"Ow."

Rogue shifted Remy's weight on her shoulder as slightly as she could. "Sorry shugah."

Scott turned around and motioned for the two to be quiet. Peering around the corner, Scott crept in as silently as his boots would allow him. He held up his hand as a sign for Rogue and Gambit not to follow him inside the room. Tip toeing across the room, he came to a cell that looked identical to the one Rogue was in. Peeking in, he saw a pondering Beast, staring at the floor as if it were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen and a nervous Jean with her back to him.

"Hey slackers."

Jean spun around, jumping off the floor and running to the cell door. Beast slowly got up, brushing his furry behind off as he did so. "Well, fearless leader, how's the shoulder?"

Cyclops glanced at his injured shoulder, having completely forgotten about it for some time. "Fine, I guess. How are you two?"

Jean's face beamed at her husband. "Ten times better knowing that you're alright."

"Awww." Rogue sighed sarcastically. "How's about you love birds quit cooin' an' get us all outa here."

Scott nodded and punched the release button for the cell door. Jean exuberantly hugged him; Scott took a moment to touch her cheek in pure affection. Jean leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"Did it work?"

Scott's face turned grim, instead of answering, he grasped her hand and led her away from the cell.

From across the room, Remy eyed the pair suspiciously.

"What's our E.T.A. Ice?"

Bobby checked the controls on the panel to the left of him. "I got 7 minutes from our drop off point."

Wolverine nodded. Ferocity sparked in his eyes, one that was unlike his usual fierceness. Charles took note of it, as he had been studying Wolverine these past few days. Logan always assumed a non-leadership role, preferring to remain in the rear, doing things his style, the way he saw fit. He shrugged off responsibility like an old sweatshirt, yet for some inexplicable reason; he took this unfortunate incident to show off his leadership skills.

Mind you, everyone seemed to have surprises up their sleeves.

"Saddle up folks. We're ditchin' this joint." He turned to the Professor, a smirk forming on his face. "You wanna come with us, bub?"

A sly smile returned Logan's. "Sadly no. I'm your escape route, in case you've forgotten."

"Just be on time Chuck."

"Always."

Wolverine readied his parachute, while Ororo studied him in her usual calm demeanor. Angel was the first to go, ruffling his feathers before he gracefully dove towards the earth. The air crackled as its molecules began to form themselves into a giant ice sled, of which Iceman whooped his way down. A gust of wind carried Storm out the door of the plane, propelling her to the compound. Just before Wolverine was about to jump, Charles stopped him.

"Logan," Logan stared at Charles questioningly. "Bring them home."

Wolverine nodded, then jumped.

The five X-Men loped down the corridors of the stark white facility that had held them captive unsuccessfully, their soft-soled boots barely making a sound on the harsh metal floors. Gambit held a hand up, silently asking for a quick breather. The short jaunt took his breath away, which in his condition didn't take long. Rogue steadied him up against a wall, while Beast placed a furry paw on his forehead, checking his temperature.

The lights in the corridor flickered.

"Y'all right shugah?"

Remy nodded, and smiled, cupping a hand to her cheek. His eyes suddenly took on a grave look, as his face lost any color that it might have had. Knees buckling beneath him, his body went limp and fell to the floor, to the horror of Rogue.

"Remy!" She reached down to grasp him, when a funny feeling began in her hands, kind of a tingling sensation, almost like her fingertips were charging… "Uh-oh." Then she thought about it. Jumping to her feet, she stared at her hands, and noticed they were distinctly taking on an orange glow.

"Wahoo! Ah got ma powers back!" She looked down at the passed out Gambit, still slumped against the wall, Beast keeping tracking of his vitals. "Oh, Remy!"

" I think he's okay, Rogue. He's in need of some rest as it is." Beast drew Gambit into his massive arms, being careful not disturb the thief's peaceful sleep.

The lights flickered again, then completely went out. The X-Men held their breath, suspended in the darkness. "What's going on?" Jean asked.

A large click was heard, then the slow and steady hum of a back up generator kicked in. Emergency lights shone a dull red, encased behind their metal cages.

"Power outage. That's probably why we've got our powers back." Scott answered. He grasped his wife's arm, leading her in front of him while he kept a sharp look out for any unforeseen danger. The rest of the X-Men proceeded in orderly fashion, taking their steps with a slow cautious rhythm. A sudden shout of alarm alerted the X-Men to switch their focus on a group of soldiers in one of the corridors ahead of them. Instead of searching out cover, they watched in curiosity, as the soldiers had obviously not seen them. The dull thud of a punch landing on its fleshy target resounded through the halls, along with the surprised cry of the one receiving the punch. Scott flinched unconsciously, as if the sound itself could invoke pain. As the soldier hit the ground, the same time rubbing his aching jaw, it was now apparent whom the guards were struggling with.

"Bishop," Jean whispered, the slightest hint of joy in her voice.

Cyclop's optic beam crackled as it soared through the hallway in a blinding flash of red, hitting one poor soul square in his back, effectively knocking the wind out of him. The remaining two guards momentarily forgot about their captive, and turned their attention towards this new threat. It was a mistake that Bishop capitalized on. Bishop shot his hand out and grabbed the shaft of a rifle, still in one soldier's hand, and swung both the rifle and the owner off his feet, and straight into the last soldier. He stumbled forward, slightly dazed and came face to fist with Rogue, which was the last image he'd see for a long time. Bishop made short work of the other.

"Good to see y'all in one piece, Bishop."

"And you, Rogue."

Cyclops came loping up beside the two. "Let's get going gang. I think this may be our only window of opportunity."

Wolverine sniffed the air.

"Smell good Logan?" Bobby whispered.

Wolverine gave him a sideways glance and growled. "Shut up Ice. I think I got something."

Ororo placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Who is it?"

Logan sniffed the air again. "Smells a little like, cajun." Logan turned to face Storm, whose smile revealed the deepest relief. But there was something, a different smell…

"Storm!"

Storm's face contorted in agony, as a bright orange blast of laser hit her high in the shoulder blade. Logan caught her before she fell, already unconscious from the shock. Logan quickly handed her to Angel, instructing him to get her to safety. Storm's assailant was already high-tailing it down the opposite direction. Wolverine growled.

"Bobby, keep going. They're over there somewhere."

Iceman looked unsure about the situation. "Where are you going?"

The sharp, distinct sound of metal sheers slicing their way to the surface of Wolverine's skin sent a cold tingle down Bobby's spine. "Goin' to get me some chop suey."

Angel crouched in a darkened crevice; the unconscious Storm cradled in his arms. He looked about nervously, knowing that in this situation he was a sitting duck. He peered down at the dark beauty, and swept a wisp of stark white hair away from her face. A soft, feminine moan escaped her full lips.

"Hey Storm." Warren whispered, knowing full well that Storm couldn't hear him, but it was comforting to him at least. He shifted so that her head fell closer to his chest, and could now feel the hot, almost perfumed breath against his cheek. He found himself taken by this unbelievably kind, noble warrior, truly a goddess in her own right, but now so vulnerable. His head felt heavy, his lips almost drawn to hers, coming closer….

And stopped. He quickly shook the thought out of his head.

"Nope. Logan would kill me."

"I am Henry the eighth I am, Henry the eighth I am I am…" Bobby hummed the most annoying song he could think up. The normally hotheaded youth was feeling extremely uneasy right now. Although he would never admit aloud, he secretly hated being alone, and singing, even if it was Henry the eighth, was still better than the eerie silence of a military base. Especially when they had guns, laser ones, and there were many more of them than him. Because he was all alone, of course.

"I am Henry the eighth I am…"

"Henry the eighth I am I am"

He stopped, as someone else was finishing the lines in his head for him. A woman.

"Hey Bobby."

"Jean!" He yelled aloud, then quickly covered his mouth realizing that he was still trying to evade soldiers, not attract them.

His fellow X-Men rounded the corner, a beaming Jean that made Bobby's heart glow just from the sight of her.

"You still can't carry a tune, Ice."

He grinned sheepishly. "Hey guys, we've got an escape plan."

Scott looked in with interest. "What's the plan?"

"Okay, Storm knocked out the power with one of her electrical surges, but we don't know how much longer the power will be out for, so we've got to hurry."

Jean's eyebrows creased in confusion. "Where's Storm?"

A look of pure concern clouded Bobby's face. "She got hit, but don't worry, Angel's got her, she's okay. The prof is out in the jet, he's trying to avoid the radar until we can get it off."

"How?" Rogue asked.

"Well, Remy can take care of that." Bobby shrugged.

"Uhhh…" Beast motioned to the person lying unconscious in his arms.

"Oh. Well then, maybe we can just run like hell."

The X-Men's jaws dropped. "Bobby, that's our escape plan?" Cyclops' voice was incredulous. "Who the hell came up with that?"

"Wolverine."

Scott nodded assuredly, as if the answer somehow explained all the bad luck they'd been having so far. "And where is he?"

"He went off chasing the guy who shot Storm."

Sensa struggled to control his hard breathing, wanting his chaser not to be able to get the upper hand on him. He was closing in on his goal, just inches away from entering the black arena, his arena for the final act.

Some called mutation a natural way of life, that it was survival of the fittest, evolution. Evolution. The word was an abomination to him. Evolution was a crock to him. Adaptation, that was what made sense. Humans adapted to their surroundings, but what had mutants adapted to? They were a mistake, pure and simple, like the child born with an extra toe, a bird with a crooked beak. It was not evolution, for evolution took thousands of years to mold, no, these new breeds of humanoids were like a virus, multiplying until they would choke out the pure, the perfect ones, ourselves. And now he would prove it. The prey would finally become the predator. That word, that was a word that invoked pride in him.

Predator.

He readied his sword, fashioned from a new resource, adamantium.

"Here kitty, kitty."

"Boo."

The voice was behind him, he swung as reflexes took over, bringing the sword down in an arc, but finding it striking something strong and rigid. Struggling to free his sword, he realized that it had not hit something, but was caught between something, three blades, shorter than his sword, but attached to a hand.

"'Bout time you showed up Wolverine."

Logan smirked at the remark. "Don't remember introducing myself to you bub."

Sensa opened his mouth to reply, but Logan spoke before he could. "Don't care to know ya either."

Slightly offended, but nonetheless assured of his mission, Sensa dropped to the floor, freeing his sword at the same time. Spinning with martial quickness, he brought his sword back up, nearly slicing his opponent's shoulder. Logan counter-acted, bringing his right hand with it's blades up into Sensa's face, inches from his eye. Sensa backed, spun, swinging his sword towards Logan's back. Logan dropped, swiping out his left leg, tripping Sensa. Sensa did not stay down, he was back on his feet, swinging wildly, and now on the offensive.

Angel's wings pumped fluidly against the damp air of the jungle night, the stars and moon the only light to guide his way. Storm's dead weight slowed his ascent, but only slightly. The jet was now in sight, and he was sure the professor could sense him. The hatch opened on its own, Angel gliding gracefully in, putting Storm down on the closest seat, as gently as he could. He looked up.

The professor was staring at Storm, the most unbelievable look of sadness in his eyes.

"Where are you Charles?"

Sinister stared out into his lush world, a world he was about to abandon.

"Sir, the automated self-destruct has been enabled."

Sinister nodded absently, hand stroking his chin. He smiled. "The battle is not nearly yet over, Charles. But I'll let you have this one. Checkmate."

There was a sensation, something cold, fluid, from his ear. He put a hand up to his left ear, touched the fluid, and brought it to his eyes.

It was blood.

Both men were drenched in sweat, eyes glaring with fire; teeth set in grim smiles.

"Give it up boy." Wolverine taunted.

The phrase infuriated Sensa. With strength that was not only unexpected to both Wolverine and Sensa, he pushed Logan right off his feet and into the dirt. "Don't you dare look down on me, freak." He spat the words at Logan, putting extra emphasis on 'freak'. "I'm a human, not an abomination."

He brought the sword up high in the air, above his head preparing to swing it down in its final motion, right for the skull of Wolverine. But he never got the chance.

A look of pure surprise and shock, his mouth dropped, knees crumbling beneath him, but somehow he still managed to look at the one blade that had impaled him, care of Wolverine. The middle blade, with streams of bloods trickling down the shaft of the blade, his blood.

Wolverine retracted his blade, and immediately Sensa slumped to the dirt, eyes still wide with shock, dirt sticking to the saliva at the side of his mouth.

"Guess it depends on yer point of view."

EPILOGUE

The soft hum of fluorescent lights, the insistent beeping of a heart monitor. Charles came into the medbay, shoulders sagging, as though he were atlas with the world on his shoulders. In a way it was.

Beast turned, his wire rimmed glasses perched so precariously atop his furry face it would almost seem comical on any other day but this. Henry grunted his greeting, far too involved with his research for a proper acknowledgement. Charles took no offense however.

He smiled sadly at the young man who lay motionless on the bed; muscular arm imbedded with a tube, oxygen being delivered via nasal mask. He grasped Gambit's shoulder, a moment that seemed fatherly.

Remy opened his eyes, and blinked before he was able to see properly.

"Prof." He managed to croak.

"Hello Remy. Henry says that you will be able to leave here in a couple of days. We caught the internal bleeding just in time."

Gambit nodded carelessly, thoughts of mortality meant nothing to him, just as long as he could get out of this damn bed, and soon.

"How's Stormy?"

"I heard that!"

The voice she reserved for whenever Remy referred to her in that name she hated most, was the one she used now. Remy strained to see her form, which was sitting up in bed, reading some sort of novel, her entire left arm and shoulder encased in padding and held together in a sling, but looking well nevertheless.

Gambit smiled in relief.

"Well, now that I'm reassured of your health Remy, I'm sure that you'll be excited to know that Rogue plans on cooking you breakfast the second you're out of here."

He groaned.

Charles patted him one more time on the arm, and turned to leave.

"Professor?"

Charles turned to face him once more, but the elusive thief had his eyes permanently set on the ceiling above him.

"Yes, Remy."

"Sinister goin' ta die?"

This caught both Henry and Storm's attention. Charles kept his hard eye contact with Remy's face; Remy's eyes kept their unwavering contact with the ceiling. Xavier could almost swear that he saw Remy's eyes begin to water.

"Yes."

Gambit nodded. "Good."

Almost.

THE END