[Reviews - 104]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story |
Printer Chapter or Story |
ePub eBook Chapter or Story |

Has been viewed 3236 times

- Text Size +




Disclaimer: Marvel owns all the rights to these character, they’re only mine in my dreams…


“See anything, Wolverine?” Scott Summer’s deep voice traveled over the earpiece embedded deep in Logan’s ear.
“Nothin’ yet.” He, Scott and Rogue were spread in triangle formation around an old shipping warehouse on the San Francisco bay. Logan sniffed the air. Car oil, ocean water, seafood, sweat, and some other miscellaneous aromas filled his nostrils, but he detected nothing out of the ordinary.
“Rogue?” Scott again.
“Clear from up here, shugah. Just what exactly are we looking for?”
“Anything out of the ordinary. The Professor said that Cerebro picked up some strange readings coming from this area.”
“Strange how?”
“Would you two mind playing twenty questions later,” Wolverine growled. “Looks like we may have some action after all.” From behind a stack of crates two figures hurriedly darted in and out of sight, making their way along one of the warehouse walls.
“What do you see, Wolverine?”
“Open yer eye, Cyke, and take a look at the east dock.” He sniffed the air again. Still nothing out of the ordinary, but he felt the stirrings of unease, the hairs on his neck tingling. Instinct told him the two figures now opening one of the warehouse doors were looking for trouble, and his instincts had never let him down before. “Two men, making their way towards ya , Rogue. Whaddya see, darlin’?” Wolverine was moving towards the warehouse crouched low, claws slowly extending with a soft -snikt-.
“Yer clear at move in, whoever they are they seem pretty intent on what their doin’.”
“Stand down, Wolverine. We are not to engage, only observe.” Scott’s voice barked in his ear. “Get back to your post. Now.”
Wolverine retracted his claws, muttering an unsavory epithet under his breath, grudgingly complying with Scott’s request to stand down. He never liked taking orders from Scooter, never would, but he wasn’t in the mood to fight. All he wanted to do was complete the assignment and get home to ’Ro.
Wolverine still couldn’t believe his good fortune where she was concerned. Ororo had been many things to him over the years, his best friend, teammate, leader and now she was his greatest love. Not just now, he mused, had always been. Even when he had believed himself in love with Jean, Mariko, Yuiko, Silver Fox and the endless others in his long and illustrious life, she had always been a constant part of him, and no one else had come close to capturing his heart the way ‘Ro had. It was like comparing the flame from a candle to the blazing heat of the sun. It was terrifying to feel so intensely, but he welcomed the terror so long as he had her in his life.
“They don’t appear to be mutants,” Scott said over the wire. “Burglars, maybe, but not mutants.”
“So we just gonna watch them break into that warehouse, Scotty?” Rogue asked incredulously.
“We’re not the police, Rogue. Sometimes it’s best to keep a low profile. We don‘t need to advertise our presence. Besides I am sure a warehouse that size has some sort of silent alarm.”
“Yer kiddin’ me. The boy scout doesn’t wanna rush in and save the day?” Wolverine chuckled.
“Can it, Wolverine.” Scott’s voice was hard. “Rushing into things without thinking of the consequences is what you do.”
Wolverine stiffened. Suddenly this conversation had nothing to do with the two men now entering the dark warehouse, and everything to do with something else entirely. “Ya got something’ t’ say, One-eye?”
“No time for this now, gents. Looks like we have more company.” Rogue’s southern drawl interrupting them. Overhead a black helicopter hovered, spotlight coming on with a snap, searching the boating docks.
“This is the SFPD we have you surrounded!”
Wolverine could almost hear Scott’s ‘I told you so’, and it made his lip curl. He reached under the leather mask covering the top half of his face and pulled his earpiece from his ear, letting it dangle uselessly over his shoulder. He could really go for a beer right now. A beer and ‘Ro. The thought made him smile. He had actually enjoyed sitting on the couch in the living room, beer in hand, ‘Ro on his arm, watching movies with some of the students. Not that he’d ever admit that to anyone else.
He was nearly back to the top of his lookout point when his nose picked up a vaguely familiar scent and a swirl of black caught his eye. He tensed, ready to launch.
Seemingly emerging from the shadows along the bushes a cloaked form stood a few feet away. Wolverine was unnerved by the fact that he hadn’t sensed the cloaked figure’s presence until he was nearly on top of him. Abruptly the figure made a motion and Wolverine dropped to his knees, gagging and clutching his throat, eyes bulging and blood spewing from his mouth.
“Wolverine! Wolverine! He’s not responding, Cyclops.” From the earpiece on his shoulder Wolverine heard Rogue’s worried tone.
“Reply, Wolverine!” Cyke.
“Engaged, Scooter!” Wolverine let out a snarl, fighting against the pain lancing throughout his body. From behind him he heard footsteps racing down the slope towards where he knelt and the dark form hovered.
The cloaked shape heard it too and was momentarily distracted. A small opening was all Wolverine needed. He leapt high and struck hard, his blades sinking into the folds of the cloak with unerring accuracy, only to find himself enveloped in their swirling shadows, tumbling through the air, surrounded by pitch black, no light, no reprieve from the never-ending dark.
“Wolverine!” Rogue’s voice seemed far away, muffled like he was under water. All around him the darkness was hissing. A voice broke through the darkness, cold and malevolent.
“The doorway, where is she? She is ours, bring her to ussss.”
“Don’t know what yer blabbering about,” Wolverine snarled. The shadows were clinging to his skin, slithering up his arms and legs, wrapping around him like oily tentacles, choking him. It was getting harder to breathe.
“She is our! She is ours! Will not resssst until she is oursss!” Wolverine felt cold fingers brush against his skin, across his eyes and images of Storm flashed through his mind, pulled forward by force from whatever creature lay beyond the darkness. “Yesss… the doorway. She must die! She is ours! Must die! Ours! Ours! Ourssss!” The strange voices were becoming frantic in their chanting, and the shadow coils around Wolverine’s neck tightened agonizingly. He couldn’t breathe, all air cut off by the slithering arms.
“Wrong!” Wolverine panted, working his hands up to his neck, prying the tentacles away from his flesh. “She’s mine!”-SNIKT-
Instinct told him where to strike and he thrust his right arm forward, felt his claws sink into soft tissue, the creature giving a satisfying shriek of agony. Immediately Wolverine found himself on all fours, looking down at the damp ground, gasping for air.
“Wolverine! Behind you!” Scott warned, racing across the slope, hand on his visor. The warning was unnecessary as Wolverine had already sensed the presence rising behind him and twisted, arm lashing out catching his assailant at the knees, effectively dropping his attacker.
The dark cloak fell open revealing a pale form with several dark eyes, sharp protruding teeth and a forked tongue that flicked out angrily. “No ussse, mortal. The doorway is ours. We see her now, she isss oursss!” The demonic creature began to thrash wildly on the ground, a broken mantra of strange sounds and words coming from its reptilian lips as its body literally boiled from the inside out.
“Wolverine, you all right, shugah?” Rogue reached his side, making a face at the sight of the dissolved creature.
“What in the hell was that?” Scott demanded coming up behind Rogue.
“Don’t know.” Wolverine said raggedly. “We need to get back to the Institute now!” Wolverine was already moving towards their hidden blackbird.
“Wolverine! Wait, what’s going on?” Rogue took to the air, flying beside him.
“That thing wanted Storm, kept calling her a door or some shit. I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but I mean t’ find out.” Wolverine broke into a run.
Once inside the Blackbird Scott contacted Jean, relaying what little information he had gotten out of Wolverine. Jean had assured him that although the Mutant Rights conference was extended, she would join them at the mansion, leaving Xavier and Hank to deal with the politics.
“Okay, people, let’s go home.” Cyclops stated, flipping the ignite switch, the engines flaming to life, the jet lifting slowly off the ground.
“Scott! Lookout!” Rogue screamed as an inky black tentacle much larger than the ones Wolverine had been grappling with appeared out of nowhere, enveloping the Blackbird.
As darkness surrounded the three of them Wolverine could hear the demon creatures raspy voices in his mind once again: ‘bring usss the doorway. She‘s oursss, she will die!’
“Like hell!” He roared, claws extending. The windows of the jet imploded, glass slicing through the air, embedding in seats and skin.


Xavier Institute

“Gambit. Gambit, wake up.” Ororo leaned over the sleeping form in her bed, shaking his shoulder. “Remy, get up.”
“Hnh? What’s da matter, padnat?” his voice was groggy.
“I can not explain it. Something does not feel right. We should check on the children.” She was pulling on a pair of black sweat pants.
Gambit rose, instantly awake. He picked his duster up from where it lay across Ororo’s overstuffed chair, pulling his extendable adamantium Bo staff from the inside pocket. With a snap of his wrist he extended it to its full length. “Ready.”
Quietly they stepped into the hallway, moving slow as to accustom themselves to the darkness. Each room they checked was quiet and secure. Closing Jubilee’s bedroom door Gambit said, “Everyt’in seems fine. Check de upstairs jus‘ ta be safe, non?”
Ororo nodded. Maybe she was just being paranoid, disturbed by her bad dreams, nevertheless she would much rather make certain before returning to bed. “Yes. I am probably being irrational, but I would like to be certain.”
“Stormy de most rational person I know. If ya say der’s somet’in wrong, chere, Gambit not question it.”
“All right, then let us check--”
CRASH!
“What was dat?” Gambit took a defensive stance, staff ready.
“It came from outside.” Ororo whispered. She floated down the stairs towards the front door intent on rushing outside, but as her fingers curled around the brass handle she felt a stirring in her mind, a flash of caution. She could sense Jean trying to reach her, the message was unclear, fragments of warning.
Ororo took a deep breath, readying herself to face whatever lay outside the front door of the Institute. She took a deep breath, eyes clouding white, lightening chasing the strands of hair swirling about her head. She heard the whir of Gambit spinning his staff. “Ready when you are, chere.” Ororo yanked open the door
“Aaaaah!” A small form fell away from the door, hands flying up to protect its face.
“Kitty!” Ororo exclaimed. “Bright Lady, do you realize how close you just came to getting fried!” She reached down, pulling the younger girl off the front stoop, onto her feet. “It is three in the morning, Kitten. Would you care to explain why you are banging around out here?”
“I, uh, I um…hm. Funny story…” Kitty began, but was interrupted by Ororo.
“Peter Rasputin! I see you over there, front and center!” The rather large Peter poked his head around the slender maple he was attempting to hide behind.
“Oh, uh, hey, Storm. Nice night, huh?” he walked towards her whistling, his smile nervous.
“Yes, Peter. A very nice night, however, it is well past curfew and you two are supposed to be in bed.” Ororo’s voice was stern.
“I t’ink dat was de boys general idea,” Gambit drawled, leaning against his bo staff taking in Kitty’s disheveled appearance and Peter’s new shade of lipstick.
Ororo snapped her head around, eyes flashing in silent warning, but she couldn’t keep the slight quirk of her lips hidden from him.
Remy chuckled softly. “Der was a time, Stormy, when you were de one sneakin’ outta da mansion in da middle o’ de night.”
Kitty took a step away from the door, hand flying to her mouth as she gasped, finally recognizing the man in the shadows. “What’s he doing here?” she hissed. “He’s a traitor, Storm! Has he hurt you?” Kitty demanded.
Peter’s skin rippled, silver steel materializing over his muscular frame. “Get behind me, Storm.” He reached for her arm.
Gambit smirked, not moving from his casual stance. “Is he serious, chere?”
“Step aside, Storm. I will handle this traitor.” Peter took a step forward.
“Do not be ridiculous, Peter.” Ororo placed a restraining hand on his chest. “Gambit is an X-man, and my friend. You will not touch him.”
“Storm, I love the fact that you’re all gung-ho loyal to your buddies, but this guy nearly got you killed. He’s a traitor, even Rogue says so.” Kitty exclaimed. Storm heard Gambit’s indrawn breath, knowing he was hurt by that last statement.
“I believe we have been over this already, Kitty. As for what Rogue says, well, it is foolish for her to cast stones when the stones that will be returned are boulders compared to pebbles.” Ororo said angrily.
“Meaning?” Kitty asked.
“Meaning that there are times, Kitten, when people do the wrong things for all the right reasons.” She looked over her shoulder, giving Remy a soft smile that told him in no uncertain terms he had been forgiven and she had understood. Turning back to Kitty and Peter, Ororo continued, saying, “Gambit has proven himself a loyal X-man and friend more times than I can count, and anyone who says differently will answer to me.” She placed her hand on the young woman’s shoulder. “ I sincerely hope you think about all he has done for us, for you, before you toss around hurtful words such a traitor.”
“Sorry,” Kitty mumbled, casting Gambit an apologetic glance. “If Storm believes you, then that is good enough for me.”
“Me as well,” Peter said, warm flesh returning where cold steel was but a moment before. “But let us face facts, there are others who will not be so forgiving,” he reminded.
“Do not concern yourselves. Off to bed now, both of you. We will pretend that this little incident never happened. Goodnight.” Ororo stepped aside allowing the young mutants entry into the mansion. Both nodded their heads at Gambit as they passed, in return he gave them his trademark sardonic smile, but it did not reach his eyes.
Once they were alone again Ororo sighed heavily. “Remy, about Rogue--”
“Don’, Stormy.” Gambit’s voice was uncharacteristically dull.
“Remy, she is feeling betrayed, she thinks you left her. I am certain once you explain everything to her, things will work out.”
“You t’ink so, chere, ‘cause I don’.” He snapped his staff down to palm size. “And I don’ know dat it ever will.”
“Gambit…” Ororo hesitated, unsure what to say. She hated seeing her friend hurting, but knew that this was something he and Rogue had to sort through on their own. “I am here if you need me,” was all she could think to say.
“Merci, chere.” Gambit reached over, hugging her to him.
Ororo opened her mouth to say something when suddenly she felt sick, her head swimming, pain lancing through her body. “Goddess…” She would have crumpled if not for Gambit’s supporting arms.
“Stormy?” Gambit asked, worry etched on his handsome face. He moved her to the living room, seating her on the couch. “What is it?”
Leaning forward Ororo placed her hand over her heart. “Logan. He needs me.”





You must login () to review.