Who the hell was shooting at him? Erik felt a spark of indignation. Had someone seriously just tried to shoot him? With a metal bullet? Even those bastards in Poland had been smart enough to come at him without metal.
He wanted to do something, shout perhaps, but the urge to act overtook it. So, instead of yelling that the sniper was goddamn moron, he felt for the bullet's trajectory and reversed it. It was a simple enough task, one he'd preferred many a time. Erik heard something that sounded like a cry when it hit home, but he might have been imagining it.
He took his foot off the brake and sped up, gunning it as fast as the hunk of junk he'd stolen could go. He wasn't sure what he was up against, but the best bet was likely to just get the hell out of there.
Over the roar of the rickety engine, something else caught his ear. It was a thudding noise, like an animal running on all fours. He glanced at his side view mirror, but he didn't see a glint this time. What he did see gave him a momentary pause, even with his history.
A man was running on all fours, catching up. Again, that wasn't something he'd seen too many times, outside of Hank. Even then, Hank did it rarely, his powerful feet usually enough to give him the boost he needed.
Erik reached out but, to his surprise, he didn't feel any metal on the man. The sniper obviously had metal, so was he just less cautious than the mutant catching up to him? Less cautious and more foolish? Perhaps.
Or perhaps he'd been a distraction, something so the man could get in close. He didn't look like the type to enjoy long range combat. Erik knew the type, and he could only feel a vague sense of annoyance at what was happening.
The man leapt at the truck, and Erik could hear him land in the flatbed. In his rear view mirror he could see him moving further up, trying to climb in the cab. Erik almost rolled his eyes. Mutant or no, the solution to this was obvious. It would hurt both of them, but it would most definitely hurt the man more than it hurt him.
Erik pulled his foot back and slammed the brakes again. At the same time, he ducked. Something sailed past his head. Seconds later, despite having time to brace himself, his head hit the steering wheel. It made him dizzy for a minute, and he tasted blood on his lip. Glass sprinkled around him, Tab spilt on his cheek, and he smelt sugar and carbonation.
However, when he raised his head, he saw the man get up from the street. Given the speed that he'd braked at, he should've been a smear on the asphalt. Instead, he was getting up, cracking his neck at odd angles.
Erik decided not to wait to find out why that was. He jerked the truck off the road. It wasn't an all-terrain vehicle, but it would do. It was a bumpy ride, the woods not being kind to the wheels. The baseball hat flew up and away from his head, and what Tab hadn't been spilled by his initial attempt to shake off the man splashed on the passenger's seat.
One of the tires gave, and Erik felt the truck jerk even more wildly. The steering wheel jerked around, and he realized he wasn't going to be able to regain control of the vehicle. Swearing to himself he kicked open the door and launched himself out.
The ground met him hard, but the foliage softened the blow somewhat. Besides, he knew how to fall, knew how to reduce damage. All the same, he landed at an awkward angle on his arm. He gritted his teeth, wondering just how bad it was.
He had time to determine that it wasn't a break, and it wasn't dislocated, before he started getting to his feet. A second later he heard the crunch of metal against a tree trunk. All around him, different bolts and the bumper sailed through the air. So much for the truck.
He straightened up and saw the man from the road standing a few feet away from him. Blood was still smeared across his face, and Erik thought he saw a piece of bone there. Skull bone.
So the man could heal. Interesting.
"Heard what ya did ta Chris," the man said.
"Was that his name?" asked Erik.
"Not sure," said the man, "Don't really care."
Now that was different. There was, he supposed, something he should say to that. However, he didn't have time before the man launched himself at him. Erik spun out of the way, but what felt like talons bit into his already-injured arm.
It wasn't a deep wound, the way he moved had insured that, but it was enough to irritate him. Erik flung out his arms, and the crumpled truck flew through the air. It slammed into the man, pushing him back, and a metallic tang filled the air.
However, Erik waited. He couldn't get the image of the man in the road out of his mind, and that meant he couldn't go until he confirmed the kill. Charles might not approve, but, honestly, he was getting a little tired of holding himself up the standards his friend kept expecting of him, especially in these situations.
The truck was flung to the side. Erik raised his eyebrows.
"Huh," he said.
Erik tore off pieces of the truck as the man advanced. A piece slashed into his arm, into his leg, but he kept coming, his eyes looking increasingly angry. A trickle of worry came into his head, but he'd dealt with this sort of thing before.
He splayed his fingers, and the metal pushed the man away. He looked surprised, but he wouldn't be able to help the pull. The metal was in his flesh now. With a little more concentration, he managed to make the metal twist around a nearby tree. The man snarled, but stayed put.
Erik crossed his arms and cocked his head.
"One of Stryker's I'm guessing?" he asked.
"One of Xavier's?" the man sneered.
Erik raised his eyebrows.
"Now that's something of an overstatement," he said, "Although, you knowing the name does irritate me."
The man smirked.
"Not the only thing we know," he said, "Erik Lensherr right? Or Max Eisenstadt?"
Red obscured his vision. For a minute, he saw his wife, calling his name downstairs, their daughter's hand clenched in hers. He saw the birds, heard his wife begging little Nina to calm down, the sound of a woman whose world was being taken from her.
Erik twisted the metal deeper, and the man howled in pain, but he kept smirking.
"Use that name again, and I will kill you," Erik snapped.
"Best o' luck," the man laughed.
Anger leeched into his veins, and he opened his mouth to speak. A gurgle caught his attention, followed by two more, and he turned. Three men were down, blood coming from throats and chests.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in."
Erik turned around and saw a second man. He started, his mind going back around ten years. He watched as Logan stormed up, metal claws slicing through his skin. The fact that they weren't bone anymore was strange enough, but that wasn't the only strange thing.
He couldn't help but notice what a strange type of metal they were, unlike anything he'd encountered. It was almost like steel, but not quite. It had some qualities of lead in it too but, again, it was off.
"Why?" Logan growled.
"Why?" the other man laughed.
He ripped an arm free from the tree. Blood slopped to the ground.
"You left. Never called, never wrote. How else was I supposed to get your atten-?"
Logan rushed forward and buried his claws into the man's neck. Erik watched the blood, watched the gurgle, but he also watched the man's free hand come around and dig into the side of Logan's neck.
There was a howl, and Logan moved back. The man broke free from the tree, blood still slopping from his neck. Erik watched his advance, as well as Logan turn, the blood staining his shirt, but the skin closing over the wound.
Erik looked behind him, contemplating if going back to the road was a good idea. However, he heard, rather than saw, the approach of the other soldiers. Erik rubbed his temples and flexed his fingers, feeling for metal.
He found plenty and, again, had to sigh at their arrogance. However, he also looked as Logan began to charge at the other man, and wondered what he was doing here. Had Charles sent him? No, he would have mentioned. Charles might have a vested interest in making sure Erik made it to the Institute, but having Logan back definitely would have been a topic of conversation. He'd been a pain in the neck ten years ago.
However, before he'd found it necessary to dump him in a river, he'd come to appreciate Logan's unique skill set. He looked at the other man, felt the metal still inside him. He rubbed his chin for a moment, and decided to take a risk. Maybe he could even kill two birds with one stone.
He concentrated on the soldiers closing in and the pins in multiple grenades flew out. Seconds before Logan and the other man made impact, and just before the grenades went off, Erik threw out his hand and pushed the other man into one of the soldiers.
Explosions ringed the clearing, and Erik was nearly knocked off his feet. Trees caught on fire, surrounding them in smoke. However, he managed to regain his balance, just in time to have Logan grab him by his shirt and slam him into a tree.
He hissed in pain. Yes, Logan wasn't the friendliest if he remembered correctly.
"Goddamnit," Logan hissed, "Why did you-?"
"I just blew him up," said Erik, "I understand he heals, but I think that should be sufficient."
"He's like me, and some asshole filled me full of metal once and dumped me in a river," Logan snapped.
Erik raised his eyebrows, wondering what exactly Logan was playing at. However, he could see the honest lack of bitterness in his eyes. So he didn't know? It had always been fun to taunt him, but Erik had the feeling he would have to save that for later.
"Hasn't worked," Logan said. "Thought the head...Hafta figure out a different way to kill 'im, and he ain't the only one on my list."
Great. Erik didn't know what he had stepped into, but it was only important if it meant Essex and Stryker would concentrate more forces on them.
"What are you doing here exactly?" said Erik, "You obviously don't remember me-"
"Have we met?" asked Logan.
"Yes, or I wouldn't have mentioned the two of us meeting," Erik said, irritated, "I thought that much was obvious."
"Obvious you're an asshole," snapped Logan, "There's a week or so in 1973 I can't remember. If you were in it, I'm kinda glad."
There was a week he couldn't remember? Erik wondered if that had something to do with the time travel Logan had claimed to participate in, or if Charles had simply taken away the memories for some reason of his own.
"Well, as I was saying," Erik said, "You don't remember me, so I'm unclear as to what you were hoping you could do here."
"Was hoping I could settle something," Logan snapped, "Didn't work, but I heard Essex is interested in you."
"I believe he's trying to kill me," said Erik.
"Join the club," Logan snarled.
Erik raised his eyebrows. He flexed his fingers, and Logan's fingers were yanked apart, allowing him to regain his own footing. Logan looked at him in surprise, but he shouldn't have been.
He had metal running through his entire skeleton now after all.
"Then, as we leave before too many reinforcements come in, I might have something to say you'd be interested in," Erik said.