Chapter Six: Turmoil
In your mind, she’s your companion
Vile instincts often candid
Your regret is all that’s left
~Creed
Logan stood on the side of the road, his sharp eyes watching every gut-roiling turn of ‘Ro’s white and black Mazda. The race wasn’t really a race. A Japanese design, it was called “drifting”. The friends had discovered the practice on Mount Fuji one fine evening, sending Ororo into a veritable frenzy.
He knew she was a car kind of girl, but this was crazy. She’d immediately “rented” a young man’s car and given it a try, while Logan tried desperately to not have a massive coronary.
The trick to drifting was simple. The drivers punched the gas on a quarter-mile stretch, gathering as much speed as they could. At the end of that stretch, there were a series of sharp turns. A driver would pull up on the emergency brake, loosening the rear wheels, and glide gracefully through the turn. The engine would be gunned again, spiraling the car into another sideways turn.
Judges never judged on who crossed the finish line first. It was a test of grace and control. The less a car nicked the walls or whatever barriers were erected, the more controlled the turn, the higher the score.
Of course, many inexperienced drivers ended up in ditches or smashed into a wall, but that was part of the thrill. Two professionals or experts would move through the turns as though perfectly synchronized, one unit instead of two.
Ororo was crazy about drifting. She’d won a nice little pile of cash in Japan and upon returning to the States, had her own car built. Lazy E, a mechanic friend and driver himself, helped her with the labor and got her races whenever she felt the need for speed. He housed the car for free, and drove it whenever he pleased.
Tonight, though, Storm was in perfect form.
Three races in, Logan watched her cross the finish line, the stench of burned rubber saturating the crowd around him. Cheers went up like mad, making his ears ring. That race had been brilliant; the other driver definitely a pro.
Both drivers returned to the “pit” “ which was really just the side of the road as these races were highly illegal off of real tracks “ and Ororo bounded out of her car with an enormous grin on her lovely face. She shook hands with the other driver over the hood of his turbocharged Nissan.
Logan moved forward, scooping his friend into his arms and placing a kiss on her forehead. She’d done well, so well that most in the crowd were muttering about a perfect score. Her opponent had shimmed a little on the final turn, which might hurt his score enough to send Ororo to the final competition.
“Well?” his friend demanded as Lazy E and his boys looked the car over quickly.
Cars were not made to go sideways, so drifting was extremely hard on both the engine and the tires. Only four runs could destroy a set of brand new, wide-track tires. The RMPS ran so high that engines were known to completely meld together if the car was not treated by professionals between each race.
Lazy E loved that Mazda like a child, so it never so much as trembled under Storm’s careful hands.
“Fuckin’ nice,” Logan told his friend as she popped several bones in her neck. “That second turn was poetic, girlie.”
She grinned, that happy, girlish grin he hadn’t seen in weeks. “It felt good. E has taken very good care of my baby.”
“Yeah, don’t hurt that yer channelin’ the wrath of God into yer drivin’.”
His friend shrugged, winking at him. “I have to do something with all that wrath.”
He caught her waist in the crook of his arm as the judges began raising the little chalkboard signs that scored the race. As expected, Ororo received 9’s and 10’s, while her opponent was out of luck with flat 7’s and 8’s.
“The next race is in five minutes.” An announcer shouted with a bullhorn.
Logan ensured Ororo sat down for a moment and took a long drink from a bottle of Gatorade he had waiting. She ensured him that she was fine, but he knew her pain medication was likely to wear off soon. If her hands started aching too badly, she’d lose control of her car.
The repercussions of that didn’t bear thinking about.
“I am not hurting, yet,” she said as though reading his mind. “I can get through another race without problem.”
“Ya sure?” he asked carefully. “It’s only an eight thousand dollar purse.”
“Hmm, I know,” she smacked her lips lustily. “I can buy those new boots I wanted.”
“Yer really gettin’ girly in yer old age, ‘Ro.”
He ushered her back to the car quickly, as the announcer warned that the drivers only had a minute left of their “break”. Logan got a quick look at the other driver, a woman. That surprised him. Many of the scantily clad skanks sniffing around races were simply there as eye candy, hoping to score a boyfriend with a better car than their last.
The girl was young and obviously American, decked out in a pink car with a Hello, Kitty symbol painted on the trunk.
“Don’t go too easy on ‘er, ‘Ro,” Logan said, leaning into the window of the Mazda as Storm strapped in. “Knock that cocky grin off her preteen face.”
“Anything for you, Old Man,” she winked, leaning up to receive a quick peck on the cheek for good luck.
Logan went back to the sidelines, ready to leap into action should something go wrong. Lazy E came up beside him, clapping his shoulder as engines revved and a girl in something way too short to be legal held her hands up to signal the start of the race.
“Is Roro all right, man?” E asked quietly.
“We’re havin’ some tough life issues,” Logan offered easily. “You know how she gets.”
“If you two need anything, you know where to find me,” their friend said with honesty in his tone. “Even if you just need to blow off some steam and get hammered at my place.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Wolverine gave him an appreciative smile as the cars just a few yards ahead squealed their tires and bolted from the starting line.
“Some kinda woman,” E said with a low whistle. “One of a kind.”
“Yeah,” Logan agreed, watching her car slide gracefully into the first corner. “Definitely irreplaceable.”
After several minutes of watching the cars, Ororo crossed the finish line first, easily leaving her younger opponent in the dust. She won the race by a landslide, jumping from the car to embrace Logan warmly.
“Now,” E shouted over the roar of cheering onlookers. “Party at my place!”
~**~
Logan watched Ororo made an idiot out of herself, and dimly wondered if he should stop her. Of course, it wasn’t really his place to tell her to unglue her body from that very tall, very dark man that entertained her on the dance floor. It also wasn’t his responsibility to point out that she’d downed about a bottle and a half of strong, imported vodka all by herself. It probably didn’t matter that she’d lost her shirt some time between Jello-Shooters and Quarters or that he could see things he probably shouldn’t through her sweat-soaked bra.
It was, however, his solemn duty as her best friend to make fun of her come morning. Often and with as much detail as he could.
Lazy E’s parties were something of legend among the racing crowd. It was how the mechanic met the two mutants he frequently entertained. Seemingly hundreds of people would pour into the large two-story house. Music was pumped through an elaborate speaker system loud enough to cause auditory damage. Liquor flowed and females typically wound up naked and dancing.
They would talk cars, women, cigars, and more about cars. Logan enjoyed these little jaunts into the underground world of racing, loved the freedom it gave him and his best friend. Over the throbbing beat of a rapper wailing about taking one’s clothing off, there was no pressure to save the world or keeping kids out of trouble. Logan and Ororo could be as young as they felt before returning to the “real” world.
Logan keyed into the boathouse just after dawn, his jacket thrown over one shoulder. Storm’s home was quiet, but he immediately spotted a trail of clothing leading up the stairs. A wolfish smile spread over his face.
“Somebody scored,” he whispered in a singsong tone.
All right, so it made him a little jealous when Storm found herself wrapped up in some random man for the night. Just a tiny bit. He wasn’t one to speak, having spent the evening in the bed of a very rambunctious young woman named Callie. Logan wasn’t made of stone and sometimes a man needed a warm, willing body to lose himself in. Callie was always willing and even a little hot.
Sniffing himself a little, he found the scent of her flowery perfume and the vibrant aftertaste of sex. The lax, lazy feel of being temporarily sated was a nice one, something he’d missed during his six-week rehabilitation. He was sore all over and slightly to the left again, but he felt it was worth it to feel like a man for a few hours.
He placed his coat on the hook beside Storm’s, stretching lazily in the early morning light. Coffee was definitely in order, so he ducked into the kitchen, knowing his best buddy would be up soon to usher her sleeping companion out the door.
Unlike Logan, Ororo always had a tinge of shame whenever she gave into letting someone hold her for a while. She seemed to forget that she was a woman, one with needs and desires that weren’t always fulfilled by work or her best friend. Logan was always rather proud when she let her guard down long enough to have a few orgasms not elicited by something running on batteries. It wasn’t healthy for her to stay buttoned up all the time.
His best friend was a beautiful, rather sexually charged creature. She knew she was desirable and reveled in it. But for some damn reason, acting on primitive impulses was something that she denied. He hoped her inner rage at Magneto was cooled enough now. A race, a few drinks, and some mattress screaming should have her calmed down.
“Logan?”
He glanced up and toward the staircase, then grinned. “Mornin’, darlin’.”
Ororo, looking flushed and well sexed, gave him a tiny wave. “Hello. I will be down in a moment.”
“No rush,” he called back, grinding coffee beans while whistling.
She reappeared a moment later, her tall, dark, and handsome playmate rubbing his eyes blearily. Ororo blushed under her cocoa skin while Logan leveled her with a pleased and proud smile. It still made his stomach clench a little, seeing her with this man. But at least she seemed composed now.
“Hey, Lo-man,” the young man shook Logan’s hand. “How’s it?”
“Good, Andy,” Logan replied, gesturing to the coffee pot. “This’ll be done in a minute, if yer stayin’.”
“Uh, naw,” Andy said with a smile, glancing at Ororo. “I think I should be getting home.”
“Would you take the car back to E’s?” Ororo asked, handing him the single key.
“Yeah, sure, baby,” he kissed her cheek, shrugging his jacket on. “You’ve got my number, right?”
“I do,” Ororo replied softly.
Peeking around the corner of the kitchen, he watched the two share a rather heated kiss. Surprised, as Ororo was usually “look but don’t touch” in the mornings, he raised a brow. It wasn’t very nice, him watching the couple this way, but he was intrigued. And a little annoyed, if he wanted to admit it.
Logan was not a man that liked sharing. Trying to share his best friend wasn’t on his list of things to do today.
When they broke apart, he ducked back into the kitchen, pretending he’d been readying breakfast the entire time. After a few moments of whispered goodbyes, the front door closed and Ororo moved back toward the kitchen.
Bacon already crisping in a frying pan, eggs cooking in another, Logan glanced at her sideways when she entered the kitchen. Her smile was serene, betraying none of her brutal attack the previous day. It was as if nothing had happened. As though she were trying to forget about it.
That, Logan knew, was dangerous.
As she fixed them both cups of coffee, Logan finished up their breakfast, clearing his throat.
“How’s yer hand?”
“Fine,” she replied swiftly. “I took the Vicadin Jean left on my night stand just a few moments ago.”
Logan grunted. “Hangover?”
“Just a headache,” his friend said flippantly, handing him his coffee.
“So, yer totally over the whole Magneto-beatin’ are ya?”
His friend was quiet for a moment, her back to him as he turned to face her. He noted with some disappointment that she’d not raided his side of the closet for clothing. Instead, she was dressed for training. The line of her back was stiff, telling him he’d struck a still-exposed nerve. He wondered just how long she wanted to play this way.
“I simply do not wish to discuss it,” she said at last. “After breakfast we have training to complete. Will you be all right alone this afternoon?”
Setting his jaw, Logan turned back to the stove, keeping a growl from escaping his tight lips by sheer force of will. “Yeah.”
“Good.” She collected plates from the cupboard as though nothing were wrong. “Andy and I are meeting to hit another race.”
“Again?” he questioned, taking the plates without meeting her eyes. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Yes.”
Her tone told him she would speak no more on the matter. He served their breakfast quietly, not wanting to say something he might regret.
And he really didn’t want her to know how much she’d hurt him by not so much as inviting him to the race.
~**~
“I fear that Storm’s sudden attitude change may be signaling something deeper,” Charles Xavier told the group of assembled mutants in his usual serious tone. “You say she completely dismissed the incident?”
“Not completely,” Logan grunted. “She said she didn’t wanna talk about it. The tone’s what got me.”
“Go on, please,” Chuck gestured a little.
“It was like she just didn’t care,” he said quietly, hating going behind his friend’s back. “I know it had to kill her, hurtin’ Magneto like that.”
“And how was her behavior last night?” Jean asked, her bright green eyes locked on Logan.
Evading an explanation on exactly where they went and why was difficult in a room with two telepaths, but he knew they would not scan him below surface emotions without permission. Crossing his ankle over his knee, Logan shrugged.
“Careful, controlled, precision,” he explained, hoping they wouldn’t ask him to elaborate. “Ya know how she gets when somethin’s up her ass, the more controlled her actions are the worse the issue is.”
“Yes,” Chuck mused aloud. “I am inclined to agree.”
“Well, we have to be somewhat understanding,” Cyclops interrupted for the first time. “Magneto was closer to her than any of us before he turned.”
“They were like father and daughter, I’ve never seen two people more devoted to one another,” Jean went on, smiling slightly to Logan. “Except for you two, maybe.”
He returned her smile, though his stomach rolled with the uncertainty. After training and seeing that Storm made it off the property to meet her “date”, he’d come directly to the Professor. They had elected to keep Angel, Psylocke and several of the younger team members out of the loop.
Only those very close to his Storm were allowed into the meeting: Jeannie, Cyke, and the Professor. Hank was at a local hospital to volunteer. If Storm found out about Logan’s betrayal, she was likely going to use him as a lightning rod. He couldn’t get over her chilled behavior to him that morning. After all they’d been through and shared, to be shoved aside like garbage was a blow he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover from.
Andy wasn’t usually Storm’s type, either. He explained the man as much as he could, being a friend that they knew from a nearby nightclub. Andrew Holden was a typically brash, impulsive idiot who burned many a brain cell on Bacardi and grass. Logan liked the man just fine, but he had the terrible feeling that he would only lead to trouble for his friend.
“How is Magneto?” Scott asked suddenly.
Logan felt a chill go down his spine, coupled with brief flashes of painful memory. He stopped breathing, waiting for the effects to leave his mind. Jean reached over and took his hand, a sympathetic smile on her pretty face.
“I’m sorry, Wolverine,” Cyke said immediately. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Its fine,” he grunted in response, releasing Jean’s comforting hand. “Just can’t shake the memories sometimes.”
“Its understandable,” the leader of the X-Men said in his compassionate tone. For once, Logan didn’t feel like clawing the bastard for his sympathy.
With Storm flipping out on him, he felt very alone all of the sudden.
“He has yet to awaken,” Charles said in a clinical manner. “There was a good deal of damage to his frontal lobe from the force of Storm’s blows. I fear he may have lasting damage.”
“I’m torn between ‘That’s a shame’ and ‘Good’.” Jean’s honesty made Logan smile and Cyclops chuckle, covering it with a cough.
“Unfortunately, I agree,” said their benefactor with a small smile. “We will know more when he is conscious, but I would like to keep Storm and Magneto separated for as long as we can.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Logan said, shaking his head. “I’ve never known her to hold a grudge like this.”
“You had to be there,” Cyclops replied without his usual condescending voice. “Storm never had a father past six years old, she gave Magneto all of her trust, her love. Only to have him defect and become our enemy.”
He’d heard the story once, with Storm into half a bottle of scotch. “Why didn’t she leave with him if they were so close?”
“She never agreed with Magneto’s vision,” Charles spoke up. “Ororo was never a violent person, and she felt war was not inevitable. Magneto did not press her to come with him, but he did offer.”
“Storm never really got over it,” Jean chimed in. “Until she met you, I really didn’t think she’d let anyone that close again.”
For a moment, Logan pondered this information, coming to the conclusion the others must have the night Storm attacked Magneto.
“Seein’ her dad, fer lack of a better term, go bad is one thing,” he said slowly. “Watchin’ him nearly kill her new best friend…”
“Is unforgivable,” Charles’ voice was tinged with sadness. “I have known her for nearly two decades and have never before seen her so enraged and hurt.”
“Damn it.”
Logan stood, pacing the floor in front of the Professor’s desk while running his hands through his hair. For the first time in years, he was completely at a loss. He did not know how to reach past that pain, the anger, the hatred that lived inside her to bring her back to him. There was the terrible suspicion that her need to be free from those emotions would wind up getting her killed.
Still lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the wail of Klaxons, alerting the X-Men that they were needed elsewhere.
“What is it?” Jean was questioning the Professor as he did a mental scan.
“Something…odd in Boston,” he replied quickly. “Scott, take a team.”
“What about me?” Logan asked instantly, wanting to be helpful to someone.
Cyclops eyed him carefully, an eyebrow rising above the edge of his ruby-quartz lenses.
“Think you’re ready for it?”
Logan released his claws immediately, letting the bone-on-bone scrape resonate through the suddenly silent room.
“Yeah.”
“Suit up and follow me.”
“I think I almost like you, One-Eye.”
“Goody for me.”
~**~
Wolverine and Cyclops led the team out of the jet in a suburb of Boston, trailed by Iceman, Rogue, and Shadowcat.
“Rogue, give us a bird’s eye.”
At Cyke’s quick command, Rogue pushed herself into the air. Her new powers, courtesy of an accident with another mutant, came in handy. Wolverine gave her a small smile as the super-strong woman spiraled into the air.
“Fan out, let’s see what we’re up against here.”
Wolverine took Iceman with him and headed to the west. The mission was still a little confusing, as no one knew what sparked an immediate and panicked mutant reaction. The Professor only said that something or someone was causing much distress in Boston. Logan was pleased to be on another mission.
He desperately needed something to pummel.
Vague scents of fear and many bodies reached his nose, the undercurrent of something else bringing him to one knee. Putting his nose closer to the ground, he inhaled deeply. Something acrid and metallic wafted his way, the irritating scent making him scratch at his nose.
“Something wrong?” ice-covered Bobby asked cautiously.
“Somethin’ ain’t right,” Wolverine replied, releasing his claws quickly. “Just don’t smell right here.”
“For anyone else, I’d totally think that was a figure of speech,” Drake quipped, touching his communicator. “Wolverine’s got a weird scent, anyone else?”
Cyclops came over the crackling line a moment later. “Nothing. Rogue?”
“Uh, Ah don’t rightly have an answer, sugah,” the Southern accent was filled with confused terror. “Might have tah see this with ya own eyes.”
“See what?” Logan questioned his companion rhetorically.
Just after his friend shrugged, Wolverine felt an alien presence at his back and whirled about.
“Halt, mutant!”
“Holy mother of God!”
“Son of a bitch!”
A sharp energy beam cut off the two masculine curses. Wolverine flipped out of the way, pleased to see Iceman create his signature slide to glide out of the way. He scrambled to his feet, looking up at the enormous robotic enemy. The thing had huge black slits for eyes, it’s red body seemingly impenetrable. Wolverine blinked at it, watching as Iceman whirled around it, keeping its attention.
“Claw something, Wolverine!” Iceman shouted, jumping from his ice slide and creating another for him to fall onto.
Wolverine snapped into action. With a feral shout, he vaulted toward the robot, tearing up the grass beneath his booted feet. He leapt into the air, caught on a jagged ice ramp. The ferocious mutant took his friend’s aid, using the ramp to rush into the chest of the beast.
Claws drawn, he shoved his fist at the monstrous being, screaming in pain when the action caused his hands to bleed from fleshy tears. His adamantium had never hurt this way, but the bone chipped as he ground the claws into metal.
“You ok?” Drake shouted over Logan’s enraged scream.
“Freeze this fuckin’ thing!”
He cried out when a laser blast sent him sprawling into the field surrounding them. Logan’s still-weakened body hit the ground hard enough to leave an indentation. He felt his bones scream in protest, but accepted sliding Iceman’s hand.
The younger mutant pulled him onto the ice slide, whipping them quickly out of the robot’s range. Other X-Men soon arrived, surrounding the robot quickly. Rogue’s punches left several seemingly devastating holes in the ugly creature, but she was swatted out of the sky as an annoying gnat.
Cyclops rolled on the ground, shooting his own laser beams while the robot was distracted.
“Kitty!”
Iceman scooped up his young girlfriend, trusting Logan to hold onto her as he thrust the three of them toward the weakening robot.
“Halt, mutants! Surrender or be destroyed,” the mechanical voice was starting to annoy Logan.
“Shadowcat, phase through its chest and see if you can short circuit the damn thing,” Drake was saying quickly. “Wolverine, you’re not indestructible, it’s got a weak point in its neck. Go get it.”
The other two nodded, crouching low to attack as the other two X-Men renewed their assaults. Shadowcat leapt easily when Drake instructed her to, slipping right into the beast’s chest through its metallic armaments. Iceman deposited Wolverine near its head, then turned his body into a back flip to escape a laser beam.
Rogue scooped him out of the sky easily, dropping him gently on the ground so he could attempt to freeze the robot’s feet. Wolverine perched on the robot’s shoulder, finding the thin armor of its neck. Hands still throbbing and equilibrium threatening to drop him several meters to the ground, Wolverine unsheathed three claws.
Clinging to the robot with one hand, he sliced through circuits and metal, nearly removing head from shoulders. Work done, he jumped down from his perch just quickly enough to dodge a laser blast.
As she had with Iceman, Rogue plucked him from the sky, dropping him when he was a safe distance. Rogue darted out of the way of a laser blast, even as the creature began seizing. Whatever Shadowcat was doing inside was affecting the robotic foe.
“Keep it up, Kitty!” Cyclops shouted, beaming the beast in the “eye” with a blast of his own.
Wolverine watched in horror as Iceman caught a laser beam in the chest, sending the young mutant flying back. He took off at a dead run, not caring that he would likely be injured. Sharp eyes calculated the distance and speed, and he caught Iceman before he could plunge headfirst into the ground.
Grunting as his still-battered body took the brunt of the boy's fall, he waited until he was able to move without blinding pain. Drake was alive and relatively all right; aside from the angry red burn that had torn his uniform open. Laying the unconscious boy on the ground, Wolverine turned his eyes back to the battle.
Shadowcat emerged from the robot’s chest, Rogue grabbing her hand on a swift fly-by. The mechanical voice sputtered several times, its huge body swaying dangerously.
“Take cover!” Cyke screamed, jumping out of the way.
Rogue and Shadowcat stayed aloft and wary of flying debris, Wolverine covered Iceman’s body with his. His hands covered the boy’s head as the deafening crash surrounded them. Looking up, he noted the robot had fallen just yards away.
“Sound off,” he heard Cyclops on the other end of the robot. “Who’s not dead?”
“Rogue and Shadowcat alive and uninjured,” the southern mutant said, placing both of them on the ground gently.
“Wolverine here,” Logan shouted back. “Drake’s just wakin’ up.”
Rising from his friend’s previously prone form, Wolverine smiled thorugh the pain in his chest, hands and back as the boy’s brown eyes opened. With a wary smile, Drake stood up, rubbing his head with one hand on his wounded chest.
Cyclops and the girls joined them, everyone watching the fallen robot as though it would jump to life again. Kitty was covered in what looked to be oil, but she rushed toward Bobby with fear in her eyes.
“Hey,” Bobby said slowly, blinking rapidly as he leaned on Kitty. “Robot’s down, no one out here but us chickens…we won, right?”
Wolverine had to chuckle at the kid’s humor, which was ever-present. “Yeah, kid, we won. Nice tactical job on yer part, too.”
Iceman blushed brightly, looking from Wolverine to an approving Cyclops. “Uh, I learned from the best.”
“We need to work on his sucking up,” Cyke said with a wry smile. “Don’t we, Wolverine?”
“Seems that way.”
Carefully hiding the pain, he joined the rest of the team now curiously looking over the fallen robot. Blood was filling the arms and chest of his uniform, but he hoped most of the healing would be finished before they got home. He should have known better.
Missions were out for him still. Especially these sort. That robot nearly had him more than once. Wincing at the admission that he was not as invulnerable as he had been, Logan agreed with Cyclops that they should take the circuit board and memory chip from the robot back to the Professor to be analyzed.
That was all he heard, aside from Rogue’s startled voice, before he passed out.
