Many of Longshot’s companions shot her curious glances before moving out of her way as she walked the dock beside their leader. After his timely rescue, Arthur had told Ororo that he was taking her to one of his many bases of operation. A small, abandoned warehouse on one of Genosha’s smaller island split offs. On the boat ride in she hadn’t revealed much, and instead had asked the scruffy faced mutant several pointed questions.
He answered most of them easily. Some he dodged altogether, but he gave her the impression that he wasn’t being intentionally deceitful, so she let the evaded questions slide. For the most part Arthur had seemed to be easy going. Mellow, charming, talkative. Something about his laid-back attitude made Ororo edgy. It seemed…unstable.
She stopped at the end of the floating plank, lifting her hands and swirling a stream of heated air about herself. She shook her tousled mane, drawing several appreciative glances from the dock workers. She gave the men an icy stare over her shoulder, more effective than an arctic blast. They immediately found other things to be doing.
She turned to Longshot. “Is there somewhere we can speak without an audience?”
He nodded, taking her elbow. “Step into my office,” he said grandiosely. His “office” was a small room in the front of the warehouse, full of crates and loose papers. He carelessly shoved a pile of papers to the floor, taking a seat on the cleared crate.
“Quite an organized little operation you’re running,” she muttered with a nose curl.
He gave her a shrug. “The things I need to know are all right where they belong.” He tapped the side of his head.
“Uh-huh.” She was more than a bit skeptical of that bold declaration.
“What brings you to my neck of the woods, Munroe?” he asked pointedly, his nonchalance giving way to the hard edged man she knew was brewing just beneath the surface.
Hearing him refer to her in the same familiar way Ali so often did made Ororo’s heart squeeze within her chest. She took a steadying breath, before meeting his eyes. “I think you know damn well why I’m here.”
Longshot reached behind him, lifting a bottle of Jack Daniels by the neck. “Alison.” He nodded. He took a swig from the whiskey then gestured the bottle at her in inquiry.
“No thanks.” She replied. She leaned back, watching him. “Tell me what you know about Mojo Adams.”
He took another long draw from the bottle. “Direct. She always said you were direct.”
Ororo stiffened. “You kept in contact with Ali?”
He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “More or less.”
“More or less,” Ororo repeated, guardedly.
“I sent her messages every chance I could.” He had a faraway look on his face. “Sometimes she sent word back.” He shook his head, clearing it. “Mojo is mine.” He said, his voice hard.
Ororo didn’t care who had dibs on the fat bastard, so long as she saw him suffer and die. She told Longshot exactly that. “I saw what he did to her. I want him to endure as much suffering as humanly possible and then some.”
“I see.” He put the Jack back behind him. He wiped his hands on his pants. “Well, then, let’s find you a room and get you comfortable.”
“I’m fine as I am.”
He shrugged again. “Well, I’m not. I’ve been on the water all damn day, I smell, and itch and am wet and cold. I feel like a hot shower, some warm food and possibly some good sex.” He lifted a glowing eye towards her. “If you can provide any or all of those things, then we’ve got something to discuss. Otherwise, I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Ororo scowled at the blond, who at the moment was reminding her just a bit too much of a certain feral. She fought down a pang of loneliness.
Kitty watched Logan’s face warily. She had just finished relaying everything that had transpired with Ororo and all the information that she had dug up on Mojo and his sick show. When all was said and done, Wolverine did not look happy. In fact, he looked downright frightening.
Fuckin’ Fury. That jackass had to have known all of this. Hell, if sixteen year old Kitty could track this shit down, then no way did SHIELD not know about it. A sick fuckin‘ reality show, using mutants as live game. He wanted to punch something. It made him sick with worry thinking that Ororo was trying to go after these assholes on her own, and in doing so she could be wounded or worse. “Fuck,” he growled aloud. “How close are we, Cyke?”
“We’re right on top of the plane’s last known location,” Scott tossed over his shoulder. The sky was dark and the waters inky. “Going infared.”
Immediately the front panel screen in the cockpit showed broken pieces of the X-Wing churning in the choppy sea. It had been decimated by whatever had hit it.
Logan barely contained his roar. “SonofaBITCH!”
Jean turned towards him, startled by his outburst. “Wolverine, calm down.”
“Jean.” He snarled. “Shut up.”
She closed her mouth.
He was in no mood to play ‘good boy’ and sit on his thumbs, especially if ‘Ro was down there somewhere fighting for her life. He clenched his jaw and flexed, his hands forming tight fists. I’m coming for you, baby.
“Brace for water landing.” Cyclops warned.
The red ‘buckle’ light began to flash and Logan sat back in his seat, snapping his five point harness into place, tapping his booted foot impatiently. “Come on, come on, comeoncomeoncomeon.”
Jean sent Scott a worried thought. Logan was damn close to losing it.
Scott nodded once. He knew.
Ororo yawned, stretching her hands over her head. She couldn’t believe that she had actually fallen asleep. She rolled onto her stomach, blowing wispy strands of hair out of her face. The small cot had proved surprisingly comfortable, and the lull of the waves just outside had lulled her.
She scratched her head, smacking her cracked lips. She could use a shower. She was rank.
The corridor was empty when she opened her door. She hadn’t really expected anyone to be right outside her room, gun in hand, keeping her under watch, but she wouldn’t have been all that taken aback by it either. These people were mercenaries and criminals. She would do well to remember that at all times.
She followed the narrow hall to a set of stairs. The rail was rickety and in desperate need of repair, as were the steps. She put her foot on the bottom stair and it creaked and cracked loudly. “Lovely,” she murmured, foregoing the steps and floating her way to the top.
The upstairs corridor split in two directions. Following her instinct she took the left hallway. She opened several closed doors, one time inadvertently interrupting a rather intimate moment between a pair of writhing mutants. “Sorry,“ she muttered quickly, closing the door. She glanced over her shoulder as she hastened her steps. That was one flexible girl, she thought with a shake of her head.
One of the double wide doors was ajar so she chanced a peek inside. She spotted Longshot beside a console of some kind, giving instruction. “Hey,” she called, pushing open the doors. “You roughnecks got a shower around here?”
He jumped a bit, turning towards her, and in doing so allowed her to see the screen that he was looking at. A dark, winged shape caught her full attention. “Is that the Blackbird?” she demanded. Onscreen was a visual of the ocean, the one of a kind jet floating on its hydro-pads as smaller watercrafts cruised around her plane’s wreckage.
She felt a twinge of guilt that they were out searching for her. She should have known her boys would try and find her. Ororo wanted nothing more than to ease their worry, but it was better if they remained uninvolved. Logan had enough blood on his hands, she couldn’t ask him to spill more, and Scott, though no innocent, need not take on her burden.
A small jet ski whipped through the waves at reckless speed, jumping high into the air. She knew who was steering it without visual confirmation. It was nearly impossible to ignore the kick in her gut and the inner voice that screamed at her to Got to him!
Longshot watched her face as she watched the searching X-Men. The man seated beside him asked, “Sir, do we fire?”
Ororo’s eyes widened and her head snapped around. “No!” She stormed forward. “You will not fire on the X-Men!”
Longshot halted her, grabbing her arm. “You have no say here, Munroe.”
She yanked her arm away, glaring at him, not afraid to go toe to toe. “Do not push me, little man.”
“They’re going to mess everything up!”
“They’ll leave when they don’t find me,” she assured him, though it was probably untrue.
“I can’t risk that. Better to eliminate the threat--”
“The X-Men are no threat!” she shouted.
“Says you. I say otherwise. They are as unwelcome here as any ‘flatscan’. Mutant killers.”
“What the hell are you talking about? The X-Men defend mutants!”
“They also protect humans,” he spat the word. “They enable the crimes against their own people to continue. They’re traitors.”
“Wow,” she said with scathing anger. “You really have spent time with Magneto.”
He didn’t reply.
“Sir?” The young man waited, fingers poised above his keyboard.
“No.” Ororo once again responded, her voice cracking with authority. “You fire on the X-Men and I swear will tear this place apart.”
Arthur seemed more amused than threatened by that statement. “You won’t.”
She felt her eyes go white and her voice frost over. “Try me. You harm the X-Men and I guarantee that I will split the heavens and wipe this building from existence along with you and everyone in it!”
“I do believe she means it.”
Ororo whirled, her heart thudding dully at the smooth, cultured voice directly behind her. “Magneto,” she breathed.
The tall, formidable legend of a man strode forward, his trademark red cape billowing behind him as he did.
Fast as the lightning she controlled, Ororo’s mind began seeking escape routes and if needed a plan of attack.
As intuitive as Xavier was psychic, Magneto smirked at her. “Don’t be foolish, child, you know you don’t stand a chance against me.”
True, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t put up one hell of a fight. She let her eyes say what she did not voice.
Magneto brushed past her, leaning over the console.
“No!” she shouted, grabbing his arm, preparing to send a few thousand volts through Xavier’s greatest foe.
He turned towards her holding out a microphone. “Radio them. Tell them to leave.”
She blinked rapidly, confusion furrowing her brow. She wasn’t the only one confused. Longshot straightened, his eye beginning to glow. “What are you doing?” he demanded, gesturing towards the screen. “They’re ripe for the picking. We take should take them out now.”
Magneto turned slate grey eyes on him. “Don’t presume to question me, boy.” His attention returned at once to Ororo, who still had hold of his arm. He thrust the mic out. “Do it. Tell them to leave. I know Xavier. He will not force you to return with them, as long as you are unharmed and of sound mind.”
She grabbed the microphone, glaring at the taller man. “You underestimate him, Magneto. That has been and always will be your downfall.”
He gave her the same slate glare he bestowed on Longshot. “And you underestimate me, girl. You have two options. Tell Charles’ little soldiers to leave, or watch as they are blown to bits.”
She glowered right back at him. “You think you have any missile that Cyclops can’t blast out of the sky from a mile away?”
“Do you really want to test the Boy Scout?” Magneto chuckled. “Fine, let’s test him. Missiles and torpedoes sound good.” He nodded to the man at the keyboard. “It’s always nice having my own nuclear sub.”
“Wait.” Ororo shook her head. “I’ll tell them.” Best they leave unharmed than risk having them injured.
Longshot threw up his hands. “You think they’ll just tuck tail and leave? Abandon one of their own?”
“I haven’t been one of their own in a long time,” she whispered. Ororo flicked on the mic, then gave the technician the specific frequency to use. She pressed the transmit button. “Cyclops, this is Storm. Can you hear me?” She waited.
A moment later a relieved voice carried over the speakers. “Storm! Damn, it’s good to hear your voice! Where are you? Are you hurt?”
“I’m uninjured, Cyclops.” Her leg still smarted, but that seemed significantly irrelevant at the moment.
“Where are you? We can’t track you.”
“You don’t need to. I’m fine. Stop searching. Go home.”
“What?”
“Go home, Cyclops.”
He paused and she could almost see him collecting his thoughts. She glanced at the screen but he was behind the bulk of the Blackbird so she was left without visual. “Not without you.”
She took a deep breath. She couldn’t abandon Ali now, not when she was in a position to avenge her. Her eyes flickered towards Magneto who was watching her intently. His steady gaze made her uncomfortable. She turned away.“Cyclops, listen to me, I’m not coming back. Go home. Tell Xavier that I appreciate everything and give everyone my best.”
“Storm, you are out of yer ever loving, god damn, fuckin’ mind if you think I’m leaving without you.”
A reluctant smile touched her lips. He sounded really, really pissed. “Hello, Wolverine.”
“Don’t you fuckin’ hello me. Where the hell are you?”
“Get off this frequency, Wolverine.”
“Shove it, One-Eye.”
“I’m handling this, Logan.”
“Bullshit, Scooter. She’s my girl. You get the fuck off this frequency.”
“Wolver”“
“Boys.” Ororo cut in. “Both of you get off of this frequency. I am not returning to Xavier’s and that’s final.” Her heart shattered in her chest. This was the hardest thing she had ever had to do, even harder than watching Ali’s casket being lowered. She was saying goodbye to the man she loved and her brother. It was killing her. She swallowed, nearly unable to continue. “The Genoshan government has been alerted to your presence,” she bluffed. “I suggest you leave before they arrive and the X-Men are involved in an international incident.”
She could feel the tension from the other end.
“Ororo”“
“Goodbye, Scott.”
“’Ro!”
She ended the transmission. Goodbye, my love.
Magneto smiled approvingly. “Well done.”
“Kiss my ass,” she said. “I didn’t do it for you.”
He laughed. “No doubt. But can you honestly tell me you wanted to stay with them, with the people that refuse to let you avenge your friend’s brutal murder. The people that let the crimes of her rape and defilement, her torture and isolation go unpunished? Is that the dream you want to fight for, Ororo?”
“I have no dreams anymore.” She shrugged his hand away when he tried to touch her shoulder. “I live only for vengeance now.”
Magneto’s smile was blood-chillingly cold. “That’ll do.”
Onscreen the Blackbird soared into the sky.
Ororo felt the last remnants of herself crumble to dust. Detached blue eyes rested on the Master of Magnetism. “I want Mojo.”
“And you shall have him.”
Longshot looked ready to speak, but Magneto waved a hand to silence him.
Ororo looked between the two men, then around the room, almost disbelieving the situation she now found herself in. With a great deal of self loathing she marched from the room, instinctively knowing neither man would follow.
With Ororo out of the room Longshot turned on Magneto. “What the hell was that all about?”
Magneto smiled his enigmatic smile. “Simple, ‘Shot. There’s an old saying ‘He who controls the weather, controls the world’.” Their eyes met. “Guess who now controls the weather.”
Longshot shook his head, frowning. “You’re a fool if you think for one second you can control her.”
Magneto simply shrugged. “We’ll see.”
