Chapter Nineteen: Stryker
I feel betrayed
Stuck in your ways
And you rip me apart with the
Brutal things you say
I can't deal with this shit anymore
I just look away
~Staind
While Henry McCoy was awoken by the call from his frantic ex-lover, Logan was stepping out of a scalding shower. The day had been a busy one, though his visit with Ororo had soothed parts of his fractured soul.
She was being cared for, he thought while toweling his mussed hair. Her plump body showed signs of being generously fed, her smile and the loyalty of the guards boasted that her charm had won them over. The one, Lucky, was almost as dedicated to his prisoner as the X-Men were.
Something about seeing her, being able to visualize where she was being held now was calming. He could see her in his mind’s eye, those delicate hands easing over the swell of their child growing inside of her. Her smile had warmed his heart, easing back the tension that seemed all too common as the days turned to weeks.
At least he knew now that she was all right. She was restless and worried, but not in any danger as of yet. Logan breathed a sigh of relief at that, knowing what it was costing the two of them to be apart. Just the vague memory of being in her arms again wrenched his heart.
Setting his thoughts aside for a moment, Logan hung his towel in the bathroom, mindful that wet towels on the floor often sent his absent love into a tirade the likes of which the world had never seen. Once everything was in order, he plodded in all his natural glory to the dresser. A pair of sweatpants was yanked over hairy legs before he stretched his arms over his head. Tomorrow would be busy, what with the seniors presenting their science projects. Oh. Joy.
The sensation that he was being watched prickled Logan’s awareness. He could tell that someone was over by the balcony windows. Fearing “ or perhaps hoping “ that it was Chuck paying him another visit, the Wolverine turned ever so slowly.
He caught a whiff of disgustingly familiar scent and the hint of scarred flesh a beat before he turned completely. Lethal adamantium erupted from his hands even as Logan’s stance shifted. He stood on the balls of his feet and pounced without even a hint that he knew someone was there.
On a savage roar, Logan grasped his hated enemy by the shirt and thrust him against the balcony door. The glass planes shattered as the door banged against the outer wall. Logan’s free fist came up to eyelevel, unsheathed weapons held only a breath from flesh. He wanted, so desperately, to shove the deadly blades through the man’s skull, but held his control in check by the fingertips.
“Its good to see you, too, son.”
The snarl began in Wolverine’s chest, slithering upward until it left his lips.
“Give me one reason to not kill you.”
Stryker’s face was horrifically scarred. Half of what had been his head was covered with red gashes in the form of what looked like a thick chain. His left arm was mangled, tissue and flesh melding into one long scar that was painful to even look at. But his eyes, that chilling blue, were rimmed with madness.
Logan took in everything with a predator’s glance. His hands itched to steal the life from his foe, to spill blood in an ancient, primal call. The siren song of murder had not sung in his veins for many years, but now that yearning returned in full force. Copper tickled the back of his throat, reminding him of the sweet taste of blood.
“I have your mate, Wolverine.”
His world came to a screeching halt, the beast within silenced as the man took control again. Logan shackled his inner demons, though the force it took was staggering. His hand, the lethal claws exposed, trembled with fear and rage.
“What?”
Stryker’s smile was utterly sadistic and unbearably horrendous. Yellow teeth were revealed in the vicious twist of lips, those deadly eyes reflecting delight as Logan struggled to maintain control.
It was then that the anonymous phone call Hank had told him about made complete sense. His enemy was not dead and they had struck at his woman. His child.
“Why?” He growled, tightening his grip on Stryker’s shirt. “Why her?”
Stryker’s smile widened. Logan felt his control slipping and desperately tightened the reigns. Losing it now wouldn’t help anyone, least of all his Ororo. Instead, he jerked his hand back before thrusting Stryker into the splintered door with force.
Someone was pounding on the outer door of his bedroom. Hank was calling his name. Lights were flicking on as the mansion was roused to life. And yet, Stryker looked unconcerned.
“What makes you think I was after her?” His enemy clucked his tongue reproachfully. “Your wits have been dulled as she tamed you.”
“What makes ya think I’m tame?” The snarl was bitter, filled with the beast inside. Logan was rewarded with the flicker of uncertainty in Stryker’s eyes.
“I have a deal for you, Wolverine.” The pounding on the door increased. Sensitive ears could hear the thunder of footsteps outside.
“Talk fast.”
Stryker swallowed. Logan snarled.
“I will return Storm to this mansion and clear her name of all charges, if you come home.”
Logan’s response was immediate. “I am home.”
“Oh, my Wolverine,” he shook his head disapprovingly again. “She has confused you. You belong with me. You’re a murderer, Wolverine. A born and bred killer. What made you think you could be a husband? A father?”
The amusement in Stryker’s voice brought back Logan’s own feelings of inadequacy. The fear of what he was, what he would become was debilitating. He had struggled so hard to put it all away, to trust faith and fate to lead him in the right direction.
He’d fallen for Ororo with his eyes wide open, but still wondered in the bitter vaults of his broken mind if he truly deserved his happiness, his home. She would skin him alive if she could hear these destructive thoughts, and yet he was powerless to stop them.
“Where is she?”
Stryker’s sickening grin spread further over his scarred face. “Do we have a deal?”
“I don’t fucking think so.”
The third voice was shocking to both men. Logan whirled, losing his grip on Stryker’s chest. Kitty Pryde stood, hands on her hips, glaring at Stryker for all she was worth. Logan knew what would happen, he saw it in his mind’s eye as though it were a flash of premonition.
Kitty, her own child snuggled inside of her, was battle ready. But Stryker knew. The paternal instincts Logan had doubted only seconds before kicked into high gear. Before the pistol leapt into Stryker’s hand, a beat ahead of Kitten’s teasing phase, Logan stepped between them.
He pushed the pregnant woman behind him, protecting her with his body as much as he prevented her from striking their enemy.
“Go.” Logan growled the order to Stryker, his stance now shivering as he fought for control.
Amused by the situation, Stryker stepped out onto the balcony. Kitty made an angry noise that reminded her protector of a cat, but he grasped her arm to hold her back. As much as he hated to admit it, if Stryker had Ororo, he was in charge. Logan was determined to change that as soon as possible.
Stryker was whisked away by a helicopter that appeared as though out of thin air. Logan watched with bestial eyes as he left the mansion, dread curling around his heart like a serpent’s coils.
~**~
She had the sensation of floating, of natural comfort within. There was warmth and love and a primal instinct that told her all was well. Even as she struggled to shrug off the remnants of sleep, she was hazy and content.
Nothing seemed insurmountable. There was calm here, something she felt eluded her for the whole of her life.
The light was dim when Ororo blinked heavy eyelids. Her eyes were gritty with too much sleep, her body heavy and lax on the bed. The little one inside shifted, rolling contently as she focused blurry vision. Something should have alarmed her, but that sated, comfortable sleep shook off all instinctual fear.
Ororo reached up to touch her belly, a silent, private greeting between mother and child. It was then that she woke completely, startling so violently, she gasped with it.
Her hands were bound.
Mindful that she could hurt her child in panic, Ororo glanced around the unfamiliar room, wondering what had happened. Of course, her hazy, happy sleep made sense now. She’d been drugged to the gills. Who would have bound her to the bed? Why was she restrained?
Thinking quickly, Ororo remembered Logan and Henry leaving her cell. She had dinner, played a round of Spades with the night watch and tucked herself into bed. Nothing seemed out of place or unusual in any way. There was nothing to fear, nothing to cause much fret.
Ororo looked cautiously around the low-lit room, wondering suddenly where she had been moved. Medical equipment beeped placidly, the monitor on her forefinger giving accurate readings of her blood pressure and pulse. There were, to her horror, sticky monitors on her bare stomach, obviously measuring the vitals of her unborn son.
She blinked at the stainless steel tray beside her bed, peering over the gentle lip to find various instruments set out in obsessive order. The scalpel made her swallow over the lump suddenly forming in her throat. What in the name of the Bright Lady were they going to do to her?
“Good afternoon.”
The voice, unfamiliar and tinged with false cheer, brought her dark eyes to the foot of her bed. Ororo exhaled slowly as the monitors gave away the fact that her heart rate had just jumped drastically.
“Stryker.”
“You remember me.” He sounded pleased by this. His scarred and reddened flesh brought a wave of nausea to the pregnant mutant, but she refused to let her fear creep into her facial features.
“How could I forget?”
Stryker clasped his hands behind his back, pacing around her bed slowly. Ororo watched him with guarded eyes over the generous swell of her belly. Whatever he wanted, she was at his mercy. She would gladly return to prison and the unknown dangers coming with her trial than be locked in with this sadistic bastard.
What could want? She was of no use to him, to his failed Weapon X program. For all she knew, he had only ever been interested in creating weapons from mutants, before destroying them all. Logan was the obvious choice for kidnapping. Why would he want…
The baby.
Perhaps this realization reflected on Ororo’s face, for Stryker’s oily grin widened quite suddenly. He stretched his mangled hand forward, making her skin crawl in revulsion as he placed the scarred palm on her naked stomach.
“It really is a miracle isn’t it? Two people fashion new life, create an entirely new person.” He stroked her distended flesh almost lovingly. “I have ever tried to play God to this miracle. You see, I create life as well.”
“You destroy,” Ororo hissed before she could stop herself. The baby lying docilely inside rolled unpleasantly. “You tear down before you create. That is an abomination.”
“Are you any better?” Stryker’s slimy voice was suddenly coated in revulsion. “You people, mutants are no different. A corruption of all that is sacred.”
Ororo tilted her chin higher, trying to cover her fear with defiance. “Perhaps, but I don’t kill innocent people.”
“But your mate has,” Stryker replied slyly. “He killed without caution or regret. Or has he not told you of this?”
“How could he?” Ororo fired back, ire rising with every word he spoke. “You took his memories and life away.”
“Ah, yes.” Her captor seemed proud of this. “I destroyed the man to create the monster. My greatest work, my highest triumph.”
Ororo snorted with derision. “He is mine now. Everything you corrupted has been set right.”
“Has it?” Stryker asked with hints of amusement.
“Oh, yes,” Storm grinned wickedly. “My hard work has paid off. He is a different man now.”
Stryker removed his hand from her flesh; though the lingering warmth of his touch made her suddenly want to bathe in acid. He moved around to the head of the bed, Ororo’s eyes following his every movement. She watched as he checked several of the monitors, marking this and that on a clipboard that hung on a peg to the side of her bed.
There was a heavy silence between them now. Ororo wondered all through it. What had happened at her prison? Were the guards all right? Had they been in on this kidnapping? Where was Trask?
She tugged at the soft cloth holding her hands to the bed. They were strong enough to hold her back, unable to lift her hand more than a fraction of an inch from the bed sheets. Everything in the room, to her dismay, was coated in metal. Should she call upon her powers, force lightning to rend Stryker apart, there was a high chance that the conduction would backfire.
Though she was immune to the effects of lightning, she was unsure if her child would survive such a massive jolt. Her body continually conducted electricity in low voltages. Could her baby life through a concentrated bolt or would it spell the end for the life she cherished inside her?
Perhaps Stryker knew her fears, her doubts, for he seemed oddly unconcerned that a cornered and fearful mutant was lying prone on the bed. He was unguarded and unarmed as far as she could tell. His confidence spoke volumes. He knew much about her.
When he came back to her side, obviously satisfied by whatever he had read on the monitors, he paused at the tray of medical instruments. Fear licked to life inside of her, causing the tiny life snuggled inside of her to roll again. The baby pressed against the sides of her belly, though in fear or comfort, she was unsure.
Stryker took a long, thin needle from the tray, checking it carefully after pulling on a pair of sterile gloves. The body of the needle was a thick plastic, obviously made to capture some kind of fluid. Ororo’s eyes widened as he took a sterile cloth soaked in iodine and swabbed her belly with it.
He was whistling softly as he worked.
“What are you doing?” She demanded hotly, tugging on her bonds.
“Taking samples,” he answered, placing the iodine cloth to the side. “Try not to move.”
“No,” Ororo whimpered, struggling more forcefully. “Stop.”
Stryker simply continued whistling, the cheerful tune like something out of a horror film. He was going to put that needle into her belly…what of her child?
“Stryker…no. Stop!” She commanded as the cloth of her bonds cut into her wrists and ankles. “You can’t do this! You don’t know what you’re doing!”
He merely smiled, pressing into her belly as though trying to locate the unborn baby. “If you struggle, I may hit the child or cause early labor. Neither of us wants that.”
“You can’t have him!” She screamed, still pulling at her bonds. “He’s mine, damn it!”
Stryker chuckled, shaking his head. “No, my dear Storm, they are both MINE!”
She thrashed against the bed, succeeding in throwing the sheet covering her legs to the floor. Stryker sighed, placing the needle down and grasping another. He took her arm, jamming the thin spike into her arm. To her horror, Ororo felt herself weaken almost immediately as every beat of her heart pushed the tranquilizer further through her body.
Hazy, terrified, she blinked her eyes several times as her body stilled. He took up the larger needle again, stepping to her distended middle and continuing to whistle nonchalantly.
Ororo slammed her eyes closed, knowing she could no longer resist and spoke in a hateful whisper. “You’re the devil.”
His answer was tinged with unholy pleasure. “I know.”
She felt the prick of a needle in her belly and silently screamed for her Wolverine.
~**~
Kitty was shaking. The tremble had begun when she phased through Logan’s bedroom door to find Stryker baiting Logan, trying to get him to deal. She caught up to what was going on in seconds.
Trish had come barreling into the mansion, screaming about Ororo being kidnapped. Guards were dead, prison almost leveled. Fear had kicked to life inside of the young mutant before she could breathe and she’d bolted for the bedroom Logan and Ororo shared.
The commotion on the other side of that door only made her more terrified, but in a few short seconds, she understood what was happening here. Stryker had Storm and the baby. He wanted Wolverine back and was using the woman he loved and their unborn son as bait.
She’d never in her life wanted to kill someone as much as she had in that moment.
It was dawn now, the elder mutants had gathered in the kitchen, trying to understand all that had transpired in the night. Their leader was now out of their reach, in impossible danger. Stryker was alive, but that news seemed diminished by worry for their friend.
Logan, she could see, was coming apart at the seams. It wasn’t hard to guess that he blamed himself for not protecting his family. Kitty watched him across the expanse of the kitchen table, noting the haunted look in his eyes and the light shake to his hands. He wanted to be gone, to be doing something to get Ororo back.
Only Hank held him up, berating him, telling him that all of Storm’s sacrifices for him would be in vain if he took off without any sort of plan. They were X-Men, he’d shouted in uncharacteristic rage, and X-Men looked after their own.
Trish had gone to rally the public troops, so to speak. She was covering the breakout before another could suggest that Storm had done it herself. Guards were on Storm’s side, relaying that she was taken from her bed as she tried to hide behind the guards she depended on. One of them, the one Logan said was friendly to her, had died in the effort. His name was Lucky and for some reason, Kitty found that enormously sad.
She glanced to her fiancé, wondering how they would all survive this. If she hadn’t been so damn stupid to poke a sleeping dragon, they wouldn’t be in this mess. She would never forgive herself for putting them all in such danger.
Hank was on the phone, speaking into it with the grace of one immersed in politics. When he finally clicked the cordless off, he faced them all.
“Trask is dead.”
Kitty felt the air rush from her lungs. Logan glanced at her, the pain in his eyes immeasurable though it mingled with surprise. Kitty gasped for breath, holding on to the edge of the table as Piotr attempted to croon soothing words into her ear.
Trask. Dead. Stryker.
“He didn’t need him anymore,” Logan said quietly.
“Quite right,” Hank agreed instantly. “He was found in a riverbed some forty miles from Ororo’s prison.”
Piotr looked up sharply. “Then we must start our search there! Surely the body was not dumped until Stryker was in position.”
“Maybe,” Logan continued, staring at the tiled tabletop. “Maybe they dumped him in the opposite direction.”
Some of the wind went out of their proverbial sails at that.
Kitty, her breathing slowly regulating, turned to Hank whom was patting Psylocke’s shoulder as the woman brushed away her tears.
“What do we do? We’ve got to find her.”
Silence. She glanced around to every face, shocked to find hopelessly staring back at her. She understood, at least somewhat. Storm was their leader, the rock amid chaos. She held them all together with her gentle, yet powerful presence. How could they hope to face this without their leader?
Kitty picked at her thumbnail before bringing it to her mouth and gnawing on the edge fearfully. There had to be something, anything.
“I give myself to Stryker.”
Logan’s voice was soft, but the tone unmistakable. He was determined to go back to that madman, to release his family at the cost of himself. Kitty jumped off her stool and stared at him, her mouth opening and closing several times soundlessly.
“Logan…” Hank attempted quietly.
Two adamantium-laced hands slammed into the table hard enough to crack it. Everyone jumped, startled by the quick, deadly display of temper. Though Wolverine was still looking at the tabletop, he spoke forcefully, his entire body shaking with rage.
“You don’t get it.” He said on a growl. “Its me he wants. I’ll give myself up, get ‘Ro back. You guys can come after me.”
“No,” Kitty breathed, shaking her head so hard her ponytail smacked her in the face. “Hell no.”
“We ain’t got a choice, Kitten,” Logan continued softly. “I trust you to come get me. I really don’t wanna spend my life with Stryker.”
“Wolverine,” Betsy tried, reaching across the table to take his hand. “There must be another way.”
“Yeah?” He snarled, wrenching his hand away and standing to pace. He glared at the violet-haired telepath almost hatefully. “Its me he wants, for fuck’s sake! I’m the reason he took her!”
“NO!” Kitty shouted, not bothering to be afraid of Wolverine. He wouldn’t hurt her, or any of them. He’d been around them too long for her to be scared of his temper.
“You don’t get it, dumbass!” She screamed at the top of her voice. “He doesn’t just want you!”
“How do you know?!” Logan roared in response.
“I saw his files, moron!” Kitty continued, throwing her hands up in despair. “He’s not just interested in having his favorite toy back, he wants to see how your DNA reacts to others, how ALL of us will blend together!”
Logan gaped at her. Kitty took several steps around the table to shove him in the chest. He took two steps back, shocked into silence.
“He wants the baby, too, damnit! Once he has you, he’ll take the baby and kill Storm! That way he’s got lots of nice, fresh data about mutants. Don’t you understand, you give yourself to him, you’ve just killed the woman you love!”
Her last, screamed words echoed in the sudden silence. Everyone was staring at Kitty with a mixture of shock and disgust. She had vowed to never tell them the content of Trask’s files. She now knew, with a roll of nausea, who the “silent partner” in Trask’s work had been. They were working together to learn more about mutants, to find more effective ways of destroying them.
Trembling from head to toe, Kitty swallowed hard and met Logan’s eyes. “He’ll want me, too. He’ll want any pregnant mutant. Storm’s at 35 weeks, Logan. The baby is viable outside the womb.”
“He wouldn’t…” Hank whispered as though he would be sick.
“Hell yes he would,” Logan answered for him, fear reflecting in dark eyes that never left Kitty’s. “He’ll take the baby by force.”
“What now?” Piotr demanded. “We cannot allow this.”
They stared again in silence, the thick quiet only broken when Hank’s mobile chirped shrilly. He fumbled for the phone, pressing it to one furry ear as several pairs of eyes swung to face him. Kitty and Wolverine, however, continued their unfettered eye-lock.
“Trish?” Hank said, sounding surprised. “Calm down, I cannot understand…What?!”
Finally, Logan and Kitty turned to face Hank, whom had gone pale beneath his indigo fur. He switched the phone off, his jaw set as he glanced around the room.
“I think I know where they are.”
