Chapter Eight: Redemption
A glowing ember
Burning hot, burning slow
Deep within I'm shaken by the violence
Of existing for only you
~Sarah McLachlan
The truck needed a desperate shocks replacement, as well as a thorough restoration on the bed. She had scraped her knees at least twice on the rust-laden floor, though she would never betray the pain. She could feel a trickle of blood down her leg, but there was no way she was going to ask for a bandage.
Keeping her breathing slow and easy, her eyes on the blurring cornfields on the side of the street, Ororo tried to take stock of her current situation.
Four armed teenagers – they started young now – sat in a semi-circle around her. They laughed and jeered, but neither of them had struck her again. She could only assume they had been told to keep her in one piece rather than roughing her up as their eyes clearly said they wanted to.
Her cheek still stung from the smart slap the spiky haired boy had given her when she’d attempted to escape from the bed of the truck. She had seen Logan’s reaction, prayed that he would control himself long enough to keep his cover in tact.
He had, though she suspected it had taken all of his will power to do so.
Ororo felt her eyes lose focus, the heat and fatigue weighing down on her. She would likely lose consciousness soon. The thought frightened her more than she would have liked. They had all heard horror stories of what female captives were put through while being held by the “Friends”.
Ororo?
Careful to not let her relief show on her face, Ororo mentally embraced that familiar telepathic voice. Obviously, Logan had contacted the mansion. That would mean the Calvary was coming.
Jean. I am all right. Is there a plan yet?
The pause following Ororo’s silent question sent a bit of fear racing down Ororo’s spine.
Jean?
The Professor wants us to wait.
Biting back the surge of betrayal and anger that suddenly bubbled inside of her, Ororo sent a heated reply.
Why?
We may be able to find out more about them. I know it’s not the easiest request, but…
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
Ororo cried out when her head was drawn sharply back, the spiky haired boy standing over her, his hand fisted in her short hair. She glanced around quickly, noting that they were all watching her carefully, weapons raised.
“N-Nothing,” she replied quickly.
“Talkin’ to one of your mutie friends?” he leaned closer to her, his breath smelling terribly of garlic and beer. “Don’t think we don’t know all about those mind-readers.”
Swallowing hard, knowing Jean was likely listening in, Ororo shook her head. “It is hot, and I am dehydrated. Nothing more.”
Pain exploded behind her left eye, the result of a sharp backhand. Ororo’s head snapped to the side, her mind screaming with the pain, echoing with Jean’s gasp of surprise.
Drawing herself back up, trying to bite past the pain, Ororo met the boy’s eyes unflinchingly.
He shifted closer to her, leaning down to speak into her ear. “We know all about you, mutie. We know more than you think.”
She shuddered with disgust when he licked the shell of her ear, but she made no move to retreat.
“If Rankin wasn’t set on having you all to himself, we’d be having a good time with you, show you what real men are made of. But, since we’re being denied, maybe we’ll torture you another way.”
Ororo’s eyes flashed with fear and rage, though her face remained in a steely mask. The other boys jeered and snickered, some of them leering at her in a way that made her want to boil her skin in acid.
“We know,” her captor said in a husky whisper. “We know who Kinney really is. We’ll make him watch as we use you, kill you. And then we’ll get rid of him. It’ll be our greatest victory.”
Ororo, stay calm.
Not even Jean’s soothing voice could stop the thick taste of bile rising in Ororo’s throat. Cold fear threatened to take her completely, the sky blackening ominously above them. As her friend tried in vain to calm her fears, Ororo took a page from her beloved’s book.
She made a disgusting noise in her throat, turned her head and spit on the young man’s face, glaring at him defiantly when he drew back, wiping at his face. He silenced the laughter from the others with a single look, then struck Ororo across the face twice more.
Before they could continue their delightful display, a knocking came from the small window leading to the cab of the truck. A muffled male voice called through the glass.
“Pack it in, we’re coming up on the compound.”
~@~
They had sedated her sometime after reaching the compound. Ororo whimpered as she awoke, her arms and legs stiff. Her back screamed with pain, a very real fear that she would be back in her wheelchair crept into her drug-addled mind before she fully came awake.
When she realised her hands and legs were bound, she woke with a start, pulling against the rope that held her down.
Her wrists were raw from her struggles as she blinked her weary eyes, trying to make out what sort of room she had been taken to. It was darker than pitch, without even moonlight to break the stifling blackness.
Taking slow breaths, Ororo pushed down with her backside, finding whatever lay beneath her softer than wood or stone. Looking above her head, she made out a rickety headboard. Pushing with her feet, she decided she was tied to the head and footboards of a bed.
She could make out the faint outline of a door across the room and what looked to be a chair. The only window was closed tightly, shutters obviously keeping any hint of light locked out.
Fine hairs on the back of her neck stood up, alerting her that someone was in the room. Her groggy mind had not noticed it before, likely thanks to whatever she had been given before they had moved her inside.
She trained her hearing, listening for the sound of breathing to locate whomever thought it was entertaining to watch her struggling. It took several moments before she was able to discern which area of the cramped room was occupied by a malevolent being.
“I know you are there,” her voice cracked through the silence, seeming impossibly loud. “There is no need to conceal yourself.”
A faint rustling of clothing was the only reply she was awarded. Her eyes focused on the seemingly empty corner of the room, silently hoping it was Logan crouched there. He would have some sort of plan to get them both out of this mess.
“I pose you no threat,” she continued in a calm voice. “You have nothing to fear.”
Several minutes ticked by, seeming to stretch into hours as she awaited some kind of acknowledgement.
“I’m supposed to cover your eyes.”
The scratchy female voice was unfamiliar. Ororo took a deep breath, nodding toward where the woman had hidden herself.
“I understand. I will not fight you.”
A lengthy pause was broken only by a loud sniffle. “You promise?”
Ororo nodded again. “Yes, I promise.”
Slowly, with almost irritating caution, the silhouette of a young woman crept from the shadows. Ororo could only see the sway and dance of shadows as she approached, unable to see what the woman looked like in the pitch dark.
The feel of a scratchy cloth made her start, but she settled back down easily, lifting her head. She felt the woman tie the cloth behind her head, her eyes now useless. The rag smelled of age and garbage, making Ororo fight the urge to vomit.
“Where am I?” she asked softly, hearing the woman move away.
“North Dakota, headquarters for the Canon County cell of the Friends of Humanity,” the woman sniffled hoarsely. “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”
Ororo nodded, picking up a bit of sadness in the young woman’s voice. She remained silent for a few seconds, then replied in an equally quiet tone.
“I would not want to get you into trouble…” she trailed off, implying that she would like to know the other woman’s name.
“My Daddy calls me “Princess”, but my name’s Tess.”
“That’s a pretty name, Tess,” Ororo smiled, though the woman would not be able to see it. “I am Ororo.”
Tess seemed to laugh, though the sound was hollow. “What kind of name is that?”
Ororo chuckled softly, understanding. “African. My mother was from Tanzania.”
“That sounds like an interestin’ place. What was it like there?”
“I thought you were not supposed to talk to me,” Ororo replied carefully, hoping the girl would play into it.
“I’m not, but all the men are in a meeting for at least a couple of hours, they won’t catch me.”
There was a hint of guarded defiance and giddy thrill in the girl’s voice now, making her seem more animated, more alive. Ororo decided then and there that if she needed an ally inside the Friends of Humanity, her opportunity was pounding on the door.
If the others were in a meeting, perhaps there was a chance for escape. If she could get away, Logan would be free to flee as well. There was hope.
“Well, so long as you will not get into trouble, I think we can chat for a little while.”
Tess made a noise like a scoff as Ororo heard her move closer again. The bed dipped under the girl’s weight, she had sat down beside her. Ororo could almost feel all of the fear and animosity she had felt just moments before slip away. This girl was obviously lonely here in Canon County.
For the next hour or so, from what Ororo could tell of time without the aide of light or a watch, she told her captor about the villages and plains of her home country, embellishing a few of the finer details when pressed.
Tess was interested in visiting new places, or so she said. It had not taken very long to win the young girl’s confidences. Ororo had scarcely finished her stories of home when Tess changed the subject dramatically.
“You know, you’re not so bad for a mutant,” Tess said, her tone now bordering on chatty. “Usually when my daddy makes me watch the prisoners, they cry and scream, make a horrible racket. You’re all calm though. Aren’t you scared?”
Ororo knew this would make or break the entire relationship. She nodded slowly. “Of course I am afraid, but fighting would just make it worse.”
“Yeah, it would,” Tess said matter-of-factly. “If you were hollerin’ and all, I’d have to call the men. That’s when things get ugly.”
“Ugly how?” Ororo inflected her voice with fear.
“Oh, now don’t you worry,” the girl’s hand patted her leg comfortingly. “They gave strict orders that the men couldn’t use you til they got what they needed. Maybe they’ll just shoot you outright.”
If a quick death gives this child hope, I am in more trouble than I thought, Ororo mentally tucked that thought away.
“Do you know what they mean to do with me?”
Ororo could feel the young girl shrug. “Steal your powers, of course.”
Whatever she had been preparing herself for, Ororo was shocked into dead silence at this news. It was common for mutants to be imprisoned and experimented on, but this was the first she had ever heard of an intention to steal a mutation.
“Is that possible?” Ororo asked, the fear in her voice real now.
Her captor did not seem to realise she was feeding Ororo with information that was probably best kept to herself and continued on as though talking with a school friend.
“Well, I overheard my daddy sayin’ to one of the others that a mutie doctor named…McAvoy or something said the secrets to mutie powers was in the blood,” she paused, as though thinking. “Might have been McCoy, come to think of it.”
Remembering the day she had learned of Logan’s location, Ororo mentally swore at her friend, vowing to knock him on the head as soon as she saw him again.
“I have heard of a doctor by that name, but how does blood help a normal human take mutant powers?”
Ororo blinked as a sudden light came up in front of her. A cold hand reached up, taking the cloth from her eyes. The change in light made her close her eyes, prying them open a few moments later when they adjusted.
Tess sat beside her, a small smile on her face. She was a thin girl, perhaps in her late teens. Her blonde hair was matted to her sallow-skin, her dark blue eyes seeming too large for her face. She had various scars on her arms and face from obvious abuse and neglect.
And she held a ball of light in the palm of her hand.
“I don’t know how it works exactly, but my daddy gave me this from a mutant he captured last month,” she said softly. “First time it’s worked for longer than a few days though.”
Blinking at the young girl in horror, Ororo did not notice when the door to the tiny room swung open. She only saw a large hand grip Tess’ shirt and haul her outside. She could hear Tess’ pleading voice as the door slammed closed again, followed by the sharp slap of flesh striking flesh.
Lying back, terrified of what was to come, Ororo thought back to Henry’s research project. Somehow, the Friends of Humanity had found a way to create mutants from normal humans.
No matter how long and hard she thought about it, one question eluded her.
Why?
~@~
It was hours later that the door opened again. Ororo, her eyes still uncovered, looked up sharply at the intrusion. She was dizzy from lack of food and drink for nearly twenty-four hours now, but she was determined to not let that show.
The man that approached her was huge, even given the men she lived with in New York. He had an unsavory look about him, as though he enjoyed his work a little too much for it to be entirely healthy.
Without so much as a greeting, he cut the ropes that held Ororo to the bed, hauling her to her feet by the front of her sticky leather top. When she was unable to hold herself on her own feet, he snarled, gripping the back of her trousers.
He dragged her from the small room into bright midday sunlight. Wincing, trying to cover her eyes, Ororo weakly struggled with her attacker. She waited for a blow to fall, but none came.
Her new captor carried her through what looked to be the main center of the compound. It was crowded with men and women, most of them stopping in their tracks to hoot and holler in approval as she was carried through them. Some of the terrorists were so young it physically hurt Ororo’s heart to see them filled with so much hatred.
Every building was made in the same fashion. The compound had a slapdash look to it, as though it were made in a hurry, slapped together with a “this will do” attitude. Some of the roofs were slanted, some of the windows were without glass. All in all, it was an unpleasant sort of place.
The dirt roads were soggy from recent rain, mud caking her boots, making it difficult for her to gain her balance. She stumbled more than once, gaining her another slew of applause and jeering. The man holding her gave her an annoyed grunt, trying to steady her.
Ororo felt the bite of a blade in her side, making her turn her head. There, safely snuggled into the over-sized brute’s belt was a long dagger. Without bothering to think her actions through, Ororo twisted her body, heedless to her back’s cry of pain.
She gripped the black-handled blade in her hand, twisting against her captor and using his body weight against him. She sliced him in the arm easily, making him howl in pain.
When his grip loosened on her, she darted out of the way, ducking several wide swings of the man’s meaty fists. She turned the handle over in her hand, letting it rest more comfortably as he advanced on her again. Weaving her lithe body around him, she tore open his side with the blade before throwing herself into a back flip.
The commotion had drawn the previously giddy crowd to the fighting duo, most of them shouting for aide. Her captor finally fell to the ground, holding his wounded arm to his bleeding side.
Ororo took stock of the dozen or so that had come to their friend’s side. She could take out only two on her own, and even then it was unlikely that the others would leave her be. If she had any chance at all, she would have to use her mutation to get away.
If she could reach the Professor, Logan could get away.
As she dodged a new attacker, the spiky haired boy’s words came rushing back to her.
We know who Kinney really is.
It was then that she knew she would not leave this compound without Logan. If they had any chance of surviving, it would have to be together. Should their enemies truly know his identity, he was in more danger than she.
Slicing her stolen dagger into another young man’s leg, she turned herself into a quick flip, avoiding a woman’s agile kick. There were too many. She had known that the moment she had started this tussle. But her anger and fear demanded release.
A tall blonde man rushed her, succeeding in grabbing her around the waist. Ororo was not ready to be recaptured and brought her leg sharply back, hitting him squarely in the crotch. She grabbed for the gun in an ankle holster, hearing someone shouting at her to stand down.
As the man behind her fell to the wet ground, she clicked the safety from the weapon, thrusting her hand out and holding the cold steel tightly in her hand.
As she pulled back the hammer, she noted a familiar figure standing just a few yards in front of her.
She was staring down the barrel of a shotgun, willing herself to not wince as Logan readied the shotgun for firing. Everything around them had come to a complete standstill. Ororo’s breathing seemed impossibly loud as she glared at her lover.
“Drop it or I’ll riddle you with holes, mutant!”
Hearing Logan’s voice saying such a thing would have hurt her, had she been able to think of him as “Logan”. All she could think was that he had a gun pointed at her chest. Her finger began to squeeze the trigger.
“I mean it, girl!” Logan shifted the aim of the shotgun.
BANG!
Ororo did not take a step back or startle when the shot broke the tense silence, the bullet slamming into the ground at her feet. The splash threw more mud onto her boots and trousers.
“Release me!”
I am playing along, my love. We have to get out of here.
“Drop the gun!” he screamed back at her, raising the barrel of his shotgun toward her chest again.
“NO!”
“Don’t make me kill you,” he thundered back.
A slight motion beside her made Ororo glance, finding the willowy form of Tess in the crowd. Her face bore recent bruises, blood smeared on her thin lips.
Looking back to Logan, Ororo decided she had played long enough. Her head swam with need of nourishment, her legs shaking and back screaming. Raising both hands in surrender, Ororo dropped the gun at her feet.
Her eyes met Logan’s as he dropped the barrel of his shotgun. She could see the fear and anger swirling in the dark depths and begged that he hold on, just a little longer.
That was the last thought she had before she felt a blow to the back of her head and the world plunged into welcoming darkness.
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