Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Rain dripped from the edge of the rusted scrap metal that served Bishop as a roof.  His breath came out in clouds, though it wasn't quite cold enough for the rain to freeze.  Shard huddled against him, shivering.  The sounds of explosions were growing more distant but Bishop knew it wasn't safe to move on yet.  He bit his lip hard to keep the tears at bay.  He had to be strong and alert. 

The enforcers had swept through their area like an Armageddon.  The kind old man who had watched over them was dead, shredded by automatic weapons fire.  Bishop could still see his twisted body and empty eyes.  But the rest of the day was a blur.  They had run for their lives, more terrified than Bishop had ever been in his short life.  The enforcers were leveling the entire quadrant to wipe out the indigent mutant population.  There was no place to hide where the treads of the armored vehicles wouldn't crush them or the heavy explosives wouldn't destroy them.  People ran in all directions, only to die as the enforcers cut them down from behind.  Miraculously, Bishop and Shard escaped time and again.

Finally, they had managed to veer off of the path of the destroyers, finding shelter in the wreckage of an aircraft that had been downed in the war years before Bishop was born.  From there they had watched the enforcers go by, their destruction aimed in a slightly different direction.  As the explosions and weapons fire retreated into distant thunder, Bishop decided it was time to move on. 

"Shard."  He nudged his sister.  "Let's go.  The enforcers are far enough away."

Shard ignored him.  He nudged her again, harder, and when she shifted limply his heart froze.

"Shard!  Wake up!"  In the darkness, he couldn't tell where she was hurt or how badly, but she remained unresponsive.  He put his face next to hers and felt a faint puff of warmth.  She was still breathing, at least.

He was going to have to find someplace safe-- and warm.  Someone would have to help them.  But he knew that was very unlikely.  People didn't have enough to take care of their own, let alone a couple of strays.  Still, he caught Shard up under the arms and began to drag her towards the city lights that beckoned from several miles away.

He was crouched in the shadow of a boarded-up doorway, Shard cradled in his lap, when he heard it-- a soft whisper of cloth, a tiny scrape of something against the cement street.  Someone was out there.  Bishop's breath froze in his lungs.  He was glad he'd been sitting still for a few minutes, resting.  There was a chance that whoever or whatever that was, hadn't seen him.

A dark shadow drifted past his line of vision, paused.  It turned a slow circle, searching for something.  Bishop held his breath.  We're not here.  There's nobody here.  Please don't notice us.  There's nothing here but metal and brick and rain  He tried to press himself back into the corner of the doorway, as if he could make himself part of the structure.  The figure took a few steps then turned again.  Bishop saw a pair of glowing red eyes and shivered

"Come out, pup," a quiet voice told him.  The red eyes skewered him where he sat.    Bishop didn't move.  He was too frightened.  The figure moved closer, resolving into a man.  He was old, Bishop noted in surprise, but moved with an agile grace that even a young man would envy.  The red eyes watched him intently.

"De girl die if she don' get some attention, pup," he said.          

Bishop still said nothing.  He wasn't certain he could.    

"I know a place where she be safe. You too."  

Finally, Bishop found his voice.  "I don't have any money."       

"Didn' ask f' any, pup."  The man tilted his head, as if he were listening to something Bishop couldn't hear.        

"We runnin' out o' time.  De enforcers be turnin' dere sweep dis way.  You comin'?"   

Bishop listened intently.  The sounds of violence did seem to be getting louder.  But his instincts screamed at the thought of going with this red-eyed man.           

"What's it going to cost?"  He knew there were far worse things than dying at the hands of the enforcers.  Bishop couldn't see the man's expression, but he thought he sensed a kind of approval.

"Does it matter?" the man answered.    

Bishop climbed to his feet.  Not really.  Shard was the only family he had.  Frightened but somehow hopeful, he brought Shard out to the man who scooped her up easily in his arms.  Then he followed the man through the twisted ruins towards the bright city lights.

#

Bishop came back to himself with a start.  Gambit leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"Dey ready, Bishop.  Y' comin'?"        

"Yeah."  Bishop levered himself to his feet.  He tried to push the visage of the past out of his mind, but Gambit's red eyes flashed as he turned and Bishop felt a chill.

He followed Gambit into the danger room.  The program they'd pulled out of his mind was loaded and ready to run.  So far all they knew about it was that it was designed to modify a danger room sequence.  On the off chance that it was intended to turn the room into a weapon to kill them with, Bishop had insisted that only a minimum of people be present in the danger room when the program was run.  Therefore, only he, Gambit and Beast would actually be in the room.  Everyone else was crowded into the observation booth, where Professor Xavier waited at the controls.            

The heavy door slid shut behind him.  Hank waited for them in the center of the cavernous room.  Bishop heard his own footsteps echoing as he walked toward the waiting man and realized suddenly that Gambit's didn't.  It was unnerving.           

"Well, gentlemen," Hank said as they approached, "are you ready for this?"      

Bishop drew his weapon.  "I am ready."           

Gambit said nothing.  Bishop could tell he was uncomfortable, but his face was unreadable.  Not that Bishop could really blame him.  If he was the traitor, he was effectively trapped.        

"Very well," Hank said.  "We're ready, Professor."      

The professor's voice echoed through the danger room's sound system.  "I am running the program now."        

Several moments passed in silence.  Bishop opened his mouth to speak, but Hank waved him off.         

"It's probably going to take a few minutes.  Remember, it's modifying an existing sequence.  It has to update the code and recompile it before we'll see anything."          

They waited in silence.  Then an area off to their left began to shimmer with the familiar iridescence of an impending holographic projection.  It solidified into a man.  He was very old, with long gray hair pulled back into a neat ponytail.  He was dressed immaculately in black and navy, with a long black cloak draped over his shoulders.  The keen red eyes studied the trio intently.

Gambit's jaw dropped.

"Oh my," commented Beast.    

Bishop simply stared at the hologram before him. His gun drooped in slack fingers.  "Witness," he breathed.