Author's Note: This was originally just a one-shot story written in a moment of random creativity, but due to positive feedback from various sources, I'll be following it up with successive chapters exploring the interactions between the members of Team X, focusing in particular on Logan's awkward relationship with his half-brother, Victor Creed. Thank you for reading and enjoying!
"Here are your orders, Victor. There's a small construction up there…" William Stryker spoke to the large, feral mutant standing in front of him with an authority that he hoped would sink in. Ever since Victor Creed and James Logan had agreed to be a part of Team X, they seemed to listen to him and obey his orders – at least, they had thus far. But you could never be sure with mutants, so he kept a careful eye on Creed as he delivered the mission brief, indicating with one hand a small concrete building a short distance away. "That building is where we believe one of the leaders of the resistance is hiding. Now, I know you have a certain way with women…"
Victor snickered softly to himself and glanced at the other squad members as Stryker said this, making it clear that he held mating rights over any females they should happen to meet. That was the way he saw it, anyway, and he didn't give a shit if the others shied away from that fact. Wade, Zero and Dukes could at least hold his gaze when he boasted about the women he'd taken, even if there was a flicker of contempt in Wade's eyes; as expected, Wraith and Bradley couldn't ever bring themselves to acknowledge his brutal conquests, but they could at least try and ignore what happened behind closed doors, even if they didn't have to like it. One of the provisos of being a member of the group was not to question what the other members were doing, something that Stryker often reminded them all about on pain of being discharged. And God knew none of them had anywhere else to go.
"…which is why I'm asking you to do this for me," Stryker continued, looking at each member of the team in turn. James Logan was conspicuous by his absence, mainly because Stryker knew he'd never approve of the task he was about to give to Victor. Even though the two of them were half-brothers, Logan seemed to have a real problem with half of the missions they were sent to carry out – as any half-decent human being would, Stryker knew. The trouble was that they weren't supposed to act like human beings, not in this squad. The 'special privileges' he'd alluded to when he'd hired the brothers were obviously being fully enjoyed by Victor more than Logan; clearly, he was having his brother's share, too.
"Now, this woman is known to be an active member of the local resistance group who have blocking our efforts for some time now. Subdue her in whatever way you see fit…" - again, a vicious grin from Victor – "…and find out where the rest of the resistance cell is holed up. Can you do that for me?"
"Candy from a baby," Victor smiled, flexing his fingers and allowing his nails to extend a centimetre or two as he took a step in the direction of the lean-to. "Give me fifteen minutes. If she hasn't cracked by then, she's probably dead."
As Victor loped up the rough dirt path to carry out his mission, the other members of Team X stood around awkwardly, each of them having their own opinions on the feral mutant's task at hand and the attitude he had towards carrying it out, but none of them wanting to really voice any of them… except, of course, Wade.
"Maybe you should get a spray bottle for him, Sir."
"Wade." Stryker's voice was a warning – but, as usual, a warning that was never heeded.
"I'm just saying, Sir, that's all. You never know, you might wake up one morning and find him grinding away at your leg..."
"That's enough, Wade."
"I'm sure you can get over-excited puppies neutered for a very low cost these days, Sir. Maybe you should think about…"
But whatever else Wade had been about to say was drowned out by the sound of an angry voice approaching from behind a nearby stand of trees, a shout that each and every member of the squad recognised as belonging to James Logan. Somehow, he knew what was going on up here, he knew what Victor had been ordered to do, and he'd come to put a stop to it. The team members stood around awkwardly as he approached, weapons at the ready, preparing to try and stop him as they'd been told to do.
"Where's Victor?" Logan growled as he reached them, glaring at each member of the team who barred his way. They stared back at him in return, none of them saying a word. Perhaps they were waiting for Stryker to say something, although knowing Wade, that was unlikely. In fact, the very fact that he was silent was ominous enough. "I mean it. Where is he?"
But Logan already knew. He could hear – had been able to hear for some time, thanks to his heightened senses – the harrowing screams of a woman coming from the small concrete building some distance behind the squad, and he knew. He wasn't sure what sickened him more; the fact that his own half-brother could be capable of committing such crimes, or the fact that his own colleagues could stand around and ignore it, or at least turn a blind eye to what was going on. What was wrong with these people?
"I'm going in." He went to push past Bradley, the smallest of the group, but before he could get any further, a stern Stryker appeared from beside Dukes, shaking his head firmly.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Logan."
"You know what he's doing in there, Stryker. I can't let that happen."
"I'm afraid it already is." Stryker seemed unconcerned by what was happening fifty metres away. "It's too late for you to play the hero. Now step down like a good soldier and let Victor carry out his orders."
"Orders?" Logan snarled, his muscles bunching and tensing, the lines of his bone claws already starting to show against the upper layers of his skin. "Orders? You're telling me was ordered to go in there and do that?"
"I find it works best if you give orders to the right man for the job." Stryker brushed at an imaginary speck of dust on his uniform and sighed. "Victor seems to have a way with women, in case you hadn't noticed."
"I swear, Stryker, I'm going in there even if I have to take your goddamn head off to do it." Before any of the others could react, he shoulder-barged Stryker aside and dashed towards the door of the concrete shack, already hearing Stryker barking orders at Zero and the others to try and stop him. He didn't care; let them shoot. He'd get up again. He always did.
"I'd think again if I was you." Suddenly, John Wraith flickered into existence in front of him, almost getting bowled over by the charging mutant's approach, but Logan stopped just short and somehow managed to sidestep him, grabbing at the decaying door handle and throwing the door open, already knowing what he'd see inside. It hadn't been the first time and something inside him told him with a sickening jolt of intuition that it wouldn't be the last, but every time he had to see Victor doing something like this, it hurt him more and more. It was as if each time was a snapshot of evil, a glimpse into the downwards spiralling curve of Victor's depravity.
His brother stood over a small, makeshift bed, its sole occupant a young woman whose clothes were dishevelled and torn, and stained in more than a few places with fresh blood; she was curled up into a ball, weeping, sobbing, clutching her arms about herself and rocking gently. And over her stood Victor adjusting his belt buckle, a wicked sneer of triumph and satisfaction colouring his face, the look of pleasure twisting his features almost making Logan want to be physically sick.
"Victor." So intent did the woman seem to be in her own grief that she barely even registered Logan's entrance, the door slamming back against the wall as he stormed inside, but Victor noticed easily enough. His head whipped around in Logan's direction and a snarl began to form on his lips, the tips of his fangs already visible, his expression resembling that of a whipped dog.
"Jimmy!" he hissed, taking a step back. He'd done wrong here, and he knew it, but that didn't mean he had to justify it to anyone. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Trying to stop you," Logan growled, casting a look of pity in the violated girl's direction, "But it looks like I'm too late."
"It was an order," Victor purred smugly, his gaze also flicking over to where his victim sat; he regarded her not with pity, but with disgust.
"An order." Logan snorted angrily. "You're being ordered to do this to people? And you enjoy it?"
"Don't make me answer that, Jimmy. You already know the truth." With a sneer, Victor headed for the door, but Logan barred his way.
"You're not the same brother who told me he'd protect me all those years ago," the younger mutant intoned, determined not to lose Victor to the demons that seemed to plague him and drive him to such acts of horror. His brother was still there inside, he knew it, hidden within the wild, feral beast that Victor appeared to have become. "You've changed, Victor. I can see you've changed. But it doesn't have to be this way. I know you're better than this…"
"Better than what, Jimmy?" Victor snarled, tired of hearing the same old arguments time and again, tired of hearing Victor's preaching and moralising. "I'm damn good at what I do, and you know it. If you can't cope with it, then that's your problem."
"Victor…"
"I don't have time for this shit." Without even a backwards glance at the life he'd destroyed, Victor glared at Logan until he reluctantly stepped aside, marching back down towards the rest of Team X to report what he'd found out. Logan, miserable and dejected, followed his brother, knowing that whatever Stryker wanted out of this encounter, there really wasn't much that he could do.
"Ah, Victor." Stryker strolled over to where the feral mutant stood as casually as if he had been taking a leisurely summer stroll. "Did you get the information I asked you to?"
"Of course. That, and a lot more." He grinned at his commanding officer, and Logan wondered how Stryker could even stand to be so close to him, let alone condone what he'd just done. "Sounds like her group are holding out three miles east of here. Their base is upriver; should be able to come at them from the small ridge behind their position."
"Good." The older-looking soldier nodded, and indicated with a wave that the group should ready themselves to move out soon. "Oh, and… Victor?"
The mutant cocked his head on one side.
"Don't forget to clean up the mess."
His face split into a toothy grin, leaving little doubt on anyone's mind what their commanding officer meant by that order; dropping onto all fours, he bounded eagerly towards the concrete hut, the anticipation of what was to come filling him with a whole new kind of pleasure.
Logan could only watch, his every instinct screaming at him from deep down inside that what they were involved in was wrong, so very, very wrong. And Victor, poor Victor, the brother who had all but raised him and protected him for over one hundred years… dear God. What had he become?