In Storm's old tribe, John was overcome with a strange kinship. This was how a true native tribe should function. He remembered back on the reservation, feeling disgust for his surroundings. The disgust he felt for his people, the once proud Apache Warrior tribe, reduced to living dejected in trailers on government handouts. But here, in Africa, Storm's tribe had flourished, though primitive, as a functioning independent society.
He looked over to Wolverine who was trying to glean information from what seemed to be the only English-speaking member of the tribe. John smirked and walked over, having seen what his leader could not, and lifted the African by his throat. Wolverine turned on him, claws extended, and demanded to know what John thought he was doing as a crowd gathered from the village huts.
"For all of your heightened senses, you can't even see. Did you notice his wrist, Wolverine? There is a tattoo of a skull, which is the Hungan's symbol, isn't it? You'll get no help from this lackey."
Wolverine snorted in annoyance from John's insubordinate comments. It was true. He could even smell faint traces of all of the missing X-Men; this man had been in contact. He looked up to see the African turning blue and trying to pry John's iron grip from his throat. With John's super-strength, it was a futile effort.
"Alright, bub, let 'im go. This little puke is gonna be our guide into the jungle."
John did as he was told, sort of; he did not drop the African, but slung him into an undignified heap on the ground. Wolverine rounded on John, warning him of further insubordination. He then told John, Gambit and Nightcrawler to form an alpha group to blaze a trail into the dense Kenyan forest; John would lead the trailblazing using the skill he'd learned from his grandfather since childhood, looking for signs of man and struggle. Wolverine's nose would do no good in such a sensory overload as Africa, with the X-Men having been too long ago brought through to leave much, if any, residual scent. Gambit would act as stealth support, his natural agility and tenure in the Theives' Guild allowing him to acrobatically navigate the canopy above, providing an imperceptible ally should John run into trouble; Nightcrawler would act as reconnaissance, teleporting ahead and returning to John and Gambit to warn of any trouble ahead. Wolverine would lead the beta team, consisting of himself, Rogue and Colossus. Having absorbed the lackey's memories, Rogue provided a general destination point for the group and act as intelligence if and when they encountered any other hostiles while Colossus and Wolverine brought up the rear as defense.
The deeper they went into the expansive jungle, the more respect John was beginning to respect whoever it was that he was tracking. Under his grandfather's tutelage, John had learned to see more in one glance than most men would ever see in a lifetime, and from the looks of the tracks (barely) left behind by the men of The Hungan, it was easy to see what kind of people they were. Certainly there was malice in their hearts, being kidnappers and all, but what man didn't feel a bit of darkness now and again? These Africans, these tribesman, had that intrinsic connection and deification of mother earth that John's people once had.
They moved through the jungle without disturbing the jungle, as the X-Men were doing now. There was nary a machete-mark or disruption of the flora, by and large. John had noticed the booby traps they had set, and the tripwires had not been man-made rope, but vines, and a complex alarm system using the jungle around them to alert. However, John could not allow his respect to cloud his judgment; these men would kill him, given the slightest chance. But John knew something these subjects of The Hungan did not: John was an Apache warrior, a born fighter, and relished the chance of a dust-up with them.
He heard a slight rustle and looked to his left as something darted off, knowing it was spotted. John, infinitely faster, stronger and more agile than a non-mutant, pounced like a cougar and tackled the runner to the ground, moving into mounted position and raining down blows after seeing the skeletal face paint. Three more emerged, ghostlike, from the forest to aid their fallen comrade; from a branch above, Gambit tossed down a charged playing card at each of their feet and leaped into the action, his staff drawn as Nightcrawler teleported back to the beta group to alert them to the situation. John and Gambit fought well together, back-to-back. As he rose from the unconscious original flunkie, John grabbed another around the neck in a plumbed clinch, throwing him to the ground and taking his back as he squeezed a tight choke down and cutting off his opponent's blood to his brain until the unfortunate tribesman lapsed into unconsciousness. Gambit's staff connected hard into the jaw of the second tribesman as he attempted to attack the preoccupied John with a meaty thud, dropping him. John jumped up as he saw the last tribesman sneaking behind Gambit to run him through with a spear; he darted forward, knocking Gambit aside and picked the tribesman up bodily and threw him into a nearby tree, smashing the trunk and the man's spine.
"Alright, fellas, what happened?" Wolverine asked as he and Colossus crashed into the scene, surveying the carnage. He noted the barely living choke victim and the undoubtedly dead man crumpled against the tree trunk; the corpse incensed him, as it went against Xavier's teaching not to take lives and he focused his fury on John, upbraiding him mercilessly. Rogue was touching the face of the man Gambit had disabled, absorbing what she could of their situation.
"There's about ten more men about a half-mile ahead, some watchmen or somethin' guarding the entrance into The Hungan's camp. We're close. These four were on their way back to alert 'em when Thunderbird and Gambit took 'em down. If they hadn't, our position woulda been given away by now, Wolverine. I don't know that you should be so mad."
"Aw, thank ya, chere, but just 'cause you think I'm cute don't mean I needja stickin' up for me," Gambit said slyly, putting his arm around Rogue's shoulders. She pushed it off in what appeared to be disgust, but not immediately. John could see the blood running to her cheeks, embarrassed by Gambit's forthcoming charm.
"Trust me, Gambit, it ain't you I'm mad at," Wolverine growled, "It's this idiot here. He knows Charles don't want nobody dyin' 'cause of us. We're the good guys, remember, bub?"
"Back off, Wolverine. I did what I felt was right. I'm no coward, but this man was. He tried to kill Gambit from behind, rather than face him. Had I not killed him, Gambit would be dead."
Logan didn't say anything; he hated to be contradicted, especially when the one doing the contradicting had a valid point. He was beginning to get a feel for his general distaste for John, however. The two of them were eerily similar. If he and Charles didn't do something to reign John in, he could prove to be a serious problem. Maybe it was a good thing that John and Magneto's former Acolytes were only on a probationary period.