Summery: Logan learns that how we see the past is up to our own perspective. Features Famayalin (Wild Child), Asher and Wolverine.
Notes: This story takes place in Kimbleverse – wait! Don't run away, screaming. There is an introduction provided below for those of you who haven't read any of my previous work. :)
Rated M for profanity, violence and some sexual content.
Disclaimer : I do not own the X-men or any of their associated villains, but all of the Siskans, the Dognan, Jael and the Outkasts are mine. Please do not use them without my permission. Thanks. :)
This is an illustrated work and the art is available soon on my website which you can get to by clicking on my profile.
Updated 11-1-13 to add (break)s as needed and to fix errors.
(Introduction)
Howdy, peoples! I am writing this introduction for those of you who happened to click on this wondering what it and the Kimbleverse is all about. Well, a while back I began posting a long fanfiction that involved both the X-men and some characters of my own creation, most notably my own dear Kimble.
Bah, you say! Who needs OCs (other characters) anyway! Well, take into consideration that technically any new X-men after Giant Sized #1 could be considered an OC, they are not part of the original team after all. That would include some big names – Kitty Pryde, Gambit, Cable, Bishop, Maggot, Marrow, Psyclocke, all the Gen M kids. Are you getting the idea now? Yes, this story has a few OCs, but I'm asking you to let them pass or fail on their own merits, not because they are not original X-men.
My stories are kinda long, but they are Gambit, Beast and Wolverine heavy throughout so that should hopefully make up for it, LOL.
For those of you read comics regularly, Kimbleverse isn't all that far from our familiar 616 but I have made a few small changes, making it different enough that I have dubbed my little realm Kimbleverse. (Because I began writing this stuff ages ago, this universe ignores much of current Marvel continuity, including House of M, Civil War, the lame ass Gambit/Death Horseman Milligan disaster, and unfortunately the delightful Wolverine Lupine arc by Jeff Loeb that began after I had already written most of this.)
What the heck what went on in this crazy Kimbleverse you might ask? Well, it began about nine years ago when three X-men –- Beast, Wolverine and Gambit – got kidnapped by offworld slavers called the Dognan and were taken away to another world. They had some adventures there and made some new friends. They were eventually rescued and returned safely, but they brought along with them some of those new friends, including two Siskan Courtesans named Kimble and Seth.
What's a Siskan Courtesan? Well, some Siskan inventors created elaborate holograms not unlike those the X-men use in their Danger Room training sessions. These holograms were solid and real, serving as household staff and meeting their Master's needs – whatever they might be. Sexually skilled and compliant, they were highly prized and sought after.
Every once in a while, when a batch of these Siskans was made, one or two might come out differently. The Makers would call them defective, but what really happened was that they were far more self aware than the regular Courtesans, they were sentient and very much alive. They were also empaths to various degrees. The Makers called them the Lushna-esk, the holograms that could "feel". When discovered, the Lushna-esk were most often destroyed, but every once in a while, one of them would escape detection and be let out into the world.
Kimble and Seth were Lushna-esk Courtesans, but not by accident. Instead, they came from a special clutch of Courtesans that were created for a special purpose – the Game. All the Courtesans involved were Lushna-esk by deliberate design and they were scattered not long after they were made. The goal of the Game was to find as many of these special Courtesans as you could, a sort of scavenger hunt that took place across an entire galaxy. Each Courtesan was fated to find an angel, an object of some value. The more angels a Master might collect, the stronger he would become.
Kimble and Seth fell into the hands of the X-men by accident and were given a home with them where they were well cared for. Later the X-men would learn of the Game and that it would be finished on their world of all places. They also learned that the Courtesans from that special clutch included six Courtesans with unique enhancements. They were called Rogues and Kimble was included in that six.
The Game was played on Earth and concluded at an underground Complex that had been specially made by Charles Xavier in an Industrial Park in Arizona.
As the Game was played, the X-men met and learned about some of the other Rogues. All the Courtesans in the Game are specially marked with large tattoos that show their rank and standing. The six Rogues all have individual colors that none of the others share. One such Rogue, the Grey, was named Asher, a Courtesan dressed in the skin of centaur, a wise and careful councilor. He has many talents, one of which is the ability to look in the mind of one person and project their thoughts into the mind of another. He does not use this talent as a weapon, it's a tool Asher uses to help two confused parties better understand one another. Asher is compassionate, celibate, and a devout Christian.
His clutchmate Skye, the Yellow, is not so compassionate the X-men would learn. Skye's powers include the ability to repair damaged humans and even restore lost powers to a depowered mutant. That little favor comes with a price – Skye is a sexual sadist. He will restore you, but he will also try to enslave you to his will in exchange. This was proven out when he came across two such depowered mutants – Sabretooth and Wild Child. They were renamed Kristalay and Famayalin respectively – and Skye restored them, but enslaved them as well. He called them his lions and used them to play his small part in helping the X-men survive the Game. Skye is strong with two of the Lushna-esk talents – a powerful empathy called Kundatesh and Morrowhiem, the healing glitter. Morrowhiem is intoxicating and addictive to those who receive it often. Both Kristalay and Famayalin fell under his spell and obeyed his every command.
After the Game reached its cataclysmic conclusion and Jael was destroyed, Skye and his lions were taken into custody by the X-men and brought down to holding cells in the underground Complex. It is there that we find them and the Wolverine who watches over them.
I hope this little intro brings everyone back up to speed, I tried to keep it brief. It only just scratches the surface of what went on before this one shot takes place. There will be additional recap material as needed as we go along, I beg the forgiveness from those who have already read all my other stories. You guys can just skim over it here and there, LOL. For those of you who are new, I hope that this introduction and the story that follows is enough to make you consider reading the previous two series of books. Don't be afraid, I don't bite... :)
(One)
(This story takes place in between chapters 4 and 5 of Flight, part two of Learning to Fly. It has been only three days since the Game was played.)
Somewhere in the middle of the Arizona desert, lies a sparkling city called Costin. Just outside of that fair city there is a large Industrial Park that is home to several large businesses and manufacturing sites. It would look normal to anyone that might happen to fly over it, but one of the large glass buildings houses an even bigger secret – an underground Complex where the X-men now reside. The Complex was built in case of emergencies, thinking that proved valid when their former home, a mansion in Westchester, New York, was later demolished by the terrorist Jael.
A new home meant new jobs for everyone and at the moment the Head of Security for most of the Complex, a man named Logan, was busy having his morning coffee and a look at the paper. He sat at the large mahogany desk in his office, grumbling a bit over the morning news. Three days had passed since the Game had ended and the folks living here in the underground Arizona Complex were still trying to recover. As many as four thousand mutants had died in that mess, a good number of them fellow X-men. Their bodies had been incinerated to hide the deed, but the dead would still be sorely missed.
Logan had been very busy helping with the cleanup and getting things back to normal. Being head of security here for a large portion of the Complex had kept him running around the place, checking badge stations, alarms, and door locks. This morning he had vowed to take it easy and had started with a cup of coffee and the paper.
It wasn't the best of ideas, the paper was full of bad news - another anti-mutant group had bombed a series of shelters in California, killing a number of mutant women and children. Dead babies on the front page was a sure fired way to start the day off in a bad mood - Logan's codename Wolverine, was well deserved. He wasn't known for his pleasant, happy banter.
Worse than all that was the big front page spread where SHIELD was now claiming full responsibility for the demise of Jael, the big bad anti-human terrorist that had caused all that ruckus outside. It wasn't so much that SHIELD wanted all the glory that was pissing Logan off, it was the glib way in which they had done it. It had been understood that the X-men's involvement was not to be mentioned, but geez, the least they could have done was give some credit to "outside agencies." Logan knew full well that it was a combination of the X-men and another mutant group called the Outkasts that had actually brought Jael down, not those arrogant SHIELD bureaucrats. Those uniformed jokes were lucky if they could find their bootstraps on a good day.
Well, enough of that, Logan was thinking. He had plenty to do today besides worry about what SHIELD was thinking or doing. He had people in his holding cells to look after. He should do the rounds and get them over with.
There were two sets of holding cells in his jurisdiction. The first was a minimum security wing put in place to contain the drunk or rowdy for a day or so and not meant for anything serious. It was there that the big black Siskan, Simone, was being held. Simone was violent and angry, attacking anyone who tried to speak with him. He had been moved to the far end of the holding area where he could be better isolated. Simone had liked that just fine and had settled down into a quiet solitude, enjoying his benign neglect.
The second area of holding cells was an official detention area and already in use in spite of this underground facility being relatively new. These cells were medium to higher security and had various locking mechanisms depending on the strength and capabilities of the prisoner contained within. There were three prisoners being held there currently - Kristalay, Famayalin, and their Siskan Master, Skye.
Kristalay had made it plain he was done with Skye, though he still insisted on being called Kristalay. That name had actually been given to him by Kimble who had lived with him for a time. The name had stuck and Kristalay would be Sabretooth no more. He was being quiet for now, contenting himself with exercise and waiting to see what the decision would be regarding his status here.
Skye had proven to be a handful. His second day here in custody, he had tried to wield his empathic power against Logan, using the glittering Morrowhiem dust in an attempt to sway Logan's mind. Logan hadn't taken it well and had dragged Skye without an ounce of dignity down to the far end where the maximum security cells were and tossed him in the nearest one. Those cells had energy screens for doors and the Morrowhiem couldn't pass through. Skye could glitter himself to death in there for all Logan cared.
Now, making his rounds this morning, Logan walked past the cell where Kristalay presently lay sleeping and looked in on his third charge, Famayalin, the creature formerly known as Wild Child. The boy had been a real pain in the ass from the moment he had been brought down here. Unlike Kristalay, he hadn't taken the separation from his Master well and spent most of his time digging away at one of the front corners of his cell as though he might actually be able to claw his way out.
Logan had met and clashed with Wild Child many times in the past, both in the Weapon X program and later. The boy before him now looked very differently than he had then. He had previously been just another feral mutant with claws on both his hands and feet and had a bit of fang. A moderate healing factor had completed the set. Jael had since depowered and dumped the boy's body on the streets where Skye had later found him. Skye's power healed the damaged, but it did that and more. Wild Child's legs had become bent and crooked like the beast he was and his claws and fangs were restored but at greater length than before. His face was different, having a small but pronounced snout, all the better to house those elongated fangs. The name change to Famayalin was apt, it meant Little Lion in Siskan.
Famayalin wasn't taking his current incarceration well. He dug and dug, scrabbled and scrabbled. He shattered claw after claw but yet kept digging away at the hard cement floor, his newly enhanced healing factor keeping him going. There was an ugly splash of red there, blood from the poor boy's ravaged hands. He would dig and dig, only to fall down hours later in exhaustion. A rough, unrestful nap later and he was back at it again.
At the moment the boy was tapped out and laying in a dejected heap, curled up small in the corner of his cell, a familiar sight to Wolverine. How many times had he seen this image? Wolverine had known the boy for years, Wild Child had been incarcerated several times during Logan's stint in Weapon X as the directors feebly tried to rehabilitate the monster they themselves had created. None of their attempts had been successful and Wolverine couldn't hide his ire that now this pathetic reject was once more in his sights.
As if sensing Logan's less than benevolent thoughts, Famayalin opened his bloodshot eyes and looked up at him with nothing but pure malice. He hissed as he moved his poor exhausted body into a more defensive posture. "Mrr! Go 'way!"
Wolverine slouched up against the door, not giving an inch. This cell hadn't been outfitted with bars, it was a medium security cell with a door of solid clear plastic laced with energy filaments. It couldn't be scratched, broken or smashed, a Dr. Lector knockoff. It had small silver dollar sized holes for a bit of ventilation, but the openings weren't large enough for a hand to pass through. It just wasn't safe to leave this freak where he could reach out and grab someone passing by. Logan sniffed at him, made a face. "You be a good boy, now. Maybe I'll let ya out in a bit for a wash. You sure could use it."
It was true, the boy was filthy, covered with dried blood and old foamy spit. His snout was fringed with the beginnings of a scraggly, disheveled beard. Famayalin could have cared less what he looked like, he was only filled with hate. "Mrr! Fuck you!"
"Now that ain't too nice. I'll never understand you, kid. From day one you've been nuthin' but a royal pain in the ass. Why is that?"
Famayalin continued to growl, showing his long bloodied fangs. He wasn't sure if the question was serious or not, but never had this man been nice to him, not once.
Logan's memory had been shattered and was for the most part now restored, but Famayalin's had remained intact and the weight of those long years was heavy on him indeed. In spite of his youthful looks, he was close to forty now, a mere pup to Logan's one hundred plus. All that time had brought him nothing but misery and pain but none more so that those long dark years in the Weapon X program. He had met both Wolverine and Sabretooth there, instructors with eyes of cold steel and hands of brutal, unrelenting abuse.
Wild Child had struggled his way through the Program and was never once given any reprieve for his many efforts. The life there had been harsh and brutal. Wolverine had never beaten him up for kicks like Sabretooth had, but there was no kindness there. Not once had Logan stepped in to intervene on his behalf and a few times had even laughed as Creed smashed him into a wall, chuckling as Wild Child had returned for more, unwilling to let Sabretooth have the last word.
Famayalin looked on Wolverine now, his cougar eyes red with hatred. "Mrr! Hate you! Hate you all! Hurt you all!"
"Now what did we ever do to you, ya freak!"
Famayalin roared his fury and launched himself at the glass, forcing Logan to take a step back in surprise. He popped the claws on one hand reflexively with a loud metallic snickt! sound. Logan's mutation was similar to Famayalin's - enhanced senses but also that same healing factor. The healing factor had brought him only trouble, the folks running the Weapon X program had exploited that mutation and coated all of Logan's bones with Adamantium, an indestructible metal. Only a mutant that could survive any injury could have withstood such a torturous procedure and he had. The bones of his entire body had been coated, including six bone claws he had been gifted with as an additional mutation, three in each arm. Logan could extend and retract these claw knives at will through his hands - built in daggers that could cut through nearly anything.
Logan had popped those claws now in response to Famayalin's charge at the glass but there was no real need to use them. This was a special glass made to contain powerful mutants such as this one and it was holding up well. Famayalin hit the barrier and slashed at it futilely, unable to even scratch it.
Logan stood there, watching the boy freak out while being unable to fathom where all this rage had come from. Everyone in Weapon X had tried to work with the kid, doing their best to cater to his special needs but all Wild Child had done was take advantage of them and go out on killing and raping sprees, unwilling to repay the kindnesses given to him by trying to curb his own violent tendencies. Sure Sabretooth had smacked him around some, but it was that no one liked the kid really. Who would? The boy was incorrigible, a total waste of time. Sabretooth had only been expressing what everyone else had been thinking.
"Gots a real angry boy there, ayup," came a familiar voice from behind Logan where he stood.
Wolverine turned to see Asher standing near the watch desk, his ever present Mumbler, Smee, in his hands. Smee was small and purple, looking like a ferret that had fallen in a bucket of violet dye. He was an Angel and therefore more than he seemed. He could talk and often did so, his little comments more annoying than anything else to Logan. Asher had asked for and was granted limited access to the detention area. He was here now, coming in to try and work with Skye. Famayalin's noise had blocked the sound of his arrival.
Logan squinted at him, unhappy with the interruption to his rounds. "What ya want here, Ash?"
"Came to looks in on my brother," the centaur replied in his low lazy drawl, coming closer. All the Siskans here were clutch mates and had a habit of calling themselves brothers and sisters, something a bit jarring since Logan knew of two of them who were currently engaged to be married to one another. They were all freaks as far as Logan was concerned, he hadn't yet met one he could fully trust and now there were six living here.
The main trouble Logan had with the Siskans was their overtly sexual natures. They had been created for pleasure and now that they had found themselves in mainstream society, had difficulty with restraint in that department. Their moral values were skewed and it wasn't beyond them to make inappropriate passes at people or even commit what many here would consider to be sexual crimes. Kimble was currently on the sexual offenders list for one such mistake and Logan knew he wouldn't be the only one there. It was only a matter of delayed record keeping that had so far kept Skye from joining that list.
The bundle of feral rage in the holding cell stopped his tirade and took a step back, taking in the strange sight before him. Asher was peculiar to anyone at first glance – he had been given the skin of a centaur and was a youthful boy on hooves, a bit jarring to anyone even in this world filled with mutants. His human parts were those of a pre-adolescent boy of fourteen or so, his hair wispy and silver. His pony's body was a grey and brown brindle mix and the fur soft as satin. His tail was long and brown, his hooves polished and clean. Unlike the other Siskans here, Asher was celibate though it hadn't been by choice at first – his pony's body was genderless in spite of his male upper half. He couldn't engage in physical sexual play like his clutch mates even if he had wanted to. An angry former Master had punished Asher so for a sexual mistake and he had been paying the price for it ever since.
Regardless of his limitations, you wouldn't know Asher wasn't organically alive to look at him, he was alert, vibrant and had an engaging personality. He was fully sentient as were the rest of the Siskans, bright and aware. He wore only a brown leather bag that he most often carried Smee in but also the tools of his trade – a Bible, smokes and chocolate, those things most likely to calm an unruly Siskan. He was hoping to get Skye to talk to him.
At the moment now, Asher had Famayalin's undivided attention. The boy's hair was wild now from his outburst and slivers of drool hung from his chin, but his condition didn't deter the Siskan one bit. Asher gave Famayalin a warm welcoming smile and said, "Why hullo there, little fella. What y'all gots to be so angry 'bout, huh?"
"Mrr! Locked up!"
"Well, we's all locked up one way 'r another, I guess. What matters is how ya deals with it," Asher replied, his voice low and easy. All the Rogues in the Game had this same almost southern drawl, an accent that set them all apart and made them easy to recognize. Unfortunately, if you had more than one in the same room, it made Logan wonder when the fiddles, fried chicken, and cotton picking was set to begin. It could get on one's nerves if you let it.
Asher placed a hand on the glass, ignoring a hiss of warning from Logan that followed. Asher's fingers had partially slipped through one of the air holes where they could be clawed at or bitten, a safety hazard. Asher could have cared less, he was looking down at Famayalin now, his only intent to calm the poor boy into some semblance of mind. "Shush, now. Easy, kitten. What's there ta be all fussin' about? Ya gots a nice warm bed there, some good clean food ta eats. I knows ya ain't always had it that way, I kin sees it in yer eyes."
Famayalin backed down, returning to all fours and wiping his chin. "Mrr. Hates me. All of you," he replied, the human words hard to get out of his poor feral mouth.
"Well, I don' hates ya. Not one little bit. How could I? We only just met."
"Always happens," Famayalin muttered, looking away in disgust.
"What're you talkin' about?" Wolverine grumped. "All everybody's done to you is try to help you out and all you ever did was throw it back in their faces."
Famayalin rose back up again, his rage returning once more. "Mrr! Grwollrr! What help? 'Tooth smash! Wolv'rine laugh! Think so funny, eh? Fuck you! Mrr! Hurt you! Hate you! Kill you!"
"Angry angry, shoutsy, he is," Smee mumbled in agitation, moving from Asher's hands to his shoulders, seeking higher ground. He had no fear for his own safety, his large Master would protect him, but Famayalin in his rage was a sight to be seen. "Hatesy angry!"
Logan didn't hear the Mumbler's chatter, he was too busy snarling his response back to the prisoner. "Hey! 'Saby done what he did 'cause all you did was fuck up!"
"Whoa-ho there fellas!" Asher said, moving in between them and releasing some calming Kundatesh. "Y'all just settle down now. There ain't no needs ta be all riled up an' yellin'."
Wolverine flinched in anger as he felt Asher's empathic power come at him as the Siskan tried to assist him in backing off. He moved away from the centaur as though the boy was poison and showed his teeth in his anger, wanting none of it. Unlike the healing Morrowhiem glitter, the Kundatesh couldn't be seen, but Logan had been around too many empaths and telepaths not to know it was there. He would never be receptive to manipulation, all it did was piss him off even further. The only thing that kept Asher from being in a cell himself was that unlike so many of his Siskan kin, he had never once been violent or sexually inappropriate.
Asher sensed his mistake and immediately withdrew his power. He was quick to apologize. "Sorry, man. Didn't means no offense. Just tryin' ta gits y'all ta back off some."
"This is my jail, my rules, boy. You wanna keep coming here, you keep that sick shit away from me!" Logan growled deep and low, sounding an awful lot like the feral boy trapped in the cell.
Famayalin meanwhile had gone suddenly silent. He was momentarily startled, not realizing that the Kundatesh, an empathic power he had come to enjoy, could come from anyone other than his Master, Skye. He had never met Asher before today, but perhaps if his mind hadn't been so overwrought with suffering and anger, he might have noticed Asher's big Grey mark so similar to Skye's own bright Yellow. All the Siskans in the Game were marked with large tattoos that covered most of their upper chest - a winged, naked woman laying along the blade of sword, each one having a distinctive color that came with a Title. Asher's color was the Grey and the Title that came with it was Regulator, an apt one as he spent most of his time keeping his Siskan kin in line.
Famayalin knew none of this of course and at the moment would not have cared if he had. He moved back to the glass, but didn't attack it. Instead he placed his paws upon the barrier and whimpered to be fed. Logan might not want what Asher had to offer, but he most certainly did.
Asher turned to him, seeing his need. He put a hand over Famayalin's, sympathetic but firm in his resolve. "Yer hungry, huh? I kin sees Skye didn't waste no time in fuckin' ya up all inside. See him an' me, our power's kinda the same. We kin heals, but his... his binds ya to him, makin' you a slave," he explained, his voice gentle.
Wolverine backed off a bit, not sure if Asher was talking to him as well, trying to make him understand. The evenness of Asher's voice was almost hypnotic, making his anger dissipate quickly. He could see now why Remy spoke so highly of him. It wasn't that Asher was trying to manipulate anyone, it was just that he was so damn reasonable and friendly. Passive and non-threatening.
"I won't gives ya my Kundatesh nor m' Morrowhiem neither, sorry. I knows yer hungry fer it, but it wouldn't helps you, only makes yer hunger worse," Asher continued, his grey eyes showering benevolence on the young man trapped on the other side of the barrier. "I knows they ain't gonna lets me in there right now, so I'll just tell ya what. Keeps it quiet in there, don't makes no fuss. When Logan here sez y'all kin comes out, I'll comes find ya. Maybe I kin helps ya, maybe not, but I'd be more 'n happy ta try."
"Mrr! Master!" Famayalin wailed, sobbing now. He would gladly substitute the centaur for Skye, if only he would feed him the glorious Morrowhiem.
"I ain't the Master of nobody, an' I never wants ta be," Asher replied. "But I'd be yer friend, Kyle."
Famayalin put his head down, slumping back to the floor, rejected and downcast. "Kyle gone. No more."
"Naw, he's just a little lost is all. You been further off the path than ya are now, Kyle. Skye brung ya back some, showed that there's more in there than a monster fulla hurtin' an' killin'."
Wolverine shook his head. How could Asher know anything like that? Besides that, how did he even know Kyle's real name? Wild Child had come to Weapon X under the name of Kyle Gibney, something that was not well known. No one had said anything about Asher being telepathic or anything, just insightful. He seemed to possess information beyond what he should have. Logan didn't understand.
Asher continued to console the lost young man. "Ya gots a strong heart, I kin sees it beatin' in ya, see yer nice bright shine. Yer capable of so much good, an' so much bad. While yer waitin' ta come out, when yer mind is a little more quiet, just ask yerself — Did I gits more from bein' bad an' mean an' hurtful than I gots when I wuz good? Did it makes me feel any better?"
Famayalin stopped crying and looked up at Asher, a bead of understanding forming there behind the wildness. "Master love me! Love 'May'lin quiet!"
"Yeah, Skye done that in his way," Asher replied, unable to hide an undertone of dislike for his wayward brother. "He beat ya, didn't he though? 'Til you wuz calm."
"Quiet 'May'lin! Mrr! Grrr! Quiet 'May'lin gets love!"
"That's right. A quiet Famayalin gits his love," Asher repeated with a gentle smile. "That's how it works here, too. All yer anger an' fightin', what did theys ever git ya 'cept kicked in the head? Lookit here now? Logan's all riled up, yer room here is all a mess. What didja gits from that, huh? Did it makes yer anger an' yer hunger go away?"
"No," Famayalin answered quietly.
"All right then. Think now some on what happened here t'day. What do they say, huh? Ya gits more with honey than ya does with vinegar. It all ain't made up shit, now ain't it?"
The boy looked up at Asher, a strange glow in his eyes. "You May'lin friend. No smash, jus'... jus' talks nice."
"That's right, Kyle. Asher's yer friend, always is. He's evrabody's friend cuz he ain't gots no hate now. Seen it never done him no good, not ever. Gots a heart full of peace an' love. I'd loves ta share it with ya, kitten. You just be good some an' they'll lets ya out. Then you an' me kin talks some more."
"Skye Master. Take 'May'lin home."
Asher just shrugged, knowing that wasn't likely to happen. He could, however, offer an alternative to that. "Maybe Skye's yer Master. Maybe Kyle could be instead. Looks ta me likes ya gots a chance ta find out. If ya needs a friend, I'm around. I always gots time."
Wolverine backed all the way up now, leaning against the back wall with his head down. His own question had been answered with Asher's few simple words. Although the people at Weapon X had tried to help Kyle, no one had ever reached out to him and tried to be his friend. Certainly not himself. And no one had offered him the personal freedom of owning himself. Always Kyle and the others had been property, Weapon X property. None of them had been free to just walk away. Logan felt an unexpected surge of pity and shame. He should have tried to reach out, but he had always been too busy with his own problems or simply let Kyle's fuckups simply get in the way.
He looked up and met Asher's soft grey eyes, not surprised to see a look of understanding there. Understanding, but no sympathy. One thing he would quickly learn about with Asher was that the guy was quick to reach out with forgiveness to the lost, but there would always be some distance between him and those who didn't act with the same heart. No harsh words would ever leave his lips, but there was a measure of contempt there, for Wolverine's inability to see the obvious — Hey, you fucked up and I just showed you how in less than five minutes, loser. Man, you are all so incredibly blind.
Asher turned back to Famayalin. "Good morrow now, Kyle. I gots ta go on now and sees m' brother down the hall. Maybe if Logan here has a mind ta be generous, he'll let me come back an' talks with ya some later on. You gots ta be good now if ya wants that ta happen, eh?"
"May'lin quiet! Mrr! Quiet! Ash come, May'lin friend!"
Asher smiled, showing his bright white teeth. "Asher is yer friend, yes. Bye for the now, 'kay?"
"G'bye!" Famayalin said, his mouth stretched in a happy, loopy grin. So odd that being there, as if the boy had never smiled before.
Asher patted the glass and withdrew, giving Logan a curt nod as he passed by and headed deeper into the detention cells. He turned away and clopped off, his glossy hooves making soft noises on the hard floor. He never looked back.
Wolverine watched him go, his head full of doubts. Yeah, Asher might be able to calm Famayalin for a minute or two, but the guy was suggesting the kid might be worthy of some rehabilitation, something Logan rather doubted was possible. Only time would prove which of them was right.
(break)
Asher had hoped to see Famayalin again and it did indeed happen, just far sooner than Wolverine had expected.
The following afternoon, Logan walked into the detention room, pushing a cart with trays of food for his three charges. The others had taken food readily enough even though they were caged, but not Famayalin. The boy had been here for four days now and he hadn't eaten a thing, nor had he had any meaningful sleep. He had spent most of that time either curled up in the corner or pacing restlessly on all fours, grunting and growling to himself. He kept his word to Asher and was quiet, he didn't attack the glass anymore or anyone who came to bring him food or talk. It was nice and quiet here, just the way Logan liked it.
Max was at the watch desk today, keeping an eye on things. Max was a young man in his early twenties, a man who could easily have been Warren Worthington's much younger brother. Both were blonde and winged, but Max had the advantage of being telekinetic as well. He could make protective shields of hardened air and carry heavy loads while in flight. He had grown up well under Logan's tutelage and was one of his best Security officers.
Wolverine stopped, startled, when he saw that Max was not alone, his own wife was there at the watch desk as well. Karen Logan was a beautiful woman, a gleaming redhead with a winning smile. Unlike her husband she was a normal human and had no mutant abilities at all. She was a strong woman just the same, the wife of this man Wolverine would have to be, and she was unafraid in his presence. Karen was the house shrink and as such, she had been coming here to try and talk to Famayalin and Skye, but hadn't been having much success with either one.
Seeing her here now surely meant trouble. She and Logan had already had a vicious fight over Skye – the sick fuck had tried to freak her out by masturbating at her, going so far as to fling his cum at her (at least the energy screen had blocked that...), and Logan had found out about it. Skye might not be organically alive, but his makers had seen fit to make him appear as realistic as possible, even when it came to bodily fluids. Just the idea of another man showing his Johnson at his wife was enough to send Logan into a fury, never mind a man who had gone so far as to complete a sexual act in her presence. He had forbidden her to return and she had gone over his head, gaining permission from the Professor to continue their sessions. Wolverine hadn't been happy and they had been a bit cool since the incident. Her being here now wasn't going to help that any, he knew.
Karen saw his expression of bewildered irritation and said with maddening calm, "Don't be angry."
He stiffened and once more fell into a defensive slouch. He recognized by her tone that she had gone and done something behind his back - again. She usually did things like that for a good reason, but it always managed to irritate him. He disliked being worked around. He replied with saccharine sweetness, "Is there somethin' I should be angry about, darlin'?"
"Asher asked me to bring him down. He said he might be able to help with Kyle."
"And did he?" Wolverine asked, his voice calm, but his eyes were sharp with anger. Karen and he, in their various jobs, had almost equal power now when it came to the incarcerated. She could not free anyone, but the Professor trusted her enough to allow her to help the prisoners in any way she saw fit, including bringing them visitors. Wolverine respected her abilities, but he was unhappy that he hadn't been consulted about Asher's level of access to Famayalin. Asher was supposed to be here for Skye and no one else. It was just irritating that yet again, a Siskan was poking his head in where it wasn't wanted. It seemed like more than ever they were out here trying to run the show.
"Actually, yes. He got Kyle to lay down and sleep. He's been out for about an hour."
Logan growled softly in irritation and scorn. Kyle. Kyle. Kyle. Like if they said Famayalin's proper name enough, they could somehow bring the boy around. The poor fools, they had no idea who they were dealing with. The Wild Child he knew had been a sick freak from the day they had met, not the sort of thing that could change overnight.
Logan left the food cart at the watch desk and walked down, wanting to see what was going on for himself. He stopped outside the cell, unhappy all over again that the protective glass door was now open. That was a clear violation of the rules and would have to be dealt with. Asher was strong and powerful in his way, but if Famayalin had a mind to rip and tear his way out, Wolverine doubted Asher or Karen could stop him.
At the moment, things were quiet, no escape was in progress. Asher was laying down on the floor, his pony legs folded under him with his side against the far wall, his Mumbler perched on one shoulder as always. Famayalin was held in his arms, wrapped in a blanket, lying there for all the world like a lost and found orphan. His eyes were closed and he was deeply asleep, his face relaxed and calm for the first time since being brought down here. It made him seem less ugly, less of a monster to be feared.
"You had no right to come in here," Wolverine growled, displeased with the Siskan's presence. "This kid is locked up fer a reason. He's dangerous. Get out!"
Asher looked up at him, his eyes holding no fear, just that same passive calm. "I asked Karen and she said it wuz all right. I tol' her I could makes him sleeps. He's real tired."
"I coulda got the doc to give him something."
Asher chuckled softly. "But you didn't. Besides, my way's better."
"Fuck you. Get out!"
Asher regarded him once more and yet did not move an inch, his eyes less serious now. "Didja know that Kyle wuz born a normal human?"
"What?" Logan asked, startled more by the change in tack than the question itself. He had suspected some things about Wild Child's past, this being one of them.
"Didja knows he ain't really a mutant like the rest of yous?"
"How did ya know that?" Logan countered, his eyes full of suspicion.
"He told me," Asher replied simply.
"He can barely speak. How'd he tell you anything?"
"He's easy ta unnerstand — if ya knows how to listen."
"You shouldn't be in here. He's a killer. Get out!" Wolverine ordered, not wanting to have this conversation. He was distrustful of this Siskan, his power was of the kind that set him on edge. He especially disliked Asher's calm yet slightly condescending tone, like Wolverine knew nothing. Again, this Siskan had no idea who he was dealing with.
The Mumbler startled awake at Logan's raised voice, but Asher didn't budge. "Yeah, he's a killer all right. A product of an environment where he's always been someone's possession. A pawn. A plaything fer madmen. Kinda reminds me of a few Siskans I knows," he finished with an ironic laugh.
"He ain't like you," Logan replied. "He's flesh an' blood."
"But still made," Asher countered quickly, desperate to get his point across. "What's been made kin be unmade if ya haves a mind ta try. So much easier when the product is willin'. When the ultimate prize is his alone — a return from damnation. His vera soul."
"Soulsy he is, yes. Soulsy," the Mumbler chatted, adjusting himself to a more comfortable position. "Wakesy, too."
Wolverine snorted at Asher's preachy words, ignoring the Mumbler completely. What a fool this Siskan was, thinking he could waltz in here and just cure everybody he touched as if he was Jesus himself. "It can't be done, so just give it up. Good folks have tried and got nowhere with this kid. He only gives a shit about himself."
"And those who tried to help him, did they fergives him?"
Logan blinked in surprise. "What?"
"Did they ever fergives him fer what he done?" Asher asked, his grey eyes almost merry as he pinned Logan down with such a simple question.
Wolverine had no answer and crossed his arms in irritation.
Asher returned Wolverine's arrogant snort, victorious. "I thought not. You humans, yer hearts'r so hard, like little blocks of ice. You an' the Dognan both."
"Hey! We ain't like them!" Logan complained, not wanting to be compared to those barbaric slave masters. The Dognan were a cruel race, traveling from world to world, stealing the inhabitants and turning them into slaves. The Game had been created for their own perverse enjoyment with no regard as to how the poor sentient Siskan Courtesans might feel about it. The whole thing didn't sit well with Wolverine and it still rankled.
Asher wasn't fazed by the outburst. "Oh yes ya are. Ya come, ya conquer, ya thirst fer more. Gots ta be in charge, the ones on top. This place here is a prime example. Ya sez this is a place of freedom, butcha all gots badges. Ain't gots the right badge, hey, ya ain't gots as much rights as the next guy. Not all the mutants here is equals."
"That was done fer Security," Logan argued defensively. "We've been infiltrated already. There was a frikken war fought up on the damn runway, fer Pete's sake! People here have been hurt, killed. You gotta earn yer trust here, buddy, it ain't that anyone doesn't have any rights."
"An' when does Kyle git his chance to earn his rights? I cain't see no fergiveness in the stone that is yer heart. I wonders, have ya ever fergiven anaone in yer life?"
"Don't be an ass. Of course I have!"
"Then why not this one?"
" 'Cause he's never tried to be good. Not once has he ever put out an effort ta get along."
Once more that arrogant snort. "Are ya shure?"
"Positive."
"Then come over here."
Logan squinted with suspicion. "Why?"
"C'mon now, I ain't gonna bitecha. Come on. Please."
Wolverine came grudgingly, not wanting Asher to think he was afraid when he wasn't. He entered the cell, smelling at once Famayalin's condition. On top of not having slept, the boy still hadn't showered and he stank. There was a sharp tang of distress in the air, but not on the kid himself. Not anymore. He was calm, waking from a restful sleep now that their voices had disturbed him. He lay still, groggy and tired, not yet ready to open his eyes.
"Come sit down here," Asher invited after politely giving Logan a minute to take in the room.
Wolverine obeyed, taking a position where he could meet Asher's eyes at the same level of his own. One thing Logan used to assess a person was their eyes. He believed himself good enough to judge a liar just by looking him in the face and reading his body language. As much as he tried to dislike this Siskan, all he could ever find was a simple kind of honesty in those pale grey eyes of Asher's. There was no anger here, no hostility, only a tranquil peace. It brought out Logan's natural inclination to trust one such as this. He would go along...for now.
"Gives me yer hand," Asher requested once Logan was seated.
"I don't think so, bub."
"Bubsy he is, yes," from Smee, chatty as ever. "Bubsy and angry he is, always."
Asher stroked his pet and laughed softly at Wolverine's suspicion and distrust. "Whatcha'll afraid of, huh? 'Fraid I might catch ya in a lie?"
Logan growled in irritation at the challenge and held out his hand, not wanting to give Asher the satisfaction of his fear. He had an idea that this Siskan freak was about to use his power and he was right, just not in the way he expected. Asher took his hand, surprising Logan by his warmth and gentleness. It was hard to remember that technically Asher was a hologram, a machine and not really alive when his skin felt so real. He lay Logan's hand on Famayalin's cheek. "Don't be scared."
Famayalin whimpered softly and finally woke completely, his eyes widening when he saw who his visitor was.
Wolverine gasped in shock and surprise when he was bombarded with vibrations, Asher's contact was making him a conduit for messages the Kundatesh could hear. / Aw fuck, here he is again, the fuckin' asshole, Famayalin was thinking. Fear turned to a deep emptiness, a well of despair and pain. Good. I hope he rips my fuckin' heart out like he's always wanted to. God, I'm so tired. So fucking tired of everything. I just want to die. Just do it, fucker. C'mon, I know you want to. Just do it and tell everyone what a great big fuckin' hero you are for doin' it./
"Didja feels that?" Asher asked Logan softly, his other hand stroking Famayalin's poor rumpled hair back. "Is it what ya expected?"
"Pretty much, yeah. He's a quitter. I told you he never tried at nuthin' his whole life."
Famayalin's despair and anger surged. Logan could feel it now, assisted by Asher's power. / Fuck you, asshole! You only see what you want to see. Whatever it takes to make it easier for you sleep at night. Whatever it takes for that pathetic ruin you call a conscience to be satisfied. Well, fuck you. I don't owe you anything, motherfucker. Eat shit and die, you and your so called perfect X-men. /
Asher smiled at Logan slightly, knowing that the message had been passed. "Are ya so shure?"
"Yeah, I'm sure," Wolverine replied, not about to let Famayalin's resentment sway him. He had been there at Weapon X, he had seen what a fuckup this kid was.
"Wanna make a bet on it?"
Logan looked into Asher's grey eyes. "What ya have in mind?"
"Nuthin' much. Nuthin' a great big man likes you cain't handle. If yer right, the kid stays locked up. But if yer wrong — ya hafta apologize fer it."
Wolverine bristled. He had never been good at apologies - he was much too arrogant - and clearly this Siskan knew it. Still, he wasn't about to give Asher the upper hand. He wouldn't show his weakness, his pride. "All right. Anything to keep this freak caged."
"All right then, close yer eyes."