulder. “Do you mind?”
Logan rocked back on his heels, his smile smug. “Not at all.”
Ororo frowned, turning and continuing down the hall.
“You have a great ass.” Logan murmured, just loud enough for her to hear his lust tinted voice.
Ororo shivered, her stomach clenching. Damn him! And his ridiculous effect on her!
Once outside the Professor‘s door, there was no need to knock. “Enter.” Xavier called.
Logan pushed open the door, stepping around Ororo, brushing her arm with his as he did so and she literally felt electricity course between them. His steel eyes flickered as he looked at her. He had felt it too.
“Wolverine. Storm. Please be seated.” Charles indicated the two chairs in front of his small hearth, a cheery fire crackling. The man certainly liked fire, Wolverine thought.
Ororo sat, crossing one leg over the other, patiently waiting for Xavier to continue.
“What is it ya want, Chuck?” Wolverine asked, still standing, but he moved behind Ororo’s seat, placing his arm along the back.
“I have an assignment for the two of you.” Charles said without preamble.
Before he could continue Ororo shook her head. “No thanks, Professor. Last time you sent Wolverine on a mission he threw Cyclops off a cliff.”
Wolverine snorted, leaning down so that his breath tickled her ear. “Relax, darlin’. You can fly.”
Charles cleared his throat. “This assignment is non negotiable, Ororo, so I suggest you get used to it.” Xavier telekinetically sent them each a manila folder. “Inside is a dossier on a man known as Victor Creed, aka, Sabertooth. He’s a dangerous mutant and I believe he is being recruited.”
Ororo flipped open the file, sifting through the papers. “By whom?”
“At this time I believe it may be Weapon X.” Xavier’s gaze locked on Wolverine.
“Hnh.”
“I need as much information as you can gather. Photos, location, movement. All of it. This information will be highly valuable for me as well as for General Fury.”
Wolverine snapped his folder shut. “I can handle this solo, Chuck. I don’t need Princess Doom and Gloom comin’ with.”
“Good.” Ororo said, standing.
*Sit.*
Ororo sat, compelled to do so.
Xavier stroked the prone feline on his lap, his voice firm as he continued. “I hand out these assignments for very specific reasons. I do not pull names from a hat and send you off willy-nilly--”
Ororo barely suppressed a smile at the Professor saying willy-nilly.
“In this case you and Storm are ideal for the job. Locating Creed will be difficult; thus far no one seems able to do it. With your tracking and numerous other skills, Wolverine, you are our best bet at locating him.”
“Yeah, so what’s Storm for?”
“Attraction.”
Both Ororo and Logan leaned forward. “Excuse me?” Ororo said, clearly surprised.
Xavier looked them straight in the face. “Ororo, you are a very beautiful woman, with intense power. It will attract him.”
“No.” Wolverine shook his head.
“There is a good chance Creed once worked with Magneto and his Brotherhood,” Charles added quietly, almost absently, but it had the desired effect.
“When do we leave,” Ororo asked, her voice frozen.
“Tomorrow. You’ll be traveling by car. The details of your assignment are in the folder. Read it, know it, get the job done.”
“Where we headed, Chuck?” Wolverine asked, irked by the stunt the man in front of him had just pulled.
“Somewhere you’ll be quite comfortable with, Wolverine. Canada.”
Ororo tossed her duffle bag onto her bed, cramming clothing inside, grumbling the entire while. Her ramblings becoming faster and more agitated with every article of clothing shoved into the open mouth of her bag.
“Ofalltherottenstupidluck--GettingsentintothefrigginwoodswithwackoWolverine…”
“Knock, knock.”
“Come in, Ali.” Ororo called, sliding the zipper open on one of the smaller pockets.
“Holy hell!” Ali said immediately upon opening the door. “What’d you do to piss off Mr. Clean? Sending you out alone with Wolverine? He wants you off’d, don’t he? I knew stealing the SUV again was a bad idea.”
Storm paused mid-stuff. “This isn’t funny, Alison.”
“Maybe not for you, but I think it’s damn hilarious.” Ali jumped up onto the bed, bouncing up and down. “Can I sleep in your room while you’re gone?”
Ororo frowned up at her. “What? Why?”
Ali pouted. “Cuz I’ll miss yoooooou.”
Ororo couldn‘t help but chuckle. “Freak.”
“You know it.”
“You really want my room?”
“Yes, you lucky bitch. Getting a single when I have to share with perpetual crush-girl.”
Ororo smiled, opening her underwear drawer. “Kitty can’t be that bad.”
Ali groaned, then mimicked. “Oooohhh, Spidey is soooo amazing and soooo super cool. And Iceman. Oooooh, he’s soooo dreamy. Fuckin’ gag me.”
“All right, I get it. I get it.”
Ali plopped onto her butt, jostling the duffle. “So. Where you headed?”
“Canada.”
“Ooooh, fun.” Ali rolled her eyes. “Why can’t there ever be an assignment in Hawaii, or the Bahamas?”
Ororo’s mouth twitched. Ali always put her in a good mood. There were many at the Institute that found Ali abrasive and hard to deal with, but once you got past the exterior spikes and gruffness, the girl had a heart of gold.
“Sooo…” Ali prodded.
“Sooo… What?”
Ali leaned forward, her voice lowered. “You and Wolverine… Alone. Un-chaperoned…”
Ororo dropped her hairbrush, then quickly retrieved it, casting Alison a sharp look. “What of it?”
“Oh, come on? I saw you all hot and bothered the other night.”
“Ali, have you been sniffing glue again?”
Ali threw a pillow at Ororo’s head.
“The man is a walking weapon. I have more sense than to get involved.”
“Pfft. Who said involved? You just need a good, solid fuck.”
“Alison!”
“Well, you do. You’re wound tighter than a..a…well, something wound fuckin’ tight. You need some release.”
Ororo shoved several pairs of socks and underwear in her bag, trying to ignore the flush creeping into her face. “Could we talk about something else?”
“Ummmm…” Ali tapped her index finger against her chin, pondering. “ No.”
“Ali.”
“Ugh. Fine.” The dark haired girl flopped back on the mattress. “So, isn’t Kurt really hot?”
“Wow, we diverged so far.” Ororo rolled her blue eyes, trying her darndest not to laugh.
Ali shrugged. “Just stating the obvious.”
“Uh-huh. Maybe I’m not the one who needs some release.”
Ali laughed. “That’s why I have Big Earl.” She stated, referring to her vibrator.
“I’m glad for you. Now get your skinny, flat ass off my bed and help me pack.”
“Okay, okay.” Ali stood. As the two packed Ororo’s duffel they fell into companionable silence, moving around each other easily. When they were finished and the two bags were piled beside the door, Ali finally asked, “So, Stormy, you going to be okay?”
Ororo shook her head. “Somehow, I doubt it.”
