Chapter Thirteen: Hand of God
Human pride sings a vengeful song
Inspired by the times it’s been walked on
~Creed
It had not taken long for the five X-Men to locate a small clearing in the woods surrounding the tiny farm that had served as their landing zone. The flight and subsequent jump had left Peter with a sour stomach and both young girls dizzy from the shift in equilibrium.
Logan bandaged a large gash on Rogue’s arm from the landing, which she desperately needed to perfect. Jubilee was fighting with the communication equipment she had managed to bring with her. He had to admit, the kid had good survival instincts.
The clearing was well protected by thick forest. Wide tree trunks and heavy underbrush provided natural camouflage for the stranded group of mutants. Logan checked on Jubilee and Storm, the latter patting Peter’s back as he vomited over a dead log before he began to make rounds.
His communicator was not working, which make him rather nervous if he wanted to be honest with himself. Though he knew Storm was in contact with Jean via that mysterious mental link, it was still preferable to have other means of communication. Hopefully, the other X-Men, who had escaped their own pursuit, would be along shortly to collect them.
Sniffing out the various scents of wildlife and old human trails, Logan contemplated the situation. It was somewhat obvious that they had either been betrayed or expected in some other capacity. Betrayal was unlikely, as the other two jets had been attacked as well. Not even Magneto was bastard enough to sacrifice his own people. He hoped.
Somehow, the Friends of Humanity had been waiting for them. The divided allies were weaker when separated and held aloft in a two-ton machine. There was little the group could do in the air. Storm might have left the plane to fight, but the others were hopelessly trapped in that enormous tin can.
They had all watched the jet crash into the woods beyond the farm. Ororo had taken a moment to activate the self-destruct, ensuring that the encrypted files housed in the jet’s computer would never reach the wrong hands.
So they had no choice but to wait for the cavalry. Logan wished he and his ‘Ro had decided to just stay in her bathtub together, letting the world fall to pieces outside their peaceful rooms. At least there he felt safe, untouchable, instead of naked for the world to see.
“Logan?”
Turning at the call of her voice, Logan offered his lover a small smile. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” She settled her leather-clad form on a nearby stump, crossing her arms over her chest. “Peter’s stomach has finally settled. I have Rogue looking after him.”
“Poor kid,” Logan grunted. “I think I saw his boots come out of him.”
Ororo chuckled softly, that light sound reminding him of a summer breeze. “Yes, I do not think taking him on roller coasters will ever be a good idea.”
He grunted in response again, looking toward the branch-woven canopy that blocked the dusk sky above them. “Any word from the others?”
“Yes,” she replied instantly. “The Brotherhood took heavy damage, but they did manage to rescue most of the hostages in Colorado. They are going back to the mansion to regroup. Cyclops’ team is working on locating us now. The jet’s transponder signal pointed in the direction of southern Germany.”
“Not far from our target, eh?”
“Not at all,” she agreed. “I want all of us to be alert. I do not believe that jet’s goal was merely to get us out of the sky.”
“If he wanted to kill us,” Logan continued her train of thought. “Why didn’t he use one of the twenty weapons on his plane? This whole thing reeks like One-Eye’s chili.”
“That was not just any pilot, Logan,” the white-haired beauty persisted. “He was well-trained. I have not seen such piloting outside of the military.”
“Whatcha thinkin’?”
A frown creased the lines of her face, her lips pursing in something dangerously close to a pout as she thought on all that had happened. He could almost hear the wheels turning in that brilliant mind.
“I am still unsure.”
Before either of them could continue, Logan’s sensitive ears picked up a soft clicking sound from several yards beyond the clearing. He stood, shushing the group quickly. Nose to the air, he inhaled several times, trying to find a foreign scent among the smell of woods and familiar mutants.
Softly, as a woman’s caress in the dead of night, came the tang of alien bodies and the rust of overworked metal. Concentrating his hearing now, Logan picked out at the sounds of at least a dozen pairs of running boots, though the wearers were cautious to make as little noise as possible.
“They’re surrounding us,” he said in a low growl. His claws bit at the underside of his skin, begging for release.
“How many?” Ororo asked as Logan detected the faint hints of fog coming in to cloak them all.
“A dozen, maybe more.” He sniffed at the air again. “Possibly German militia or some kind of organized group.”
“Friends?” Colossus whispered from across the clearing.
“Could be.”
“Now what?” Rogue chimed in, her voice equally low.
To his great surprise, Storm moved to the center of the clearing. “We allow them to capture us.”
“What?” Logan hissed, his eyes going wide. The sounds of troops came closer and closer still with every moment that ticked by.
A dozen soldiers was nothing in the grand scheme of things. He could easily take out six and he knew for a fact that Colossus could handle the others. It would be an easy thing, really. The girls wouldn’t even get their hands dirty. They would likely find a radio among them to get an update on all that was happening outside of Germany.
“We still have a mission to fulfill,” Storm reminded them all in a tone dripping with authority. “If it is the Friends of Humanity, we can locate their base and escape after we locate the hostages. Jean and Scott have already unloaded their hostages, so they will have room.”
“This is crazy.” Wolverine growled at her, not caring if the command in her eyes was something he knew better than to trifle with. “They’ll kill ya the second they realize who it is they’re holding.”
“I do not think so, Wolverine,” she said in a cold tone. “They want me alive.”
“Rankin wanted you alive!” he hissed back. “The others riddled you with holes, or don’t you remember?”
“This solves nothing,” Colossus broke in with his deep, soothing voice. “We must decide. Quickly.”
Across the clearing, with fog swirling around them and the sounds of approaching footsteps echoing in his ears, Logan’s eyes met Ororo’s. The solid white did not diminish her weighty stare in the slightest. She was still the goddess, to be worshipped and obeyed, even as the animal within him thrashed at the reigns. There was something to what she said, but the risk was too great. He had nearly lost her so many times…it was not an option to do so again.
“No.”
One word seemed to ricochet around the clearing as the footsteps told him they were completely out of time. Before any of them could move, dozens of machine-gun toting militia burst through the underbrush, immediately surrounding the marooned X-Men.
“Keine Bewegung! Hände hoch! Waffen fallen lassen!”
The seeming leader shouted in the thick burr of German as Rogue and Jubilee were forced onto their knees, hands folded behind their heads. Blood boiling in his veins, he watched as his beloved weather goddess fall to her knees as well.
“Wir wollen Euch nichts tun. Unser Flugzeug ist abgestürzt.I>” Ororo replied, much to Logan’s surprise.
“Wir suchen nach fünf Mutanten-Verbrecher. Ihr paßt auf die Beschreibung.,” came the swift reply.
Logan had no idea what either of them was saying, but from the sudden scent of fear that Ororo lit off, he had the distinct feeling it was not good news.
“Ist es ein Verbrechen ein Mutant zu sein?” Storm’s voice was soft, even to Logan’s sensitive ears.
“ Das kannst du den Anführer selber fragen”
Logan controlled a growl in his throat when Ororo was hauled to her feet by the hair. She did not cry out or even wince in pain, though she tossed her teammates a look that clearly told them all to behave or face her wrath.
One by one, the X-Men were dragged from the woods and tossed into the back of a beat-up Hummer, hands bound and mouths gagged.
It was going to be a very long night.
~*~
It was daybreak by the time the bouncing of the Hummer ceased, the squeal of oil-thirsty brakes hurting Logan’s ears. Rogue and Jubilee, whom had drifted off to sleep while leaning against one another, awoke with a start. Peter had bent his head in prayer some time ago, while Storm kneeled beside him, her back erect as though she were listening to something.
Logan, on the other hand, was spitting mad. She had gone and gotten them all into trouble now. He had the cold, crippling fear that his beloved had made her final mistake. For over a year, the Friends had terrorized her. They had crashed her car, shot her, kidnapped her, and attempted to take her mutation by force. And she played right into their hands this time.
Rage brought a thick, coppery taste to the back of his throat. If they got out of this alive, he was going to chain her to their bed, to ensure she never did something stupid ever again.
The younger girls straightened as the crunch of boots against gravel alerted the X-Men that someone was approaching the back of the truck. They would be released soon enough, likely taken into separate jail cells to await experimentation and death. Hopefully, Cyclops would realize what was happening and come to the rescue.
He almost snorted to himself. When it came to bullshit heroics, Scott was worse than ‘Ro.
The heavy metal doors were yanked open, spilling cold sunlight into the bed of the truck. Peter was immediately pulled from the truck, followed by the young girls with clipped instructions in German that he assumed meant for them to shut up and behave themselves.
Logan jumped down like a good boy, looking over his shoulder to see ‘Ro sliding down as well. The assembled group was given only a moment to take in their remote surroundings before they were shoved down the gravel path.
The phrase “Bumfuck” jumped into Logan’s mind almost instantly. All around them were rocky cliffs and thick forest. The gravel road stopped at rust-covered wrought iron gates and a chipped brick privacy wall. He could only guess what the inside would look like.
Cameras had been placed at various points, the hum of an electrified fence reached his ears from somewhere beyond these ancient gates. Whoever they were about to meet was a stickler for security, that much was a given.
One of the militiamen walked to the gate, pressing a button that alerted those inside to the presence at the gates. After several clipped words in guttural German, the man turned to his men and ordered them back to the truck.
Within moments, the X-Men were left unattended as the Hummer bounced back down the road. Both eyebrows lifted, Logan looked to Storm, whom was frowning in confusion.
“Now what?” he tried to ask through his gag.
She shrugged at him, looking around cautiously.
“Come inside,” a disembodied voice ordered as the gates creaked open. “Walk through the courtyard and into the brown door on the left. If you do not comply, the automatic weaponry mounted on the guard wall will open fire. Nod your understanding.”
One by one, the mutants nodded. Logan pinpointed the voice as blaring through a nearby speaker. He jogged out ahead of the others, leaving Colossus to bring in the rear with the girls fanned out in a circle between them. Even while bound and gagged on enemy soil, they were still the X-Men and some training had been so deeply engrained in them all, it was merely second nature.
The courtyard was smaller than the outer gates gave away. Gravel crunched under the mutants’ boots, sending the sound echoing through the rocky mountains and forested valleys. Rain-damaged brick was built into a gothic manor house, something out of those insane novels Kitty was always reading.
Stained glass adorned every window and sculpted gargoyles stood guard to protect the house from unwanted evils. It was so far overboard toward the eccentric insanity that came from fanatical hatred, that Logan snorted a laugh around his gag.
Spotting the thick oak door, which was painted a muddy brown, he indicated to it with a jerk of his head. The others closed in behind him, creating a solid wall of bodies that could jump forward or back to protect one another.
The low whine of machinery told him the mounted weaponry was indeed following their every move. Knowing that he and Colossus were least likely to die from such things, he ensured their bodies at least partially covered the others.
With a gust of dank air, the door swung open, banging on the side of the wall as it flew back from the force. Testing the air for the presence of people before moving, Logan took three steps into the room.
It was darker than pitch and the most recent scent was that of a woman, days old already. Knowing Ororo was likely to have a panic attack if she entered, he turned to attempt warning her.
Too late.
The others had already crowded into the dark space, the door slamming shut and bolting behind them. Without so much as a warning, as everyone grunted around their gags, he heard a faint click all around them, followed by the hiss of air or gas being forced through some kind of pipe.
It tasted of sweat and old gym socks. By the time the gas even reached his nostrils, the loud thud of bodies hitting the ground gave it’s presence away. He struggled toward Storm, attempting to pick her scent out of the others and the gas.
He managed to fight the effects of the gas for several seconds before his adamantium-laced limbs became lead and he toppled to the floor, his alert mind giving way to the land of sunlight and dreams.
~*~
Behind the thick glass that protected them from the effects of the sleeping gas, three men watched the various mutants fall to the floor, courtesy of the infrared monitors reflecting on the glass.
“Interesting,” said the first. “Almost triple the dosage for that one.”
“I doubt it will last very long on a mutant such as him,” continued the second.
“Quite,” chimed the third. “We must move them quickly.”
As the third man, one of raven hair and coal-black eyes signaled for the guards to collect their prisoners, the first and second leaned closer to the window. The five mutants were the only they hand managed to collect from the three pronged attack. Consolation prizes, at this point, to be honest.
“Put them all together, except for the Regenerating One,” offered the second. “Isolation for him.”
“I will fetch The Leader,” said the first. “We want them all contained as quickly as possible. Mindful of the Weather Controller. She is dangerous. Be sure you schedule the five for immediate termination.”
They all nodded, moving to the corridors that would take them to the inner compound. The first took the right, making his way directly to the chambers of their wise leader. A young man, to be sure, but he had already helped them do so much good. Though he had only recently come to them, the man was sure The Leader would direct the world out of the mutant infested present and into an Age of True Man. No more would these abominations fight against the hand of God.
He ran a hand through his blonde locks as he approached the inner sanctum. The crooned intonation of prayers from the atrium soothed him as he moved past the outdoor chapel. It was such a comfort, surrounding oneself with God and all his wonders. This perversion of the natural order, these mutants, were nothing that He would have allowed. It was human pride that changed the course of history.
God had given them The Leader to be his arm, and the Friends of Humanity would be his sword.
As he entered the inner sanctum, a place utterly devoid of pomp or comfort, he bowed his head at the Leader, as he knelt in prayer. Only a thick, dark wood cross adorned these blessed walls. Only the most severe of décor would do for one devoted to the work of God.
“Leader.”
“Yes, my child?”
“We have captured those you sought.”
“You will exterminate them immediately?”
“Yes, Leader,” the humbled man said easily. “Even now they are being prepared with the others.”
The Leader stood, his youthful face alight with the blessings of God. He placed his hand on the blonde man’s head.
“You have done well, my son. Go now, complete your duties and then you may pray.”
The blonde man left quickly, a skip in his step.
The Leader allowed himself a smile as the man left. He shook his head, laughing to himself. Oh, it had been so easy. Too easy. His power demonstrated courtesy of his mutation.
“Good boy, Jeffery,” he patted himself on the back. “Now that bitch and her mutt will get what they deserved.”
He did not sink to his knees in prayer, but removed the weathered photograph from his pocket. Gingerly, he touched the image of his father and brother.
“Now, I will have your vengeance, Father. I will show myself worthy of you.”
~**~
Translations:
(This is the conversation between Ororo and the militia leader, translated courtesy of the Babel Fish online translation dictionary. Any mistakes are because I don’t speak a lick of German and are not intended to offend.)
Freeze! Hands up! Drop your weapons!
Keine Bewegung! Hände hoch! Waffen fallen lassen!
We mean no harm. Our plane crashed.
Wir wollen Euch nichts tun. Unser Flugzeug ist abgestürzt.
We are looking for five mutant criminals. You match the descriptions.
Wir suchen nach fünf Mutanten-Verbrecher. Ihr paßt auf die Beschreibung.
(for this funny - looking "ß" you can write "ss" instead)
Is being a mutant a crime?
Ist es ein Verbrechen ein Mutant zu sein?
You may ask the Leader yourself.
Das kannst du den Anführer selber fragen.
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