A/N: This isn't my first X-Men fanfic, but the first one I'm posting. Not exactly sure where I'll be going with this, but with all things associated with the X-Men there's lots of action. This doesn't follow any particular story arc current or otherwise or movie, just something I came up with off the top of my head. Hope you enjoy, and thank you for giving this a chance.
Disclaimer: These characters are the creative property of Stan Lee and Marvel Comics. No copyright infringement is intended.
As soon as he landed, his metallic, indestructible claws sliced their way back into the sensitive tissue and muscle of his hands. The pain was a brief sting, something he had felt a thousand times over, but it was irritating at best and unnoticeable compared to the churning pain that was taking place in the center of his chest.
An expletive exploded from his bloodied mouth and he groaned. When he opened his eyes, the world swam around him and went out of focus. Shaking his head and ignoring the temptation to lie completely still to catch his breath, James Howlett codename Wolverine rolled to his side, digging his fingers into the muddied earth and lifted himself into a sitting position.
Overhead he heard the earth rumbling sound stream of a jet flying too low to the ground. Great, he thought as he coughed violently into the damp, rank air of Colorado. Just what he needed was the intervention of the ill-informed US Air Force. Where were they fifteen minutes ago when he used his back as a bullet proof vest as he carved his way out the unsanctioned military facility he had been held prisoner as an undercover agent? No fucking where, that's where!
Sounds of combat boots could be heard two hundred clicks away and growing closer. The acrid scent of gunpowder rent the air alerting Wolverine that the guards were closing in on him and he had to move. He grunted against the effort of lifting his heavy body which was in the process of repairing itself. Just as soon as he found his footing, the tink of a hand grenade landed right next to his boot. Cursing again, Wolverine was blown several feet into the air and landed once again on his back, as the sound of the explosion nearly ruptured his eardrums, as dirt and foliage was rained down on him. This time he roared, and when he opened his eyes they were completely blood red.
He was done playing nice…
X-X-X-X-X
This wasn't going to be easy. That's what the Professor had said to his organized team of X-Men some he had practically raised from childhood into the formidable fighters who stood stoic around the holographic imaging table.
Professor Charles Xavier founder, mutant activist, and humanitarian pointed out their intended destination.
The mission was said to be dangerous but doable: the extraction and retrieval of several mutants that were being held in an unauthorized military facility in a town not far from Boulder, Colorado. It was something the X-Men had done several times over, but this mission was different in that the Professor wanted the X-Men to locate and bring back one particular mutant, codename Wolverine.
Storm who was co-leader of the X-Men had drawn a single eyebrow to her hairline as the Professor rattled off some of Wolverine's "credentials". He was rumored to be the most dangerous mutant possibly in the whole world, was ex-military, and an assassin. What he could bring to a school with young impressionable children would remain to be seen, but Storm wasn't sold that he was the right fit for the Institute. An assassin? Really, Charles?
Nevertheless, Storm knew it wasn't her decision or call to make, but what she wanted was information. There had been little in Wolverine's file, which concerned her considerably. What exactly did the Professor need him for? Certainly not to teach art.
Perhaps Charles was bringing him on strictly as an X-Man. They could always use the numbers, but Storm felt they had a pretty solid base. With she and Cyclops acting as its leaders, the rest of the team was consisted of: Kitty Pryde (Shadowcat), Remy LeBeau (Gambit), Dr. Henry "Hank McCoy (Beast), Peter Rasputin (Colossus), Betsy Braddock (Psylocke) and Dr. Jean Grey. There were countless others, but this was Storm's main core she wanted with her on almost every assignment.
They were told the mission could be dangerous, but what they had flown into was a scene from a civil war.
The X-Men were twenty-two minutes into their battle when they found the entrance point of the facility. The facility itself was constructed much like a prison of the early nineteenth century. Very primitive in structure made entirely of lifeless gray concrete, and steel fencing. But it was well guarded by high-tech equipment and weaponry. The building was split into three sections with a suspected underground network that could span the fifty-two acres they were standing on. The central hub of the building is what they would need to breach in order to access the files of the facility and to unlock all cells and exits.
"Jesus!" Cyclops, had muttered as he saw the gapping hole on the south end of the west building. The hole looked as if it were something Colossus would have been responsible for had he not been flying in the jet with him.
Cyclops had landed the plane several miles away from the facility as protocol and the members dispersed into their sub-groups, heading on foot towards the north end of the facility. Everyone was connected via their CommLink and psi-link they shared with Professor Charles Xavier and fellow telepath Dr. Jean Grey.
Storm's job was to lead her team to the upper-levels of the building and release any captured mutant from his or her holding cell, and subdue any insurgents. The X-Men's code was not to kill, but to disarm. That she would do with her gift of controlling the weather and elements.
The plan had been carefully mapped out and reviewed twice, but there was so much chaos happening that the plan had to be recalibrated, and now it was Storm's job alone to do an aerial sweep of the facility and surrounding ground and lead any escaped mutants to the safety of the Blackbird. She was also on the outlook for hostiles.
Soaring through the air was a past-time favorite of hers, but now wasn't the time for her to get caught up in the euphoria of being able to command the winds.
Just a few minutes east of the facility an explosion caught Storm's undivided attention. Pressing the button on her CommLink, she was immediately patched through to Cyclops.
"Yes, Storm?" came the succinct reply.
"There's possible hostile activity happening about three miles due east of my current position. I'm going to get a visual."
"Roger that. Send out a signal for extraction once you've reached the location. Radio communication only. I'll send Colossus as back up," Cyclops said.
"Ten-four," Storm's eyes glossed over to an iridescent white, and using the winds, she sped towards the melee with the force of a bullet shooting out of a gun barrel.
What she saw down below would have made Storm think she had stumbled her way into a video game. There were men, ten armed men all shooting with rapid succession at a moving target that flipped and cursed, and whose body was riddled with bullets. The man should have been dead, bleeding out, but the more the armed men shot, the more infuriated the targeted mutant became.
Wolverine snarled as he thrust his clawed hand into the chest of one of the grunts and sliced the end of the rifle barrel clean off an approaching guard. Twisting to his front, he cracked noses, broke ribs, and made several men impotent with one dirty blow of his adamantium filled fist to their balls.
But still they came. In droves like the wind that had suddenly picked up and brought with it a strong scent reminiscent of the earth after a powerful rainstorm. It was misplaced among the stale air of blood, sweat, musk, that it jarred him for a moment. Wolverine caught a blow to the back of his head from the blunt end of a rifle. It stilled him for a moment but it didn't put him down.
Slowly he turned around and sneered at the guard who had the audacity to take a cheap shot. For every two steps Wolverine took forward, the guard took three backwards. Wolverine smiled evilly at the man, his eyes as dark as oil, and his very soul as black as death.
"C'mere," Wolverine crooned beckoning the guard to draw closer with his blood stained claws.
The guard clearly petrified and out of bullets or an exit strategy, shrieked a bit when his back made contact with a tree.
"Just let me go," the guarded plead. "I-I was just following orders."
Wolverine didn't look sympathetic nor impressed. "Following orders, eh?" he grunted. "Then I guess you won't mind if I give you a new directive." Moving with speed not synonymous with a man his size, Wolverine slammed his fist into the bark just millimeters from the guard's head. "Fuckin' die you piece of shit!" With his other hand still free to do his bidding, Wolverine quickly flicked his claws and took a step back. Within seconds, every single gun holster of the guard's fluttered to the muddy earth.
The guard made the fatal mistake of spitting out a wad of saliva mixed with blood as a last ditch effort to escape into Wolverine's eye.
It was like the earth went completely still as the guard saw his impending death being reflected in Wolverine's steel blue eyes.
Snarling at the man and prepared to finish him, a gust of strong wind nearly toppled Wolverine over. The wind blew faster and harder this time that he couldn't stop his momentum, and was tossed aside like tumbleweed, his eyes facing the sky. There was a figure suspended in the air, eyes blank yet snapping with white-hot energy like lightning, as her hair the color of the clouds themselves lifted and fell beautifully to her shoulders, momentarily blurring her face.
"Halt!" commanded the sultry voice of the being that floated in the air, her black gossamer cape flowing prettily on the winds she seem to control.
Wolverine grunted at the woman and ignored her and quickly got to his feet, cricked his neck, ready to finish what had been brewing for months since his capture. No one, not even a beautiful goddess-like woman was going to stop him from his revenge.
Storm saw from below the man had gotten up to his feet despite the strength and voracity of her winds. He was determined, more determined than she would have given him credit for considering the numerous injuries his body had sustained. She dropped several feet, yet remained out of range of what was left of the platoon of armed guards.
Storm observed for a moment as the man stalked back over to the cowering guard. The mutant jacked the man to his feet, his silver claws glinting in the late afternoon sun. Startled that he would commit murder in front of a witness, and remembering her oath not to take or allow anyone to take a human life, Storm summoned a bolt of lighting to strike near the mutant to decommission his assault.
"I said stop!" she yelled.
The man boldly ignored her and plunged his claws deep into the belly of the soldier who fell limp in the mutant's arms.
Wolverine grabbed the soldier roughly by the hair, looked deep into his dead, lifeless eyes, and ruthlessly snapped his neck.
More guards were coming and he had to get moving, but the woman who stabbed the ground and almost took him out with her little lightning bolt landed directly in front of him, eyes still glowing accompanied with a disapproving frown.
"You did not have to kill him!" she reprimanded as her hair whipped around her face.
Oh boy, Wolverine gulped. She was a looker that was more than plainly obvious. With skin the color of cocoa beans, almond shaped eyes framed by impossibly long and thick black lashes, sinfully plump lips the color reminding Wolverine of the inside of a grapefruit, high cheekbones, aquiline nose with perfectly shaped nostrils, and a mane of pure white hair, he felt his tongue go momentarily dry.
Quickly he checked out the rest of her body. Gotdamn, she had breasts that were perfectly shaped spheres, a small waist that flared out into wide hips giving the woman the appearance of an hourglass with mile-long legs.
Wolverine took in a shuddering breath and unintentionally drew in the woman's natural fragrance into his lungs. Sandalwood, earth, air, sunshine, and rain. Her scent was all-consuming and enough to turn him stupid, but he didn't know her, didn't know why she was here, stopping him from finishing the rest of his mission. She might have been dressed like she was on her way to a costume party, but it didn't conceal what she was: a liability.
He shoved her aside.
Feeling rage on a level she had never felt before, Storm was prepared to clock him in the back of his wildly tamed head, but the sound of trucks barreling towards their current position stopped her.
Wolverine rolled his eyes and cursed as he was prepared to push the woman away so she wouldn't be splattered against the windshield of the incoming trucks. He turned to face her, still a little taken aback by her standing in the middle of a field surrounded by mutilated bodies looking out of place. But her stunning beauty wasn't the full reason why Wolverine was caught short. The woman was standing perfectly still, immobile, waiting.
Two Hummers broke through the tree line, men standing on top with machine guns ready to start blasting.
"Lady move!" Wolverine shouted and was prepared to lunge at her, but the woman held out her hand as if to stop the trucks with either her mind or with superhuman strength, which Wolverine had no clue. At the moment he didn't care. He could survive being used as a pin cushion, but he doubted she could.
Storm held out her hand like an imperial monarch. Her eyes turned into an even brighter shade of white. The air pressure dropped, fat clouds swelled and converged giving birth to frosty winds and golf ball sized hail. Logan remained stiff at her side, feeling the chill of the wind against his skin. The temperature had dropped to nearly blizzard conditions causing his teeth to chatter violently on top of one another. He stared at his hands, amazed they were nearly blue in color.
The trucks soon slowed and then came to a stop. The guards who were standing atop the vehicles dropped, unconscious, having succumbed to the extreme change in temperature.
"I suggest you step out of your vehicles or face the consequences," her voice low and filled with an unfilled promise of pain if they didn't heed her advice.
Wolverine swiveled his head to stare at the woman thinking what meds she was on. There was no way those loons would obey the command of a weather-wielding witch, nor stand down and let their greatest prize—him—escape with his life. They were mercilessly trained assholes following the direction of their bigoted leader General Wraith.
There was no movement from any of the two vehicles that were before them. Storm sighed.
"All right, then. It was your call," she warned as thunder boomed overhead and lightning quickly stabbed both trucks like a period at the end of a sentence.
"I-I-I thought y-you d-didn't k-kill?" Wolverine asked between his chattering teeth.
Storm said nothing, but her smirk said it all.
Several tense seconds passed, and then the men suddenly broke free of the vehicles and held their hands up in surrender despite the fact their bodies constantly stung and convulsed as a result of being electrocuted.
Storm dropped her hand, her eyes faded from all white to sapphire blue. She snatched a look at Wolverine before proceeding to move toward the guards.
Once more, Wolverine felt like he had been clobbered upside the head. Blue eyes, well damn, he thought, and felt some weird pulling of the muscles in his face. Was he grinning? Wolverine rolled his eyes. Now wasn't the time to start thinking with his dick, but his head.
"I could use a hand," she spoke to kill the silence between them.
Coming out of his stupor, Wolverine reluctantly trailed behind the statuesque woman, his eyes momentarily dropping to the seductive yet proud cadence of her walk. His bushy eyebrow quirked but then he mentally reprimanded himself that he needed to stay clear-headed.
"Listen, lady," he began.
"The name's Storm," she interrupted. "My mentor would like to extend sanctuary to any mutant who was captured here. Are you interested?"
Wolverine grunted. "If I accept will I be forced to wear blue and yellow spandex?"
Storm's lips twitched but she managed to keep her no-nonsense expression on her face.
Wolverine almost cracked a smile, too, but he needed to hustle. Not get his flirt on. He cleared his throat, getting himself back on track. "I can help you tie up these guards, but I gotta get moving."
"I'm taking it you're the one who caused all of this?" she said indicating the area around them.
Wolverine admitted nothing.
"How far do you think you can get on foot before their reinforcements find you? Plus you're injured. You need medical attention," Storm persisted.
"I'm fine!" the feral mutant snapped, not used to someone showing concern whether it be genuine or feigned. "I heal fast," he amended.
"I would ask that you rethink the offer. Do you have a home to return to?"
By the sour look on his face, it wasn't difficult to see she had a hit a soft spot with the mutant.
"I don't mean to pry," Storm tried softly.
Her concern was irritating the shit out of him. "Then don't!" Wolverine stomped over to one of the guards who was trying to discreetly crawl away. He kicked the man clean across the face.
Storm flinched a bit but moved into action before the other guards tried to change the tide and take them down.
Working out that small burst of aggression, Wolverine retraced his steps back to the Hummer, tore the door open, rummaged around until he located what he had been searching for: plastic handcuffs. He went to work.
Storm's CommLink buzzed against her shoulder, and she pressed the button.
"Storm," she answered.
"We're coming towards you. We have thirteen mutants in our custody. The commanders have abandoned ship."
Not surprising, Storm thought. Well they had the guards to question so that would have to do.
"Did you encounter any hostile activity?" Cyclops questioned.
Storm stared at the stocky man who had muscles on top of muscles with a surly and bitter attitude. The mutant wasn't conventionally handsome like Remy, but he had rugged good looks underneath the dried blood that was caked into the creases in his skin. In the short time she had been in his company, Storm noticed that his azure eyes shifted color based on his mood.
Wolverine had just scored a packet of cigars on one of the guards and wasted no time lighting one up. He needed the nicotine to dull his senses because right now they were too acutely aware of the woman and her silky voice.
"Yes, like you wouldn't believe," Storm retorted dryly.
Cyclops' voice was grim. "You wouldn't believe the slaughter we found on the inside. Were you able to locate Wolverine?"
Again, Storm brought her attention to the man who seemed to be muttering incoherently to himself. He was Wolverine which explained a lot but still put her ill at ease. Why would the Professor want to recruit a man who clearly had no trouble in killing people? And from the way he fought, he was expertly trained in many ways to cut a man down both literally and figuratively speaking.
"Yes," she responded.
"We've been told by several of the captured mutants that he is extremely lethal, and volatile. Be cautious of him. We see your twenty and we're coming up behind you."
"Ten-four."
Wolverine heard approaching footsteps and wondered briefly what was coming next. His instinct to keep moving reared its ugly head, but as he stared at the woman there was something about her that made him adjust and rethink. If he could go to a place where the women were knock-outs like her, it might not be such a bad thing. His operative could survive without him for a few months…or years. But he wasn't one for domesticity, and plus he wasn't being paid to be anyone's invited guest. There was work to be done and a mission to complete.
As soon as she was distracted, he'd be as good as gone.
A few moments later Storm's team emerged through the trees. She let out the breath she had been holding, and cast a look to her right where Wolverine had been standing. Surprised that he had disappeared without making the slightest noise, Storm was conflicted: go after him or let him be?
Cyclops approached. "I thought you said you had Wolverine?"
"He was standing right here, but I guess when he saw the team, he figured I was fine and took off on foot. He couldn't have gotten far. We should be able to track him."
Cyclops nodded his head and tried not to let his eyes linger on any of the body parts and dead bodies that littered the ground—distract him. Perhaps it was best for everyone if they just left Wolverine the Hun to the woods.
TBC.
A/N: Thank you for reading and leaving me your thoughts. Reviews are love or so I've been told.