"57 channels an' nothin' on." Remy Lebeau flipped aimlessly through the channels, searching for something that would perk his interest. The other inhabitants in the room seemed as disinterested as the one holding the remote. Though hot for a fall Sunday, no one took to the outdoors, all preferring the lazy couch potato way. Everyone had a bored, almost lethargic look on his or her faces. While Remy impatiently punched the remote, Rogue twirled her chestnut hair, staring at the curly lock, as if hypnotized. Bobby threw a quarter in the air, catching it in his left hand, throwing it with his right hand and back again. Hank McCoy rested his head in his furry blue hand, seconds away from a mid-afternoon snooze. Bishop just sat in his chair, arms crossed against his massive chest, his face utterly void of emotion. Logan stood in a corner, a cowboy hat covering his eyes, a warm beer cradled in his hand. No one said a word; they let their actions speak for them, which evidently said nothing at all.
Scott Summers strolled into the room, glancing at the constantly switching television, then clearing his throat so all eyes were on him. Beast's head snapped up, as did Rogue's. "Come down to the war room everyone. I think we may have a problem."
The screen flickered with images of lush jungles, exotic birds, and natives with intricate paintings decorating their faces. The screen took a much darker tone as it then showed the jungle in flames, animals fleeing for their lives, and sick, dying natives spewed across the jungle floor. Large men in army fatigues confidently strolled through the jungle, hacking down anything in their way. Bulldozers relentlessly tore down and built up, shaping the earth to its every needs.
"Y'all know I'm up for anything, but isn't this something World Wildlife Foundation usually takes on?"
"I know this isn't quite what we're used to Rogue," the Professor reasoned, "but there's reason to believe that someone may have an unnatural interest in this land."
Iceman scratched his chin, "Someone being….?"
"Sinister."
The room took an odd hush as everyone absorbed this new information in their own way. Some felt anger, others felt fear, some seemed to sigh in exhaustion, but everyone was suspicious. Sinister's name was never met with indifference.
"Charles, who sent us this information?" Jane asked. "I mean, are they trustworthy?"
"Although I can't ascertain the individual's honesty, the fact remains that this is an act of terrorism, and we need to act quickly, otherwise there may not be much to save."
"What do you think he's up to?" Scott questioned.
"At this point we can't be sure, but we need to investigate. After all, if we can prevent it now we may not have to fight it later."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
The Blackbird's engines came to life with a roar that seemed to shake the room. Team One, which consisted of Cyclops, Phoenix, Bishop, Beast, Rogue, and Gambit took their seats with an almost uncertain air about them. It was similar to flying into a thick fog; no sense of direction, safety, expecting something wrong will arise at any second. It was difficult to look relaxed and calm, knowing that nothing was guaranteed, not even your life. And with Sinister being the man in question, it was certain that some sort of action was expected.
As Scott and Hank seated themselves at the cockpit, Jean took her seat directly behind them. Although they remained as professional as possible in times like these, there was a closeness to them that was apparent to the naked eye. Small gestures that don't look like much revealed a world of intimacy to each other. Their love had been put to the test more than once, but somehow they managed to hang on and keep the faith, in love, and in each other. Nothing could keep them apart or make them stop believing in one another.
Rogue and Gambit sat next to each other, occasionally smirking in the other's direction. Although their love was a complete opposite from Scott and Jean's, it could not be denied that the emotions between them ran deep. Rogue could never feel as close to anyone as she could with Remy. As infuriating as he could be, the man had touched her heart unlike anyone ever had. She was hopelessly in love with him, which at times could be somewhat of a hindrance. Remy on the other hand had experienced what it was like to love someone enough to marry her, and then to have to give it all up. Remy would always love Belladonna, nothing could change that. But that was then, and this is now, and Rogue had stolen his heart. There was so much to love about her it was hard to know where to start. She was strong, physically and emotionally. She'd already been through what most people would never even get a glimpse of. She was wild and crazy, sensitive and cuddly, and someone he could roughhouse with—which wasn't easy to find in a woman these days, what with all the woman's lib. No, Rogue was a true southern woman through and through.
Bishop was a man of few words, but that didn't mean he wasn't constantly thinking. Sometimes, though rarely, he even thought about things unrelated to the battle- ground. Things such as "What does 'whazzzzzuuuuppp'mean?" There were many mysteries of the 21st century that boggled his mind, things that people often take for granted but he found fascinating. There were many things he wished to learn about everyday life, but his priorities were set. His loyalty to the X-men was one that could never be mistaken.
As the Blackbird cut across the sky like a bullet, everyone's heart seemed to quicken a pace. The world below was nothing more than a miniature landscape, and as far as their problems should have been, they appeared to be closer. It would not be long before their mission was accounted for.
"We've got a lock on their current flight pattern, Charles." Storm spoke in her usual calm, all the more adding to her grace and elegant manner.
Charles scratched his chin. "What's their E.T.A.?"
"Should be an hour and a half, if all goes well."
"An' since when has it ever gone well, Ororo?" Wolverine had a pessimistic smirk on his face. "Poor fools don't even know what they're getting into."
"That would be why you're here Wolverine. Just in case anything does go wrong, you can save them." Charles had an odd grin on his face. It wasn't very often that the professor gave into joking with the Canuck.
Marrow sat on the edge of a desk, leg draped leisurely over the side, while picking at her nails. "So we just get to sit here, till what? Kingdom come?"
"Just because you're not on that flight, doesn't mean you're not a crucial part of the mission. Often, the greatest enemy is the one you can't see, and don't expect."
Ororo and Logan knew that the professor meant his words, and that they were to be taken seriously. Charles was constantly thinking, as masterminds often do. While evil was hatching plans, Charles was predicting every possible outcome, trying to stay one step ahead of everyone else. Sometimes he was right, sometimes not. Sometimes he didn't even play by the game, but made up his own rules. Whatever the ends may be, he would be damned if he went without a fight; something he instilled in all his pupils, new and old.
"Look alive everyone. Only a half hour till we're there." Scott announced to his team.
The green canopy of the Brazilian rain forest was now in sight under a thick veil of clouds through which the Blackbird sliced. The Beast gazed at the greenery with a dreamy appearance, as though it was his first forest he'd ever seen. "Oh, would this be an interior decorator's fantasy for dear old Storm."
Jean smiled at the thought of Storm transplanting the rain forest to her very own room. It was no secret the lovely Ororo adored to be surrounded by plants and their calming effects. How Jean desired to make her friends dream come true and give her every splendor of the mighty rainforest.
"With all this bush Scott, it may be difficult to land the Blackbird anywhere close." Hank reasoned.
"I was just considering that Hank. What we might have to do is set the Blackbird for autopilot and parachute in. Well, most of us anyway." Scott said, referring to Jean and Rogue who could use their powers to fly in. "Gambit and Bishop,' Scott shouted, 'go and grab the parachutes from the storage compartment."
"What, we gonna jump it?" Remy asked.
"What's the matter Cajun? You scared of a little jump?" Rogue teased.
"Remy not scared o' anyting, long as dere be a prize at de end o' de line." He said with a devilish grin. And with that, he and Bishop made a start for the back of the plane.
"Does anyone else get a funny feeling about this, or is it just me?" Bobby asked. Team two was starting to get cabin fever, waiting for anything to occur that would warrant a rescue mission.
"It's just you Ice Boy." Retorted Marrow. Ever the queen of cynicism, Marrow was not about to leave an opportunity to take a shot at Bobby unattended for.
"Keep it down you two, they're just about there." Wolverine stared at the screen in anticipation.
"Charles, we've received word from Scott; he plans to have the team parachute in. He says the forest is too dense to land in." Ororo informed.
Charles nodded in agreement. "I had a feeling that something like this may occur. Make sure we don't lose contact." The professor had an uneasy instinct, one that often did happen anytime the team went out, but he could not deny that today's particular butterflies were more active than usual. Maybe it was the fact that he considered some of these heroes to be the closest things he had to children, or maybe it was just that morning's eggs benedict coming back to haunt him. Whatever the reason, he didn't like it.
"Well maybe if you look in de right place you have better luck, non?" Gambit was having a good time watching Bishop's increasing frustration in looking for the parachute packs. "Or maybe dey just leave dem at home. What you tink?"
"Maybe yours LeBeau," growled Bishop, "but not mine. Ah, there they are."
As Bishop was reaching for the packs, the floor took a violent shake, rattling the door hinges and dropping some of the equipment out of the compartments. Bishop and Gambit looked up at each other, and the smirk that was once all over Remy's face had now turned into a serious frown.
"You tink dat be bad?" He asked.
"Well it didn't exactly feel good." Deadpanned Bishop. "Let's grab the packs and get out of here."
The two made a move for the back, but were suddenly thrown against the wall. The plane began shaking uniformly. Slowly bags and boxes were being dislodged from their settings and pelting Bishop and Gambit as they made futile attempts to stand. Just then, the door slammed, and the lights took a final bow.
"I can't get loose of it!" Exclaimed Scott. "Beast give me all the power you can, we're caught in some sort of tractor beam."
"You're getting all the power you've got, oh fearless one, but they've got us good."
Jean was struggling to make her way around the interior, but it took all of her strength just to remain standing. "Scott, I'm going to radio home!" With all the rattling and the straining engines, talking was increased to a near scream.
The world was starting to look like a ninety-degree angle, as the Blackbird's nose headed straight towards the earth below. The Beast and Cyclops were panicking, trying to steer the jet as much as they could, but their efforts were beginning to fail.
"We're going down people, hang on!" Scott shouted.
"Remy!" Rogue screamed, knowing that her love was trapped in the back.
"Rogue, hang on!" Jean yelled, attempting to restrain her friend in the seat. She turned to the window where leaves battered the glass and the world abruptly turned to black.
"Professor we've lost them!" Ororo was urgent in her cry. "I've only got a partial transmission from Jean, she said that they were going down. I can't get a lock on them."
The room had suddenly taken on life, as everyone frantically searched all available consuls. Iceman lunged for the nearest headset, fiddled with the channels trying to locate some sort of radio signal but receiving nothing more than static. He grimaced in frustration but continued to search the dials.
Wolverine had an angered, almost perplexed look on his face. He had a bad feeling about this mission from the start, and this newest development only furthered his suspicions. Sinister always had something up his sleeve, and this time his teammates may have walked right into his trap. A slow, feral growl rumbled deep in his throat, while helplessly watching the map.
The Professor sat unemotional, a million thoughts and emotions circled his brain all at once, fighting to make sense of it all. But never once did he allow this inner turmoil show its ugly face to the rest of his students. Charles would remain calm, despite all other hope; he would not let his students lose theirs.
Smoke billowed from the back of the plane, slowly slinking into the interior, sucking out the oxygen as best it could. Scott hacked a deep rattling cough that came from the depths of his lungs. He raised his head cautiously off the consul, fearing that the thudding in his brain might just explode and take him with it. Fighting the nausea that threatened to overtake him, he opened his eyes and stared at the bushes pushed through the shattered window, only inches from his face. A thought ran through his brain at light speed. "Jean!" He shouted.
A feminine moan signaled her awake behind him. Rubbing an ever-growing knot on her forehead, she pushed her fire red hair off her face, and forced herself to take in her surroundings. Seeing her husbands concern, she let a tiny smile creep to her face. "I'm okay Scott."
Cyclops knelt on one knee, inspecting her forehead and studying her emerald eyes. Behind him, the Beast punched buttons on the consul, praying for any sort of life within the Blackbird, but sighed in resignation when no response came. "Damn, damn, damn." He muttered underneath his breath.
"Stupid plane…." Came a disgusted southern accent. Rogue shook her auburn hair, and stared wildly about her.
"You okay Rogue?" Scott asked.
Rogue put one hand to her temple. "Ah think ma brain's swimming in there." She suddenly leapt from her seat. "Remy!"
Her three companions also looked up with fear written on their faces.
A strapping young man strode into the command center, his black uniform nearly covering every inch on his body. He stood directly in line with the giant man before him. He would be lying if he said that this particular man didn't make his soul shake with fear. But what could he do? The pay was good, the action was incredible, and he'd been named Captain of his team. Something the American military had never offered him, despite his years of dedicated loyalty. But you know what they say, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. He raised his hand to his head in salute, knowing that his superior didn't really give a damn for that kind of stuff, but he preferred to anyway. "Sir, we have their plane in site. They are approximately 2.5 miles from base."
The man merely nodded, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "Good." Came the deep reply. "Send out your team. Remember, I want them alive."
Captain Sensa saluted again and quickly walked out of the room. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. Not only to prove his worthiness to Sinister, but to also finally face the infamous X-men. This was a day to treasure for all life.
Sinister studied the buzzing command center about him. His plan was working beautifully.
Scott blasted his way through the jammed door, careful not to shatter the door, for fear his fellow teammates may suffer the repercussions. The room contained no lights, and they could only see a few feet away from them. From what was visible, the room was in shambles. They were cautious not to stumble on the scattered debris strewn about the floor. The Beast grabbed the nearest flashlight and quickly scanned the area with it. From deep in the corner, they heard a low moan, and some movement among the debris. The Beast swung the light in its direction, only to see a grimacing Bishop staring back. The team rushed to his aid, but Bishop quickly held up a hand.
"I think my leg's broken." He shoved a table off his leg to reveal what appeared to be a deep gash on his upper left thigh. The Beast crouched down beside the leg and inspected it carefully.
"I believe you are correct. It looks like a compound femoral fracture."
Rogue wrinkled up her nose. "Wha's that?"
"It's…bad. We need to splint this right now. Where's Gambit?" Beast looked around the room, trying to locate the missing mutant.
Bishop pointed directly across him. "Last I saw he was over there. He might not be there anymore. We got bounced around."
Beast looked back at him with a small smirk on his face. "So I see."
Rogue began throwing junk out of her way, desperately seeking any sign of Remy. She pushed a fallen cabinet off the floor, and there lying beneath it was a bloodied Gambit. "Ohmigod! Remy!" He lay on his side, his head on his outstretched arm, legs curled against his stomach. Rogue stooped down, and cradled his head in her gloved hand. "Jean?" She asked hopelessly.
Jean knelt down beside her and looked over Gambit. He had a nasty cut above his left eyebrow, which continually bled with every pulse. It didn't look life threatening though. "Remy," she quietly called his name. His eyelashes began to flutter, and his head turned ever so slightly to look at the one calling his name. "Rogue?" He croaked.
"Right here shugah." Rogue stroked his face tenderly. Suddenly, Remy's eyes darted wildly about, and he sat up painfully quick. A throbbing pain in his side flared up, causing him to wince. "Quoi? What happened?" He felt his head, and stared at the blood on his hand.
"We crashed hon." Gambit stared at her, slightly confused. Then he remembered. "Riiiiight. Where we be?"
Rogue sighed and looked about her. "Dunno. The jungle, somewhere. We got to get out a here, 'fore the smoke gets us."
Remy nodded absentmindedly and took the outstretched hand that was offered to him, care of Rogue. Gritting his teeth as he got up, the world around him suddenly swayed violently, causing him to grip the desk in front of him.
"Y'all right shugah?" Rogue frowned in concern, knowing that Gambit obviously sustained some sort of injury.
For his part, Remy simply nodded his head, but dared not raise it.
A loud groan emulated from the corner. Bishop's face contorted with excruciating pain as the Beast attempted to splint his broken leg. Jean held Bishop's ankle, while Scott held Bishop himself. Hank was trying to move as quickly as possible, but the break was bad, and the equipment needed was not readily available. Working with what he had, and attempting to not cause Bishop any more pain than necessary, Hank pulled the last strap into place on the splint. It was temporary, but it would get the job done…For the time being at least. Bishop needed surgery, and it needed to be done soon.
Hank sat back to look over his work, and so did the others. Beast got up and began to look for some painkillers for Bishop. Scott stared at the mess around them. They had to leave, find some sort of shelter, hopefully contact the professor somehow. He rubbed his head, which was beginning to pound with the stress of leading a broken team. "Rogue, we're going to need you over here."
Rogue was still tending to Remy, who was slouched over the desk, his arm gripping his waist, and his head hung low. Rogue glanced at Bishop, then back at Remy, her heart feeling like it was being torn in two. Jean could see it in her eyes, and walked towards her. "Rogue, we need you to carry Bishop. I'll take care of Remy." Rogue nodded, then stooped down to take Bishop in her arms.
"Heave Ho!"
"All right people, we've got to get out of here. This smoke is getting worse every second." Scott warned.
The group shook their heads numbly, knowing that they were leaving their only source of safety for something much more dangerous. It would be the law of the jungle that prevailed now.
Charles stroked his chin absently, thinking every step over and over in his mind. "How long has it been since last contact?"
Bobby checked his watch. "About one hour and twenty minutes." His face was devoid of any humor now, and set with fearful eyes.
Charles shook his head, rubbing his weary eyes. The same thought kept running through his head, over and over like a broken record, "too long, too long."
"So what's the deal Chuck?" Wolverine slumped against the cold metal wall, an unlit cigar hanging limply in his n mouth. "Are we going in, or are we just going to wait?"
Charles momentarily stared at his feral pupil. "Patience, Logan. Have patience. We will move when the opportunity next arises."
"What opportunity bub? We're talking about Sinister. For all we know they may already be dead."
Charles matched Wolverine's ferociousness with a calm all his own. "They aren't."
"Hey Bishop, y'ain't all that light, y' ever noticed?" Rogue attempted to shift Bishop in her arms, without causing him any pain. However, her good intentions made Bishop's face grimace.
"Rogue, has anyone ever mentioned that you like to talk a lot?"
Rogue tried a half-hearted shrug. "Touché."
Scott led the way, scanning the makeshift path for any unseen dangers that could arise. His wife Jean helped Gambit to stumble along. The usually talkative, cocky thief had not muttered a word since they left the plane. The Beast covered their backs, keeping his furry blue ears open for any sound other than the ones they themselves were creating.
"Aargh!" Rogue suddenly tripped, pitching forward with Bishop leading the way to the ground. He cried out in pain as his leg roughly fell beside his body. Scott ran back towards their direction.
"Rogue, what happened?"
Rogue pushed a stray piece of auburn hair out of her eyes with a gloved hand. Panting, she slowly rose to her feet. "I dunno. It was like, like ah lost ma powers."
"Oh crap." Jean muttered beneath her breath.
Scott glanced nervously around, then attempted to test out his powers. He focused his crimson eyes on a fallen tree sitting at his feet, but all that could be heard was a tiny crack, followed by a low fizzle. Everyone's shoulders drooped in frustration.
"Well," started the Beast, "isn't this a completely unprecedented turn of events. Quite convenient, wouldn't you say?"
"Hank, you aren't helping." Scott said.
"Please, oh fearless one, do tell us what would help?"
Scott spun around on his heel, surveying each angle of the jungle. "Chances are, we're being watched as we speak."
"So what? We're all just goin' ta stand around an' let 'em get us?" Rogue threw her hands in the air.
"No," Scott shook his head. "That's not it at all. We're going to fight."
Bishop let out an uncharacteristic chuckle. "In case you haven't noticed, Cyclops, we're not exactly in fighting condition." He motioned to his leg.
Feeling the same frustration and helplessness as everyone else, Scott sunk to a sitting position. Everyone else did the same.
"They've stopped, sir." Captain Sensa pushed the tiny microphone on his headset closer to his mouth, so that Sinister might hear him speak.
"Stopped?" Sinister asked, with a hint of surprise.
"Ah, yes sir. They seem to be holding their position approximately 45 feet in front of us."
There was a long, pregnant pause as Sinister pondered this information. "Proceed with caution, Captain. The power-dampening field is up and running, but these X-Men are creative. Report all discrepancies directly to me."
"Maybe we could throw twigs at 'em or something." Rogue suggested. The normally active X-Men simply stared at the black earth beneath them, kicking the leaves every so often. Scott paced in front of them, twirling a blade of grass in his hand. He rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine approaching.
"I wonder what's taking them so long." Jean thought aloud. Scott suddenly spun around to face her.
"We can't think like this people! Look, we have to come up with something. This is Sinister we're talking about, not some run of the mill, small time crook."
"I ain't goin' wit Sinister." The group looked at Remy, who hadn't said a word up until now. His eyes never left the spot on the ground that he seemed fixated with. "Not again."
A look a sorrow passed over Rogue's face. She knew that Sinister used Remy quite a bit before he joined the X-Men, and although he never spoke about those days, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that they had been traumatizing nonetheless.
Scott nodded in agreement with Remy. "Then we move."
The others looked wearily at Cyclops. Hank, Scott, and Rogue stooped down to lift Bishop who groaned when the slightest pressure was placed on his injured leg. Jean offered a hand to Remy, who seemed to be in a different time zone.
"Oh my stars and garters!" Gasped Beast.
All eyes focused on their furry partner.
"Are those mangoes?"
"Logan," Ororo waited until her feral friend turned to face her before continuing. "Logan, I know this is frustrating, but this is not the way." She gestured to his motorcycle, which he was about to board.
"Look Ro, maybe it's all fine an' dandy for all of you to sit an' wait for news that you know and I know ain't coming, but I can't"
"I understand this friend. But I fear that you may put their lives in more danger by attempting to rescue them."
There was something in Ororo's voice which made Logan spun around to face her especially the way she held her calm gaze against his suspicious one. She was hiding something that he had been oblivious to.
"What aren't you telling me 'Ro?"
Ororo's unemotional façade never left her face. "I've already told you more than I should have. But I beg you Logan, for our teammates' sake, please do not engage in a foolishness that could endanger them even further."
Logan dropped his stare, then shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about Storm. I was just going to go for a beer."
And with that, he leaped onto his Harley speeding away into the dusk, leaving a speechless Storm to her pondering.
The eerie unfamiliar sounds of the jungle kept everyone awake. Bishop groaned in his uncomfort, prompting a 'shhh' from Rogue, which in return came a glare from Bishop. Scott shook his head. This whole mission had gone from bad to worse. All X-Men sat back to back in a circle, alert for any movement or sound that might signal an attack. But for the entire day since the plane had crashed, they had not even seen a glimmer of Sinister or his forces. This kind of cat and mouse game did not sit well with Scott. And although he was a much calmer person than Wolverine who liked to get his fights over and done with, Scott couldn't stand the anticipation any longer.
When it seemed like he was ready to jump up and scream, a twig snapped. Everyone's head swung in the direction it came from. Jean held her breath while her husband reached for the large branch he had found on the hike. Bishop remained completely still, whereas Gambit's sensitive eyes scanned the darkness.
A sudden laser blast lit up the area to the left of the X-Men. Beast, Rogue, Cyclops, and Jean jumped to their feet, Beast and Rogue hastily trying to drag Bishop and Remy away from any line of fire. They could hear the running footsteps of soldiers coming towards them on all angles.
With Gambit's arm slung over her shoulder, Rogue turned to run in the opposite direction, but was met with a stunning slug to her nose. She fell back, feeling hot tears sting her eyes, and warm blood falling into her hand. Remy, seeing his woman being attacked by a man, exploded. Yelling something along the lines of "a—hole, die in hell" only in French, he threw every punch in the soldier's direction. Throwing the weight of his body onto the soldier's, the two tumbled to the ground, rolling and punching at the same time. A hard elbow to his temple momentarily made Gambit lose his balance, which was just enough time for the soldier to grab his rifle and ram it into Gambit's abdomen. The pain that he had been feeling since the plane crash had just gone nuclear. Doubled over on the jungle floor, Remy could do nothing more but clutch his stomach with his arms, and pray that he would pass out soon.
Scott swung his tree branch like he was making a grand slam. He slammed it into the stomach of one soldier, and right into the forehead of another. He figured he was doing pretty well, but neglected to notice the soldier with the blast rifle on his knees aiming for his chest.
"Scott!" Scott spun in the direction of his wife's frantic cry, and suddenly felt a searing hot pain in his upper left arm. Crouching on the canopy floor, he inspected his arm, seeing a wide burn, already developing blisters. Jean was there in an instant, touching his face and looking over his arm to make sure nothing was life threatening.
Time seemed to slow to a stand still for Jean, seeing her husband's obvious pain, and not even noticing the carnage around her. She was grabbed roughly by a soldier, and hefted underneath his massive arms, her light physique no match for his. Scott was hoisted up by two guards; too stunned by his injury to do anything but follow.
Bishop could do nothing more but sit and hold his hands in the air. The guards dragged him to a standing position, prompting a few nasty remarks from the huge warrior.
An unidentified soldier flew into a tree, his head connecting with such an impact, the helmet covering it cracked, and the soldier slowly slid to the ground unconscious. His attacker, the furry Beast, seemed to grin as he bounded towards the next soldier. He felt his feet tangling beneath him, stared wildly around him, and realized it was a cleverly thrown net.
"Keep that one covered!" Ordered Captain Sensa.
The soldier nodded to his Captain that he would, and accompanied by three others stooped down to hoist the captured Beast up.
"Sir, what about aaaaaa!"
The Captain turned quickly to see what the soldier was screaming about. He nearly let out a chuckle when he saw that the blue furry one had the soldier's arm in his firmly clenched mouth. His expression soon turned fierce again. "Stop this goofing around and get on with it."
The soldier whimpered slightly, clutching his bleeding arm to his chest. "Hope he didn't have rabies." He muttered to himself.
A smirking soldier offered his hand to the fallen Rogue, still holding her broken nose, glaring up at him. "Screw off." She growled, as she pushed herself up to her feet.
Gambit could feel someone lifting him up by his armpits, but would do nothing to help. He was lifted to his feet, where the pain was much more immense, and he nearly fell back down because of it. With a soldier on either arm, he stumbled painfully on into the night, his only concern of making it another step of the way.