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Madripoor


“Wolverine, you sure dis is where dey be?” Gambit wiped a white cloth across his forehead, cursing in a mixture of French and English about the sweltering heat. His auburn hair curled against and clung to his damp scalp, darkening to muddy brown.
Wolverine glowered at him. “This is where Viper would go. She wants me here.” Twelve days had passed since Logan had walked back into the empty loft, found Ororo missing and Viper gone. His heart had damn near pounded out of his chest, and it hadn’t taken him long to figure out what had transpired. Wolverine had found a tranquilizer dart on the floor beside the bed, sniffing it he had picked up Viper‘s scent. His fury had been damn near uncontrollable, but he had held himself in check, knowing he would need a clear head to find ‘Ro. He knew Viper was long gone and he had gone to Emma.
“Find them!” he had snarled.
Emma had used Cerebra but was unable to locate either Viper or Storm. Wolverine would have lost it right then and there had it not been for Jean reminding him that Ororo had a unique and difficult psychic signature to pick up, even for the Professor.
When asked what he was going to do, he told Jean that he was going to find her, leaving that very day. He had connections and determination, he would find them, and heaven help Viper when he did.
Now, here he and Gumbo sat, in the Princess Bar, waiting for his informant to return from the arena. The Bloodsport tournament had begun and Logan knew that’s where anybody who was anybody would be.
“Here.” Rogue joined them at the table, setting a fresh beer in front of both men. She had her bi-colored hair pulled under a red kerchief, and despite the heat she was wearing pants and a long sleeve shirt.
Wolverine was thankful she had accompanied them, knowing there was only so much Cajun charm he could handle at a time.
“Merci, chere. Why does she want you ‘ere?” Gambit turned back to Wolverine and took a drink of his beer.
“Because the only reason Viper wanted ta marry me was to seize control of Madripoor. She gambled on my respectability here as Patch and she lucked out. She overthrew and now is ruler of this little island paradise. But ta stay ruler she needs ta stay married ta me.”
“So dat’s why ya married her? To rule an island? Didn‘ figure you for da power hungry type, homme.”
Wolverine growled. “I married her because she asked. She saved my life, I owed her.”
Rogue curled her nose. “How convenient.”
Wolverine grunted. He had recently been thinking the same thing. It had been damn convenient for Viper to get an assignment on Madripoor and save his ass from Sabertooth and his small army of ass-kicking friends. Too damn convenient.
“But why take Stormy?”
“Bait.” Wolverine watched the people passing the window with his one available eye, the other concealed by the dark patch that was his namesake. “She knows I want a divorce. I demanded one the night ‘Ro came home. She can’t be ruler of Madripoor if she’s divorced from me, but she can still be ruler if she’s widowed.”
Rogue gasped. “You think she’s leading yah here tah kill yah.”
“She’ll try.” Wolverine confirmed. He caught sight of his informant racing across the street.
Mac was a robust red-haired Irish man with friendly eyes and warm smile, but Wolverine knew that beneath that cuddly looking exterior Mac was a professional, a master at several forms of street fighting and weaponry.
“Patch!” The husky mustached man approached them, waving a flyer in the air.
“Mac.” Wolverine grunted in greeting. “Whadya find?”
Mac heaved a hefty breath, sweat pooling in the center of his chest. “Viper’s here.” Gambit handed the man a beer and he took it thankfully.
“Yes.” Wolverine had figured that much on his own.
“She‘s holed up in one of the Capital’s secured buildings. Security is tight, the tightest I’ve ever seen.“
“She ain’t stupid.“
“There was another woman you was looking for?” Mac asked.
“Yeah, ya can’t miss her, she’s tall with white hair--”
“Beautiful beyond all reason?” Mac added.
Wolverine paused. “Yeah.”
Mac laid the pamphlet on the table. “You ain’t gonna believe this,” he warned.
A picture of Storm, covered a majority of the flyer. The caption beneath reading: This Year’s Grand Prize!! Win Bloodsport, Take Her Home!
“Viper,” Wolverine growled.
“Mon Dieu,” Said Gambit.
“Well, at least we know she’s alive,” said Rogue.
“That ain’t it,” Mac said, watching Wolverine warily.
Wolverine was still staring at the picture, his thumb absently running along the edge of the paper. “What else?”
“She’s fighting too.”
“Viper?”
“No, no, your lady friend. She’s in the tournament.”
Wolverine ground his teeth. “Take me in.”
Mac shook his head. “Wish I could, old friend, but Viper has put the arena under lockdown. No one in or out while the tournament’s in progress.”
Gambit chuckled. “You t’ink dat’s gonna stop ‘im?”
Mac grinned. “No, but it will make entry that much more difficult.” He looked at Wolverine. “From what I hear, Patch, your friend,” he gestured to the flyer, “is holding her own.”
“She would.” Wolverine nodded. He’d trained her. He knew how good Storm was, but he also knew the other competitors were good, excellent even. How long until someone took her out, or worse, won her.
As if sensing his thoughts Gambit said, “She’s tougher den before, Patch. What she faced for two years,” Gambit shuddered a bit. Ororo had shared a few bits and pieces of her time in Hell with him. “Dis be a walk in da park.”


“STORM! STORM! STORM!”
They were chanting her name again. Viper threw the ledger she had been reading across the room. From the arena voices rose in a rousing cheer as Storm defeated yet another opponent. Damn her!
“Viper?” A knock sounded on her door.
“Enter.”
A tall woman with black hair and wearing a pinstriped business suit entered, briefcase in her hand. “He’s here.”
Viper sneered. She had wondered how long it would take him to track her down. She had left enough false leads and dead end trails to keep most people busy for a lifetime, but not Wolverine. He was relentless. Especially where the white haired witch was concerned. Viper scowled. He had married her, but made it clear that theirs was not a real marriage. It could’ve been, she fumed. If he would’ve just let go of his torch for Storm. Even before her return Wolverine pined for her hopelessly, spending time with that damn statue, talking to it like it would somehow answer him.
Viper had tried to make him see that they could do very well together, but he was reluctant to even try. Before they shared a room she had snuck into his and crawled into bed with him. He had pulled her close, kissing her hungrily, moving on her like a man possessed and Viper had reveled in the feel, and then he had growled in her ear, “’Ro.” When she had corrected him he had looked down at her in disgust and she knew that he had been dreaming. Wolverine had immediately left, and within moments she had heard the shower running. When he returned he told her never to touch him again, but she could see the haunted look on his face and she knew he believed he had somehow betrayed his memory of Storm. It was small consolation, but Viper was pleased none the less. How she hated that woman. After that Wolverine insisted she sleep in his room so that he would never be caught off guard again. She slept on the bed and he slept on the floor.
Looking at the dark haired woman across from her, Viper asked, “How long has he been in Madripoor?”
“Two days, tops.”
“Long enough.” Viper checked the gun at her hip. “He’ll be coming for her. Move her.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? If Storm does not battle you may have a riot on your hands. They love her,” the other woman paused, listening to the chants.
Viper glared. “Whose bright idea was it to put her in the damn tournament anyways, Charlotte?”
“That would be yours.” Charlotte answered. “I believe you said she wouldn’t last two seconds.” Viper swore under her breath. She had thought for sure Storm would be defeated or killed, either fine with her. When it became clear that she would not go down so easily Viper devised a plan to make the contest that much more interesting. Make the favorite fighter the prize. It had been brilliant. The contestants fought harder, longer wanting the chance to win Storm, the only female fighter in the tourney.
Rising from behind her mahogany desk Viper walked to her bullet proof windows. She opened the blinds and immediately wished she hadn’t. Wolverine was on the opposite side of the street. He was leaning against a lamp post, huffing one of his cigars. He may as well be wearing a sign that said ‘Come Get Me’. He looked really pissed.
“Viper?”
“No, you’re right. She stays in the tournament.” A cruel smile twisted her face.
“See that Patch gets an invitation to tomorrows match up. He won’t want to miss it.”


The two inch wide, six inch long slat of the gray metal door opened and a brown tray was pushed through. “Dinner.”
Ororo rose from her cot. She had been fiddling with the Genoshan collar around her neck, it being a constant irritation. She knew if she tried to remove it without the code it would explode, taking her head off.
Ororo walked over to the door and removed the tray from the guard’s hands. “What’s the gourmet special tonight?”
The guard chuckled. “Beans and rice.”
Ororo grimaced.
“I made sure you got a good batch. Nice fight today.” The guard said sincerely.
“Thanks, Dale. How are the children?” Ororo placed the tray on the floor, peeking up at the young guard through the slat.
“Good.” The guard shifted uncomfortably. He hated keeping her prisoner, but he had two small children to feed and this job paid well. Sensing his reluctance in keeping her caged, Ororo had begun to befriend the young man. She had told him that she did not blame him for her current predicament and he seemed to relax a bit after that, but he still hated to see her locked up with the criminals.
Ororo nodded, sitting cross legged beside her tray. “You should make your rounds, Dale.”
“Good night.” The slat slid shut.
Ororo looked at the pile of food, if you could call it that, suspiciously. She needed to eat, to keep her strength up for the fights, and she had eaten much, much worse while trapped with the Daemonites, but she always wondered when Viper would grow impatient and poison her. Deciding to risk it, Ororo began to spoon small mouthfuls of food from the tray. Once finished she spent the remainder of the evening alternating between thinking about Logan and how much she loved him and fantasizing about mounting Viper’s head on a stick.


“Patch, open up!” Mac’s booming voice called, his beefy fist pounded the motel room door.
Wolverine yanked open the door. “What?”
“This is for you.” Mac handed him a sealed envelope. “I gotta get back to town, but I wanted to make sure you got this. It was nailed to the door of the Princess. Call me if you need anything else.”
“Thanks, Mac.” Wolverine closed the door, staring at the envelope in his hands guardedly.
“What is it?” Rogue asked. She was seated at the small kitchen table provided in their room.
“Smells like Viper,” Wolverine said.
“Prob’bly anthrax,” Gambit mumbled.
-Snikt- One claw extended, slicing open the top of the envelope.
“Der are just a million uses for dem t’ings, non?”
“Gambit,” Rogue chided, but not without some humor in her voice.
Wolverine read the invitation allowed. “Come see your precious Weather Witch in the fight of a lifetime. Trust me, you don’t want to miss it. Your loving wife, Viper.”
Gambit knocked over the tower of cards he had been building with an angry swipe of his hand. “Dat bitch.” He pointed at Wolverine. “I blame you fer dis. You married her.”
“Don’t go pointing fingers, Gumbo. Yer apt ta lose ‘em.”
“So what do we do now?” Rogue asked.
“We accept.” Wolverine tossed the invitation onto the small kitchen table.


Morning

“So glad you could join us, Patch. And look, you brought guests, how lovely.” Viper greeted as the three X-Men walked through the doors of her balcony box, their hands clamped in full coverage cuffs up to their elbows, and inhibitor collars clamped around their necks, several guns pointed at them. “Miss me, Husband?”
Wolverine snarled. “Yer a disease.”
Viper smirked. “Have a seat. The fight should start shortly. I must admit, I was surprised by your quick acceptance of my invitation. I thought it would take more persuasion.”
“Stop this, Viper.” Wolverine warned. “You won’t like the consequences.”
“But I think I will.”
“You‘re a snake,” Rogue said to Viper.
“Thank you.” Viper smiled. “Now sit!”
Viper’s men nudged them in the back with their weapons.
“Watch it, Bub,” Wolverine growled.
Once the three of them were seated Viper waved her troops back. “I would offer you something to drink, but seeing as how you can’t use your hands…”
“Where is she?” Wolverine demanded, ignoring her attempts to rile him.
“Don’t you think about anything besides her?” Viper snapped.
“No.”
A rousing cheer interrupted whatever Viper was going to say next and Logan leaned forward watching as the far gates of the arena opened. He heard Gambit’s quick intake of breath and Rogue’s as well. He watched with a swelling of pride as Storm strode forward, chin held high. She was clad in standard issue prison garb, but she had never looked more beautiful as far as Logan was concerned. She stopped in the center of the arena.
“You can see, but I would rather you not be seen just yet,” Viper said. “Stay put.” She left the room and walked out onto the open upper circle.
“Storm, you should be much honored today as the ruler of Madripoor has come herself to see you fight,” the ring announcer said over the crowd.
Storm didn’t respond.
Viper stood, smiling down at Storm. “Kneel and we shall begin.”
This time Storm did respond. She laughed.
“Kneel!” Viper hissed. Storm stood stoic. The crowd cheered in approval. “We’ll see how smug you are when you meet your opponent.” Viper said.
The gates behind Storm began to rise and she turned. The man walking towards her grinned with unadulterated joy, his sharp teeth fully revealed.
Inside Viper‘s balcony box Wolverine felt his blood turn to ice. “Sabertooth.”





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