Chapter 13

-Blockage-

'What makes old age hard to bear is not the failing of one's faculties, mental and physical, but the burden of one's memories.'-Somerset Maugham

Part 1

His hands lay still and rigid on the rims of the bathtub, the tense muscles flickering underneath his pale skin. The almost boiling temperatures of the bath water had dropped significantly by now; naturally, considering he had been in there for well over an hour. The soapy bubbles had receded too, merely clouds of white foam here and there on the surface.

He pulled his arms into the water and subsequently, dunked his head in too. He tried his hardest to keep his eyes open but try as he might, they flickered shut.

He stayed underwater for a while, ignoring the increasing pain in his chest.

He wondered what would happen if he stayed underwater, to pay no heed to the aches of his body and cries of his head to come back up.

Would he drown? Well of course he would, but would it be instant? Or would it be slow and time consuming? Would he faint from the lack of air and then drown?

Warren Worthington was considering all of this and came to the conclusion that death was a very complicated thing. Especially if it was self-induced.

Complicated, yes, but effective.

It was only the dulled thuds against the bathroom door that had him come back up.

He was gasping and spluttering, his lungs overwhelmed by the rushing oxygen. He almost flapped a little bit, akin to the way cats react to being washed.

He let out a huff.

"Sir?" Warren heard. There was a knock on the door. "Sir?"

"Y-yes?" Warren managed to say.

"Are you alright?" His guard, Mulciber, asked, "You've been in there for a very long time."

"I'm fine!" Warren called back, slicking back his plastered blond hair off his forehead, "I just...I fell asleep!"

"Miss Nixon will be here soon," informed Mulciber, "In fifteen minutes to be precise. I assume you do not wish to greet her naked and wet?"

Warren grumbled. Cynthia Nixon was without doubt the most puerile and woeful excuse for a female he had ever come across. Simpering and with a slight lisp, she was the epitome of a spoilt brat. She had been born into a wealthy and socially desirable family and so, she had never had to work a day in all her seventeen years.

She was nice-looking, Warren had been kind enough to offer. Like a lemur really; wide eyed and curious. But that didn't make up for her obnoxious personality.

She was some distant cousin of his but that had not stopped Lewis in organizing a union between the two.

'Cynthia was always your intended,' Lewis had said, 'Elsa was never an option.'

Then why, pray tell, had his father allowed such a romance between his son and his worker's daughter?

'I thought it was all fun. I did the same thing back in my day. I frolicked with the maids and bedded the village girls, but in the end I settled down with your mother.'

Ever since Lewis had left for America, Cynthia's visits had increased exponentially. Perhaps it was Lewis' way of keeping his son at home and however twisted it may be, a way to keep his mind off Elsa.

Warren suspected that Cynthia was never in fact his intended, and Lewis had simply set up the arrangement in order to stop him from running after the 'Muller Girl'.

Slowly, Warren hopped out of the bathtub. He stood silently in the middle of the bathroom, shivering in his nakedness. He caught his reflection in his mirror and was mildly disappointed.

His face had sunken, his skin pale and blotchy. He had developed dark bags under his dulling blue eyes and his lips had worn thin from constant biting. His once muscular, brisling body had lost most of its beauty; he was now wiry and lean. Elsa would be very disappointed. But then again, it was never his looks she loved; it was him.

He didn't know where it came from or why it was so sudden.

But he began to weep. Weep so uncontrollably he wasn't sure if he would be able to stop.

He longed to see her, to touch her, to hold her close and shower her with kisses. He loved her so much and yet, he had done the most unforgiveable things. Warren began pounding his fists upon the tiled floor, screaming and shrieking as he did. His fists quickly turned red and inflamed, but Warren was nowhere near finished.

Warren could only imagine his screaming and sobbing was unsettling to hear for Mulciber. But there was such a barrier between master and servant and though he would not admit it, Warren sure his father had placed a threat upon all the servants; encourage or sympathize and immediate dismissal would follow.

And so, Warren remained in the bathroom. Mulciber had tried his hardest to break through the bathroom door when Warren's screams had escalated, but it was bolted shut. In the end, Mulciber had recruited other servants of the home and together, the rammed down the door. It had been a curious sight, to see the young Master strewn on the floor, stark naked with fists so red it looked as though he had dipped his hands in blood.

And all the while as they cleaned him, bandaged his hands and soothed kind words into his ear, his lips could only utter one word; 'Elsa'.

Over and over again.

The sharp, burning sting of the whisky lingered in his throat. But years of drinking the stuff had taught his senses to accept the taste and now, the bitterness was only minor to the better half of the drink.

Erik took another sip, levitating his coin absently in his hand as he traversed the many corridors of Xavier Mansion. He had been avoiding training with the others, ditching any sessions for quiet walks around the magnificent home.

It wasn't as though he didn't like the other mutants, although Hank didn't really tickle his fancy. It was just...training...what was it all for? To help the humans? Save them from nuclear destruction?

That, Erik could not agree with and for now, it certainly wasn't his objective.

Right now, he lived to kill Shaw. To destroy him.

And his nightmares, revisiting the image of dead mother over and over again in his mind, re-enforced the deep hatred he felt for the former Nazi doctor. He needed to get Shaw first, the humans could wait.

He came to the third landing, the one that contained most of the mutants' rooms. It was comical really, that Charles had put all of them on the one floor. Like they were at University or something.

One door was slightly ajar and though there was light flitting through it, Erik was tempted to continue on his way. He only stopped as he realised it belonged to one particular mutant, one he had come to like.

Elsa's thin figure was twisted in a strange foetal shape pressed against the wide window of her room. She seemed to be in deep thought and a small smile indicated her thoughts were of a pleasant tone.

Probably remembering something that Summers kid said to her.

Before he had thought twice, Erik pushed open the door and entered the room. Elsa looked up but she did not unravel her knot of twisted limbs.

Erik liked Elsa. Not in an erotic or sexual sense, but something innocent and naive. There was something eluding about her that made Erik want to poke her constantly, to see how much he could get out of her.

A little perverse, but it was how he felt.

Elsa smiled, but did not say a word. Erik stood awkwardly at the door, wondering why the hell he entered in the first place.

"I don't think I'll ever understand your penchant for blonde boys," said Erik, wondering if this change in dialect would throw her off.

"That's because you've had a bad run in with them," Elsa returned in her native tongue.

"So have you by the sounds of it,"

By that, of course, he meant Warren. But Alex was included too. Erik swaggered through the room, placing himself on the daybed Elsa was currently sitting upon.

"Once," said Elsa, holding up one finger.

"Twice,"

At first, Elsa was puzzled; twice? What on earth did he mean by-?

Oh, of course.

"He apologized," Elsa said quietly.

Erik's posture stiffened and his eyes were suddenly cold.

"That makes it better does it?" he growled sourly, "Is that what you're going to do if you meet that Warren boy again? Forgive him?" He snapped his fingers, "Like that?"

Elsa didn't like Erik's tone of voice or his insinuation that she was simpering and vain enough to be so forgiving. She unravelled her limbs and stared right into Erik's pretty blue eyes.

"Is that what you're going to do when you meet Shaw? Forgive him?" she snapped.

Erik's response wasn't exactly what Elsa had hoped for; instead of flustering in embarrassment, he simply cracked a wicked grin. A grin that suggested, 'what do you think?'

"So?" smiled Erik, leaning against the headrest, "You going to forgive him like Alex?"

"Alex was different," explained Elsa, twisting her black ponytail, "He just, said a few hurtful words. Warren on the other hand..."

Elsa went quiet. Warren on the hand had betrayed her completely. Warren on the other hand had taken her heart, pinched it and then sent it smashing to the ground. There were so many things she could never forgive Warren for. He was probably enjoying himself right now, wrapped in the arms of some pretty girl as she popped grapes into his mouth or something.

Erik looked solemn, realising he pushed a tender nerve.

"Charles tells me that your sessions haven't been going so well," he said quietly, edging closer to her.

"He tells you everything," muttered Elsa.

"He says something's stopping you. Something's blocking your ability," said Erik, ignoring her little remark. He sat up and placed a hand on her bare arm. "You should unlock it; imagine what you could do-"

"Is it that simple Erik? Just, unlock it?" asked Elsa angrily, shoving off his hand, "So why haven't you done it? Hmm? What's stopping you from raising submarines whenever you feel like it?"

"It's not my lack of ability we're discussing here; it's yours," laughed Erik heartily, amused at the frail girl's sudden anger. It was like watching a kitten trying to be menacing.

He let her huff in her sudden rage, letting her to calm down a little. It did not long, for within minutes she had sunk back into her foetal position. Her dark eyes took on a distant look and once again, like he had experienced with her times before, a sombre cloud hang over them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Erik asked quietly.

"I don't think that'll happen,"

"You can trust me,"

"I couldn't disclose anything to Charles and he's a telepath," said Elsa, staring at Erik sceptically, "How are you going to break through to me?"

"Because Charles doesn't really get it," said Erik matter-of-factly. It was only six words long, but Elsa felt that sentence summed up everything she felt about Charles. Charles was a good man with honourable intentions, but Erik was right; Doctor of Genetics Charles Francis Xavier just didn't get it.

"Does he?" continued Erik. He looked away from Elsa and stared out her window, his eyes as still as stones. "He doesn't understand that sometimes someone can hurt you so badly, all you want to do is destroy them. Until you take back what they stole from you, you'll never be at peace. And until then, you're dead inside. He just thinks it's all forgive and forget."

For a moment Elsa wondered if it were her he was talking about or himself. But she did not say anything. This was one of the rare moments where Erik ever opened up, at least so intimately.

His eyes shifted back into the room. For a moment they looked together and in that moment alone, Elsa realised they had agreed to discuss that night. There no telepathic messages or tell-tale signs of the face; she just knew.

Erik reached over and from the tray beside him, poured Elsa a glass of water. He handed it over to her, offering her a small smile.

"Thanks," mumbled Elsa.

"Besides, we're patriotic buddies you and I," said Erik, "You can tell me anything."

"Charles sent you down here. Didn't he?"

"No actually. I came here on my own accord." Erik looked at her pointedly. "If you doubt me-"

"I don't,"

Elsa felt naked again, like her first day at Weston Academy and when she had first met the others. She was about to stripped bare again, but this time it was different. This time she was not simply recalling where she came from or what her name was. This time, she was re-entering an abyss in her mind that was so deep and buried, she was terrified of the monsters she might find there.

Erik looked so solemn and bare; Elsa was reminded of Charles' failed attempts to get to her. He had used tissues and chocolates, warm blankets and reassuring smiles. Erik was all no-nonsense and straight to the point. And for some reason, it relaxed her.

"It'll help," said Erik simply.

Elsa doubted that, but after a platonic length, she began to recount the events of that night.

21st December-1961

Banbury, Oxfordshire, England

Elsa absently fumbled with the split ends of her dark hair, wincing at its coarse and brittle quality. She hardly took care of her hair as it were; the extreme cold made it doubly worse. Trekking to school through blistering winds and knee high snow, in addition to regularly meeting Warren at the icy moors, saw Elsa spend most of her day's out rather than in.

Running a hand over her dry skin, she looked out the window of their humble kitchen and stared at the snow that fell heavily upon Banbury, turning it into a sea of white.

Toped with mounds of snow, the naked pines and bare oaks were hardly visible as were the flowers Eva had planted in around the home. Christmastime at the Mullers was less a noisy throng of long-lost relatives and raucous banter, and more a quaint get-together. A simple, charming tree sat comfortably beside the fireplace, adorned with plain maroon baubles and golden tinsel. Youngest Rolf's misshapen, handmade paper angels hung around the kitchen, desperately strung together with bounds of Sellotape. Six worn but charming stockings hung happily on the mantel, still flat and creased and not yet filled. Christmas was not for another few days, but the excitement was quickly swelling.

Elsa watched her mother tend to her cooking, hovering over various simmering pots and occasionally checking the ancient and oily wall oven. She absently patted at her thick dark hair, quietly humming to herself as she did. Eva knew nothing but hearty English meals, for her Pakistani mother had not had the opportunity to teach her otherwise; she had died when Eva was very young. Nevertheless, she took great pride in her cooking, believing it to be a direct reflection upon her disposition. Her father had instilled in her a great love of cooking, to understand a meal for more than its appearance, a need to reach out to others without language and to penetrate otherwise impenetrable barriers. And when Eva was happy, it spoke volumes in her cooking.

Elsa felt a shove at arm and looked up. Friedrich Muller smiled mischievously at his only sister as he attempted to move her elbow completely off the table, as she provided steady resistance. He held out his arm, challenging Elsa to an arm wrestle.

"Go on then, sis." He insisting, flexing his fingers in anticipation.

"You sure you want to embarrass yourself again, Fritz?" asked Elsa, laughing at her brother's immaturity. Even at nineteen years of age, Friedrich still acted like a child.

"I'll have you know, that I let you win. It's the chivalrous thing to do." retorted Fritz, pulling up to his feet as he began to assist Klaus in setting the kitchen table.

Poor Klaus fumbled, dropping forks and spoons in his desperation to leave the kitchen as soon as possible. Elsa smiled sadly at her oldest brother. Poor Klaus was so conscious of his strange appearance; the presence of handsome Friedrich often rendered him completely mute.

"What are you frowning at?" asked Fritz, playfully flicking Elsa on the forehead.

"Nothing." muttered Elsa quietly, pushing his hand away.

There was a sudden burst of cold wind and the howl of the open air. Eleven-year-old Rolf came bursting through the front door, covered head to toe in snow. He stopped in the kitchen, eyeing his family with a cheeky smile. His face was thoroughly red and flustered, breathing still ragged, and his little chest heaving from a lack of breath.

"Where have you been?" asked Elsa. "And where's Dad?"

"Dad showed me Worthington Labs." replied Rolf, proud of this clear expression of favouritism by their father. In truth none of the Muller children, save for Elsa, had ever been up to Worthington Labs. The large, steely building was not nearly as impressive and extravagant as Worthington Manor and yet, Rolf had always had an urge to visit the place. The other children had never expressed such an interest, for they knew of their father's resentment of the place, but they nonetheless humoured the young boy.

"So?" asked Klaus, "Was it worth it?" His bat like ears bent back a little.

" No," moaned Rolf, suddenly deflated, "It was all chemicals and coats and smart people running around. Nothing fun to do at all,"

"At least now you'll stop yapping about going there," laughed Fritz.

Eva turned around and looked to her youngest son. "Rolf, darling get out of those clothes and put on something warm. You'll-Friedrich!"

"What?"

"All you're wearing is a vest!"

"So?"

"So? It is freezing! Put on a sweater or something! I don't want to have to wheel or frozen body up to the Worthington's for defrosting!"

Elsa shook her head at her brother. He was like that. He wore jumpers in summer and vests in winter. It was as if his body was programmed to its own weather gauge and nothing in the real world really affected him.

Scowling, Fritz stormed up the stairs and immediately, the sound of his bedroom door slamming against its frame resonating throughout the house.

Chuckling to herself, Eva looked to Rolf.

"Where is your father, dear?"

"I ran up here," giggled Rolf, "Dad's too slow. He's probably stuck in the snow,"

"And you just left him there?" snickered Klaus.

Before Rolf could retort, again the rush of cold wind entered the home and with it Dieter Muller followed. Dieter shivered once as he slipped off his hat and coat and placed the items on the coat rack. He slipped off his heavy steel capped boots and put on his worn, fur slippers.

Eva kissed her husband in welcome, the stocky man returning the kiss.

"We were beginning to think you got lost out there," smiled Eva, stirring the bubbling soup.

"Oh no," laughed Dieter heartily, "I know this place too well,"

"How was work Dad?" asked Klaus, leaning against the wall.

"Like every other day; repetitive," returned Dieter. Eva smiled sympathetically, patting her husband on the shoulder.

Noticing Elsa, his eyes glittering he beckoned his daughter to him and wrapped her in a tight embrace.

"I hardly see you these days Elsa," said Dieter into her hair, "You're barely at home,"

Rolf finally pulled off his tattering beanie, shaking his dark hair as his blue eyes glittered with playful malice. He nudged his sister.

"Been up to Worthington Manor lately, sis?" he asked.

Elsa suppressed a smile as he pulled away from her father and she lightly punched her brother's arm. "Shove over,"

"Speaking of Worthington, how is Warren?" asked Klaus. He did not know Warren very well, but from the few times that he had met him, the boy seemed like a good guy.

"He's fine," was all that was said.

Elsa noticed her father frowning a little; the topic of the Worthington's always made him uneasy. Dieter had grown up with Lewis and it was because of this childhood familiarity that he tolerated his boss so begrudgingly. Dieter took no liking to Lewis' cruel and cold ways. It didn't help that his only daughter was, in some shape or form, his boss's son's girlfriend. The only thing that kept Dieter from packing up Elsa's things and sending her to a nunnery was the concrete fact that Warren was not his father. Warren was a kind and honest kid and quite frankly, any father would be lucky to have found such a gentleman for their child. It was the possibility of a marriage relation between himself and Lewis that had Dieter swaying with nausea.

Shaking his head, Dieter looked around. He frowned. "Where's Friedrich? I thought he came home before I did,"

"He's here," explained Rolf, "He just went to get changed,"

"Wasn't wearing a vest again was he?"

"What do you think?"

The family chuckled heartily at Fritz's expense.

After the laughter had died down, they remained in silence. Allowing the strong scents of pumpkin and spices to fill up the small kitchen.

The silence was broken however, but a rhythmic knock on the front door. Dieter sighed as he got up from his seat, scratching his head as he walked over to the kitchen window. He peered through the curtains, eyeing their visitors.

The front door was a good few metres from this viewpoint, but it always gave the occupants a spying eye on any visitors.

"Who is it?" asked Rolf.

"It's Lewis," Dieter said simply.

Elsa's ears pricked up.

Lewis was here?

Now that was a surprise. Lewis hardly ever came round, if not to hand out bonus cheques or second hand gifts. Perhaps he was here to explain his son's strange behaviour over the past few days. Warren had been awfully platonic, and exasperatedly tiring; it made Elsa wonder if he was ill or something. He seemed to be constantly on edge, as if something bad was bound to happen.

"And?" asked Eva. Elsa noticed her mother had turned a little red at Lewis' name and for a moment, Elsa's mind wondered. She had once found an old photograph of the two, perhaps in their teens but when Elsa had asked, her mother had simply waved off the picture.

"It's bad enough I have to see him at work," muttered Dieter, as the door was knocked upon again, " I don't want to have to deal with him at home," grumbled Dieter.

Pouring the soup into six bowls, Eva snapped at her husband in an exasperated tone. "He's your boss, Dieter. And your friend; It'd be rude to leave him at the door,"

Dieter flared up and for moment, husband and wife stared at each other with such severity, it frightened Elsa. Eva was the one to break the stare and quietly muttered; "Well it is,"

Frowning, Dieter left the kitchen and headed to the front door.

Elsa peered through the kitchen window her father had just been at and looked out into the darkness. There were a bunch of men outside, mainly young men by the looks of it. A few seemed aged and worn and some she even recognized from Worthington Manor. Workers of course.

One of those she recognized was a tall, dark skinned boy Elsa knew to be Othello. He was a school friend of Warren's but since he had left school, he had been working for Lewis Worthington.

Klaus moved round the table, and stood near the living room, yet out of reach. Cleary he wanted to hear the forthcoming conversation without being caught.

The sound of the front door opening was quickly followed by the sounds of conversing voices.

Lewis Worthington's voice was clear cut and very formal.

"Evening, Dieter," Elsa heard.

Elsa poked round and saw Lewis' impressive structure in the doorway. But in the half light, she couldn't tell what his expression was. She felt a tug at her elbow and was yanked back by her mother.

"Evening Lewis," they heard their father say, equally calm and formal, "Forgive me, but I don't remember scheduling dinner or anything...?"

"Oh, no. No, nothing of the like," chuckled Lewis, "I actually came here for something else,"

"Something else?" Dieter asked, a puzzling note in his voice, "And your men; what are they here for?"

Elsa scanned Klaus' face, trying to detect even the slightest change in expression. What was going on?

"They came to help me, actually," replied Lewis' voice, "Help me get rid of something,"

"Rid of something?" laughed Dieter, a little confused, "What on earth do you mean-?

Elsa's knotted her brow. Klaus looked suddenly alarmed. Dieter's sentence hung in the air and all she could hear was the sound of his mouth gurgling. Her panic rising, Elsa swiftly joined her brother.

She almost fell back.

Dieter had fallen to his feet, convulsing a little until he finally went still. Lewis stepped into his house and two men Elsa recognized to be Othello and Sail stood behind their boss. Elsa's felt like whimpering.

What was going on?

Elsa could feel Klaus beside her, feeling quickening breath against her neck. Neither of them spoke a word.

It was a quick and sudden movement, but the deed itself slowed down in her eyes.

"I'm sorry I had to come down on you like this," Lewis pulled out a small revolved from his pocket and held it over Dieter's still breathing body. "No hard feelings though. Right old chap?"

And with those petty words, Lewis sent two consecutive bullets through Dieter's skull.

Elsa's breath caught in throat and for a moment she felt as though she was choking. The world was spinning and nothing was making sense. She could only hardly feel her brother's hands on her, screaming at her to move.

Elsa feel into the kitchen, her hands landing roughly on the stone floor. There was screaming all around her, her vision blurring heavily.

"What's going on? What's happened?" she heard Eva saying, the panic evident in the older woman's voice.

Elsa felt as though as her ears would burst as her mother's blood curdling shrieks filled the small cottage.

She felt someone's hands on her arm and she was quickly hauled back up.

Friedrich's handsome face was wrought with terror and he asked Elsa again and again what happened.

"I don't-I don't know," Elsa managed to say, her brother's grip tightening on her shoulders, "I think...i think-Dad's..."

"Where's Mum?"

"She's holding them off,"

Klaus came sliding back into the kitchen, fresh blood dripping from his fangs.

"Holding who off?" shrieked Fritz. A synonymous shudder shattered through the four children as a shot was fired.

"Mum," explained Klaus, "With a force field,"

Would that explain Klaus' relatively calm stance. Eva's mutation had always been handy, especially in storms or car travels. This seemed to be the perfect time to use it.

"And Dad?"

"He's dead," Klaus uttered those words so simply, it seemed as though it hardly mattered.

Rolf practically burst at these words, the shivering eleven year old sobbing and weeping. Elsa's grabbed her youngest brother and held him against her chest.

"She's holding them off, but it won't be for long," said Klaus, "We-"

His sentence hung cold in the air as the wrangled noised of their mother's dying cry echoed in their ears. Klaus' ears lay flat against his head, his fangs bared.

He grabbed Fritz by the shirt and spoke directly to him.

"Fritz, with me," He looked to Elsa, "Quick! Upstairs! Grab the bright yellow travel bags in your bottom cupboard." Rolf was practically wailing now, his cries mingling with the sounds of struggle at the front of the house. Klaus grabbed Elsa's shoulder and shook her once, bringing her back to her senses. "Elsa! Got it? Take Rolf with you."

"Yeah," Elsa said absently,"

"What are you going to do?" wailed Rolf.

"Destroy them," was all Klaus said. Klaus grabbed Fritz's hand, the young teleporter simply nodding and in a flash of flames, the two brothers were gone.

The blood was pounding through Elsa's veins profusely. Her head was spinning as she tried to catch on to what had just happened.

Dad's dead.

So's Mum.

They're here to kill us.

Elsa felt Rolf's hand tugging at her own and suddenly, she remembered what she was told to do. She took him by the hand and literally flew up the stairs.

She and Rolf shared a room, so there was no need to separate to collect belongings. Elsa hurried around their room and slammed the door, making sure it was locked. She began collecting the yellow bags and other various items, stuffing them in too. The yellow bags had been Dieter's idea of a safeguard in the case of evacuation. He had always been fearful of the nuclear advent and for months now, they had been hoarding foodstuffs and various other essentials.

Not that that mattered now.

"Elsa?"

Elsa swivelled round. Rolf was standing as still as tree, his hands by his side, his eyes red and soaked with tears.

"Rolf hurry up, grab a coat-"

"What's happening?" Rolf whispered quietly. He grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and wiped his nose. He let a small sob as he grabbed his sister by the waist.

"Why is this happening?" he repeated into her hip.

Elsa felt like crying too. Of course, she did not have the answers to Rolf's questions and she doubted she ever would.

She stroked his head.

"I don't know darling-"

THUD! THUD!

The door rattled in its frame, the sound of grown men thudding against it. It shivered once again, the key rattling in its lock.

"Oh, God,"

Without a moment to think twice, Elsa grabbed her brother and their possessions and yanked him halfway across the room.

She quickly bent down and fumbled for the trap door knocker. She had to be quick; Lewis' men were close to breaking down the door. The trap door had been secured long before Rolf had been born. It encased a staircase that lead directly to the back area of the house, closest to the back door.

Elsa wasn't sure if Klaus and Fritz were there, but given their current predicament, it was all she could do.

Finally, she managed to open up the trap door. She ushered Rolf in.

"Come on," she urged, a little impatient.

"Since when...?" Rolf looked half puzzled, half amused. He had never know of this door.

"Don't ask questions, just get down there,"

Rolf nodded once and immediately obeyed, running down the stairs.

"Wait for me at the bottom alright?" Elsa called.

"Okay!"

Hauling two of the packs onto shoulders and the other two in one hand, Elsa headed down the stairs, securing the trap door as she went.

She stayed beneath it for a minute, listening for Lewis' men.

"Where the hell are they?" one cried, as they finally broke in.

"They're probably in here," growled another, "You know what mutants are like,"

Despite everything, Elsa smiled to herself. Clearly, they didn't.

She continued down the long stairs, skipping two and three steps at a time.

Elsa stopped suddenly.

There was blood all over the curving steps. Fresh and black in the half light. Elsa slowed down, carefully avoiding the small pools as she descended.

The most horrid things were running through her mind, none of which she hoped were true.

As she descended further, she heard something that stopped her heart.

Rolf's groans thudded in time with her slowing heartbeat. She could hear the sound of something blunt pounding against his young flesh, every moan in time each blow.

Elsa dropped everything and ran down the remainder of the stairs, screaming like banshee as she did.

Rolf's crumpled and lifeless body lay at her feet, his limbs completely battered as they lay in various and distorted positions. His sweet face was covered in blood, his hair matted with the stuff.

"No. No,"

Elsa bent down and cupped her brother into her hands, wailing as she held his bloody body close to her chest.

She looked up and there, standing over them, was the perpetrator. Elsa did not know who this man was, only that he was a murderer. A cold, merciless child killer.

The henchman stared right back at Elsa, smiling menacingly at her as he raised the hammer he had used to slaughter Rolf. It was still glinting with the boy's blood.

Elsa screamed as she avoided an incoming blow, the hammer hitting hard into the wall. She was still clutching her brother's body and in a moment of complete heartache, she made the decision to leave him. The henchman was trying to regain himself, his composure and his strength, giving Elsa valuable time. She carefully stepped over her brother's body as she desperately tried to get out.

She yelped as he pulled her back, slamming her onto the ground. He climbed on top of her, holding his elbow against her throat.

Elsa struggled against his large frame, the breath in throat leaving her rapidly. She was sure she was going to die. She felt tears sliding down her cheek.

And then, suddenly, he was gone. Someone had pulled him off and now he went flying out of the stairwell exit.

Elsa quickly followed, just in time to watch Klaus tear off the henchman's head with one swift movement of his jaw.

The back room was splattered with blood and dirt. Fritz was struggling with two henchman, slapping them back with the sharp blade of a kitchen knife. Klaus too had recommenced his battle, ripping flesh apart with his hands as the remaining henchman stood their ground.

The entering door of the back room slammed open, allowing two men to enter.

One she did not recognize, the other one...

"Tom?"

Tom Eastham stopped for a moment, his eyes locking with Elsa. Elsa did not know Tom very well, only that he was a worker of sorts for Worthington Labs. And that he was a mutant.

He was shackled and chained, with blood all over his muscular body. Elsa knew he wasn't here by choice.

"I'm so sorry," Tom whispered.

Elsa frowned for a moment, wondering what the hell he meant.

A battling henchman noticed Tom's arrival and in joy, yelled; "You're here! Finally! Get this done will you?"

Get what done?

It was strange and alien, but when it hit Elsa why Tom was here, it made her want to give up completely. Tom's mutation was paralysis and the only way to subdue them...

"NO!"

Fritz and Klaus simultaneously fell, clutching their ears as they convulsed on the ground. Elsa struggled to maintain her balance, wondering why her feet would not allow her to move. Now that they were defenceless, it was easy for the henchmen.

Elsa screamed at the top of her lungs as both of her brothers' brains splattered on the floor.

She did not stop screaming, even as she fell to the ground. Even as flailed her hands around and banged her fists upon the floor. Even as a figure picked her up and threw her outside into the ice cold weather.

Elsa was brought back to life by the freezing snow, shivering in her nightgown.

There was so much going on inside her head, Elsa was afraid it might explode. Not yet though, not yet. First she'd deal with this idiot. This idiot who brought her-

But his blonde hair caught her eye, his blue iris' looking translucent in the dim light.

Elsa fell back into the snow and began screaming again at the top of her lungs.

Warren.

AN: Hallo, hallo! I know it's been a while, but I'm currently towards the end of exam week and whilst I have about two other stories to update, I felt that I had to update this first! Yeah, so like I said, action scenes aren't my best. This chapter looked brilliant in my head, I wonder if that translated onto this document...? I might go back and edit it, but we'll see.

Anyway, I'm really sorry I didn't thank anonymous reviewers, 'Saadhana' and 'Me' last time! I hope you didn't think I don't like anonymous reviews! BECAUSE I DO! Thank you for your support! Also, thank you LizziePixie-Aiko who never fails to review and actually reads my author's notes.

I do have the second half of this chapter, but it's still going through some writing and editing! Keep your eyes peeled!