Chapter 11
The bubbling noises inexplicably drew him into the bowels of the laboratory like a siren called out to a sailor, its song hypnotic and irresistible to his ears. There was something familiar about this room; something he should remember; something just beyond his grasp. Wolverine looked about him, noting every detail. Silhouettes of a musculo-skeletal nature strategically adorned the lighted wall. X-rays - all of them, but for what purpose? What diabolical intention did they serve? The air was dank and stale from abandonment. The room was overshadowed by the human-sized aquarium placed in the center of the room, the water eerily still. A silver mercury-like substance bubbled in a connecting boiler.
He stared at the liquid, so familiar yet elusive, willing his mind to remember. It was no use; he sighed with frustration. He looked back to the tank, and placed his hands along the rim, trying to remember when the memories assailed him. They came rapidly in painful alacrity – his body submerged in water, as he struggled to free himself – He couldn't do it, he couldn't go through with it! – the needle plunging under the surface of his skin – "No! I've changed my mind!" – the surge of adamantium as it flowed inside his frame, adhering itself to his bones. It was hot and heavy as it poured through him, until it cooled then hardened like steel. His screams were primal as the metal sprang forth from his hands, ripping the skin. He clawed his way out of the tank, slashing at everyone in his path, leaving his marks embedded in the stone frame of the tank. Covered in blood, his only thought to get away, he ran out through the tunnel – but by then it was too late.
"The tricky thing about adamantium is…" Stryker started in a honeyed tone, pulling Wolverine out of his reverie, "that if you ever manage to process its raw, liquid form, you gotta keep it that way."
Wolverine stared at Stryker as he continued in a slow measured voice, "You gotta keep it hot. Because once the metal cools, it's indestructible...but you already know that." He paused to look at his creation. With a wry smile of satisfaction he said, "I used to think you were one of a kind, Wolverine." He made his way up the stairs and added, "I was wrong."
He had done this to him, this Stryker. He made him into the animal he was today. Why? Fury filled him as he pursued his maker, ready to give him due, only to be blocked by her. She spun about and slammed her arm into his face, momentarily stunning him. She followed with a roundhouse kick that sent him flying backwards toward the aquarium. He landed on his back with a flat thud. Angrily he rose, So, she wants to play rough huh? Snickt!He extended his adamantium claws ready to do battle.
She waited for him, a look of triumph in her dark eyes as he glanced over her slim frame dismissing her as an unworthy opponent - until she extended her own claws. Ten rapier thin blades protracted from her fingertips.
"Holy shit," Wolverine muttered under his breath. He hadn't expected that. Nor had he expected the fight that ensued.
She was strong, very strong and fast, he thought as the blades sliced at his face. He fought back ferociously, giving her no quarter. She moved eloquently, like a ballerina, all beauty and grace as she attacked with a vengeance and strength that left him gasping for breath.
Enough of this, he thought as he plunged his left fist and then his right into her stomach. His claws embedded to the hilt, he glanced at her. She looked at him with a look of surprise and uncertainty. Her eyes glazed white as she renewed her resolve, her hands clasped his wrists, and the metal nails clinked as they wrapped about his forearms. Using this as leverage, she placed her right foot on his knee and proceeded to climb up his chest and planted her feet wide. With a look of satisfied pleasure she arched back and pulled the blades out in one fluid movement. Wolverine could not believe his eyes; she healed as he, with incredible speed.