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Disclaimer: Don’t own the X-Men, so don’t sue.


Thank-you everybody!


Chapter.11.


It was like some crazy dream. But if it was, it was definitely the most vivid and extraordinary dream Catherine had ever had. So much so that she wondered whether or not it was happening for real. She ‘awoke’ to find herself lay in the middle of a vast, open room. Pushing herself into a sitting position, Catherine put her fore arm underneath her hair that was hanging in her face, blocking her view and swooped it back over her scalp. Every sense she had was telling the young girl that the room she was in was real, solid, very much physically around her. But at the same time she felt that it wasn’t, there was just something so...surreal about the atmosphere. It was bright and airy, like there was a large panoramic window that led to a stunningly expansive view around the corner, but still just out of sight. It certainly wasn’t the closed off dungeon-like space that she remember passing out in. All Catherine could remember was after the headache she was struck down by had become so bad that she ceased to be able to focus anymore, someone had come into the room she was being held in. They’d fitted something, which she later discerned to be chains around her neck and the next thing she felt was being dragged until she was forced to get to her feet as being pulled along the rough floor was so painful. The last thing she remembered before the blackness was being in Ororo’s lap, and despite the fact that she was too physically out of it to let her aunt know she was aware of her presence, just knowing she was there was a great comfort that had been to her, more than she’d ever know. After that point the swelling, consuming pain in her head had become too much for her to deal with and she’d summarily passed out.


Now she had woken here in this place that seemed to exist and not all at once. It was so light and so clean; white walls, off-white floors. Finally she decided the only course of action would be to get up and look around. And so that was exactly what she did, absently brushing down her white robe as she stood, looking at her surroundings the whole time. When she walked, the bottom of her wicker sandals reverberated off the walls, making them sound hollow, box-like.


~ “Hello?”~ She called out rather timidly, as if scared to break the silence of the space. The only answer coming to her in the form of her own voice being reflected back from the walls. Then she noticed that there was a corner at the far edge of the room that seemed to lead to an exit, an opening which so far had not revealed itself to Catherine obviously. Tentatively, the girl stepped toward the corner, peering around its edge coyly, not knowing what to expect. As her eyes slowly veered around the hard turn in the white plaster wall, sweat-damp fingers gripping to it almost compulsively, a door came into the view of her warm brown eyes that shimmered with nervous moister. It was an extremely ordinary looking door, plain, pine, the type one would expect to see in the most mundane of houses. But then again, wherever this place was that she now found herself situated in was particularly uninteresting to the eye in general.


That was until she plucked up enough courage to venture forth and open that door. After several careful steps towards it, those self-same lucid hands that had clung with a quiet desperation to the corner of the room, taking hold of the sliver-finished door knob, hesitating for a moment before twisting it, revealing its wonders to unsuspecting, innocent eyes. The astral plane was a new experience for her...


* * *


Eventually, it became too much, even for him. The feral rage subsided and his exhausted frame collapsed to its knees, the sharp adamantium drawing back into his body slowly, as if reluctant to conceal themselves. One or two drops of crimson trickled down the back of his now slack hands; the tense fists they had been clenched in, folding out with the passing of his fury to hang limply at his sides. The cuts, the raw open wounds that came with the claws unsheathing, closed to make the skin of the hands, just in the nooks between the calloused nubs of his knuckles flawless once more. No trace of the weapons violent intrusion could be seen at all, after only a couple of seconds.


“Logan, are you alright?” It was Bobby, again being forced into the position of being Logan’s minder as Jean was busy bandaging Scott’s arm with his own T-Shirt wore beneath his X-uniform.


For a moment, Logan didn’t answer, still flitting between rational thought and ‘Wolverine’ mode. But as Professor X had surmised, nature did take its course and the primal anger had siphoned off, leaving him physically exhausted yes, but also restoring him to some kind of coherent function, enabling him to calm down and actually think. The urge to attack the nearest person to him disappeared also as he turned to look at the genuinely concerned boy that stood behind him. Still panting frantically, Logan nodded at the young X-Man in confirmation that he was indeed alright, reassuring Iceman that he had nothing to fear from him unlike last time. Though, despite this he was still feeling the anger and a sense of failure almost, that he hadn’t been able to protect or get through to Ororo when he’d called to her to fight the Shadow Kings presence within her. At this moment he’d never felt more useless in his entire life. “I’m fine Bobby.” He managed to articulate as his breathing started to slow and he got to his feet. Turning from the unyielding wall to look past Bobby, Logan watched Jean as she wrapped Scott’s charred flesh carefully. He’d all but forgotten that Cyclops had even been hit during the battle with Storm, and was genuinely relieved, in spite of their differences, that the man was alright after such a bad hit. “Can you try to contact ‘Ro again Jean?” He shouted over to her.


Still with her eyes concentrated on enveloping the last uncovered bit of her partners arm, Jean called back in answer, “I’ve tried already Logan...I can’t get through. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”


“Well try again!” He bellowed angrily as he strode over to the X-Men’s resident field psychic. Stood right before her and Cyclops, he continued to rage, “I’m not giving up on her as easily as you seem to be prepared to. TRY AGAIN JEANNIE!”


“She’s doing her best Logan, lay off!” Scott retorted as loud as the pain that ran through him would allow.


# Logan, Scott is right. # The Professor’s telepathic voice was heard by all of them, as clear as if he were in the room with them. # Now is not the time for in-fighting Wolverine---Jean is trying, as am I, but the Shadow King’s infiltration is just too strong to break right now...even for me.# None of them had any idea how much it hurt Charles to admit that he couldn’t save his beloved Ororo, that his ‘daughter’ might possibly be beyond his help. But underneath his fear for her, he still had faith in Storm; faith in her strength, her determination, her spirit. # Listen carefully my X-Men, time is scarce; I can lead you to where Ororo has been taken, if you’ll let me guide you?”


“How far away is she?” Logan said aloud to the Professor, quite unnecessarily; a discreet thought would have done.


# She’s...she’s deep within the catacomb now Logan...I can only trace her by the bare minimum of psychic residue, but as you get deeper, with Jean’s help I’ll be able to get a better lock on her.#


#There’s no need Professor, I think I can trace her by myself, it’s just when we find her that I’m worried about---I’ll need your help then.#


# And what about Catherine? # Bobby was a fast learner after all.


# She’s fairly near Ororo physically at least, I can tell that much # There was a prolonged pause, in which none of the team moved a muscle, waiting tensely for their mentor to give them an order. # But her mind is somewhere else, off on a different plane...I fear she has inherited her father’s gift. That is why we couldn’t get to her earlier and why she kept on making such powerful contact with us---she doesn’t know she has a form of telepathy almost as strong and aggressive as the Shadow King’s#


Tucking the last piece of the make-shift bandage safely in place, Jean asked, #Does he know she has his power?#


#I believe not, or I’m sure he’d have already tried to make use of it---I’ll try to reach her Jean, now that I know what I’m up against. But that will mean you having to work on Storm without my help. But I fear we have no choice as she may be Ororo’s only hope and your only hope of defeating the Shadow King.#


#O. K Professor,# Scott said through strained tones as he pushed himself up with his good arm despite Jean trying to make him lie still. # You concentrate on that, we’ll deal with the physical threat.#


# Cyclops, you are in no fit state to do battle with at least a fifty strong unit of armed men!# Jean was about to confirm Charles’s misgivings before Logan piped in with his support for One-Eye’s plan of action. For once, these radically different men were singing from the same hymn sheet.


# What else can we do Chuck? Sit around and wait while the psychics do their work. Fuck that!# Logan walked past Jean and his injured colleague toward the busted doors.


“Where are you going Logan?!” Jean shouted as she watched him pass.


Without looking back, forging ahead with a determined stride, Logan threw back, “What do’ya think Jeannie?---I’m goin’ to find my wife and god help anyone who happens to get in my way.” His statement of intent was perfectly clear as he spoke the words and simultaneously snapped out his claws with two synchronised flicks of his wrists. Bobby watched all this, still at the far end of the chamber, but he was certainly not in two minds about what to do. Buoyed by the fight with Storm, his confidence had grown immeasurably and so he followed Logan’s lead, disappearing out of the room.


Scott tried to get to his feet, but he was still so weak. “Scott, don’t.” Jean laid her hands on his shoulders, gently encouraging him to sit back on the ground. “You can’t do this, your arm’s in a real bad way.”


He took one of her hands off the shoulder of his damaged arm, holding it with a loving firmness. “Jean, I love you---you know that. I can’t stand the thought of seeing you hurt---.”


“Me neither Scott! How do you think I felt when I saw that bolt hit you?” Jean fought to stop the tears that she knew were building from spilling forth.


“I know, I know,” He paused for a moment while he let go of her hand, then pushing both of his up into her hair, taking hold of either side of Jean’s face. “But this is the life we’ve chosen to lead---our best friend is in trouble here. Being an X-Man means you’re prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice, no matter what.” Jean nodded as she closed her eyes, but still one or two tears escaped to run down her cheeks, being stopped by he palms of Cyclops’s gloves, pooling between them and her face. “I’ve got to carry on...for as long as I can at least.


She continued to nod as she opened her eyes, releasing yet more tears from their red rims. Pulling away from Scott’s hands, she then helped him get to his feet, knowing that he was trying to stop his discomfort from showing but not being particularly successful. “Are you sure you can do this Scott?”


He nodded quickly in confirmation as his face became tight with a grimace once more, making him bite his lip. “I’ll manage the pain Jean, don’t worry about me---just try to get to ‘Ro.” With a little support from Jean just to steady his first few unsure steps they set off to follow their team mates into the heart of the tomb.


* * *


The chanting seemed to weave through the air along with the thick streams of incense smoke, creating a sensual web around the room. The servant girls walked into the main ceremonial chamber first, spreading blood red rose petals via liberal handfuls every time. They led the way in with slow, paced steps, coming closely behind them, the chanting priests, their leopard adornments still attached, concealing their eyes in deep shadow as the came forth with large metal ball hung on chain ropes, swaying them round in a measured manner so that the smoke that poured from them swam about them, enveloping them like dancing snakes. They all headed to the platform that was the focal point of the room’s arrangement, containing as it did two golden thrones, melded meticulously and lined with red velvet. One of them was already occupied by its would-be monarch; the man in the blue silks. The others ‘owner’ came into the room now, behind the priests, more servant girls trailing her bearing gifts of various animals cut in wood and stone, images of the sacred spirits of the Nile.
The Goddess still had eyes that glowed like diamonds shot through with the most divine light. Her minions of lightening continued to course around her, sparking from those ‘diamond eyes’ as her wind, all-be-it a greatly sated version, stirred her lose hair, that reflected its sliver qualities in the fire-light. As she neared her intended, the entourage parted to make way for her passing, so that she could kneel at his throne; the Goddess bowing to her God. Laying her hands flat on the sandstone steps, she lent forwards until her forehead came into contact with the ground. Muttering a tiding of servitude, she pulled back up, getting deftly to her bare feet as he extended his hand to her, lifting her up the steps. Dark, wide eyes that were marked with grotesquely dilated blood vessels made unwavering contact with white hot ones as she took her place next to him on the throne that seemed to have been made to fit for her down to the very last detail. Still linked at the hands the pair sat and awaited their date with fate...The head priest, whose covering leopard was of the black variety rather than the spotted, made his way along the path that had previously been trod by all those present. Coming to a halt before the thrones, he pulled out an aged book, bound in brown leather that looked like the skin of a sun-baked beggar. Prying its long-shut pages apart with an undue reverence to the appropriate pages, the High Priest began to utter the rights of a ritual that had not been spoken aloud for immemorial years, stirring a tempest, the likes of which had not been seen in this region since ‘biblical’ times...


*


Outside...


The skies above were turbulent and fuller of anger than the most determined monsoon. A maddening wind wiped the sand up into a monstrous frenzy underneath a sky which burned in purple and scarlet swirls, black clouds drawing in, collecting over the top of this new mark on the landscape; a temple that looked as old as the ancients but had only existed for a blink of an eye. The dark masses that crackled with the strain of the electric energy that filled them to bursting point came to a rest above the makeshift pyramid. In a shattering display of nature’s power, they let forth that lightening that nestled within their hearts as way above even these heavenly objects the stars shifted and planets rotated. And within the never ending cosmic shift, Mercury edged its way ever nearer to its alignment with Orion...


* * *


Jean and Cyclops had managed to catch up to there speedier team mates without to much trouble, but for them (and Bobby Drake), it was becoming much more difficult to see things down here and they were now relying on Wolverine to be their eyes as well as their ears. They had no real clue as to where about they, but they knew they were deep underground when the air became cold and heavy on the lungs, the damp that pervaded the atmosphere creating a crushing sensation in the chest. Moisture caught the glint of the small amount of light that flittered about the tunnel, high-lighting the wall every so often, making doorways, black hollow spaces apparent. As they were rushing past one soundlessly, as in the manner of the rest of their downward journey, Logan came to another of his abrupt stops.


“What is it Logan?” Jean couldn’t sense anything immediately; such was her concentration on the lingering threads of Ororo’s mind. Logan showed his usual distain for answering when he was working on instinct; sniffing the air, an unusual odour came to him, unlike the guards or the incense that had hung thickly for a while now, only making itself obvious to his more sensitive nose.


*SNIKT!*


In a momentary flash of reflecting light, out came the claws, plunging into the door that he had stopped in front of, slicing the chunky lock off like it were melted butter and they hot knives. With a deft kick, the door smashed backwards into the room with such force it rebounded back forth, almost closing again. Pushing it nearly as roughly once again, Logan walked into the black room and after a seconds hesitancy, the other X-Men followed, trusting Wolverine’s guidance. They couldn’t see a thing; the room seemed empty to them until they heard a meek voice seek them out in the darkness.


~ “Ca...Catherine?”~ It was a young man’s voice. Cyclops, Wolverine, Iceman, stayed where they were, just inside the room. Jean was the only one to venture forth towards it.


“Hello?” As she came closer to the sound, a form made itself out in the dark to meet her eyes, slumped in the corner. Now she realised she could hear his wispy breathing, the painfully slow up and down movement of his chest as barely open dark eyes concentrated on her approach.


~ “Catherine?”~ He repeated before giving the most lacklustre cough imaginable, not through its weakness but his body’s inability to cope with any action more strenuous.


Jean took a split second to look into the boy’s mind, and through that small glance determined all she needed to know. “We’re here looking for Catherine---we can help you too, if you let us.”


“H”help?” Abdul struggled over the English word; although he knew the meaning of it, he was still a little unsure in his fatigued state.


“Yes.” Jean was crouched by the boy now, quickly assessing his body for any sign of serious injury. “We can help you. We can take you with us.”


“He’ll slow us down.” Wolverine’s cold voice came from the dark that had swallowed the rest of the team. Jean’s mouth fell open and she gave a quite sound of disbelief; she realised Logan was stressed right now but that was no reason for him to be so unfeeling or uncompassionate.


“Logan! We can’t just leave the boy here! For god’s sake, what’s wrong with you?!” She glared in Logan’s general direction for a moment, before turning back to the boy, whose heavy eyelids were drifting closed.


He growled slightly under his breath but Jean’s stinging words made Logan stop and actually think; she was right of course, but he couldn’t help his painfully overwhelming urge to get to Ororo as soon as was humanly possible. The thought of anything slowing them down caused him great concern; there were even moments when he was wishing that the others had stayed behind too. He knew that Scott was trying his best, but he was becoming rather cumbersome at times to say the least.


“Come on Abdul; let’s get you out of here.” Jean said soothingly as she slid her arm under the young man’s back, lifting his arm over her head and draping it over her shoulder whilst supporting it with a steady grip.


Abdul had expressed a look of mild surprise when Jean had called him by his name as he hadn’t once uttered it, but he presumed that if they knew of Catherine, then they must also have known he was here too---whoever his rescuers were. But he didn’t care right now as he walked/was dragged towards the door; the figures he had only seen so far in silhouette against its backdrop becoming clear faces. They were all in leather uniforms, and even though Abdul didn’t recognise them as being of any authority that he was aware of, they were being helpful and right now that was all that mattered. One of them, the youngest, slipped his arm around him in the same supportive manner as the red-haired woman as he neared the exit of his prison. He looked at his other two rescuers; one with a bloodied rag covering his entire arm and the other, who he imagined was the owner of the gruff voice he had heard a moment ago from the wild look of him, appeared to have been in a rather vicious fight, what remained of his leather uniform hanging from his upper body in absolute tatters. “Who...who are you?” He asked; his chest now thick with the wheeze that made every breath almost too much to bear.


“Us?” Bobby couldn’t help but smile lopsidedly as he and Jean followed Logan and Scott on their resumed journey with the boy resting via his arms over each of their shoulders. “We’re the X-Men.” His voice positively bristled with pride.



* * *


Twisted, grotesque and surreal...


The landscape into which Catherine had stepped from that room of relative peace could be described as nothing else but; with its bleeding, pulsing façades, lumbering sets of stairs which led too nowhere and the god-awful rumbling, like a distant and angry creature was coming closer and closer and closer....


“GARRRARGHHHHH!!” the horrendous sound echoed through the gravity defying space, with its dark contorted walls from somewhere behind her. Her head whipped round in its direction, damp hair clinging to her forehead as she searched out the corridor behind her, her breath shaking with fear. For a moment she stepped back to the wall in order to feel the reassuring comfort of having something solid behind her but soon jumped forwards again when she felt its oozing substance running down her back.


~ “What is this place?”~ The girl whispered to herself as her eyes continued to roam, checking for this presence that appeared to be following her. But she thought it best to carry on moving, although she had no idea where she was heading and so far every time she opened a door, checked a side tunnel, she’d find a brick wall blocking her way, or a door behind the other one and then another behind that. Wherever Catherine now found herself, it was a real house of horrors. She took a couple of tentative steps towards the stair case that twisted its way most unsurely up the end of the tunnel and she hoped it wasn’t just an illusion as the last set she’d tried to walk up had turned out to be. But her slow crawl towards them turned into an all-out sprint when she heard a deep growl come from the dark behind her.


“Arrghhh!” With a piercing breathless scream, Catherine ran for the stairs, leaping up them two, sometimes three at a time. Coming to the steel door at the top, as she yanked it open, she prayed it wouldn’t be another false exit, and to her relief it was not. Jumping through she slammed it back shut behind her with a bang that not only echoed but appeared to get louder as it rang off down the dark corridor that stretched out before her, not dissipating as it should have. But then again, nothing in this awful place seemed to obey nature. She ran and she ran and she ran, for all her worth but the passage she was now on seemed only to get longer the further down she reached.


# Catherine! # She screamed out again but didn’t stop running; her arms being to flay as she used them to propel herself onwards, white gown whipping up until it thrashed about her high knees. # Catherine! Do not be scared child! There is nothing following you! It is all an illusion! #


Catherine didn’t stop as she tried to block out the voice that never-the-less continued to try and reassure her, but the corridor...it just wouldn’t end and there seemed to be no escaping the voice that surrounded her like a blanket. # Catherine, you must listen to me! My name is Charles Xavier and you are Ororo’s only hope! # At that the girl did stop; leaning against the wall, which was mercifully free of any distasteful substances, to regain her breath. # Listen to me Catherine, whether you realise this or not, you have your father’s power and you are currently the only one in any position to defeat him. #



“What do you mean? Where am I?!” She cried out into the air, her fear finally getting the better of her as she began to weep. But she crushed it almost immediately, wiping angrily at the salty droplets that ran over her rounded cheeks with her dirty hands. A couple of traces of the grit where smeared down her face, looking almost like engrained tear-tracks.


# You have entered the astral plane Catherine, without even realising. # Her face twisted in confusion, she had no idea what this disembodied voice was talking about. As she sank down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her hitched up knees, she feared she had lost her sanity altogether. # I appreciate that all this must seem beyond strange my child but this place is simply an illusion, a way for your physical senses to interoperate something which has no tangible form. There is no blood dripping from the walls, no monster following you; you must trust me. #


“What are you talking about?!” Her voice was thick with tearful desperation now as she pulled herself tighter into a ball, burying her face into the small hollow created by her arms and knees.


# This place will lead you to the answer---the key to defeating the Shadow King. #


“If you know so much about it, why don’t you fight him?!”


# I wish I could Catherine, believe me. # He sighed ruefully, the sound sweeping down the hallway like a stiff autumn breeze shifting through dry leaves on the pavement. # But it appears that this is your fight, and your fight alone. All I can do is guide you so far and then the rest is up to you my child. #


“And why should I?!” She screamed as she jumped up from the floor, her whole body suddenly gripped by an unexpected anger. “I wish I’d never found her! I wish I’d never gone to America at all!” If only she could have let things lie, she thought to herself regretfully for her anger was directed at herself also. She had brought this on everybody; Ororo, Abdul...she felt guilty as hell for causing all of this, but it was coming out as anger against everybody else.


# Because you know that you have to! Ororo sacrificed for you; will you now do nothing to help her? #


His words brought to mind what her father had told her before she’d fallen into this strange place, that all he wanted was to get his hands on her Aunt and from what Xavier had just said, she must have given herself to him in order to protect her. She was the one who’d gotten her into this mess; could she really just let her suffer now? No, of course she couldn’t. If this was Catherine’s chance to redeem herself for all the trouble she felt she had caused then she would do whatever was necessary to help. She was tired of being scared.


“Tell me what to do and I will do it.”


# Follow the path and you will know...#


* * *


“There’s at least twenty of ‘em.” Logan relayed quietly; he hadn’t even rounded the corner to where the troop of guards were patrolling for his nose to pick up on that number of subtly different scents. He could even tell that the weapons they were sporting weren’t the type that had been used to stun Ororo. They were the ones that were used for lethal force.


“What’s the plan of action then Cyclops?” Bobby joined the two older men near to the edge of the corridor after helping Jean set the young man Abdul down in a safe enclave.


Scott edged to the corner just enough to get a glimpse of the force they were facing, determining quickly that they shouldn’t be too much trouble. Creeping carefully back, absently checking the bandage on his injured arm as he went, he’d already decided how this threat should be handled and was ready to give his orders. “O. K. people, this is how we’re gonna do this.” He looked to Bobby and then to Logan to make sure he had their full attention. “Iceman, you take out the weapons on the nearest ten, I’ll take out the guns on the remaining men.”


“An’ what do I do while you’re busy---disarming?” Logan didn’t sound in the least bit convinced; he just wanted to bust some heads!


Scott gave Logan a small knowing grin, “Any one left armed after the initial assault...it’s up to you to deal with them.”


Logan returned the grin, “Sounds more like it bub!” He cracked the knuckles on either hand but resisted the over whelming urge to pop his claws---that could wait, well, for a little while longer at least.


“And what do I do?” Jean sounded more than a little indignant at being left out of this more aggressive plan of action.


“I thought you’d wanna put all your energy into getting through to ‘Ro?”


Jean walked past Scott, taking a look at the troops from the same sly vantage point as he had just moments ago. “Yes,” She began, her head still at the corner, and then she turned to face her team mates. “But these guys are our problem first. I’ll concentrate on that one once we’re past this one.”


“Alright then, are we ready?” They all nodded in confirmation as they prepared to rush round the corner, all guns blazing as it were. Jean took one last glance over her shoulder to make sure that Abdul was O.K; he appeared to have passed out again like he had when they were carrying him, but maybe that was for the best. Anyway, there were more important things to concentrate on right now as the X-Men readied themselves for their third battle within the space of four hours.


Cyclops moved and the others moved with him. There were startled shouts from the guards, shouts in Arabic dialect to protect the master and his soon-to-be-bride at all costs but the X-Men paid them no mind as Iceman and Cyclops pre-empted desperate trigger fingers; Bobby letting out a never ending horizontal stream of ice that solidified as soon as it hit the men’s laser guns, fixing them fast to the men’s hands.

Scott’s disabling of the weaponry had an altogether more devastating affect; as soon as his blinding optic blasts whizzed and fizzled through the air and connected with the hunks of metal, they simply exploded; taking off one or two hands here, sending chunks of sparking and smouldering metal into the faces of their bearers there. It wasn’t his intention, but what had to be done had to be done; it was really quite simple. The men fell to the floor screaming and writhing, clutching at their injuries about the face and arms in unbelievable agony and those who were not so fortunate just slumped to floor, conceding to their deaths.


Only six loin cloth-clad men had brains enough to dodge to the side of the surprise attack, immediately sending out a volley of electric blue beams that flew swiftly in the X-Men’s direction. Jean was quick to act, putting up a shield as she had before, deflecting at least half of the shots back at the men but only one taking affect in the same manner; hitting the man that shot it square between the eyes, leaving a gaping smoking hole were once there was skull and brain. But this was Wolverine’s time now, as he leapt in front of the stray shots that had found a way around Jean’s telekinesis and were heading for the team. He took all six of them with his body, jerking this way and that as each shot in turn hit his left arm, upper chest, stomach, left leg, right arm and his chest once more; the final one knocking him to the ground at last.


As soon as he was down Bobby released another, stronger ream of ice, knocking to the ground two of the still active guards. He then moved the ice stream, without breaking it, back to the men he had previously stopped, re-icing their constraints and in the process almost the rest of their entire bodies, just to make sure that they wouldn’t be recovering any time soon. Wolverine got back up from the ground, almost completely healed already, but angry as hell, claws snapping out as he rushed towards the four remaining attackers. Before he got to them, a red optic beam flashed over his right shoulder, taking out one of the men, ripping his arms right off his body in fact. That only left three soldiers to feel the bite of razor sharp adamantium. Their weapons, which had resumed pumping Wolverine with searing shots of condensed matter, were the first to go, being sliced and diced in seconds with two swift swipes. He could have left it at that; the men were now unarmed and technically no longer a threat, but he was beyond that---and the rest of the team knew it. They looked on with a reluctant acceptance as Logan ripped into the men in a blaze of adamantium fury, blood spurting everywhere as he slashed with a wildness that never-the-less seemed to have some kind of precision about it. His moves were definitely trained somewhere along the line, but his feral side over ruled it, and when he fought it was as if these two sides of his nature vied for control. The side that remembered some past expertise in the art of fighting invariably losing out. He only stopped when there was no longer anything left to cut into; crouching again, like an animal awaiting a further attack, blood dripped from his body, briefly some his own, but most of it being his victims.


“Logan---we’re clear.” The Wolverine shrank back into the dark place of his mind that it inhabited, always waiting for its opportunity to break free because it was only when Scott spoke that he realised the battle was won.


“Right.” He cleared his gravelly throat as he gained his composure once more; claws snapped back in with a neat click. Wiping at the blood and sweat that stained his face with his fore arm, Logan looked up at the door they’d just cleared a path to and through the various odours that were now becoming clear to him over the blood and abject fear that hung in the air, was the changed scent of Storm. But there was still enough of the scent that was familiar to him, the scent that with its merest detection could fill his heart fit to bursting with the emotions it made him feel.


Scott, Jean and Bobby came up to stand at either side of him; the faint sound of chanting came from behind the door that was considerably smaller than the one that had opened onto the larger chamber. It was almost of an ordinary size and so without waiting for Cyclops order to move, Logan kicked it in and they all followed him through.


*


~ “What is the meaning of this?!”~ The Shadow King stood bolt upright from his throne, as the High Priest that had been intoning the first stage of the ancient rights stopped the proceedings. The King couldn’t see the intruders at first through the flurry of people that ran this way and that, blocking them from his sight. But when the way was clear and he caught sight of the people he thought would have been easily dealt with by the troops outside, he was far from happy. Especially as there weren’t many armed men left in here to fight them.


“Sorry bub, we interrupting somethin’?” *SNIKT!*


-To Be Concluded-





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