A/N I was nursing this plot bunny for some time, and then had to write it down. It's somewhat AU (Well, very AU :P) but It pretty much gets along with the first few episodes of Wolverine and the X-Men. Or not. Probably just X-men in general.
Okay, so in this fic, Jean is gone, Rogue is gone, the Professor is gone, the School for Gifted Youngsters is NOT exactly a school anymore, because the government is taking STRICT ACTION against mutants. The X-Men are trying to save who they can, but something comes up during one of their raids that they don't anticipate...okay, I don't have ALL the details worked out yet. But I will. Maybe.
But meanwhile, just enjoy. And PJO readers, please don't kill me for not updating Who I Am. :D
The Raid
Wolverine watched the broken warehouse, cigar clamped between his teeth, his knuckles itching as his claws pushed upwards. This was it. Cornelius's lab, where everything could be settled once and for all. Darkly, he noted the smells oozing from the place: Blood, sweat, musk, and the over-powering stench of fear. Clearly, the scientist had managed to capture more innocent mutants for his dirty experiments.
A low growl made its way up his throat as he fixed his gaze on the entrance of the warehouse, where a pile of old garbage cans leaned crookedly next to stacked wooden crates. Tentatively, he sniffed the air. Yes - mutant guards. Presumably hidden sensors and machine guns as well. Nothing he hadn't encountered before.
"Four guards at the entrance—cleverly disguised," he muttered into his headset. "Nothin' the old nose couldn't pick up, though."
"Good—Iceman will take them out." The Beast's calm voice came from the earpiece. He was back at the base, tapping into the building's mainframe and finding safe paths. "I'll send him there now."
"Why not Cyclops?" Wolverine growled. Bobby Drake's inexperience could be a problem—his recent performances in the Danger Room hadn't been the best since he had lost Rogue. Even so, Wolverine himself hadn't quite recovered from the disappearance of Jean...perhaps that was the reason his thirst to kill had been minimized slightly since the Professor had gone.
"We want to remain undetected until the last possible moment. If Cornelius finds out we're here before we break through his defenses, he'd set out X-23. We can't allow that."
"Hrm." The X-23. A replica, or clone of him, in a sense, she was raised in the cruel labs in the heart of Cornelius's Weapon X project, trained to be a weapon. As lethal as Wolverine himself, or perhaps even stronger, with the 'improvements' that Cornelius must have inflicted upon her.
He clicked off his headset. Better keep his eye on the kill than sit through another one of Beast's lectures.
Turning back to the crates, he saw they were already gleaming with frost. Kicking himself mentally for not paying attention, he stalked down the row of bushes he was crouched behind and unsheathed his claws.
Yes, this was definitely going to be fun.
Within the walls of his lab, Cornelius watched emotionlessly as the X-Men closed in on him. They thought that they had thought of everything, but as always, the enemy was one step ahead—with a mutant that had power enough to exceed their precious Jean Grey's, and to equal even X-23's.
Smiling tightly to himself, he pressed a button, in which William Stryker emerged from an antechamber.
"Yes, Doctor?" The small man, plump and fidgety, glanced around like a rat caught in a lion's den. Although he was a useful asset in the Weapon X experiments, he was by far too unstable for his own good. Sooner rather than later, he would have to be replaced.
With dark humor in his eyes, Cornelius's mouth turned to a twisted smile. Watching the drama was going to be fun.
"Bring out the Blue Boy. Team him with X-23—The X-Men shall see what they are now up against."
Silently Shadowcat stalked the corridors of the secret facility, marvelling at the pristine, solid steel that surrounded her in all directions. After dropping off most of the X-Men below the warehouse in assorted places, she'd gone off on her own - and it was proving to be fun, to say the least. For once, Logan wasn't breathing down her neck and Bobby, Iceman, wasn't trying to catch her eye. Not that he did that very much anymore, after Rogue left, but still...
Pausing for a moment, Shadowcat listened intently. This place was so empty. It was difficult to imagine that dozens, if not hundreds of mutants had been cruelly tortured and experimented on within these walls.
Even so, the building itself gave her a sense of insecurity. It reminded her of her first mission all over again: the exposure, terror, and, most of all, the overwhelming sense of deja vu. Everywhere she went, she felt like she was being watched...not a good sign.
Looking around carefully, she slipped through a wall to her left. Hmph. Another useless, steel-plated hall. Whoever designed the place clearly had no taste—all there was was corridors. Did they lead anywhere?
Why, of course not.
And, on top of her uneasiness, she should have met a guard by now. Someone she could kick butt. It was eerie for someone as paranoid for his cause as Doctor Cornelius to not have guards in the corridor every five feet. However, the corridors were empty—so much so that she could hear her own supposedly soundless footsteps bouncing off the walls.
Something was somehow very, very wrong about this picture.
Suddenly, she heard a footstep up ahead, around a bend in the hallway. Immediately Shadow was on her guard, crouched, ready to spring through anyone - and anything. Stiffly, she waited, praying silently it was just a human and not a mutant.
Do not harm kin. Professor X's words seemed to echo in her mind. They are people, as you are. They are simply misguided.
The footsteps approached.
Shadowcat listened intently. The pace was too slow for it to be a guard, and too soft. As the steps came to the bend, they slowed, almost as if—
He knows I'm here.
She crept forward. Perhaps if she could see, or reason—
Suddenly, a solid blast of something threw her off her feet, sending her tumbling back to skid several feet over the polished steel floor.
What? she thought groggily. She had been in Shadow Mode, anything that went toward her should have gone through...
Then, a screech of something like the largest, sharpest fingernails in the world sliding down a chalkboard jarred her to her senses. She shook her head quickly and turned around just in time to see the expressionless face of a young girl, and a claw-studded fist coming toward her in high speed. She tried to switch to Shadow Mode again, but the fist slammed into her anyway, sending her head first onto the ground.
X-23, she thought. Wolverine's clone.
She hardly had time to process the thought before the previous force slammed into her again, lifting her off the ground and pushing her against a steel wall. There, she saw her other assaulter: a boy no older than twelve or thirteen, with white hair and jarring electric-blue eyes. What looked like a heat haze surrounded him, making him appear blurred.
"Finish her."
Shadowcat had no idea where the command came from, but it echoed up and down the corridor, and subconsciously, she knew it was Cornelius. She tried to move, or phase, but anything that was beyond staying still was too much for her now. It seemed as if all of her energy had just...gone.
X-23 dropped down from the ceiling, where she had been hanging by the claws. She turned to the boy.
Suddenly, the haze around the boy dessipated. Shadowcat dropped from the wall, and weakly managed to get to her feet. Desperately she tried to merge through the wall, to no avail.
The boy walked up to her. Energy seemed to drain from her as he fixed her with his intense gaze.
The last thing she saw before welcoming unconsciousness was the boy's hand pressed over her slowing heart, and his eyes turning into pure, pupilless white.
Cyclops narrowed his eyes behind his goggles as he strode down the corridor, overcoat rustling noisily against the polished steel floor. Something was wrong. He had never been a man of stealth, but he knew he should have met someone by now. If not a guard, then a scientist, or even a mutant.
As far as he could tell, there were no cameras. This odd display of non-security was troubling— as far as he knew, before he had lost radio contact with him, the Beast had been certain there was going to be cameras. And motion sensors. And lasers, if anyone ventured near high-security mutants. But now, as he walked boldly down the hall, he saw nothing. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought this was something different entirely...in a sense, this hallway wasn't too different from the ones snaking under Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
Unconsciously, Cyclops put his hand to his goggles. It felt more than a little strange to be in enemy territory and not be blasting anyone.
Then, suddenly, he paused.
His coat rustled to a stop at his side as he touched the trigger button on his goggles. He could feel something up ahead. A moment ago, for the briefest second, he had heard something resembling Wolverine's unsheathing of his claws—and it was impossible. Wolverine had been dropped off at a different point in the facility. Unless the Beast's calculations were wrong, which they never were, they had no chance of bumping into each other.
A brief flicker of movement came at the corner of his vision. Without thinking, he turned and fired.
A horrible screeching sound reached him and he looked up in time to see a girl hanging from the ceiling by the knuckles, two feet from the charred crater on the floor that his beams had created.
"X-23," Cyclops snarled, and triggered his beams again. He would blast her to pieces—
The jet of energy shot from his eyes, tearing toward her. Then, as if held back by some invisible force, the beam dessipated into thin air.
"Wha—" He clicked his trigger.
Nothing happened.
No. This couldn't be happening. He ripped his goggles off, taking the headset with it. He waited to the last moment and opened his eyes again—
—Only to see an adamantium-lined fist sending him crashing onto the ground. The girl stood just like Wolverine did, crouched, snarling, claws flashing brightly in the stark white light. Like a cat she leapt, landing lightly on his chest and jumping up to cling to the ceiling again.
Never had Cyclops felt so helpless. His eyes, unaccustomed to regular light, were watering in pain. His power was gone. He had nothing to defend himself with.
For the first time, he realized what it was like to be vulnerable.
Something heavy crushed into his chest. Looking down, Cyclops saw nothing. A force field? Whatever it was, it had to be another mutant.
He felt himself being yanked up and shoved against a wall. X-23 dropped down from the ceiling, using the propulsion to deliver a jaw-shattering roundhouse kick into his face. Cyclops' head lolled to one side as he felt himself growing limp. All his energy was being sucked out of him...
Dimly, before he fell into blackness, he saw a pair of jarring electric eyes staring deeply into his own.
