Summary: Book two of my Children of the Gods series. Gambit and his kidnapped Red Team go for a little ride.
Rated M for language and some minor sexual content.
Disclaimer : I do not own the X-men or any of their associated villains, but all of the Siskans, the members of the Red Team besides Kyle, any of the characters that are involved with the Twilight dimension are mine. Please do not use them without my permission. Thanks. :)
This is an illustrated work and the art is or will be available soon on my website which you can get to by clicking on my profile. This book will have four chapters, a new one each week if all goes well. The updates to this and the rest of the series will come faster as I get the polishing work on the last book completed. Hopefully finally starting to get the finished parts posted will help speed me up.
(One)
Somewhere deep in the bowels of the underground Xavier Complex an alarm was shrieking. The designers had deliberately planned for it to be abusive to the ears so that it wouldn't be easily ignored or overlooked and they had done their job well. The primary members of the Gold Team had all volunteered to have this howling nightmare intrude into their lives should anything disastrous happen so there was no room for credible complaint even as it jolted several of them rudely awake.
One of them had only been asleep for just a couple of hours. Rogue had only just returned from a mission, thinking that a few hours rest would be her reward. No such luck. She bolted awake with a scream nearly as loud as the alarm itself. "Aw fer cryin' out loud!" she protested in her Mississippi drawl.
"What the fuck?" came a similar complaint from her companion. She hadn't been sleeping alone. "Yous only just gots back!"
Rogue reached across to the night stand and slammed her hand down on the alarm, silencing it. She didn't break it even though she would have dearly loved to at that moment, but her contract explicitly stated that it would be replaced regardless of how many times she damaged it so there was no point in it really. The contract she had signed had pretty much been sealed in blood, at least that's what Bobby claimed when he was joking about it and it was partly true. Once you went Gold Team, you went for life. Most of the time it was great. After only an hour or so of sleep, eh, not so much.
She sat up anyhow, moving in very slow motion. It was times like these that she began to feel the evidence of her career path. She wasn't as young as she used to be, she was creeping up on forty - oh my! – and her body wasn't coping with the abuse of a hard workout and no sleep as well as it used to.
A slender ebony hand reached out and took her wrist. "Ignores it, Mistress. If you cain't sleeps nohow, I gots a real fine cure fer that..."
She smiled and looked back at the one who had temporarily ensnared her. "Sorry, Simone. But my people need me."
"I needs you mores," he insisted playfully, blinking his silver eyes up at her seductively, praying that looking cute might actually work this time. It hadn't worked in the past but a guy could always hope. His own lazy drawl wasn't the same as hers but it was the exact match to Kimble's. Of course it would be, he was Siskan as well as being Kimble's clutchmate.
Although the Siskans who lived here at the Complex were all related in this way, their appearances sometimes varied wildly from one another. Simone, like Kimble, had a blended skin and could never pass for a normal human. Where Kimble's skin was a deathly pale white, Simone's was as black as black could get except for a single band of white that crossed his eyes, like a bandit in reverse. He had wings too, only his were feathered and shimmered with hidden colors, making him a dark angel lovely to behold. His voice carried Kimble's distinct accent, but it had a cracked and worn quality to it, like someone who had been shouting all day. He had none of Kimble's telekinetic talent, but that didn't matter to his precious Mistress. The one thing that made him the most important person in her world was his ability to touch her bare skin for as long as he pleased and not die for his trouble.
See, Rogue was a mutant and like her team mates had many different powers, but hers all had one primary source – her ability to touch other people and temporarily absorb their memories and identity - or in the case of other mutants, she could borrow their powers for a short time. It was harmful to those she touched, even to the point of death should she hold on for too long. Her trouble lay in the fact that she couldn't control it. She touched you and she took you, it was really that simple. One such encounter lasted a bit too long and she had actually permanently stolen that person's powers for good, enabling Rogue to fly, have enhanced strength, and making her for the most part invulnerable. It was great that she had these new powers and all but they had come with a price - the constant guilt that she had nearly killed the person she had stolen them from and had left them powerless forever.
Knowing this, Rogue could have no physical contact with anyone, no matter how slight, without causing harm to the other person. She was forced to be fully covered from her feet to her neck in the off chance that she might accidently touch someone, however fleeting, and hurt them. It had made her life miserable from the moment her mutant powers had manifested themselves.
The fact that Simone was a Siskan Courtesan that had been manufactured and not born from an organic source meant that she could have full bodied contact with him and he would suffer no harm from it whatsoever. It had been what had brought him to her attention and the fact that the attraction had been mutual had made their becoming a couple all too easy. They had been living together for months now and so far it had been working out well for both of them.
"Let me at least see what it is, Sugah," Rogue offered in order to comfort him. She was exhausted and it wouldn't take much to convince her that her time was better spent with the man who loved her.
" 'Kay," he agreed and released her, letting her use the phone without further protest.
Scott Summers, the Gold Team leader, answered her on the first ring. "Scott here."
"Hey, it's Rogue. What's the alarm all about?"
"We don't know for sure. It was an automated distress call from Gryfon's key alarm. The Red Team is in trouble but we don't know any details other than Logan may be involved. They were sent out for a simple exercise that he had initiated, but it's not like Warren to activate a signal without good reason so I am taking it seriously."
Rogue sighed. The Red Team. Remy's team. "Ah'll meet you topside in five minutes. Don't leave without me."
"You can pass on this if you want," Scott offered. "I know you just got back in. You must be tired."
"Ah'll be there," she promised and hung up.
Rogue rose from the bed without another word and hastily started getting dressed. She reached for her pants and felt them come into her hand before she realized it. Simone had risen with her and was now helping her, knowing what she needed before she even had to ask for it. She took the pants from him and dressed quickly, her mind racing about what might have happened.
She never saw the look of quiet disappointment on Simone's face, nor the low droop of his wings. He had heard Scott's voice clearly from over the phone and as soon as he had heard the words, "Red Team", he knew that she would go even before the words left the mouth of his precious Mistress.
Simone was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He could read the shines as the other Siskans could and had known for a long time that his Mistress still had strong feelings for Remy, her former boyfriend. Simone didn't fear that she might leave him for this other man because he still had the one thing Remy didn't - the ability to touch and make love to her without either of them coming to harm. But that didn't mean that her lingering feelings for her former boyfriend still didn't hurt. He wouldn't complain though, it wasn't his way. It wasn't the Siskan way. He was grateful beyond measure that he had been chosen by her and that he was now hers and hers alone. She was his Mistress and he would serve her always in all things. It was enough for him. For now.
Rogue was oblivious to the inner woe of her companion. She hadn't been a Mistress long and well, Simone had folded himself so neatly into her life that she had fallen into a sort of routine with him. She knew that he was always sad when she left, that he was concerned for her when she was on missions, so for her his quiet simply meant that he was worried for her the same as any wife of a policeman or firefighter would have been. She didn't know that his feelings ran deeper than that, that he knew her hurry wasn't for this mission, but because Remy was involved.
Once she was dressed, Rogue brushed a hand through her long brown hair, smoothing it and her distinctive white bangs back into place. She looked about as good as she was going to get after so little sleep. It was time to go.
"Ah'll be back soon," she promised Simone, giving him a quick kiss.
"I knows," he replied, automatically placing her Away Pack in her hand like the dutiful creature he was. "An' I'll be waitin'."
Not content to have just the last word, he returned her kiss, but unlike her hurried peck of everyday concern, he deepened his, making the kiss burn hard enough on her lips that she even swooned a bit at the knees. Being a Siskan Courtesan of the highest quality, he did this very well and with the greatest of ease.
"Oh, my..." she gasped, her attention fully on him for the first time since she had awakened, which was the point of it of course. Simone wanted to remind her of who she was leaving behind, not of whom she was rushing off to to save. "Guess Ah'll have to make this fast..."
He grinned now, pleased with his work. "I certainly hopes so."
Rogue shouldered the pack he had given her and walked out the door. She did reward him with an affectionate backward glance for his trouble and then she was gone.
Now alone, Simone sighed and began to pick up the apartment. Like Kimble, Simone had become a master of domestic orderliness, something of a challenge with his Mistress. Rogue was a bit of a disaster when it came to her place, clothing had flown off of her as she had returned - her jacket carelessly tossed over the arm of the couch, dirty socks left balled up on the floor, a used towel left on the bathroom floor after her shower - and Simone had ignored it then, wanting only to devote himself to her now that she had come home. But once he was left behind again, he went right back to his solitary life, that of housekeeper.
Simone didn't like other people much, his Mistress was the only one he could really stand for long. His experience with the organic wasn't much beyond an abusive former Master who had savagely beaten him to drive him insane - the man had wanted an angry watchdog to frighten away anyone who might trespass on his property and he had succeeded in that – but later, when Simone had changed hands as Siskans invariably do, he had been so violent that his new Masters had then kept him locked away in isolation for years. He had been a feral mess and a virgin when Rogue had come into his life. Her love had coaxed him out of his shell and given him this new life he now had. She had saved him in every way possible. While the rest of the humans here treated him much better than that former Master, Simone found them all loud and annoying. Their shines were painful and bright and he couldn't stand to look at them. He had spent so much time locked away that he still very much preferred his solitary life here with his Mistress.
Simone earned his keep the Siskan way - he kept his Mistress's apartment neat, cooked her meals as she had showed him she liked, and of course, did his best to please her in any way she might ask or need. It wasn't really slavery though it might seem that way to an outsider. To him his Mistress was everything and the most beautiful woman he had ever known. Serving her was life, was his salvation, and his very reason for living. No complaint would ever leave his lips, he had none. He wanted for nothing. She paid attention to him when she was home, something he drank up like wine. Making love to her was something from a dream, an intense pleasure he had no words to describe.
When Simone did leave the apartment it was always with her and most often to the Solarium where they would exercise in the green grass and bright sun. It was heaven to him and he wouldn't give it up for anything.
He did not spend much time with his Siskan kin, he didn't understand them or how some of them chose to live. He couldn't comprehend how Kimble and Aiden could be happy with each other and not with flesh and blood owners. How could they find true happiness without the heat and thunder of that precious heartbeat in their ears? And Asher? He was the biggest mystery of all. Here was a Siskan who was supposedly Remy's property - a man who never used him for anything – but who was also fully devoted to a second Master you couldn't even see or touch, this strange being called God. How was THAT even satisfactory? Now that Simone was owned and being used properly, the idea of celibacy was nothing but a horror. No lovely kisses, no tight embraces? He would rather be dead.
No, this life he had now was the best he had ever had and he would die to keep it. Once a Siskan was bonded in this way to a Master or Mistress it often took the death of the owner to sever that tie. It was in the files, you see, the ones all Siskans shared. He might once have been neglected and feral, but now that he was properly owned and being used for what he was made for, those pre-loaded files came into play. It was these same files that made Kimble and Aiden so devoted to one another and Asher to his mysterious God, though Simone did not understand these things.
Simone moved to the kitchen and began to prepare a meal - a tasty beef stew that he knew she would like. It was one that didn't take long to cook – he was hoping for her speedy return – but it was also one that would keep, in case she did not. It didn't matter, it would be ready for her no matter when she came home, just as he would be.
(break)
Once out of her apartment and into the hallway Rogue quickly covered the distance to the stairway that would lead her topside and out to where the Lucky Dragon was parked.
She hadn't gone more than two steps up the stairs when she heard the door she had just gone through slam open behind her. She turned and smiled when she saw Bobby Drake come huffing and puffing up the stairs, trying to catch up to her. "I gotta train more or get an apartment closer to the tarmac, geez!" he complained merrily even though he was breezing up the steps like it was nothing. "This is ridiculous!"
Bobby was one of the youngest members of the Gold Team and something of a jokester. He was a lot like Grace and did a good job of keeping things light even when things weren't going so well. That didn't mean he wasn't a good man in a storm, he was dependable and one of the bravest people Rogue had ever known. He was lithe and blonde with sparkling blue eyes, almost too good looking for this line of work. His mutation was a simple one but quite effective - he could manufacture frost and ice from thin air, conjuring enough of the stuff to make ice sleds for quick travel or even create shields strong enough to protect his body as effectively as any of Remy's famous body armor.
He was certainly better rested than Rogue was and in spite of being a tad winded, still stomped up the stairs quickly enough to beat her to the topside door. He held it open for her, ever the gentleman, but was still a punk enough to tease, "Heard your ex got himself in a bit of a pickle. First time his team went out for real. D'oh!" he joked, adding his best Homer Simpson impression there on the end.
"Ain't my fault the boy cain't handle anything without me," she returned playfully. "Some folks just don't ever learn."
The Lucky Dragon was parked close by and it was a short walk to the now open hatch. The Lucky Dragon was a spacecraft significantly larger than the Dragon 2. It was the ship that Seth had kept in mind when he had designed the Dragon 2 on its much smaller scale. The Lucky Dragon was sleek and lovely, a sparkling silver crescent twinkling in the early morning sun, yet it was more than just good looking. With its two levels of interior space, it was capable of moving much larger cargo and many more passengers than anything else the X-men had at their disposal. It could also fly into deep space if needs be, a welcome asset.
Bobby and Rogue entered the ship and made their way into the large first floor Main Room. This area was quite roomy, having a double row of passenger seats that faced a large, movie theater sized viewing screen that could be made to show many views of the craft, both inside and out. There they found Fallen, the captain of this strange and wonderful craft.
Fallen had been getting ready for their take off. Like the Dragon 2, this ship was commanded by users on pilot sticks though Fallen's were much more upright, looking almost like pogo sticks that ran from the floor to the ceiling. Her sticks had been modified from their original design - a comfortable seat had been added so she could sit if she liked instead of standing the whole time. Fallen was currently perched on the seat, relaxed and comfortable. She had been doing this a great many years and flying for her was as natural as breathing.
Kimble's blended skin was unique looking on this world, but for all its beauty, it was nothing but a fake. Fallen was the real deal, the only flesh and blood pilot here, and had the powers to prove it. Unlike Remy and Kimble who had to work together to fly the Dragon 2, Fallen could manage the Lucky Dragon all on her own. She was a tiny thing, her white skinned, bat winged body standing no more than just an inch or so over five feet tall, but she was one of the most powerful telekinetics the X-men had in their employ. She was also an energy producer of the finest quality, a living battery that powered this ship better than any fossil based or nuclear fuel.
The X-men had crossed paths with Fallen on an off world mission many years ago and had brought both her and her Siskans back home with them, adding them all to their already diverse team of powerful people. Fallen had fit in quite well and since she wasn't assigned to any particular team, was sent out on many missions and had served the X-men faithfully in all that time.
Seth was present in the Main Room as well, though not actually in person. He was up on the large viewing screen, giving Fallen an assist on their take off from his position down below in the Complex. Seth was a valuable member of the staff, but he never went out on field missions, he was much too frail and vulnerable. Other than being able to see the shines, he shared none of Kimble's more prized powers or fighting skills and this weakness would put him too much at risk.
Seth was Kimble's twin though they didn't look exactly alike. They had the same white skin and pilot's bodies, but Seth's waist long hair was as sparkling white as Fallen's own. Seth and Fallen could have passed as brother and sister to the eyes of someone who didn't know them well, but they were not. They were husband and wife instead. Of all the Siskans here, Seth and Fallen had been as Mistress and Courtesan the longest of any other such pairing the X-men had. It had prompted them to actually officially marry and they were something of an inspiration to Aiden who had seen the benefits of the ceremony for creating stability. Kimble needed few things more than stability and so Aiden had seen that he had gotten it.
Seth might not have actually been on the ship but he was doing his share to help out. He was the Complex's resident hacker and was always on the ready for anything they might need that was computer or intelligence related. At the moment he was giving Fallen the exact coordinates to where Gryfon's distress signal had gone off.
Seth was also giving her helpful advice. "The triage we set up on Lucky's lower level is now fully stocked if you need it." His voice was trembling at bit as he offered this, betraying his fear that any of them, his precious Mistress especially, might get injured. Fallen was strong and powerful in her ways, but she was still mortal.
"We'll be fine," she reassured him with a gentle smile. Her eyes were filled with nothing but love for him, warmed by his concern. He had been like this the whole time she had known him so she was well used to it. It was part of what had endeared him to her. It was nice to be so cared for.
Seth was grateful for the smile, even if it did little to allay his fears. He was much too insecure to be so easily soothed. "Well, if you get lost, just follow the beacon on the Dragon 2. It'll give you the exact location of the cabin."
"Will do."
Fallen turned her head when she heard some noise - two more members of the Gold Team had arrived. Scott Summers, the team's leader, walked in with his lovely wife, Jean. Scott was the highest ranking X-men in the Complex that was still active in the field and Second in Command at the Complex. Only Professor Xavier had more authority. Scott was an energy producer like Remy, but instead of releasing that energy into an object and charging it, he released that energy through beams that came out of his eyes. Scott had the same misfortune as Rogue, there was no on/off switch for those beams so he was forced to wear a visor over his eyes that contained the power within. The visor had been modified to allow him to vary the force of those beams if he wished, or he could simply remove it and blow half the building away. Needless to say, he was never without that visor, ever. This particular problem had taught him responsibility and self control, characteristics that had helped to earn him the lofty position he now held today.
Jean, his wife, was a lovely redhead but she was more than good looks. She was both a powerful telepath and a telekinetic as well. It was a handy combination to have in one person and she served the Gold Team well. It might not seem like it, with the few X-men and Siskans that have been described thus far, that telekinesis was a popular skill or mutation to have, but that simply wasn't the case. It was just that the X-men had been blessed enough to have snagged the lion's share of those talented folks to add to their mission of peace.
Scott nodded at Fallen in greeting and he turned to Rogue and Bobby to say, "You guys got here quick. Good. We'll be leaving right away."
Bobby looked over Scott's shoulder to the still open hatchway. "Anybody else coming?"
"Hank's on his way up."
Bobby arched a blonde eyebrow at that. Hank was the Complex's chief physician. "Do you expect any casualties?"
Scott shrugged. "We don't know. The distress call was automated so we don't have any details. Better safe than sorry."
Speak of the devil, Hank came up the ramp and into the room even as they were speaking about him. He was carrying a couple of good sized black bags of first aid equipment in one hand and his Away Pack in the other. Of this particular group Hank looked the least human of them all, including Fallen. He was covered in shocking ultramarine blue fur from head to toe, his face molded into that of a lion man. His black hair was shaggy about his ears and neck, a mane any real lion would envy.
He hadn't always looked this way. Twice now, through potions and poisoning he had altered his appearance. He had been born a normal looking boy with exceptional smarts and agility. In a bid to increase his intelligence, he had created a potion that would supposedly perform this miracle. Instead he accidently forced a secondary mutation that sprouted all that lovely blue fur and gave him the face of a troll. It had been a humbling experience and one he had vowed never to repeat. He had kept that promise as far as not voluntarily altering himself, but a mishap with a poison called Honey had caused a third level mutation he had barely survived.
He had made it through the poisoning alive because of a Siskan. Siskans wanted to be owned and for the most part, they were selected by users who then became their Masters or Mistresses. Star, a Siskan whose Master had been recently killed, had bypassed all that. One look at Hank and it was all over for the big blue guy. She had pursued him relentlessly, wearing down years of reserve that he had painstakingly constructed to protect himself. Who could ever love a man who looked like a big blue troll? Well Star certainly could and did. Hank fortunately relented to her powerful desire and had found the love of his life. Just his luck she was a healer as well. They had just become a couple when Hank was poisoned.
Star's loving attention and ability to help others heal from their injuries had saved Hank's life. Of course her healing sessions weren't orthodox, a high level of personal intimacy was required. For this reason she was kept exclusive and was Hank's alone.
Warren had watched Hank's recovery with great interest. When he had seen Hank recover for the most part intact, a blue lion man with most of his sanity still in place, he had stolen Star for himself and recklessly downed a vial of Honey himself, waiting to see what would happen. It had been disastrous, but Warren had survived, barely, and was now Gryfon. Star had been ill used during all this, forced to perform Warren's healing against her will, and was now kept mostly under Hank's ever watchful eye. He wouldn't see her abused again for any man's ambition. They had actually married just a few short weeks ago, cementing their relationship in every way that counted.
Asher, Seth, and Star were prime examples of just how integrated the Siskans had become into the lives of the X-men. Logan feared this or was at least made uneasy by it, but many of the others were grateful for it, for those Siskans who had made themselves useful at least. There was one remaining Siskan still under permanent lock and key in the jail with no release plans in sight, but one out of seven wasn't bad.
Fallen's current passengers took their seats and moments later they were on their way. It was a short flight and by the time they had made it to Maine, only twenty minutes had passed from when they had first received Gryfon's distress signal, a credit to all the first response drills they ran on a regular basis.
Fallen didn't immediately land, Lucky was far larger than the Dragon 2 and required a good sized amount of open space for that. She did find the nearby clearing, the only close available spot really, but took a flyby first, the many underside cameras giving them a quick view of the area. The big viewing screen could be divided into quarter sections, giving multiple views of what was going on outside. They had good visibility, they just didn't like what they were seeing.
"Is that blood?" Scott asked no one in particular, unbuckling his seatbelt and moving closer to the big screen for a better look. He had spotted irregular dark splotches on the otherwise unblemished snow below them.
"It could be, but we won't know for certain until we go outside and see," Fallen replied, uneasy for the first time since they had left. This wasn't her first time answering a distress call, but it was the first time that blood had been sighted this quickly.
"Fallen, if you would land, please," Scott ordered. "Just be careful not to get too close to whatever that is. It might be important."
"Aye."
Fallen's skill was uncomparable and she landed the large craft as neat as you please, to the left of where all that darkness lay splattered about on the snow. Hank and Scott were already at the hatch before it opened and were the first ones out. "Careful," Scott cautioned though he had no need to for this well trained team. "Who knows what we'll find."
Scott had good reason to be afraid. Yes, this supposedly had started out as some kind of training exercise, but he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt that he had forced Remy to take Gryfon along. Gryfon was half mad, it wasn't that much of a secret. Could this had been Gryfon's fault? A result of his not being able to handle it out here in the field? It might not have been an accident that it was Gryfon's automated alarm that had gone off. Scott, being cautious and wise, kept these thoughts to himself – for now. No sense getting ahead of himself when they still had no idea what had transpired here.
They departed and spread out, each one mindful of the woods that still surrounded them. The trees were bare of leaves but that didn't mean there weren't any places to hide. The ground was much more disturbed than what they had first thought, there were a lot of tracks in the snow, all various sizes and going in all different directions.
Where was Logan when you need him? Scott internally complained. Logan was their best tracker.
"Holy shit!" Bobby cried out from beside him, his voice breaking as he added, "I – I think this is someone's brains..."
As Scott turned to look he saw Bobby pick up what looked like the shredded remains of a black parka vest, one with pink striping. "Don't get too worried," Scott advised, trying to swallow down his own rising gorge. "The only one I saw with a vest was Kyle. He's a healer."
"How many brains can a guy afford to lose and still come back from it?" Bobby tried to joke, but where he was usually quite capable, he couldn't hide his anxiety. This was just too gross.
"Saw Sabretooth lose half a head once," Rogue reminisced, coming over for a closer look. She was describing one of the X-men's most vicious enemies, one who was a healer just as powerful as Kyle. "He came back from like that like it never happened."
"How could you tell?" Bobby joked again more easily, regaining his stride. "Not like that guy had the highest IQ to begin with."
"Too true," she laughed in agreement, happier to keep things at least a little bit light.
"Keep moving," Scott interrupted. "We have a lot of ground to cover."
"This is a lot of blood..." Bobby reiterated even as he obeyed. There was blood with the brains on the tree, blood on the ground, blood practically hanging in the air. His stomach clenched and he swallowed again, not wanting to be the first one to heave. He saw something shining in the bloodied snow and picked it up. "Hey, guys. This looks like a bullet slug."
Scott looked at it and nodded. "This just went from bad to worse."
"Kyle can take ten of those and keep walking," came Hank's calm, doctorly reply. "As for the others, Remy took TrueBlood with him. Just as well he did. He might have come in handy."
"Scott!" came Jean's sharp cry. "I've found Warren!"
They all turned in her direction and saw what looked like a bloody ruin on the ground.
(break)
Gryfon lay crumpled and broken in the snow, his mind not entirely there. Not that he had been all that sane since the Honey poisoning, but that was beside the point. He had been fading in and out, the pleasant black of unconsciousness washing over him with its comforting sense of relief and then falling away to a white of horrible wakefulness like some obscene, maliciously teasing tide with no mercy. He was on his side now, his limbs all askew in the crusty white, had been for a while now, and it was starting to feel good, not at all bad or life threatening like it should have been. He was hot instead, so very hot. He should be shivering but instead was fighting the urge to simply bury himself down in deeper into the frosty coolness all around him. This was probably a bad sign, but he was really too far gone to care.
It was peaceful here now that it had grown quiet and his mind drifted a bit, recalling happier times when he was a lot less reviled. He had been prettier then and had gone skiing often in the resorts that weren't all too far from here, actually. It was as beautiful then as it was now, all white and fun. Women had flocked to him in droves and he was the life of the party, never short of friends. He smiled at the memory, not minding the wet slush of melted snow that chilled his teeth. He opened his mouth wider and drank, never feeling it when his eyes closed and an incoming wave darkness claimed him once more.
He startled awake moments later when he heard voices and then the noise of feet crunching towards him through the hardened snow. "Warren! My God, are you okay...?"
Gryfon's eyes blinked at the familiar sound of Jean's voice and came partway open, but that was all the movement he could manage. He was numb all over and well, he pretty much no longer cared. He had called for the Gold Team and now they had come. Good. Maybe this time when the next wave of black came, it would come for the last time.
"Move aside, Jean, if you would? I need to get a closer look," came Hank's voice next. That was reassuring. Hank was the X-men's doctor and he was in good hands now.
Warren was dimly aware of large hands on his shoulders and then his upper body being moved. Light broke through the slim cracks of his eyelids and a headache instantly bloomed there, large and ugly. A gurgle of protest leaked out of his mouth, but he was so terribly helpless. Where was that pleasant darkness when you needed it? Hello, wave, I'm ready to drown now. Please.
"Is that writing?" someone else asked. It sounded like Rogue but he couldn't be sure. He did have some vague recall of blood and pain, of letters and numbers left in the snow, of something he had very desperately needed to say, but then that could have been in another life. All he wanted to do now was sleep.
"Write it down if you can make it out," Gryfon heard Scott suggest, but he lost the rest of the conversation as those large hands searched his body and brought alive firebrands of pain in his chest and back. He thrashed or at least willed his body to move but he couldn't be sure if it did or not.
"He's been shot in the lower back with a low caliber weapon," Hank observed, his voice stiff and neutral, the words coming slowly and with great care. Speaking had become harder for him than it once was, his face and mouth had been changed with the secondary mutation he had just gone through, but he was working very hard on his articulation. Still all that practice couldn't hide the fact that his tone was the one he used when he was trying not to alarm anyone when the news was bad. "There's no exit wound. The entry hole isn't very deep but the slug will need to be removed. He's got some odd injures on his legs – they look like they've been punctured repeatedly but I couldn't hope to tell you by what. No arteries have been severed but he's still lost a lot of blood."
"Punctured?" Scott questioned warily. "You don't think Logan did that do you?"
Hank shook his head. "While the injuries appear in threes like Logan's claws, the formation is different. I couldn't tell you what this was."
"All right then, but we don't have the time to dig the slug out now," Scott answered. "Just pack his injuries and get him stable so we can try to locate Remy and his team. They might be as bad or worse off than he is now. Plus we don't know that this area is even secure. We have to move."
"W..E..B.. 3.. 5.. 7," Rogue was reciting in the background. She wasn't being very doctorly at all, her voice was trembly with concern. "F.. 1.. 5..0. What the heck does that all mean?"
Gryfon groaned again, the sound of her reading reminding him what he had written and why. Before he had gotten too far gone, he had clawed his arm, using the blood to write in the snow. It was the license plate of the truck the abductor had been driving. The one who was responsible for all this. Sadly, it was looking like his message wasn't as clear as it could have been.
"Are you sure that's not F150?" came another voice. "Look at these tire tracks. They could have come from a large truck."
Good Ole Bobby Drake, Gryfon was thinking now in relief. Iceman was something of a clown, but he wasn't nearly as stupid as folks thought he was.
"We have to get Warren out of here," Hank interrupted. "He should be suffering from hyperthermia right now and yet he's quite feverish instead. Something's not right."
There was a pause as Scott decided then he spoke, "Fallen, you've got the medical equipment and supplies for this on the Dragon?"
"You know I do," came her quick and easy reply. "Hank and Maylee set up a small triage in the lower level for emergencies."
Of course Fallen was here, Gryfon thought. It had taken him momentarily by surprise but then he recalled that unlike Remy's Dragon 2, Fallen's own craft, the Lucky Dragon was faster, much larger, and unattached to any particular squad. She flew whoever needed her most. She wasn't well trained in hand to hand combat but she was a powerful telekinetic which had its pluses.
"Then we'll treat Warren in flight. Have Seth run those numbers through the DMV while we get him loaded," Scott ordered and Gryfon heard Fallen's affirmative reply.
Gryfon groaned in protest as something hard was set against his back and then fought a wave of nausea as he was gently rolled backwards onto it. The battle was short lived and he heaved up his breakfast just as he was lifted up off the ground. Rogue gave a cry of complaint and Gryfon felt his center of gravity shift as whatever he had been placed upon teetered badly to one side.
"Nice catch, Rogue," Bobby couldn't help but laugh. "Aren't you happy now you came back from that mission early?"
"Shut it, Bobby," Scott grumbled, but his voice wasn't that sharp. They all knew that it was his way of coping with high stress situations. And this was a high stress situation if ever there was one. Logan was missing, brains on a tree, Remy's team was abducted, and Gryfon was badly injured. It didn't get much worse that this. Well, not if you count alien invasions or the planet being split in half by a mutant having a meltdown, but who was counting?
"You are so not my favorite person right now," Gryfon heard Rogue playfully grumble into his ear and couldn't help but smile just a bit.
He had been getting that a lot lately, ever since the change. He knew he made them all uncomfortable, that he frightened them all. Heck, he even frightened himself these days with the stray ugly dark thoughts that rambled through his head these days. Remy's complaints against his wandering eyes had been perfectly justified.
Gryfon had no more vomiting as he was righted and carried the rest of the way into Fallen's ship. He was relieved to be finally inside, it was darker here and easier on his poor tortured eyes. It was only a matter of minutes before he felt himself taken down some stairs and then settled down on something more sturdy than the folding stretcher they had carried him in on. Immediately he felt the low rumble in his stomach as the Lucky Dragon's powerful engines came to life followed by the slight lift as the ship took off. He gagged and retched again, his stomach wanting no part of that.
"Easy, now," Hank soothed and pressed a cold cloth to his aching forehead. It was a relief and he let the doctor continue as he pleased without protest. Gryfon felt Hank cleaning up the mess he had made, so very patient and uncomplaining as always.
Gryfon closed his eyes and relaxed, swallowing some as he tried to settle his churning stomach. He knew that darkness was going to come, those trusty waves of relief, yet he just couldn't help but think it was taking too long. He felt the prick of a heavy gauge needle and knew that Hank was setting up an IV. He was happy for it. Drugs would soon follow, the kind that would be most pleasant. Who needs waves when we have morphine?
Other voices came to him, he could hear Scott and Fallen talking some back and forth and he understood that Hank had turned on one of Fallen's many viewing screens that were mounted on the ship's walls, this one was connected to the upper deck so Hank could keep track of what was going on up there as he worked on his patient down below.
"Seth has three trucks with that plate number if you can believe it," Fallen was reporting. "A black one from Massachusetts, a green one from Texas and a white one from New Jersey. All were reported stolen over the past three days."
"Is that a joke?" Scott was complaining. "That makes no sense."
"I don't make the news, boss, I only report it," she joked in reply trying to keep things as light as possible. It was just too tense up there.
Gryfon grunted, seeing Fallen's face in his mind as he teetered on the brink of passing out. He didn't know her that well, he had been an administrator for many years before this recent change in his status and she mostly did impromptu mission work when no one else was available. They hadn't crossed paths much. She was small and white, having Kimble's body shape but not his size. She had once been human but had been forcibly mutated after Dognan slavers had come to her planet and stolen all the humans away.
The X-men had crossed paths with her on an off world mission and taken her back with them, including the two Siskans she had in her possession, Kimble and Seth. Because she had started with the Siskans, Gryfon often considered her to be Siskan as well by association, even though she wasn't artificially made as they had been.
Of the pair of Siskans, Seth had been more favorably received than Kimble had been, mainly because he was less troublesome and had the best hacker skills than anyone else in the Complex. Seth still belonged to Fallen and looked more like a brother to her than what he actually was - Kimble's twin. Kimble's mental shattering had occurred long before Fallen had found him and being a talented creature, she had done her best to repair him. To do this, she had created a personality fragment from Kimble's scrambled codes and tried to reintegrate them. That hadn't been successful and the result was two separate Siskan Courtesans from the same set of original coding. It was clumsy but it had worked for the most part, though it had occurred to Hank that Seth's existence was the main reason why Kimble's later more professional personality separation repair hadn't stuck. Seth was the glue that Kimble was missing to keep him all together permanently.
Gryfon could care less about any of that of course. Like most of the X-men in high position in the Complex, he had been grateful that Seth was around. The guy had been a steady supplier of desperately needed information. The weasely fellow had even hacked into the supposedly impenetrable SHIELD mainframe, something many had considered impossible. Breaking into the DMV as he was now doing was chump change. However, the guy needed a little bit of help just now, having to decide which of the three vehicles they should be chasing if they managed to catch up with it. Ford trucks were very popular, there were just too many out there.
Gryfon found the energy and the will enough to move. He reached out and weakly grasped Hank's large furry hand. "Wh– white..." he gasped, his voice little more than a rough whisper.
The doctor leaned in close. "What was that?"
"Wh– white... white truck.." Gryfon croaked and then shuddered as the black that had been hovering there for so long finally began to descend. He welcomed it and let go of the doctor, oh so ready for it. It took him and he was gone.
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