Disclaimer: The characters and concepts of X-Men are owned by 20th Century Fox, creator Stan Lee and Marvel comics. I own nothing and this is just for fun!
- Chapter 10 -
The next morning was not better then the end of the day before.
John rolled on the cot, trying to find a acceptable position. Looking up at the small window that indicated that the morning had broken. His arm hurt like hell and he had nothing against the pain. They had told him that he would get the next pills in the morning, together with something to eat.
After some more waiting the door finally opened. Two agent came through the door. One with he handgun in his hand, the other with a tray of food.
"Back to the wall. Face it!"
How dangerous they thought he was without the use of his power? Sure, he had trained in the martial arts in Magnetos camps, but he had never been really good at it. And with his injuries his ability in this field would not have gotten better. But they did not know that.
He got up and followed their command.
Behind him he could hear the tray being put down. Then the door closed. He turned around and the men were both gone. He went to the tray were he could find his medicine and some water. After he had taken it, he sat down again. He was not really hungry. Yet he did not know when he would get something to eat again and the last month had taught him not to waste anything that was offered.
After some time they came back to move him. This time with shackles for his hands and feet. He did not really care to where he would be going. After all, he had effectively blocked every escape path that he could take. So he followed their demand and moved to the wall again.
He suddenly heard agent Peersons voice. "Just his hands. In the front, we have a long way to go."
Then the irons came around his wrists. All snug and safe. Magneto would just have waved them away with a gesture of his hand.
Where had this thought suddenly come from? Maybe there was still more fight in him then he had thought.
The three man led him out of the prison. One in front, one in the back and agent Peerson beside him. The agent had a hand tight around Johns uninjured arm. Again he offered no resistance. There were other agents and policemen out there. Watching the surroundings. Some were staring at him in a hostile way.
They put him in the back of their car. When the agents sat in the car and it started to move, he finally asked.
"Why are they looking like that? Surely I´m not the first mutant they ever encountered."
"No, but we have lost two men yesterday." After a short pause he continued. "And you are a well known mutant terrorist and this all happened because you were here. They blame you for it. Even if you did not fight against them."
John looked up. "They blame me, you don´t?"
There was a long moment of silence. When John finally thought there would not be any answer it came.
"No, I don´t blame you for doing anything in the fight. On the contrary, if you had not chosen to fight against her, our casualty's might have been much higher. But it is true, if you had stayed with the X-Men or had simply hidden better, they could still be alive..." The agent looked out of the window. "One of them I have known for many years. He had been a close friend."
There was sadness in his voice. And John stopped everything he was going to say.
Somehow he always hurt other people. Even if he did not meant to. He had always had this talent, even as a small child. He leaned back against his seat and closed his eyes. Maybe he could try to get a little sleep.
He was roughly awoken, when the car suddenly jumped wildly around, finally colliding with a tree in it´s way. One of the agents in the front was badly injured, blood was running all over his face and he moaned. The other behind the wheel seamed dazed.
"What has happened?"
Then John saw them himself.
Mystique, the man from the shop and a big man he thought he remembered as Sabertooth. Then there was another man he did not recognize. So he knew nothing of his powers.
"We have to get out of here!" Agent Peersons voice.
The door of the car opened and John stumbled after the agent. This was a no win scenario.
"Give me my lighter and run. They are coming for me not for you!" Four to one. At least he could take one or two down with him before they had him.
He could almost hear the agent thinking. Then his manacles were gone and he felt his lighter in his hand.
At once John ignited a flame and cast it at Mystique and her men. No time to waste with talking. He had not been one of the most powerful mutants in Magnetos group for nothing. So they spread before him.
John concentrated and build the flame up to become a dragon. Then he let it loose onto Mystique. Letting it hunt her down. Then a big wolf for the Sabertooth. It sprang forward. Beginning the hunt.
He did not believe the frog-man posed too much of a threat, but one could never be sure. And what of the man he did not know?
And suddenly the earth shuddered under him. He fell and lost the concentration on his fire. The dragon and the wolf died down for a moment. Come on Pyro, you can do better than that!
With all his will he focused again. But he knew now what the other guy could do. Knew that this man had stopped the car. So he hurled a jet of fire in his direction, so the earth would quiet down again.
Too much happened around him. And he could not keep this up for long. He knew why mutant fighters, especially the X-Men, liked to work in teams. Normally there would be someone around who could fight the biggest threat with his or her powers. Now, this guy was the biggest threat around here. And he was alone.
Another jet of fire and another. At one point or the other he would tire out. Just a question of time.
If Mystique played at that she would get to him at the end. John could see her dancing out of the range of his fire-dragon. She was just fine.
That was the moment the earth shuddered again. And John lost his footing and fell. He landed hard, hitting his head on a large rock. He felt numb, as if everything was suddenly too far gone. He knew his defence was nearly down. With his last will he created a wall of fire around himself and the car with the humans. But his consciousness was fading. He would soon be out. And the fire would die in the snow.
Then his senses began to play tricks on him. He thought that he could hear the noise of jet-engines coming nearer. Some lightning struck wildly around him.
And then all around him went black.
As John was halfway coming to his senses again everything was in a rush around him. He could hear some shouting in a little distance.
Then a voice near his ears. "John, John! Can you hear me? Come on, wake up!" This sounded quite like Ororo Munroe. But that could not be. He tried to open his eyes yet was unsuccessful.
Then suddenly someone grabbed him, lifting him up the ground.
"Bring him into the plane, Bobby! The others, too!"
All the bumping made him want to through up. But finally he heard the sound of feet on metal and then he was strapped down somewhere. He wanted to fight this restraints, but the nausea was too strong.
"Shh, calm down, John." Bobby´s voice.
"Kitty, Bobby. Bring them to the nearest emergency hospital and then come back. Logan and I are going to stay here and see if we can fight them."
The earth buckled under the plane. Not good.
Then the engines of the jet started to whine in protest. But it lifted off the ground.
John tried to open his eyes, but the light was too bright. He felt somebody close and squinted slightly. He could see Kitty standing there, looking a him worriedly.
"Are you all right?"
John tried to smile, but the effect must not have been good. The look at her face darkened.
"Just a little queasy."
A hand was placed on his forehead. Yet after a moment he could hear Bobby´s voice.
"Kitty, I need you here."
She squeezed his shoulder, then she was gone. After a moment his senses become bury and everything went dark again.
As John opened his eyes again he was without a doubt in a hospital. He was laying on one of these uncomfortable beds and his sight was restrained through the typical white curtains that isolated one from the other patients in the room.
He lay still for a moment, trying to get his bearing. His head felt as if it wanted to explode. The headache was that strong.
The curtain moved slightly and he could see agent Peerson looking in. Then he was gone again.
"He is awake."
A young woman, obviously a nurse, came to his bed. "How are you feeling?"
John sighed. "My head hurts, I have a headache and there is some nausea. But beside that... Nothing out of the ordinary."
She smiled a professional smile. "I call a doctor. They might give you something against it."
Then she went away and the agent came back. John looked up at him.
"Where are we? And what happened after the attack? I don´t think I remember it correctly..."
The agent looked down on him.
"Not so fast Mr. Allerdyce. We are, as you might have recognised, at a hospital. And I personally think the doctor will keep you here for a few days. My agents are here too, still alive."
He took a chair from somewhere and sat down.
"I personally think we had quite a bit of luck, with your friends showing up. They were on the search for our attackers and I think the inferno you created did draw them in. They came to check on you. Check if you were all right."
He paused for a moment then continued.
"Anyway, you fought Mystique and her friends off, until the last earthquake. Then you hit your head hard and went out. Your friend slipped in and brought us here... If not, we all would be dead by now."
"But they left and did not come back?"
"No, kid. Not yet. But you were not out that long. They left half an hour or so ago. Maybe they will come back."
But they won´t. They both knew that.
The X-Men would come in and help someone like him, someone who loosely belonged to the family. Who could sometimes even be an enemy. But they would not pick him up again.
On the other hand now he had hope that if he ever choose to go back, they might care enough to take him in. If he ever got that chance with the government now breathing down his neck.
His thought were interrupted when a doctor came in to check on him. She was a woman in her fifty's. She checked his eyes and reflexes, let him walk through the room and finally spoke a little with him. Then she inspected the bullet wound at his arm. She drew up one of her eyebrows questioningly. But in the end she refrained from commenting.
After that he was ordered a stay in bed for about forty-eight hours and then she left him with some pain-medication.
Agent Peerson, his government minder, had left while the doctor had checked on him so he was alone for the time being. Despite his headache this was a fast improvement over the last evening in the cell.
It suddenly occurred to him that no one was watching him any more. And he was by no way restrained. If he choose to, he could just walk away. Nobody would stop him. Of cause that could change in the next hours. So maybe he should use this one time chance before they realised their mistake and corrected it.
He started to get up, but then let himself slip down again. No use with the state he was in. So he just closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.