New story, don't own any X-Men characters or story, just here to write a fic about it! Enjoy!
"Get in there!"
Logan felt the rough hands grappling his back throw him into a dark, dank cell. His palms stung as they skidded across the rusty floor, glass shards pricking his skin. He growled deeply. It built up in his throat and released a horrid snarl that radiated pure hatred. Logan didn't take to being pushed around, and right now these idiots were close to getting their heads ripped off.
Logan felt his claws trying to push through his scratched skin, but he winced in pain as the urge was forcefully suppressed.
A heavy boot collided with his stomach. It didn't hurt too bad, but the fact that these guards were really pushing their luck ticked him off.
"I really wouldn't do that if I were you," Logan's throaty warning held no sympathy, "if you want to keep that foot."
He felt the room tense, the guards reaching for their guns and batons. Logan smiled.
"Shut up, freak," the guard snarled, "get back in your cell."
Logan reached with grubby fingers and pulled himself along, his exhausted limbs ready to rest.
"Don't talk like that," another guard whispered to his partner in warning, trying to lower his voice in caution as he glanced at Logan in fear, "you know what he can do..."
"Trust me," the kicking guard snorted, "the guy is spent. He couldn't get his claws to show even if he tried."
Logan snarled, his temper flaring some more as he reached for the wall for support.
"Come on, Wolverine, show us those claws. Come on, pull them out," the guard mocked, both waiting to see Logan's response.
He willed for his adamantium claws to unsheathe so he could rip these guys' heads off with one stroke; however, as he tried to push for his mutation to activate, that horrifyingly familiar burning sensation spread across his arms and straight to his chest.
Logan growled in pain and bent over as the laughter of the guard above him made him scowl.
"Told you," the guard smiled evilly, "come on, let's go before the Colonel comes back."
The Colonel.
He heard the heavy steel door shut with a groaning creak, the scratchy noise almost making his ears bleed. His head was pounding, the blood pumping into his skull like an overheated steam engine. His heart rate was erratic, and his arms and legs were shaking. Those damn guards, they had no idea what they were apart of.
Logan was with his team when they walked straight into an ambush. Oblivious to the trap laid out for them, the mutant team was met with the worst military scientist in the country: William Stryker.
He had been chasing mutants, Wolverine in particular, for years and Stryker always had elaborate schemes that claimed the lives of good men. Now Logan had endangered the entire X-Men team. He was the one who pushed for the infiltration of a covert government organization suspected of experimenting on innocent mutants. They were right to a certain degree. Mutants were being experimented on, they just didn't realize they were going to be the next test subjects.
Painful memories resurfaced in his amnesia stricken mind. He growled and shook his head, scrunching his eyes as memories unfolded in his head and he felt the pain, anguish, rage, and misery he experienced when Stryker had him in his clutches and made him a weapon. Logan was forced to do some many things, so many horrible deeds that unleashed his animal inside. No more. He would never live by those days again, he couldn't let Stryker get to him.
He had to get out of here. He was the Wolverine, he could do anything he goddamn wanted.
Logan trudged to the steel door, squaring it up. His adamantium claws could scratch right through this thing like a knife in warm butter. If he believed in it, they damn well could.
With a good stride, Logan ran to the door, fists out and his mind urging for his mutation to emerge.
He hit the door hard, his nose cracked against the steel and he fell back holding his face. Logan growled as he crashed to the floor, looking up in confusion and defeat as he stared down at his hands. He could see the claws rippling under the skin of his hands, but they wouldn't unsheathe. His power had abandoned him.
"What's happening to me?" Logan mumbled to himself in confusion. He felt his eyebrows knit together in concentration, slight concern, and overwhelming anger at the resistance of his mutation. He had depended on his claws his whole life for protection. How could this be happening?
Logan heard a shuffle outside the steel door. It sounded like multiple men shouting, slowly approaching his cavernous cell. He would jump them, surprise attack, and bust out of this place quickly. He hid on the peripheral side of the steel doorway, waiting as he heard the shuffle outside.
There was a series of three sharp bangs against the metal door. Logan was puzzled, but a rough voice echoed back.
"You in there! Stand back!"
Stand back? What the hell did that mean? Were they jumping him? Were they gonna kill him? If they were, they wouldn't give him a warning, because he'd punch them till their teeth knocked out.
"Let them try it," he growled in violent satisfaction.
The door burst open and Logan lay like a tiger ready to pounce. But it wasn't armored men with guns blazing rushing inside, but a lone figure shoved in similar to how he was treated. The figure landed on the floor hard, the man's kneecaps slamming against the concrete as he struggled to gain his balance.
Logan remained in his hiding spot, prepared to throw some punches if anything else walked on in. For a few moments, he waited. The man lifted a trembling leg to a crouching position, his arms were confined in a straightjacket. He was unable to lift or move his upper body with the restraining clothing restricting his movements. Logan looked closer, his eyes narrowing in realization. The man's dark black hair, slightly curled, his thin form, but broad shoulders, his bowed head from the light…it was like his eyes were not adjusted to the normal perceptions of people.
"Oh my god," Logan mumbled to himself, puzzled, "Cyclops."
"Who's there?!" Scott turned around wildly, still trying to find his footing. His eyes were tightly shut, his sunglasses missing, "Answer me, who's there?!"
Logan stood silent a while, circling his team mate, looking him up and down. Scott's straightjacket robbed him of the sense of touch as his sight was already missing. All the guy had was taste, smell, and sound. Scott still searched for Logan, unaware it was his team member in the cell with him.
"Scott," Logan grumbled, "it's me."
Immediately, his shoulders relaxed, but his facial expression was still tense. The effort he was putting in to keep his eyes shut was probably overwhelming, but he was adamant upon keeping them closed.
"Logan?" Scott's tone lifted, "You're here too?"
"Don't get too excited, we're trapped," he came closer to his fellow X-Man.
"What happened, Logan? How'd you get here?" Scott tried searching for the location of his voice.
"Escape first, questions later," Logan said resolutely, "come on, open your eyes, bust us out of here."
Scott paled a little, "I can't."
"What do you mean you can't," Logan's temper rose, "Of course you can, now go ahead."
"I can't, Logan."
"Well, why not?!" he snarled back in response.
"I don't know!" Scott's own voice rose as his head bowed, "I think it was Stryker. He-he did something, but I haven't opened them yet, I-I can't chance it."
Logan sighed, already empathizing with Cyclops' plight.
"Alright, what do they have you wearing?" Logan stepped back and admired the fashion statement. Straightjacket, a grey prisoner's outfit, and a pair of old dirty sneakers to match.
"This thing," Scott snarled slightly as he tried to wiggle his arms from the restraining straightjacket pinning him down, "they stuck me in it. Makes me even more blind, takes away my other sense that can still help me even without my powers: touch."
"What's it made out of?" Logan squinted at the slightly fluorescent material, "it ain't cloth."
"No, it's reinforced aluminum alloy," Scott shook around some more, "I can't get it off. I need your help."
"My help?" He never thought he would ever hear those words from Cyclops' mouth.
"Your claws," Scott nodded, "adamantium can rip through anything, right? Tear it off, but...don't get me."
"I don't know, Scott-"
"Logan, please," the plead and his miserable look made something shift in his chest. Scott was dirty, confused, without sight, without touch, and was reliant on his team mate to get him out.
But Logan couldn't.
"I can't either, Scott," the Wolverine shook his head, "whatever Stryker did to you, he did to me too."
"You mean your mutation doesn't work?" he responded in a small voice, "your claws won't come out?"
Logan didn't answer, but Scott could already understand.
"Logan, without your claws, how can we get out of here?" he said grimly, voice shaking.
"I don't know, Scott," he snapped, "it's not just my claws, but your sight. Your lasers might do us some real good right now, buddy, so why don't you open them up and find out, huh?"
"I can't," Cyclops shook his head adamantly.
"Yes, you can," Logan took an advancing step forward.
"No, you don't understand," Scott growled, "Stryker might've given you a suppressant for your mutation, but I think he gave a stimulant for mine."
"What?" Logan shouted, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? He made you stronger?"
"Essentially, yes, but it's not just stronger i-it's unstable," Scott explained, "Logan, if I unleash my mutation, I could burn through the next three adjacent cities surrounding this one with just a squint. The result would be devastating."
"Look, you're Cyclops for a reason, all right? Fry this hellhole to the ground, so we can get out of here," Logan urged, "The Professor, Storm, Rogue, Jean," he paused a little at that name, "they're all counting on us. We got to tell them what Stryker is up to, you got to do it."
"People will die, Logan," Scott stepped back, "when I first developed this power," he hesitated before continuing, "I didn't know what the hell was wrong with me. I couldn't exactly control it after I hit my head from the plane crash," he shook his head, wanting to block the painful memories, "The Professor was my only hope, but he isn't here now. I don't know what this is, what I can do-I can't chance it, I won't."
"Scott," Logan was breathing heavily to keep his calm, "if you don't get us out of here, you have no idea what Stryker will do to us. I do. And it ain't pretty."
"I know it messed you up pretty bad, Logan," Scott's frustration peaked through his tone, "I get it-"
"Get it? You don't get anything that's happened to me! You have no idea what I've been through, no idea what's coming, but I do," the Wolverine snarled, "and I'm not staying here to relive it all again!"
Logan charged the door one more time, urging his claws out with all his might. He felt his head pounding with blood, every muscle in his body working to unleash his mutation. He looked down at his knuckles, he saw the adamantium tips just barely peeking through his scarred flesh, but they wouldn't unsheathe any further. They were dull edges, no more length or sharpness to them. Blood was pouring out from between his fingers as the metal razor edges were cutting against the inside of his knuckles trying to unleash.
He roared, holding his trembling hands as his energy drained and his claws remained retracted, "It won't work! Damn it!"
"Shh," Scott held up a hand, trying to contain the Wolverine's rage, "People are approaching."
"What?" Logan's fury was still raging wildly, "Let them come at me, see what good it'll do them!"
"No," Scott's face paled slightly, his scrunched eyes tighter in concentration, "they have weapons with them, stun guns."
"How do you know?"
"With my sight restricted, my mutation filters through slightly to my other senses," Cyclops said in a hushed tone, "Logan, this isn't good, I hear the guns charging."
He looked around for a place to escape, any nook or cranny decent for them to flee through. There was nothing. The walls were concrete, and concrete columns held them together. It was impossible to go through with both of them incapacitated.
From the outside, the sound of men yelling was clearly audible. Logan braced himself, in a fighting stance, fists clenched. Scott was on the far wall, ready to fight if he had to beside his mutant brother.
There was a heavy knocking on the door, a fist banging against it like a gong. It easily sounded like there were 10 men out there. Scott and Logan would definitely have a brawl before them.
"Scott, open your eyes," Logan said definitively as the cell door quivered with the reverberating knocks.
"Logan, I-"
"He can't."
A frightening voice finished the sentence. Wolverine felt chills spread down his spine as he would instantly recognize that murderous tone anywhere. It was the voice of a man who brought pain, destruction, and rage everywhere he went.
"Stryker," his voice was a ghostly whisper.
The cell door slid open fully and behind the Colonel was a team of 10 men. They were all armed head to toe, thick suits on them, advanced gear to protect them. Scott and Logan just had the clothes on their backs and their wits as reinforcements.
"He can't, Logan," Stryker repeated, fully stepping inside the cell. He was wearing a crisp uniform, a sickly sweet smile plastered all over his face. He enjoyed this because he sensed the fear and anticipation radiating off of both mutants, "long time no see, old friend."
"I'm not your friend," Wolverine snarled, "don't ever think that."
"Touché," he cooed sadistically, "no matter. It's good to have you home again."
Scott didn't need his ruby quartz lenses to see that Logan flinched at the mention of his "home."
"Stryker," Logan advanced forward, the men behind Stryker took one as well, "what do you want? Why are you doing this?"
"Wolverine," the Colonel glanced down at Logan's bleeding fists, "aren't able to take the claws out to play, can we?"
"Answer me!" he growled back.
"I see the suppressant is working just fine then," he winked at him and continued, "You see, my philosophy encompasses that anything can be tamed. Wouldn't you agree, Logan?"
He growled so deep that it sounded like a raging pitbull ready to attack.
"But, I'm not here for you," Stryker's neck craned in the opposite direction, as his greedy eyes rested upon Scott in the corner, eyes still tightly sealed.
His heart dropped. Stryker wasn't here for him, he was here to take Scott away and experiment on him with whatever sick test he could think of.
"Logan," his blind friend tried turning his head side to side, backing up against the wall, "what's happening, what's he doing? What does he want?"
He began to run forward, to protect his teammate when a forked prong dug into his skin inches deep. Wolverine roared as volts of electricity coursed through him, electrocuting his muscles and frying his central nervous system commands; two men stood behind him, both of their stun gun projectiles sticking out of his skin.
He crashed to the floor, sinking to his knees, frozen in his vulnerable, useless position. His blurry vision was able to rest upon Scott who was backing up against the wall. Three men jumped him, one of them sneaking up from behind and roughly wrapping a towel over his eyes. Another wrenched his hands behind his back and rammed his knee into his spine, pushing him on his stomach to the floor. Scott struggled and tried to break free, kicking out with his feet and wrenching an arm loose. His fist slammed into the jaw of one of the guys, but from behind, the towel guy held up his baton and whacked Cyclops across the head.
Wolverine trembled as the electric shock coursed through him. He felt anger bubbling in his chest but was unable to voice it as he was frozen on the floor. Scott was on the floor again, a knee pressing on his back, the towel over his eyes, and a man with a syringe who poured the contents right between his shoulder blades.
Logan's trembling vision watched as he saw Scott's movements become more sluggish, the medication taking its toll. His friend's head slowly sank to the dirty concrete floor as his resistance came to a growing stop. The men pinning him down slowly let up, the towel falling from his eyes, the knee lifting from his back, and the hands released from his wrist. A gurney was pushed into the room, and the men lifted Scott on it. They fastened leather black straps around his body and fitted an eye mask over him as well.
Wolverine tried to move, a grunt the only sound he could make. The prongs were still buried deep into his skin, his adamantium conducting great electric volts that relentlessly coursed through his immobile body. Stryker huffed with satisfaction and walked right to his seizing body. He could see the steel-toed boot in his bleary vision, but he'd recognize that viper voice anywhere.
"Stay down, Wolverine," Stryker snorted, "your turn will come soon enough."
The prongs retracted, and Logan felt himself go dark.