[Reviews - 68]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story |
Printer Chapter or Story |
ePub eBook Chapter or Story |

Has been viewed 1429 times

- Text Size +




Chapter 7: The Danger Room pt. 1


Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters
Westchester, New York
Early morning…


The light of dawn stretched lazily across the horizon blanketing the Westchester mansion with its gentle light, a few of its touching rays even caressed Marie’s face stirring her from her slumber. The girl rubbed her brown eyes wearily to clear some of the crust away as she began her journey to the waking world. Slowly colors and muddled shapes started to appear to her as she found herself looking over her room in the girl’s ward.

Across from her, Marie heard the gentle snoozing of Kitty as she drew deeper in her blue comforter still peacefully at rest. The soft-spoken brown haired girl cradled a book of love sonnets in her arms that she was probably reading the night before. In the bed next to her not as gentle but just as blissful, Jubilee, wearing a neon pink sleep mask with matching curlers in her hair, also slept. Marie rolled her eyes while looking at the young Asian girl, she sounded like a chainsaw at a lumberjack convention with all her snoring. An easy smile touched the lips of Rogue as she continued to stare at her two friends. Even though they had just met, it felt as though the three of them had known each other for years.

The smile on Marie’s face started to fall as she started to remember…

Back in Mississippi she never had many friends. In school she always tried to keep to herself, never bringing anyone home, never going to other girl’s houses for sleepover or shopping trips. Coming from a rundown trailer in Claiborne, she often learned how to do without many things. Certain things can seem so trivial when your parents were scrounging to keep a roof over your head and food on the table. Then there was also her Pa…

Tears threatened to spill from her eyes as her memory continued to search…

At home Marie lived a life in fear. She was always afraid that someone would find out what her Pa’ was doing, another part of her prayed someone would. Her wardrobe of long sleeved shirts and jackets were always well stocked years before her mutation had arisen. From the dead of winter to the blistering heat of the summer she wore them. She found the bittersweet irony of it now that she still had to keep all of her body covered to protect everyone else from her skin. Back then growing though she had to; it was the only way to cover them up. She couldn’t let anyone see or people would come and take her Pa away from her, her Mama always said. She just had to be a big girl a little while longer. She had to be real strong.

If anyone would ever ask why she was weaker some days than others, she’d always have a lie. She was always good at lying, even when she was real little. After a while she became so good at it she even managed to fool herself. But still all the lies she could come up with couldn’t compare to the ones her mother told her.

“Daddy loves ye honey, he’s just tired.”

Or...

“…he’s jus had a lil’ too much to drink.”

Or…

“…he’s just goin’ through a tough time ‘right now.”

And she always believed her because Mama was always right. Like a complete an utter idiot she believed her. Didn’t her Mama see how much he was hurting her? Didn’t she care?

Marie gasped as tears fell from her eyes like a river.

Sixteen years.

Sixteen years of hurt.

Sixteen years of pain resurfacing all at once; its power overwhelming curling her up into a tight little ball of agony as she cried. She felt her body tightening up, she couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe, because her lungs refused to work. She couldn’t even think straight because her brain was shutting down. She was dying in this moment she just knew it. Her one thought, Logan. She wanted Logan. She just wanted Logan right now because she knew he could make the hurt go away.

He would hold her till she was rested. He would tell her she was beautiful. He would tell her she was wanted. And that everything in her past didn’t matter anymore, because she had him now. She could almost fall asleep in his strong arms feeling safe for the first time she could ever remember. That would be till his deep gravelly voice would ask her what was wrong. But she couldn’t tell him. She could never tell him. She knew Logan. She knew him better than he thought.

The moment he found out the reason for her tears, he would be gone on the next thing heading to Mississippi like a bat out of hell. He would try to find her, Pa and try to make him pay for what he did. But he wouldn’t find him. She would have to tell Logan that he couldn’t kill him, because he was too late.

OoOoOo

Meanwhile, in another section of the mansion…

The Wolverine had been up early. True to his own solemn vow, he had spent the last few days checking around the school. He didn’t know much about this Xavier guy, but the old man diffidently knew how to put out all the stops for everything. Logan discovered most of the school’s top of the line equipment and the facilities were paid out of pocket by Xavier himself. There were brief donations here and there made to the school as well as some government grants, but the forty-five percent of the student body that were actually runaways had their tuition paid in full by the old man.

That fact made Logan draw to two conclusions; either Xavier was a Saint or he was a complete loon.

Logan didn’t see any shining halos over the old man’s baldhead so he was leaning towards the latter. Still he believed the man’s intent was genuine which was surprising in this day in age. Logan had seen his fair share of the worst of what life had to offer and even more of the worst side of people. He was pessimistic by nature not because he always believed in the worst of humanity, but instead that was all he’s ever experienced. But this Xavier and his faculty were good people. If anything the last few days had given him hope for the future.

That was what made leaving a little easier. He knew Marie would be in good hands.

Slipping on a white t-shirt and some jeans, he turned to the dresser reaching for his Stetson. A certain light came to his eyes when he recalled the foresight of the girl. He even found out that some of his stogies were hidden in one of his jacket’s pockets. Granted, they weren’t a replacement for a good cold Molson, but they were a close second. She was going to make some lucky man a good wife someday, he considered before slipping the hat onto his head. Ultimately he decided that he would make sure to come back to the school every few months to check up on her. That was a second promise he silently made to her one he would no doubt remain true to like the first.

The Wolverine took the time to neatly make the bed and removed all traces of his being there. He wanted to make sure he left the room in the exact same condition he was given to. These people were nothing but kind to him. Just because he didn’t feel like joining their Brady Bunch Brigade, didn’t mean he wasn’t grateful.

He took one last glance around the room to make sure he didn’t forget anything, when a stern pair of knocks on the door broke his concentration. Instantly a frown crossed his lips. He was sure there usually wasn’t anyone up this early, so he wondered who the visitor was. For a moment he sighed, praying that it wasn’t Marie. He knew if she were behind that door she would be down in the lobby in two minutes wanting to join him and not taking ‘No’ for an answer. His head then cocked to the side briefly wondering if it was that Monroe broad. He had been doing his best to avoid her for the past few days, but seeing her doe blue eyes one last time would have been a very nice send off. It would probably a whole other reason to find his way back here as well. She might be like salt on a wound, but she diffidently was nice to look at.

As he approached the door a quick sniff told him it wasn’t either of the too. A strong air of Right Guard aftershave mixed in with Listerine mouthwash penetrated his senses. Logan’s lips formed curled into a tight scowl as he pulled the door open. His eyes looked up to the crimson shades and the neutral smile that was adorned on Scott Summer’s face. “Morning,” the younger man greeted, “You’re up early,” Summers commented while welcoming himself in.

A thick black eyebrow rose up from Logan as he glanced to the Xavier team leader that waltzed inside of ‘his’ room, “Didn’t know ya had a wakeup call, Slim,” he grumbled out, closing the door behind him.

One thing that hadn’t changed over the few days he stayed in the Mansion, Logan still didn’t warm up to the clean cut Scott Summers. There was no set thing the man did or said that triggered the feeling; it was just his general presence alone that irked the shit out of him. It was his stiff walk, the air he gave off; the underlining tension Logan’s could sniff in the man’s body although he still maintained an omnipresent smile on his boyish face. He almost wished the guy would make a move so they could finally settle this thing, violently.

Instead Scooter grinned easily enough from his comment. “No, I just thought you might be craving a little bit of action,” he explained, “We’re having a little early morning workout scheduled today,” he notified Logan while crossing his arms in front of him. Summers’ head then turned taking in the whole scene of Logan’s room. He took an interest in its extra tidy condition, made bed and the small amount of bags that were packed on top of it. In that moment both men knew of Logan’s intention but for some reason Summers didn’t comment, he just still brandished that same ‘used’ car salesmen type smile.

It was then that Logan noticed Scott had a medium-sized package firmed tucked under his arm. The box was black in color, with the familiar “X” logo printed on it. It was flat and deceivingly wide like those packages you would get from Christmas that often turned out to be six dozen pairs of underwear or socks, or something.

Logan drew his eyes away from the package and returned to the conversation, “Work out?” he questioned, his head cocked back interest triggered, “Whatcha got in mind? Some weights a bit o’ runnin’?” He had to admit he was a little bit intrigued. It had been a long time since he gave his body a good run through.

Scott just shook his head, “No, nothing as light as that,” he promised but still not revealing more, “Interested?”

Logan took a moment to consider it. He knew he was supposed to be hitting the road soon, but he could put it off for one more day. It wasn’t as if he had a real destination after he left the mansion anyway. Just as usual he would head in whatever direction the wind took him. Plus he reasoned, it wouldn’t hurt to indulge the younger man for a time, “Sure, ain’t got nothin’ better tah do.”

“Good, glad to have you,” Summers applauded while extended his hand in conformation. For a moment the Wolverine ignored the gesture but after a second thought grasped the man anyway. Summers had a surprisingly strong grip. Not as solid as Pete, but he was no weakling either. Summers then brushed past him making his way to the door. “Although one thing,” he said while drawing up short in the doorframe. He looked back over to Logan. “If you want to come you have to be properly dressed,” he finished while handing the feral Canadian the dark box that was in his possession.

Logan eyed the lightweight package questionably before retrieving it. With one eyebrow raised he slowly removed the lid to the container. With the top off, he took a moment to take in its contents. Then his gray eyes deadpanned while glancing up again to Summers, “Ya gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he grumbled in annoyance.

But Scott was already gone, chuckling to himself while moving down the hallway. “Meet up in the grand staircase in about an hour,” his voice echoed back before Logan closed it behind him. “Come dressed to kill…” he couldn’t help but to add.

OoOoOo

Promptly an hour later Logan found his way to the appointed meeting area. Leaning against the banister, waiting diligently was Scott Summers only it wasn’t. The man waiting was draped in a navy blue body suit that went from the collar down. The material look as though it was a combination of Kevlar and deep padding that contorted around most of the major muscle areas, given him a decent range of mobility as well as added protected. Dark blue boots and gloves covered his feet and hands, with a matching belt that had a black “X” in the background of red strapped itself to his waist. Gone were the ruby red sunglasses that the young man was usually known for, instead a thin visor covered his eyes with a narrow crimson slit along the center. Logan automatically noted that this wasn’t Scott Summers that was standing before him but instead the X-Men leader Cyclops.

Taking in the outlandish appearance of Summers, had Logan biting back several choice comments, but honestly in this case he had little room to criticize. The Canadian constantly kept tugging on the uncomfortable gloves he was wearing and mentally kicking his own ass for letting the boy talk him into the getup.

Cyclops seemed to brighten when he noticed Logan’s approach, which meant there was at least one of them that were glad he was here. “You’re on time,” the team leader noted as he sprang from off of the banister to greet him. The X-Men leader then paused, subconsciously stroking the faint glaze of stubble on his chin as he took a few moments to inspect the Canadian. Logan swore to god if Summers said one smug thing about the outfit, he was gonna haul his ass back up stairs and change, that was of course before he made One-Eye into No-Eye.

Logan also wore a body suit of his own only his was a golden in color. A network of three dark slashes ripped across his ribcage each tip ending before they reached his abdomen, as well as one coming down both of his shoulder blades. He had spaulders on each shoulder that were a dark blue which were made from a different material because in certain light they would appear a dark blue color to an even black. His thick hair matted arms were left bare, each of them falling into a pair of gloves that matched the dark color of his spaulders. Logan noticed that unlike Summers, his suit was absent of the many sections of padding and Kevlar making his suit more closely folded to his body almost like a second skin, a very tight second skin. But the tall-tale black “X” insignia on his crimson belt marked they were of the same affiliation.

Summers drew his head up noticing the hood to Logan’s uniform wasn’t drawn but decided not to comment, the frown on Logan’s fact was entertaining enough. “I can’t believe ya guys actually go out in public like this?” the Canadian gruffly grumbled, feeling like a complete and utter jackass.

A smile broke through Scott’s lips, “Could be worst,” he fostered, “You could be in stifling tight leathers that creaked every time you walked.” Logan paused for a minute in thought. He wasn’t actually sure that was actually the worst of the two options. “Come on, the others are waiting for us,” Cyclops said while moving down the hallway towards the lower level elevators.

They moved before the large wall that held the wide metallic convex panel. Silently it wheeled around allowing both men admittance. When they were inside Summers proceeded to punch in a series of numbers on one of the inside panels that opened a second console. Pressing the lowest button sent the whole elevator down into its decent. A dim light came on as the small room hummed around them as it continued its journey, leaving both men in a calm of silence.

Scott looked up briefly, noticing Logan was still tugging on the gloves of his uniform, stretching his thick fingers out repeatedly while still trying to adjust to the odd material. Secretly he himself was wondering about it. He knew that Jean usually had a hand in making all the outfits. He honestly didn’t know what possessed the woman when she created that but whatever. Scott’s attention quickly alerted when he noticed Logan’s forearm snapped out quickly a second later his hand balled up into a fist. He released the knotted hand after a moment then balled it up again. Then Scott heard them, the metallic release of adamantium steel that left a set of three blades just three inches from his face.

It took Scott everything he relied on as a man, not to flinch at that moment. His jaw just tightened, about to snap at the unnecessary action, but he realized Logan wasn’t even aware of the near miss. The man’s concentration was solely on adjusting the fit of his gloves. So in the end Scott just breathed and let it go, while the elevator still humming around them.

OoOoOo

The Danger Room Control Booth
Meanwhile…

Ororo and Jean both observed from their monitors as both Logan and Scott entered the elevator, while the Professor was busy in the background with setting the specifications for the morning’s trial. Ororo took in a sharp breath as she continued to watch the two men, especially Logan’s uniform who was a stark contrast to his counterpart. Where Cyclops’ dark navy blue uniform was a closely fitted padded suit like what the rest of them wore. Logan’s golden outfit was tightly woolen to his body allowing the tight compressed section of his chest and abdomens to be shown as well as the sinewy definition of his powerful legs, a fact that did not go unbeknownst to both women. Ororo was discrete in her observation, Jean not much so.

Storm continued to take in Logan’s uniform that left hardly a thing to the imagination. Her sapphire eyes then quickly darted over to her devious friend. The wanton Doctor had a lot of explaining to do. ‘Jean…’ Ororo mentally beckon calmly, perfectly concealing her quiet ire.

The psychic registered the mental command, her head popping up, drawing her from her drool- *ahem* observation of Logan’s firm tight… ‘What?’ she mentally called back. She whirled her head around to Ororo obviously a bit annoyed at the distraction.

Her irritation soon melted as she saw Ororo’s eyes narrow to thin blue slits, ‘You did that on purpose…’ the former goddess accused.

‘What?’ Jean’s eyes widened feigning innocence. It was a well-known fact that the young doctor spent time developing all of the X-Men’s uniforms. A fact that Ororo knew the Doctor apparently took full advantage of. ‘Hey, I can’t help it that the man has the perfect ass, abs and legs. I just worked under the specifications that the Professor gave me,’ she mentally protested, her beautiful face frowning. A single crimson eyebrow then rose on the woman as she smirked, ‘Besides I didn’t see you not looking…’ she added slyly.

The African woman paused as a deep stain of red flushed in her cheeks, ‘That is not the point!’ she nearly shouted out loud.

‘Will you two please…’ the baritone voice of Xavier commanded, chastising both women. The two of them turned to see the deep frown on the older man’s face as he looked over from his busy work at the console.

“Sorry Professor…” both women echoed out loud, just a moment before the door to the elevator wheeled open behind them. Shortly after Cyclops entered the room his normal crisp stride marked the air of seriousness he was always known to have. He was dressed in full battle attire, ready for this morning session. Moving at half a step behind him was the newest arrival to the mansion.

OoOoOo

The Wolverine walked into the well-lit room slowly behind Summers, his eyes were instantly drawn to the dozen monitors that were laid along the room. Computers hummed, buzzed, and beeped with different readings and signals. He looked to the side monitors that had a gauge that read ‘Atmospheric condition’ and another one that said, ‘Environmental temperatures.’ He frowned while he looking away, as far as he was concerned this was the snazziest gymnasium he’s ever been to.

“Welcome Logan,” he heard drawing his attention. The Wolverine turned surprised to see Xavier as well as the rest of the X-clan. His eyes took a brief look to Red. Jean was wearing a tight emerald green body suit, which appeared to have the Kevlar padded similar to Summers. The middle portion of her suit was golden; leaving a few areas shadowed black giving the overall golden area the appearance of a large falcon or bird. He would be later informed that it was a Phoenix and ever since she was young Jean had always been fascinated with the image of a Phoenix. Draped around her waist was a golden belt with the trademark “X” insignia on it. She also had matching golden boots as well as gloves that completed the outfit.

Logan’s eyes drifted from Jean an instant later to the woman beside her. The Wolverine found his breath running short as he took in Ororo’s appearance. She was dressed head to toe in a sleek silver suit, that clung to the voluptuous curves of her body. All the inseams that connected around her padding were black in design, curved around her full chest and fell down to her shapely legs. Red insignias with the black “X” logo held up a dark cape that wrapped itself around her, the insignias were divided down the collar of her uniform, which opened down the front to allow a sliver of caramel cleavage to be shown. The combination of her thick flowing white hair with her dark silver outfit made for a stunning sight for the statuesque beauty. Even if it was protective wear, it still seemed to knock the wind out of him.

Again he cursed to himself, a woman wasn’t ever supposed to look that good. Her scent of sandalwood and rain was more adamant now than ever, although he was still puzzled by the third scent that seemed to accompany her, unable to name it. But the mere presence of it seemed to soothing to him for some reason.

“Ah, Logan,” Charles began again, the older man wheeled around to address the newcomer, “Thank you for joining us this morning.” Xavier was rewarded with a grunt and nod from the disgruntled Canadian. He then watched as Logan took a quick head count of the group and noticed that there was someone missing.

“Hey where's Pete?” he asked, actually missing the young Russian’s company. Out of all the members of Xavier’s crew, he had spoken with Colossus the most. After the first day he arrived there, the two of them met up the following day to shoot the shit; they even got into some light sparring, just to see what the kid had. Pete wasn’t bad either, he had a few areas that could have used refinement, but the Russian was a good solid fighter.

Charles smiled; pleased to see that Logan had made at least one connection from the mansion outside of Marie. “Peter will not be participating with us this morning,” he informed him while moving back behind his console, “Since Peter is still in training, I tend to monitor his Danger Room exercises more closely.”

Logan nodded seemingly accepting that then he stopped, as the other statement the old man said drew curiosity. “Danger Room?” Logan asked questionably, “What’s a Danger Room?” The Wolverine then noticed the wide darken panel that was Xavier. The panel was almost as wide as the whole wall itself. Logan took a step closer trying to discern what lied beyond there.

“Professor,” Scott Summers smiled, “I suppose we should show him.” A moment after Summers’ words the tart sound of colossal charges of electricity could be heard around them. The panel that was behind Charles seemed to light up showing that it in fact was a viewing window. Logan stepped closer to the glass peering though. The room before him was massive, circular in shape easily equaling the size of a football field. The room maintained the sterile gray color that ran throughout all of the lower levels, making it seem clean and untouched. It had a circular platform in its center that stemmed off into four different pathways that lead outside of the room. Several segments of hexagonal panels were woven around its perimeter, as well as massive halogen lights that dangled down, ringing around the full circumference of the room.

Logan let out a long shrill whistle while taking in the whole scene. “That sure is one big empty room,” he stated off-handedly, not exactly sure what he was supposed to be witnessing.

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Cowboy,” Ororo returned while moving next to him. Instantly his dark eyes darted to her. They were a little more than pleased when he noticed her lean down to type a few commands into the console in front of her. His sights fell inside the deep chocolate nesting of cleavage that her uniform afforded her. Storm’s head then suddenly shot up as she was finished her calculations, “Scott let her rip!” she shouted.

Her eyes then instantly collided with Logan’s, who in that moment looked as though he was the kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But instead of having the decency of being abashed or embarrassed, he just gave her a deep piercing stare with a slow knowing smile edging on his lips, his dark eyebrows wriggling suggestively. There was a blinding light that flashed that moment, drawing Logan’s attention, so he didn’t notice the crimson hue that stained Ororo’s cheeks or the subtle gesture of her tucking a snow white lock of hair behind her ear. ‘Goddess, what is this man doing to me?’ she said to herself, trying to recall all the instances when he infuriated her not to mention all reasons why he was nothing but trouble.

When the light inside of the inner chamber died, Logan stared opened eyed and amazed at its sudden transformation. Snow capped mountains stretched out as far as his eyes could see. A flowing river of the purest blue seemed to flow around the valley forever. Lush colonies of fir trees covered the snow-covered plain as a chill wind blew across the horizon. In just an instant, the room before him turned into the perfect image of the Canadian Rockies.

Astonished, Logan wearily placed a hand against thick pane of glass; despite its density and the thick material of his gloves, Logan’s enhanced sense of touch was able to register a faint trace of coolness on the other side of the window. He almost wished he could go inside to embrace the calming presence of his homeland.

“Impressed?” Cyclops asked while drawing up to the other side of the shorter man, equally enjoying the view.

“I’ll say,” Logan confirmed with a slight nod, “This certainly beats the pants offa HD,” he rumbled out, still hypnotized by the imagery. A chorus of chuckles echoed from behind him. “How’d ya guys manage all this?” he asked no one in particular.

Ororo took a deep breath then turned to him with a gentle smile. Thick tendrils of her thick hair fell down the side of her oval shaped face as she spoke, “Let’s just say, we know a Cheyenne man that can do amazing things with machines.”

“Ya should give that guy a raise,” he recommended honestly.

Charles Xavier chuckled lightly to himself while approaching everyone. “I’ll keep that in mind,” the Professor responded brightly. “Let us begin…” the older man suggested as he began his presentation of the illustrious Danger Room.

OoOoOo

Two hours later had the Wolverine intently glued to that same spot. His eyes and demeanor would give someone the impression of a fat kid in a candy shop with unlimited credit. The Canadian learned that the Danger Room used a combination of advanced robotics and a newly developed concept that involved hard condensed light to forge illusions and various complex objects. All in all, the room could take the appearance of any location or environment imaginable and also replicate any type of opponents or obstacles you could conjure up. The possibilities were virtually limitless a fact that started the gears in the Wolverine’s head turning. Not to mention developing a secret plot to finding a way to get one of these things back to his cabin in Alberta.

After a few selections of different scenery and modes the Danger Room could produce, the Professor asked Jean and Summers to run through some of the training exercises they performed to hone their mutant powers. The training exercises were a good way for the team to develop working battle strategies and techniques, not to mention build up the group’s solidarity.

This portion of the presentation brought upon the second part of Logan’s surprise, the discovery of Scott and Jeannie’s mutant powers. Jean was a powerful psychic with the ability to move things with her mind. He vividly remembered seeing the slender woman easily send boulders flying from her path and even aiding Summers by levitating him over a trap as he was about to be cornered in during one of the scenarios they were running. The Professor also said she was in the process of developing her powers even further so she could read people’s thoughts similar to the Professor’s own mutant ability.

Scott Summers also known as Cyclops was another story all together. The guy basically had a bazooka for eyes, literally. Summers was able to emit powerful concentrated bursts of energy from his eyes. The ruby lens visor he always wore had a dial on it that was able to condense or expand the flow of power that was emitted with each burst. The potency and destructive scale of his blasts have yet to be determined but it was once stated that Cyclops was able to punch a hole clean through a mountain.

As Cyclops and Jean finished up their last scenario, Logan cut his eyes to Ororo who had been standing next to him the whole time, explaining how the Danger Room worked as well as answered all the questions that he had. The African beauty was always calm and polite; always able to answer whatever he had to toss at her, even the few concepts he had trouble grasping. He could easily tell she truly found her calling in teaching, it even showed here. Strangely enough, even though he remained in the room attending to the settings of each of the battle situations, Charles remained surprisingly silent throughout the explanations, allowing Ororo to do most of the talking, which suited Logan fine, he could listen to her velvet like voice for hours.

“Ya don't join in?” he asked her, noticing she remained with him for the full duration of the exercise. Jean and Scott finally exited the last battle scenario called ‘The Gauntlet’ and were heading back to the command room. The Gauntlet was a timed three hundred-meter race. Every inch of it was filled with various traps and snares that could be triggered to attack you at any given time. It was a very good test of a person’s agility, endurance, and cunning and to be honest Logan was interested in seeing how the African goddess would fare.

Ororo smiled at him knowingly then shook her head, “In this particular battle situation, I do not,” she answered while still smiling; “It honestly wouldn't be fair.”

“Why's that?” he asked drawing interest.

There was a subtle hiss that whispered behind him as Cyclops and Jean returned, instantly joining the duo. “Because our Ororo here can fly,” Jean supplied while slinging her arm around taller woman’s shoulder, bringing her into a tight companionable hug.

Logan’s eyes widen while taking in the two of them. “Really?” he belted out, trying to imagine the regal African woman sailing through skies, her long mane of pure white hair flowing behind her. For some reason he honesty didn’t find the vision unusual.

“It’s more of riding than flying,” Ororo corrected. She then turned to Logan to explain further, “I can summon enough lift from a gale of wind to elevate myself from off the ground.”

The Wolverine paused while crossing his arms, allowing the little bit of information to digest within him. “Ororo the Windrider,” he spoke softly to himself, clearly amazed by the feat. “That must be something to see,” his gravelly voice admitted.

“Stick around Cowboy,” she shot back, her sapphire eyes seemed to blaze with life, “You'll be surprise what you'll be able to witness in the mansion.”

Logan cracked a smile, amused at her little nickname for him. He then nodded in agreement, “I’ll bet…” his strong dark eyes not falling away from her, nor did she from him.

For a moment there seemed to be something silently said between their shared glances, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed to the intuitive Jean Grey. The two of them were radiating such strong emotions in that moment that the psychic had to put a secondary mental barrier down to dampen the intensity and maintain her own sanity. She briefly looked to Professor who seemed to be in the middle of talking over some procedures with Scott. The older man didn’t mentally comment but Jean felt the brief impression of a sly smile coming from him in his own observation of the two.

Scott then dismissed himself from Xavier then joined the three of them. Instantly he pulled up to Logan, “So you want a go?”

OoOoOo

“So let me get this straight,” Logan, shouted out at the top of his lungs from inside the chamber of the Danger Room. His voice echoed in the cool gray circular auditorium which was bare for a moment and then quickly objects began to form. The floor panel, its texture then parameter were forged as well as the entranceway to the Gauntlets corridor. It was then like a ripple effect afterward as pieces started to appear into thin air then fit together one by one.

It was slightly disorientating being inside the room, while it cycled through the adjustments as it began to set up. His nose could smell the granite and metallic fumes circulating through the area as the Danger Room took seconds to literally create the illusion to the specifications for the trial run. He looked to the entranceway that suddenly appeared before him. “I got to get from here to the other end of this thing, as fast as I can?” he asked chucking his thumb behind him.

From up in the control booth Cyclops looked down to the Wolverine while speaking into the telecom, “In one piece also,” he clearly wanted to add, “You think you can handle it?”

The Wolverine snorted, scoffing at the seemingly absurd notion. There wasn’t anything in this Playstation funhouse he wouldn’t be able to take on. “I'll manage,” he evenly called back.

“Wolverine,” Cyclops’ voice echoed in the room. “You might want to put your mask on. There should be a mic installed in the inseam so you don’t have to yell for all of us to hear you,” the team leader pointed out.

“Gotcha…” the Wolverine gruffly returned, a few silent few grumbles escaping his lips as he reached for his hood. He was hoping he could have gone without the damn thing. It was stupid, made him feel like a sexually confused Batman or something.

He roughly pulled the yellow cowl over his face. He’d vividly remembered his image from the bathroom mirror when he was trying it on, a yellow hood with a black face covering that fan down the side of his cheeks, which gave it the appearance of bold whiskers falling down the side of his face. The black face covering also drew back, up and out from his eyes to make it look like he had two pointed ears that fanned away from his head.

“Logan,” the Wolverine heard Jean’s light voice call in from the intercom. “Scott here has the running best time for solo Gauntlet runs,” she said, adding a bit of the air of competition to up the stakes.

A low rumble of gravelly chuckles emerged from the comment. “Hey, Scooter,” Logan’s gravelly voice responded from the speaker, just as confident as ever. “I think ye’re record is about tah be broken.”

“Scooter?” Jean repeated, confused. Her bright green eyes then shifted to Scott and it all clicked, “Oh my god!” she muttered trying to muzzle the cascade of laughter that was fighting its way out of her. Scott instantly tilted his head back and sighed. Even though his eyes weren’t visible to her, she knew the bodily gesture equal for a long eye roll. “Oh…Honey,” she tried to soothe while planting a small peck on his cheek, “I’m sorry, it was just so cute,” she teased.

OoOoOo

The Wolverine stood before the darken corridors that lead to the Gauntlet.

His eyes narrowed through his drawn hood, staring at the Gauntlet like it was his most reviled foe. He slowly began breathing, his lungs expanding and contracting. Expanding and contracting again, and again, each time increasing in duration between each gasp. He slowly allowed his body to calm, allowing it to focus. The Beast was quiet, patient, waiting. It knows it will have its turn soon enough.

The Wolverine then crouched down; hands fanning out to his sides with his thumbs extended back, giving his body the perfect amount of leverage for when he dismounts from the balls of his heels. He listens as Grey counts down for him, his mind already working in the faction of the seconds between the breaths she takes to utter her words, the long duress, the subtle intake of air then the sound of each syllable spoken. He thrusts his butt up into the air, feeling the tightening of his powerful thighs as they burn and coil beneath him, waiting to release their explosive fury.

So when he finally hears the word, “Go!” he does so, in every meaning of the word.

His body ignites ripping across the floor, down into the darken tunnels in mere seconds. His head is low, eyes alert, body alive with energy as he pounds his feet furiously against the floor. He shortly after enters a corridor of stone columns that align in two-to-two horizontal rows permitting him one entryway. He doesn’t question the setup or the consequences he just continues to move.

As soon as his foot crosses the plane the whole room starts to quake. Deep bellowing rumbles echo throughout the chamber as each of the pillars starts to fall. He doesn’t hesitate; he doesn’t break stride, his body and shoulders just shifts back and forward avoiding all the debris. He leaps overtop of a fast falling pillar maintaining his momentum. Two of the columns fall intersecting each other crossing as they come down. The Wolverine takes half a second to crouched down low, his legs then propel him forward as he tucks his head toward his chest, somersaulting in the air clearing the wreckage completely. He lands down hard, never stopping as he moves.

Motion-sensor beam cannons hum to life tracking his pathway during his raid. In a brief flare of glaring red light they fire in arcing patterns, soon a web work of crimson rays rains down upon him. The Wolverine simply jukes; he spins, and feints, depending on his speed and the constitution of his body to aid him. He flexes his arm calling forth three blades. Summoning the heart of the Beast he roars while making a quick swipe that severs one of the cannons from its mount.

Not a moment later he hears the granite ceiling above him starting to rattle. The Wolverine has relied on his senses for so long that he has no need to second-guess them. He dashes, just seconds as the whole panel above him drops with a suffocating slam, but the Wolverine wasn’t there to witness it because he was already gone. More of the ceiling panels continued to rain in a cascading avalanche of devastation. The danger fuels his adrenaline pushing his body to press beyond the human limits because suddenly all the room is coming down around him. Darkness closes around him, sealing every option, sealing every exit. But they forgot one basic law of nature:

Where there is no way, adamantium claws can make one.

Blades of adamantium steel tear and rip freeing him from the rubble as seconds tick by. He is a little more than a blur as he streaks down the last stretch like a madman possessed, till he reaches an enormous pit whose bottom seems to go on till the morrow. Segments of floating rock drift back in forth in patterns. Some moving right to left, some moving down and up. The Wolverine, knowing that time is no luxury, hurtles himself forward landing precariously on the first floating island’s edge. He leaps again and again; the brief sense of weightlessness entraps him for a few seconds in each bound leaving him spellbound till his powerful arms finally takes hold of the drifting stalagmite. This final one continues to climb higher and higher till the platform to the last segment is shown.

Landing on all fours the Wolverine bolts into a dead run, he sees his final obstacle and his goal. His wide feet pound up the stone pyramid’s steps that seemed that seemed to reach the heavens themselves. Higher and higher he climbs but he will not stop, not until he tastes victory.

Scott Summers, the titleholder for the fastest Gauntlet run. His greatest run was an amazing fifty-five and a half seconds. The Wolverine on his first run cleared the Gauntlet in an even forty.

To be continued…





You must login () to review.