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Disclaimer: Same as last time.



Thank-you to my reviewers.



Chapter.8.


“Iceman, I want you to come to the Ready Room with the rest of the team.” Scott barked his order as he and the rest of the X-Men stormed down the corridor to change into their battle gear.


“Uh, yeah---sure.” Bobby replied uncertainly. He’d been on minor missions before but he knew this was going to be very different and he was nervous.


“Rogue?”


“Yeah?” Marie replied slightly breathlessly as she struggled to keep up.


“We’ll need you to stay here for this one---we need you to keep an eye on the school while we’re gone.”


“But---“ She started in protest.


“Just do as he says kid.” Logan told her tersely, he wasn’t in the mood for handling her power-related inferiority complex with kit-gloves right now. He knew she had a hard time dealing with the fact that she couldn’t really help when larger missions arose. But she had to realise that she might be a liability and that her taking charge of the school whilst the Professor kept track of the mission via Cerebro was an important job too---she was just as much an X-Man as the rest of them.


“Don’t call me that!” She said rather sulkily, which made Logan and Bobby laugh, but very half-heartedly given the circumstances. She gave Bobby the evil eye for it and then said, rather too knowingly, “Well I guess Ah’m not the only one not to be trusted on missions yet---Ah’m sure Remy will be happy to help me look after the school.” It was Bobby’s turn to flash her an annoyed look and out of the corner of her eye Marie caught it. She couldn’t stop herself from smirking slightly; the boy was just too easy to wind up!



Finally they reached the Ready Room and they all filed in, Bobby was the last but he was stopped momentarily by Rogue’s gloved hand on his shoulder. “Be careful Bobby.” She wanted so much to be able to kiss him and wished so much that she could be going with him---but she knew the others were right.


“Hey,” Bobby flashed a reassuring smile. “I’ll be O. K Rogue, you know me,” he raised his finger in front of him in a ‘gun’ gesture then blew the top of the ‘barrel’, but as he did so a stream of frosty air came from his mouth for the ‘smoke’ effect. “Cool as ice!”


Marie laughed, tucking the strand of white hair that constantly escaped, back behind her ear. “You just make sure you come back in one piece, ya’ll here.” He pulled her into an embrace, careful not to touch her skin. Pulling her head back after a moment to look him in the eyes she then added, “I don’t wanna be datin’ chunks of ice cubes when you get back!”


Bobby laughed, then he turned his head in the direction of the door as he heard Scott shout from behind him, “Iceman! Get in here now!”


“I’m comin’ Cyclops,” turning back to Marie he added sarcastically just for her, “Your high and mighty leader!” She snickered like a school child hearing a dirty word for the first time as Bobby kissed her once through the cover of her brown and white hair at the side of her head. He didn’t say anything more, following the others into the Ready Room. Marie watched until the very last gap in the sliding metallic door was closed. Turning away with a somewhat dejected demeanour, she slowly headed for the lift at the far end of the corridor that led back to the upper reaches of the mansion.



* * *


“Have you put the coordinates into the navigation system?” Cyclops asked Jean with his ‘on the job’ voice as he continued to flip switches and check meters.



“Yes,” Jean replied double checking and then triple checking them. “I just don’t understand how he could have got so far so quickly.” She shook her head as she thought about how in the space of what couldn’t have been more than two hours or so, the Shadow King had managed to get from Westchester all the way back to Egypt.


Still concentrating on the task of getting the ‘Blackbird’ ready for take-off, Scott replied distractedly as he reached for some switches above him, “Well we’re not the only people in the world with transport capable of travelling at super-sonic levels.”


“I know that.” Jean said rather dryly, casting her husband a look from the corner of her eye, which he no doubt missed. “But even in the ‘Bird it’s going to take us twice as long.”


“Jean.” He almost hissed warningly then motioned his head in Ororo’s direction. Jean got the picture; it wouldn’t help Storm to hear such things so she promptly shut her mouth and busied herself with something else, fiddling with her ear piece communicator and what not.


Just behind these two, Ororo sat already strapped into her seat with Logan crouched down in front of her trying to offer words of comfort.


“Hey darlin’,” he reached up and ran his thickly gloved hand into her hair, caressing the side of her face with his thumb. “We’re going to get her back, O.K?” He peered up at her with that look that said, #Trust me!# and she did---she really did, but it was just so hard. Finding out that the Shadow King was some kind of powerful telepath had really shaken her and now all the events in Cairo all those years ago started to make sense. The strange sensation that she remembered feeling in her head that kick-started her powers into action---that was him, although it was completely different from how it felt when Jean or Charles entered her mind. Ever since the Professor had told them she had tried to remember every word that that despicable monster had said to her on that fateful day. Ranting about Prophecies and someone or something named ‘Ka’, but her mind was still a little hazy with the details---it had taken a lot of sessions with Xavier to pry some of these things lose. Even after all those, perhaps twenty to thirty, neither had come to the conclusion that he must have been some kind of telepath---but then again he’d been adept at hiding himself for all these years.


Ororo nodded at him and tried to smile but it just wasn’t working, Logan could tell she wasn’t convinced. “Look---have I ever let you down before?”


After a moment she shook her head, “No.” she replied quietly.


“That’s right, so when I say we’re going to get her back, that’s exactly what I plan ta do.” He raised himself up a little to kiss her, cupping her face with both hands. “What my wife wants, my wife gets and no crazed, telepathic bastard is gonna stand in my way!”


Ororo couldn’t help but laugh a little at her husband’s wonderfully confidant, some would say arrogant, demeanour but all the promises and reassurances in the world wouldn’t make her feel much better right now---well, coming from Logan, perhaps they did a little.


The engines of the Blackbird fired up, filling the surrounding hanger with intense heat as the sliding mechanism of the hanger roof AKA the basketball court, gradually started to open. Logan got up and strapped himself into the seat next to Ororo, then began flexing his hands. Suddenly there was a *zing* of metal and out popped his claws on both hands. He may have had customised gloves to accommodate his appendages these days but he still liked to release them before every mission, like a superstitious sportsman, it had become a kind of tradition for him, a ritual almost.


“O.K, all systems engaged, everybody strapped in?” Scott called but didn’t wait for conformation. “We are ready for take-off.” For a second he sounded just like a cheesy pilot on a commercial flight.


“Pompous idiot.” Logan growled under his breath, but Bobby who was sat just behind him heard it and had to stifle a giggle. The plane began to lift from the ground, hovering for a moment or two before steadily rising up through the open roof.


Ororo stared blankly out of the window at the rising sunset orange skyline, lost in her own thoughts. When suddenly she began to feel that distinctive tickling sensation at the back of her head and for a split second she panicked---but the sound of a familiar voice in her mind laid to rest her fears.


#“My X-Men---good luck and be careful.”#. They all received the message from Xavier as the Blackbird banked to the left and then zoomed away into the distance with a deafening roar, leaving two heat hazy jet-streams in its wake. All the schools pupils gathered at the rattling windows to watch the awesome sight, boggle eyed, like they did every time the X-Men went on a mission.


* * *


Abdul Hussar was curled up in the corner of an oppressively dark room, cold, hungry and scared. He had no idea how long he’d been in this place---it could have been days then again it may have been months. The tall, lean Egyptian boy had been immersed in almost constant darkness since he’d been abruptly grabbed and bungled into a vehicle whilst wondering around Paris, looking for Catherine. He could remember travelling for hours, gagged, blindfolded and bound hand and foot, hearing the muffled voices of his captors around him. They definitely spoke Arabic but it was of a different dialect than he knew---it sounded old, ancient even. After what seemed like forever he’d felt himself being unceremoniously dragged from the van or whatever they’d originally been moving in and then thrown into something else. But after that Abdul remembered nothing---only the violent sharp sting of a hypodermic needle near the top of his right arm, then struggling against the onslaught of black that threatened to take hold of him---and quickly did.


Now Abdul cowered in the same damp and cramped cell that he’d woken up from his drug-induced stupor in. He hadn’t actually seen anybody yet either, only the odd shuffling sound here, an occasional muttered conversation caught there, but no one had told him where he was, much less why he was here. Twice a day, a small hatch at the bottom of the thick, iron door was slid open, making a sickening scrapping noise as the rusty metal groaned in resistance at the action and a tray of food was pushed through. Food? More like unidentifiable and most definitely uneatable slop. At first Abdul had refused to eat it, every time the offending mucus was brought to him he’d kick or throw it back at them, pebble-dashing the already dirty walls, all the while screaming and shouting profanities at the large, solid door. But all the effort was in vain, for his excursions attracted no response, not even dismissive laughs. But after a while Abdul gave in, he was growing tired and weak; he needed energy from wherever he could get it.


The hatch opened now and in came yet another bowl of that insufferable crap, followed by a glass of cloudy ‘water’. Abdul lurched across the floor, grasping at only the second bowl of grey, stodgy ‘porridge’, that he was prepared to eat, spilling some of it down his scruffy, ripped ‘Smiths’ T-Shirt as he dug his hand into the substance like a makeshift spoon and began to shovel it eagerly into his mouth. He was rapidly becoming malnourished and whatever it was they were giving him was not helping him at all. Unable to stop himself, Abdul suddenly dropped the bowl and began to heave, bringing back up what little food he’d managed to consume. This had happened last time as well, his stomach had become intolerant of solid substances after going so long without them. When it was over, Abdul took up the glass of water, gulping at the liquid quickly to take away the awful taste of acidic bile that swamped his mouth. To his dismay he found himself unable to keep that down either, it exploding back out of his mouth almost as soon as it had entered it. After that too had been expelled the boy coughed and spluttered for a while, before eventually collapsing back down into the corner for the room, breathing with a pitiful wheeze and beginning to feel hot.


After a while Abdul composed himself and leaning forwards he weakly dragged the bowl, that was now almost empty and it’s contents really quite cold, towards him. Taking it much more slowly he put a little amount at a time in between his dry and cracked lips, swallowing it taking the greatest effort as his throat was now sore and swollen. As he took the last meagre amount, he paused, the thick substance waiting on the tips of his fingers, just before his mouth. His thoughts suddenly turned to Catherine, and for the umpteenth time since this nightmare had begun he wondered where she was---if they were treating him like this, then how where they treating her, for he was certain they must have her too.


~“Catherine...”~ Abdul whispered her name with a tearful voice as he closed his dull, brown eyes and let the hand with the last of the food upon it fall down to the floor. His head lulled to the side as his entire body began to shake with silent cries---he was completely dejected and he didn’t know how much longer he could go on like this.


* * *


Catherine was led down a torch lit corridor of what appeared to her to be some kind of a temple, by two guards dressed in scant, traditional clothing and brandishing a type of weapon, the likes of which she had never seen before. When they reached their destination one of them had pushed her in the back with his ‘gun’, forcing her into the room that sat to the left of the end of the corridor.


She stood in it now, turning around in a slow circle, surveying all around her with wide, scared eyes. Wrapping her arms around herself, she looked in wonder at the odd room. It was like some kind of ceremonial chamber, but it was rather small and a bed like object lay in its centre, draped in white linen. All around the rooms edges where bowls on stone plinths, but from where she stood she couldn’t rightly see there contents, although she could smell various perfumes quite distinct from each other coming from all of them. Each bowl was covered in gold-leaf, as were the walls, but not just that, paintings, symbols and Hieroglyphics marked them also. The whole room was lit by the amber glow of just four torches hanging at angles from the walls.


Catherine was about to go over to the ‘bed’ to sit when the door began to open again. She turned quickly to see who it was and was dismayed to see that it was that man, the man who had read her mind in Westchester, the man she had willingly followed in order to save Abdul. Gaining courage from god knows where, she barked at him, “Where is he?! I want to see him now!”


The man descried her from the door way in his long black over-coat, his hands folded over one another, resting on top of a long black ivory cane. Despite the small amount of light he still wore the dark glasses as before and his skin still appeared deathly pale, the baldness of his head even more so. ~“All in good time my daughter.”~


“What?! No, no, no...!” Her voice trailed off as she looked at the man in bewilderment, although she’d had her suspicions as to who he was; it still came as an almighty shock. Shaking her head as she resumed her whispered protestations, Catherine began to walk backwards away from him, feeling blindly with her hands for objects behind her.


~“Yes Catherine---my daughter,” he laughed at her hoarsely. ~ “Or more accurately, my walking abortion.”~ The King started to walk towards her and Catherine found herself falling down onto the bed as its edge collided into the back of her knees. ~ “You see, you were a mistake. You were never meant to exist.”~ He was stood right before her now peering down at her over the top of his glasses.


Catherine began to breathe harshly as fear gripped her and her heart-rate rose uncontrollably, unable to tear her gaze away from his horrid, blood shot eyes. Crawling back onto the bed she threw herself over onto all fours and tried to clamour away over the other side of the bed, desperate to get as far away from him as possible. But she was stopped abruptly as the Shadow King reached forwards and grasped a handful of her now loose white hair, roughly pulling her back towards him. ~“ARGH! Let me go! Let me go!”~ She cried, slipping back into her mother tongue as her hands went up to his in an effort to pry them from her hair. But it was no use, he was much stronger than he looked and she couldn’t break free, no matter how hard she tried.


~ “Understand this girl.”~ His now deep voice rumbled, low in her ear as he pulled her back to meet his chest. ~“By the end of today, you will be dead and the Windrider will be mine. She escaped me once, she killed me---but she did not realise that a mind as powerful as mine can not be destroyed by mere physical death. This body,”~ He spread his arm that held the cane to the side to indicate the decrepit shell his mind now inhabited. ~“This body was a means to an end. But once the Prophecy has been fulfilled it will no longer matter.”~ He released her hair and shoved her back down, she only just managed to catch herself, avoided a painful face first collision by millimetres.


Then the King started to walk back to the door, as a now shaking Catherine turned her head back to watch him go over her shoulder. She wanted to shout, she wanted to scream, but found that her voice had deserted her.


~ “Be under no illusions Catherine,”~ he called back as he went through the doorway; ~“You are nothing more than my insurance policy.”~


As soon as she heard his footsteps retreating off into the distance, Catherine turned her head back to the front. After a moment of utter stillness she began to weep, burying her head into the soft white cloth beneath her. All her hope had slipped away with the hollow sound of his footsteps and to top it all her head was beginning to throb, pulsing with the dull threat of more pain to come. Grasping at her head, Catherine curled into a foetal-like ball as her sobs of despair began to rack through her entire body.



* * *


Two hours later, Memphis, the capital of Ancient Egypt.


The Blackbird did a three hundred and sixty degree swoop around the structure that lay on its own, in the rippled sand of the dessert, just outside of the present capital of Egypt, Cairo.


“O. K, I’m bringing her down.” Scott informed the rest of the team as he was satisfied that all the space around the temple-looking building that the Professor had reliably informed them was Catherine’s location, was safe to land on. Banking around once more to be double sure Scott prepared to make the final descent. “Ready?” He called over to Jean.


“Oh---err, yeah sure.” She replied, not sounding particularly ready at all, the pain that had hit her mind two hours ago, which she had instantly recognised as Catherine was still lingering, like it had done yesterday, (by the time they had arrived in Egypt it was indeed the next day from Catherine’s abduction, due to the time zone difference), but as they neared Memphis it had become worse.


Scott noticed his partners discomfort immediately, even daring to slip out of leader mode for a moment to check on her well being. “You O. K?”


“Yeah, yeah---I’m fine.” She rubbed her fingers over her forehead in contradiction. “Let’s just find Catherine and get the hell out of here.” Jean then got back to the job and completed her shut down duties as co-pilot, a job usually taken by Storm but Jean had insisted on taking her place for this one; an offer Ororo had secretly been pleased to receive .


As the awesome looking plane gradually settled to the ground, sand wiping about it as the cooling engines blasted the last of their fading power into the ground, both Storm and Wolverine were already unbuckling, eager to get out and on with the mission. Once they had finally settled and all relevant meters were checked and switches flicked, Cyclops and Jean were not far behind them. It was only Iceman who lagged behind, fidgeting with the collar of his tight-fitting leather uniform as if it were strangling him.


The four older X-Men made their way, in a uniformed line down the now open hatch of the Blackbird, the last in the line being Scott. Turning his head back as he was just about to go through the door, he noticed Bobby’s hesitancy, “Hey, Iceman.”


Bobby’s head shot up from his intense concentration on his thick buckled boots, his eyes wide as if he’d just been startled from an absorbing daydream, “Uh, yeah?” He replied weakly.


Cyclops’ stern face suddenly softened, he could see the lad was bricking it, and he wasn’t that much of an authoritarian that he didn’t feel sympathy for him. “Iceman---Bobby,” He moved back into the plane and lay his hand reassuringly on the boy’s shoulder, “We’ve got your back O. K? There’s nothing to be worried about---we X-Men look out for our own.”


Bobby managed a small nervous smile up at Scott as he nodded his head at him to try and convince him that he believed in his leader, “Yeah---yeah, I know.”


“Alright then, let’s get a move on.” Scott turned and quickly left the plane, leaving Bobby to follow, slowly but at least in his heart a little more confidently.



*


After a cursory check around the parameters of the sand stone building, that looked fairly like one of the ancient pyramids, except that it had a bit more of an angular appearance, more akin to the pyramids of the Incas, they determined that their was no outside security of note. A fact that seriously bothered Logan, but he kept his concerns to himself for the meantime.


“O. K,” Scott began as his team gathered around him to listen to his plan of action. “There is only one entrance, and as there are no guards we can only presume that there are either automated systems of defence built into the structure itself or---.”


“Or,” Logan cut in, “The bastard’s expecting us and the second we step through that door we’re dead meat.”


“Thank-you Logan,” Scott said curtly, turning to the side to face him, “I’d come to that conclusion myself, now if I could get on with the briefing?”


Logan was about to project a sharply aimed insult back at Cyclops but was stopped by Ororo’s increasingly familiar #just stop now please#, touch to his arm---which he did immediately.


With a condescending sigh, not unlike a teacher after having had to warn a petulant pupil about their behaviour, Scott turned back to the group as a whole, “The way I see it is that our only choice is to go in there as they are expecting us to, but I want you,” he was addressing Jean, “to contact the Professor and get him to give us a lay out of the guard formation in our immediate vicinity, while you concentrate on getting a lock on Catherine’s position.” Professor Xavier had already told Jean that her proximity to the girl would give her a better chance of breaking the Shadow King’s psychic ‘buffers’ around her.


“I agree.” Storm came in firmly; she was second in command still, so she felt she had the right to put in with her strategic plan also. “The Professor’s information will be all very well and good but as a back up, I think Wolverine should lead us in. His enhanced senses will be able to keep us one step ahead as well.”


Ororo expected resistance from Scott and was surprised to find him agreeing whole-heartedly, “That’s a good plan Storm, so if we’re ready, let’s make our move.” Amid a low chorus of ‘we’re readies’ the X-Men marched down the slight incline that led to the large carved doors at the front of the temple as the sun began to make its customary descent over the sand-dune littered horizon.



-TBC-





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