A/N: Forgive me for taking an absurdly long time to update this story. If anyone is still around, I should say. I had about 70% percent written and just let it sit, sit, and sit. But I finally wrangled with my muse to finish it, and here is the final product. This chapter is much more subdued in that there's no fighting. Needed a break from that. In short, this is basically Logan's first official day at the mansion. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot. These characters (with the exception of any OC's I create) are the property of Stan Lee, Marvel Comics, and whatever big scary corporation that owns the X-Men. No copyright infringement is intended.
Sub-Level Charles Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters—6:16 a.m.
This place was a fucking maze, Wolverine grumbled. He woke up before dawn, did forty-five minutes of mediation and tai-chi before getting his day started. He had spoken with Fury to get his next set or orders, and Wolverine wanted to make his move before the rest of the inhabitants of this place woke up and began to roam the halls.
Last night he had done his perimeter check and found out the mansion sat on approximately forty-seven acres of land. The place was perfectly isolated and well protected. Holographic fences protected the perimeter, as he discovered the hard way when he took a step beyond the boundary and got a nice little zap for his efforts. If he had been human that volt would have knocked him on his ass, but it was small potatoes compared to what Storm had done to him.
Wolverine switched his thoughts as sound rumbled in his chest. Storm. She was trouble of the good and bad kind.
The institute was also outfitted with infrared cameras, and laser guns. Sheesh. But he could rest a little easier knowing that if someone tried to sack the mansion they'd have their work cut out for them, yet even the strongest fortresses had weaknesses.
He patted the pockets of his flannel shirt compliments of LL Bean, grimaced darkly, looking for the stogie he stashed away. Locating it, he stuffed it between his sharp canines and continued through the lower levels of Chuck's place.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had been unable to get a hold of ole Charlie boy's financial records. That had of course irked the shit out of the director who probably walked around scratching that eye patch of his wondering how seemingly harmless philanthropist Charles Xavier could afford the toys and gadgets the X-Men had at their disposal, and used at their discretion.
The personal Intel on Charles Xavier had been skeletal thin from the dossier Fury and Friends had been able to compile. What Wolverine knew was that Charles' parents had been rich, not exactly wealthy, and the X-Men creator had been rumored to be a part of the C.I.A. in his formative years, but there had never been any controvertible evidence to support that claim. And even if turned out to be true the C.I.A didn't line the pockets of their agents handsomely.
So that left one possible option to explain this place: donations. Donations from a very lucrative and private source. Wolverine appraised the mansion to be worth ten million dollars. The private war jet—a cool five to six million. And from what Logan could remember in his semi-unconscious state was, that bird was custom built so the plane could have cost upwards of twenty or more million dollars.
He had to whistle as he continued to do calculations in his head. This was supposed to be a "school"? Wolverine could only question what the teacher's salaries looked like. S.H.I.E.L.D paid him a good stipend for the work he did, but it was probably still chump change to what the X-Men made.
If they even made any money to begin with.
It wasn't the escrow that mattered to Wolverine. He only needed the bare essentials to survive because plenty of times he had nothing but the clothes on his back. He was a mountain man, a nomad, a lone wolf and so long as there was beer, cigars, and the occasional woman, he didn't need anything else.
Wolverine replayed the conversation or he should say introductory meeting with Charles Xavier over and over in his mind. What the man said began to mess with his directive, and Wolverine knew he couldn't afford to have his ideals—what little he had to begin with—to be affected. But he couldn't smell a lie on the old man when he said he wanted to do everything in his power to help Wolverine recover his lost memories.
Yeah, Chuck knew exactly where to hurt a man.
Wolverine acknowledged years ago there were gaping holes in his memory. Nick Fury claimed to have his classified file and so long as he performed his tricks to satisfactory levels, Fury would drop him a morsel. He did it to keep him in line knowing what a temper he had, and knew that Wolverine had no problems shoving his claws up someone's ass before walking away. Wolverine was his own person and hated being manipulated; however, Fury got away with more simply because the two of them saved each other's lives, and that had made an impression on Wolverine. Much to his chagrin. He hated being or feeling indebted to anyone because sooner rather than later they'd be looking to collect.
"I know trust isn't an easy thing a man in your position to come by, but let this place be a home to you, Wolverine. It's a hard world for mutants but I believe that with understanding we can all learn to share the planet because all we want the same thing at the end of the day. A place to feel like we belong."
"Gotdamn, hippie," Wolverine groused as Charles' words sounded off in his ears.
Inside the mansion he had worked his way from the roof and now he was on the first level of the sub-basement.
There was nothing here from what Wolverine could gather by sight and scent. Locker rooms were on this level. He picked up faint traces of disinfectant and body odor, and besides those things a storage room, furnace and cooling systems topped off this floor.
Coming to the end of the hall, Wolverine saw an electronic pad next to the door. He cricked his neck and unsheathed his claws and sliced the pad off. The door clicked open and he smiled and quickly darted into the stairwell, taking the steps two at time until he got to the second level of the sub-basement. He had no earthly idea how many floors were underground, and Wolverine didn't want to admit tension was beginning to coil in his neck. Disjointed flashbacks from his past flicked through his mind.
This level was just like the one above. Long hall, cerulean blue walls, a slightly therapeutic humming noise, halogen lights that lit the floor and ceiling. Stale, cold, efficient.
All the doors Wolverine encountered required a security code to access. Did he really have the time to slice off all those locks and then pretend ignorance as to how they were destroyed if questioned about it later? No, not really.
Trying to find an energy source was really not his area of expertise, but Nick wanted this thing found and the feral mutant acknowledged it was his job to find it, so he had no choice but to suck this up.
Wolverine felt a vibration under his feet causing him to go absolutely still. Naw, didn't feel like an earthquake and those weren't too common in upstate New York. He concentrated his hearing on the sound and could discern, although muffled, the sound of voices—someone shouting commands. Was there an underground arcade or something?
"Lookin' for somethin', sugah?"
That voice with a Southern twang captured Wolverine's attention and he turned around to face a woman. Well he should say young woman, not exactly a girl but she could pass for one standing down the other end of the hall, arms folded over her green leather jacket. She had auburn hair with a bleached white stripe down the middle feathered around her shoulders. Dark brown eyes assessed him curiously yet also suspiciously. Her face reminded him of those dolls, the ones that smelled like candy and came with rosy cheeks and dimples.
"Yeah, the bathroom," Wolverine quipped. Shit, he hadn't meant to get caught.
Full lips spread into a lazy smile and a gloved hand pointed to the door to her left. "It's that way, hun. Now you wouldn't be down here tryin' to get ya'self into trouble, would you?"
Wolverine hunched a shoulder and cricked his neck. "Trouble is my specialty."
"You must be Wolverine. Heard a lot about you."
"Sorry, can't say the same about you."
"Rogue," the newly identified mutant inclined her head. She had been away visiting her family in Mississippi and just heard from Kitty and Jubilee there was a new mutant in the house. One that wasn't a smelly, sweaty, pimpled-faced boy. She just had to see this for herself.
She arched an eyebrow as she drew her eyes over Wolverine. He certainly was handsome in the lumberjack kind of way. Remy had some competition on his hands.
The mutant was tall like Scott, perhaps taller, built like Peter but leaner in places, but there was something about those eyes that told her not to get any closer than she was now. If Wolverine tried anything the gloves would come off, but since Rogue didn't know what this particular mutant was packing, she'd hold off for now.
There was nothing worse than having someone else in her head. A side effect of her mutation. Absorbing a person's being, their memories, pain, fear everything into herself. It wasn't pleasant for her victim and it was wholly unpleasant for her. For a time she'd walk around unsure if her thoughts, memories, or dreams were her own.
"Rogue, pleasure to meet you," Wolverine grunted and stabbed his stogie back into his mouth.
"There's no smoking in the mansion, doll. You'll have to take that outside."
Doll? Sugah? Hun? Wolverine wasn't used to all these damn endearments and where it probably would have irritated him, it was actually kind of cute coming from the woman-child. Since he was busted he figured he would resume his search later, or he could just ask Rogue what was down here. This was his home now. Charlie was hoping he'd become an X-Man. He could practically smell it on him. If that were to happen, he'd need a thorough tour of the place and an understanding of exactly what went on.
Rogue stiffened her spine as Wolverine began to close the gap between them.
"I was hoping you'd be nice enough to give me a tour, darlin'," he oozed out the charm.
"I would but that ain't my job. But I can show you the grounds and an appropriate place to smoke that cancer stick, sugah. Follow me."
In a matter of minutes they were standing outside in one of the various backyards. Rogue had kept up a steady stream of conversation pointing out mutants he should avoid mostly because they were assholes, to reassuring him the place wasn't so bad once you got over feeling like your privacy was being invaded every five seconds.
Yeah, it was going to take a while getting used to all these milling bodies and personalities. Wolverine was used to being on his own.
Some fifty yards away Wolverine spotted the white-haired witch surrounded by twelve or so students. Was she in the middle of a class? Supervising recess? There wasn't a playground around this place from what he could see.
"Storm is about finished with her botany class. She's the tour guide of the mansion. I'll let her know you're interested."
Wolverine hung back and watched as Rogue crossed the manicured lawn. He shifted his gaze to Storm noticing for the first time she wasn't dressed in uniform, and much to his disappointment she wasn't naked, either. Though he hadn't seen much the other night it had been enough to fill his head with pleasant memories that had him falling to sleep with a toothy grin on his face for the first time in months.
Her clothes were standard—he guessed. Tailored lambskin trousers, cashmere sweater that hugged her curves with a knee-length knit cardigan thrown over her ensemble. Safe. Boring. Bland. If it wasn't for her cloud-colored hair and blue eyes, Storm would literally melt into the scenery.
The two women held a quick, whispered conversation which he didn't pay attention to until both of them were looking at him. He cleared his throat and stood to his full height and waited for a verdict.
Storm curtly nodded her head and sent Rogue to relay her message.
"She'll be with in you in about five minutes. You plannin' on teachin' anything while ya here? Or are you just passin' through? You look like the passin' through type."
"You sure do ask a lot of questions, kid," Wolverine snarked.
"I'm not a kid. Those are kids," Rogue pointed blindly over her shoulder indicating the bunch that was frolicking around. "I'm nineteen, I'll have you know."
Wolverine snorted a laugh. "Just as I thought…you're a kid."
Color tinted Rogue's cheeks and she had a mind to give this Wolverine character a tongue lashing when she caught movement to her right. It was Remy and Betsy talking animatedly about something. Remy was without his leather duster and wore a pair of skinny jeans and a plain white tank whereas Betsy had on her yoga outfit. Around this time of morning they went out deep into the woods to practice on their agility and strength conditioning.
Rogue looked on a bit longingly.
The sound of grass being crunched by insensible pumps made Wolverine swing his hazel-eyed gaze towards the woman sauntering towards hm.
"I have it from here now, Rogue. Thanks," Ororo addressed the distracted teen. "You don't want to be late for Henry's nine o'clock class."
"Right, right. Again, it was nice to meet you, Wolverine."
"Same here…Rogue," he winked because he had been two seconds from calling her kid again.
The two adults watched her walk away for a second before turning their gazes on one another. Storm's face was an emotionless mask though there was something glinting in those eyes that Wolverine couldn't put a name to. He stuffed his cigar between his lips, struck a match, and lit it up.
Storm frowned severely at him. A smoker. Great.
"So Rogue tells me you want a tour of the place, but why does my gut tell me you already know more than you should?"
He tried his best not to flinch or have any outward sign that she may have been on to him. Wolverine had perfected his poker face. Years of fighting, dying, and slashing mutants and humans to pieces had taught him the art of being a complete and total blank canvas.
"You're just determined not to trust me, darlin'," he smiled.
"I've already issued my warning and I don't like repeating myself. But if you need a reminder then I'll be happy to accommodate you," she grinned.
Logan was beginning to differentiate what was playful innuendo and what equated she meant fucking business. She was thankfully being playful in this moment.
Ororo began walking back towards the house and Wolverine followed. He put out his stogie on his tongue, groaning a bit as it burned before healing.
"Maybe I'd feel more at ease if I knew something about you," Ororo offered Logan the chance to dispense something personal about himself to dissipate her misgivings.
"And that would just kill all the suspense don't you think?"
"I guess," Ororo muttered dryly and opened a sliding door.
They were back inside the mansion that was now alive with activity. Students dashed from one room to another, chased each other down the long hallways, shouted, screamed, whispered quietly in groups. Ugh. He so totally wasn't going to like it here.
"Yeah, let's skip the bells and whistles and get to the good stuff," Wolverine interrupted what he knew would be a dry and dull as hell speech about classrooms, lesson plans and he just wasn't in the mood to hear about any of that. Besides, he already knew where all the classrooms were, where several of the X-Men—Charles included—laid their heads. He was interested in the toys. He knew they had them.
Arching a superior brow, Ororo began heading for the garage. "All right, then. Follow me and don't touch anything."
Rolling his eyes, he fell in step beside Ororo who greeted students who passed them by. They tossed curious looks his way but didn't stop their schedules to introduce themselves and that was just fine by him.
Ororo stopped when the biggest person, outside of Juggernaut, Wolverine had ever seen emerged from a room. The guy had to be six-eight in his bare feet, wide as a tank with a no-nonsense expression on his perfectly chiseled face. But he softened the moment he saw Ororo, and greeted her with a kiss to both of her cheeks.
"Peter let me introduce you to our latest recruit. This is Wolverine. Wolverine this is Peter Rasputin also known as Colossus."
The name definitely fit the mutant, Logan couldn't disagree. He reached out a hand to shake Peter's and if his wasn't made out of metal it would have been shattered.
"Nice grip," Wolverine growled between clenched teeth and barely resisted the urge to snatch his hand back the second it was freed.
"I could say the same for you. Wolverine…interesting name. Welcome to the Institute. Storm I'll see you for our training session in the DR."
Ororo nodded. "All right. I'll see you."
"Training session…DR? Do I want to know what that is?" Logan spoke over Ororo's shoulder as they began moving along the halls once again and had now entered the garage.
"Maybe," she answered and flipped on the light.
Logan's jaw met the floor. Rows and rows of cars from classics like a 1967 Aston Martin to a 2012 Audi R8 filled up Logan's sight. Cars weren't the only piece of machinery that was being hoarded but also motorcycles.
Logan cursed softly and began to look around, running his fingers over the glossy surfaces of the cars, and tinkering with the throttle switch of the motorcycles. Ororo kept silent and merely watched him. He seemed to have forgotten she was still around.
A prized piece caught his eye, his heart, his affection. Slithering over to the tempting piece of machinery, Logan whistled loudly, and ran a hand reverently over the handlebars, caressed the worn leather seat, and all around ogled the bike stripping it down to its chassis.
"That one is off limits," Ororo said.
"Really?" Logan challenged with a flash of his longer-than-normal canines. "Why's that?"
"Because she's mine."
"You ride?" he tried to filter the bemusement out of his voice and failed.
Ororo propped a balled fist on her hip. "Keep the chauvinism down a notch."
Logan held up both hands in surrender and took two steps from the bike. "No harm, lady. I don't know," he looked her over from head to toe taking in her polished and refined look and tried to imagine her in leather and chaps, which wasn't that much of a stretch. He had seen her wear less than that commanding not only the weather but his libido.
"You don't know what?"
"If we had met under more…conventional circumstances, I guess I'd find it hard to believe you'd know anything about bikes, cars, all this technology crap."
"Well, you know what they say, Logan. Never judge a book by its cover. The outside package is sometimes just a superficial peek into an old soul."
He grunted. She was smart on top of being drop-dead gorgeous. "Well, aren't you a barrel full of surprises," Logan muttered. "Who's the maker and what's the model?"
"This bike was custom built by an…old friend," Ororo hesitated. "You won't find another bike like that on the face of the planet. This friend is also responsible for designing and making many of the technological devices we use a part from one. It's his gift. His mutation. He goes by Forge."
"He can make anything from scratch?"
"Just give him enough scrap metal and the right tools, and he can construct wonders." Under her breath she said. "Too bad he couldn't make himself a personality."
Logan's laughter rumbled deep in his belly, the sound reminding Ororo of her treasured thunder. She barely resisted the urge to look at him, but did give him a sidelong glance from beneath her lashes while he inspected the line of motorcycles—Scott's babies.
Logan asked, "So what's the one thing he didn't make?"
"Cerebro."
"What's Cerebro?"
"I'll let Charles fill you in on that."
"Fair enough. So is the school really just a front for the X-Men's exploits?"
"Not exactly how I would frame things. Education is a priority over rushing out to help fellow mutants and humans who are in danger. The students undergo the same kind of curriculum they would if they attended a more…traditional school. On top of six hours of lessons, they have two hours of training, chores they have to carry out each week, and community service."
"That's a lot to put a bunch of kids through wouldn't you say?"
"When you live in a house with close to two hundred students, most of them teenagers going through puberty…we need to keep them busy or otherwise this place would be a pile of rubble in less than an hour."
"Still, all that discipline can't be good. Try to tame something it only works harder on trying to get out."
"It keeps them ready," Ororo countered, and wondered if Wolverine's quip had been about himself. "Our enemies certainly aren't going to give us a chance to catch our breath. But we do allow the children and young adults to have plenty of outlets to work out stress and frustration. It's just not all work and no play. We have baseball and bowling tournaments, football games, and we let them have a bit of fun in the DR. Danger Room where we train. You'll see for yourself when you're ready."
Logan stepped away from the bikes and approached Ororo who stood her ground, never relaxed her position, and never took her eyes off him.
"I'm ready right now," his voice dropped in octave and became even more gravelly.
Ororo snorted and ignored the fact her heart skipped for a second. Logan's ears twitched when he heard the sound. A grin was slowly curling his lip.
Before their conversation could continue, the hydraulic doors of the garage swooshed open and both mutants turned their attention to the intruder.
Kitty, out of breath, panted and hitched a thumb over her shoulder. "Glad I found you. Serious problem in the boy's dorm. They decided they wanted to turn the bathroom into a water park. Garbage bag slide and all."
Ororo groaned and resisted the urge to face palm herself. She turned to Wolverine. "See, just your average day at Xavier's." Pause. "Kitty can you finish giving Wolverine the rest of the tour?"
Kitty nodded and tried her best to disguise her apprehension, but Wolverine smelled it on her regardless.
Ororo smiled reassuringly and headed back inside where she ran into Scott.
"Heard about what's going on in the boy's bathroom?" he asked, hooked a sharp left and started taking the stairs two at a time with Ororo close on his heels.
"Sure did. I'm going to need a drink later on tonight."
"Harry's?" Scott asked.
"Where else?" Ororo rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
Logan heard the tail end of their exchange after abandoning Kitty somewhere on the main floor. He didn't need a tour since he already helped himself to one, but he wouldn't mind getting a drink.
Harry's Hideawy-10:15 pm
Logan had been to a lot of crappy bars in his past, but Harry's might be the Ritz Carlton compared to those places. The floor was scuffed hardwood and covered here and there with peanut shells, there were three pool tables total, with small round tables scattered throughout, and a couple of booths. The bar was to the immediate right after entering the establishment, and the bottles stocked on the shelves could use a good dusting, but it was quality booze from what Logan could see. The air was permeated with the stench of beer, body odor, and the signature scent mutants gave off.
Bushy eyebrows rose. This might be Logan's first time entering a place that seemed to cater to his kind of folk and that surprised the hell out of him. As he was used to being the only freak in the room, being in a place where mutants didn't have to hide what they were, did strange things to the muscles in the back of his neck.
Nodding his head toward the burly man wiping a glass clean, arms the size of tree trunks, Logan scanned the crowd and spotted his prey.
The elder members of the X-Men took up four tables, all pushed together though there were a couple of booths available, they made themselves right at home almost in the literal center of the place.
Moving through the crowd like a man comfortable in his skin, he caught the eye of several ladies who began whispering fiercely to one another wondering where he came from. He smirked, for once enjoying being the new kid in class as they weren't interested in putting his body through the gauntlet—at least not to test his healing ability and how much pain he could endure before losing consciousness. Logan felt an unmistakable twitch behind the zipper of his jeans and mentally told his boy to stay down as he passed a group of ladies vying for his attention.
However, as he neared a table and caught sight of that cloud of colorless hair and the fact she was wearing a tank top with skinny straps that exposed a wealth of cleavage, Logan cleared his throat, grabbed a chair and made himself at home on the opposite side of the table from Ororo.
Several people grumbled their hellos while scooting their chairs aside to make more room to which he promptly ignored. Logan stared unabashed at Ororo who was too busy taking selfies on her cell and photobombing the Cajun's self-love portraits.
He observed them for a minute making note of how close together they were seated. Logan inconspicuously sniffed the air around them and didn't detect a hint of lust coming from either of them which was puzzling because clearly they were wrapped up in each other and in their own world.
"You get used to it after a while," the British vixen leaned over and said to Logan.
He took his eyes off the pair and focused them on her.
Betsy offered an easy smile, picked up her shot of tequila, and tossed it back. She didn't wince or groan from the burn. Logan liked women who could handle their liquor.
"They are a pair of narcissists but refuse to admit it," she went on but there wasn't any jealousy in her tone from what Logan could tell. Just a deep admiration for them both. This was a family unit and for a tenth of a second Logan truly felt like an outsider.
He didn't have any true friends at SHIELD. Just a bunch of people who were scared of him and his claws. He and Nick had an understanding but they didn't hang out after work drinking beer and watching football on his flatscreen.
"One of the first things you learn…when Remy and Ro are in their own world…hardly ever interrupt. They've known each other for years, and have questionable habits if you want my honest opinion."
"Is that right?" Logan asked, picked up the pitcher of beer and poured himself a glass. He didn't really care to know the particulars surrounding the weather witch and the annoying Cajun. That info wouldn't be important to SHIELD.
Betsy nodded and admired the way Logan's Adam's apple bobbed as he drank. She also admired the display of corded muscles under his hairy and sinewy olive skin revealed by the rolled up sleeves to his Henley shirt. Though Wolverine was hard to read because he wasn't a loud broadcaster like most people, she did pick up very faint traces of his thoughts. Mostly he was just curious about a handful of people, Storm being one of those people. That didn't surprise Betsy in the least.
"Ro told me she showed you around the place. Lot to take in. How do you think you'll like it here?"
"So far things are all right," he replied and swallowed another gulp of beer wanting to keep his answers short.
"I was almost intimidated as fuck when I walked through the door. I mean, I'm kind of used to opulence, but the things hidden underneath bloody blew my mind away."
"How long you been an X-Men?"
"Going on three years. I was part of Excalibur before jumping the pond."
"Excalibur?" Logan had heard of it but didn't know much about it. "You worked alongside Captain Britain?"
"That bloke is my brother," she stated proudly, "and let's just say, I'm having more fun on this side of the world mostly because he isn't here," she winked and threw back another shot. "You dance?"
He wasn't the best dancer, could do a simple two step but there was no way in the world Logan was going to remove his derriere from its current perch. He gave a non-committal shrug and finished off his beer and greedily poured himself another nearly emptying out the pitcher.
The whole time he and Betsy had been getting better acquainted, Ororo had one ear on their conversation and the other on Remy.
Remy's slender fingers trailed up her arm garnering her attention. She jumped back in the conversation they were having. "I already told you what to do. Stop being a coward," she griped.
Remy snorted and fired up a cigarette. "Chere, you know there ain't a cowardly bone in dis body. Look at me," he smirked. "You told me to be cautious."
"And it's been four months. How much more caution do you need? Ignoring something or procrastinating isn't going to make the problem go away. Go see him."
Remy shook his auburn locks and scratched behind his ear. His surrogate father was dying; at least that was the latest prognosis from Jean-Pierre's black market physician. Slipping in and out of New Orleans would be a cake walk to Remy, avoiding The Guild was another matter entirely, and a confrontation with his old thieves-in-arms was the last thing he wanted and could afford right now.
You steal a precious artifact and sell it to your enemy to pay off your father's debt, and people wanted to hold that act of nobility they called treason over your head. Remy didn't understand their logic.
"I already told you I'd be more than happy to go with you. I haven't seen Papa in…five years or so. I'm long overdue for a visit."
"Non, I can't let you go into that lion's den."
"I've been in tougher places, you know that," Ororo said succinctly.
"I do, Stormy, but…"
"But nothing, Gambit. Stop pussyfooting around and make the arrangements as soon as you can. We both owe Papa our lives, and he needs your support."
Remy blew out a breath and with it a cloud of smoke. He nodded his head once, allowed melancholy to envelope him for a second before he was back to his old charming self, turning his attentions to a bright-eyed Rogue.
Logan had listened to their interaction, surreptitiously watched their body language from his peripheral vision. It would appear Storm was used to getting her way. The Cajun backed down too early for his liking but again he wasn't the Cajun—thank God, and it wasn't his problem to worry about.
Blue eyes found his and a white eyebrow lifted challengingly. Before Logan could make Storm uncomfortable by openly leering at her, her cell began to ring. She dropped her eyes to the object and frowned deeply.
"Business?" Betsy asked and wiped her fingers clean of salt from the handful of pretzels she just devoured.
"Not exactly," Ororo answered evasively and decided to ignore the call. It had been someone she didn't want to think about, in fact wanted to ignore the caller's existence altogether. "I feel like playing pool. Who wants to join me?"
Logan rose to his feet, the legs of his chair scraping along the floor. "I'll join you."
Ororo stared at him and then shrugged. "I'll even let you break first."
"You're far better gentleman than I am, darlin'," he followed behind the statuesque woman taking in her lean curves accentuated by black leather pants. He became fixated by the jiggle of her ass while she walked. He grunted in appreciation which earned him a peculiar look from Storm as she eyed him over her shoulder, and caught him staring.
"Pervert," she said and he laughed out loud.
Another World/15 Light years away
The landscape before her eyes hadn't changed much from her previous observation. The earth was still hard, inhospitable to vegetation, and offered not a drop of libation or nutrients to sustain life. This place, this land her home was dying. The radiation from the orange beacon in the sky was destroying their atmosphere with each lunar year, and the outlook on their future was not so bright.
She wished she could blame the state of affairs on a corrupt government, civil wars, or the tyrannical reign of a madman, but it wasn't the case. Nature had been destined to be their downfall. They needed a solution or they, an already dying breed would cease to exist. And extinction was not an option.
Harried footsteps sounded off in her ears, but she didn't turn from the pitiable sight in front of her.
"Mother, it's been found."
That garnered her attention as she swung her yellow-eyed gaze from the beacon and focused them on one of her numerous daughters. Her eldest and her heir apparent.
"You've found our hope?"
The girl, much alike in appearance to her mother shook her head regrettably, but then mustered on despite the bone chilling look glaring from her mother's displeased face.
"Then what…?"
"We've found another beacon in a galaxy far away that is similar to our own."
"How is that to help us?" the mother spat heatedly.
"It may be a place to start…evacuations if necessary. If its atmosphere is comparable to ours, that is. The scientists are hoping to make contact and possibly send a team."
The mother waved a hand in the air impatiently. "We cannot afford the resources necessary to send a team and that is not the goal at hand."
"But mother if you would reconsider…"
"I do not need to reconsider when my mind has been made up! Come to me no more until you have found our hope. Leave me."
The daughter wanted to protest, object, and tell her mother—the queen, to stop clinging to her useless string of hope, wake up, and face facts. They were doomed! And no magical cube speculated to have energy powerful enough to sustain their core was going to save their planet, their species. But she had to remind herself her mother was stubborn, irritatingly so, and lived by the Old Ways.
Bowing respectively, the daughter took three steps backwards, turned, and headed off to the citadel. She was Regent and had some authority and when her mother wasn't looking, she was going to go out and do what she could to save her home or make a new one somewhere else. Her fate wouldn't be tied to a dead planet. It just wouldn't. And anyone who dared to get in the way, their bones would fertilize the last of their remaining earth. That was her promise. That was her vow.
Chapter end.
A/N: I'm still working out the logistics for the alien race, like a name, but they definitely won't be anything from the X-Men comics, or movies. And I also want to delve into other sides of Storm because in some comic arcs, she's boring as hell, or they recycle her main storyline over and over again, and don't do anything interesting with her. So if she comes off a little OOC from time to time, it's just my take on her and how I'd like her to be. And Wolverine will continue to be Wolverine, lol. There's attraction between those two covered with distrust, so it'll be fun to see how things develop, and I'll try not to take forever building them up. So let me know what you think. Thanks you guys for your patience with me and thank you for reviewing last and/or previous chapters! I promise not to take so long to update.
