Wolverine woke slowly. The world seemed distant, muffled. He hurt, too, even though he felt like he'd been out for a while. His wounds lacked that tingly, itchy feeling they got when he was healing, and that was not good at all.
He looked up. He was in a Magistrate aircar. They were flying low and fast over the foothills of the Ridgeback mountains. Storm lay next to him, in retraints, though from her bandages it looked like she was too hurt to put up much fight. She wore an odd, electronic collar; Logan realized he had one on too. Several troops regarded them, weapons ready.
Two people drew his attention. For a moment he thought they were behind glass, but then he realized he just couldn't smell them. It made the whole scene feel somehow unreal. One was a woman in a slightly-more-decorated Magistrate uniform, clearly an officer. The other, a man in generic, mercenary-style garb, was more familiar.
"I was wondering when you were going to get up, freak. Not nearly so tough without that healing factor, eh?" the man sneered.
Storm sounded tired, but brave. "You know him?" she asked Logan.
"This, darlin', is Daniel Hardishane. Ex-CSIS. They found out he was selling intel to the highest bidder. Just barely got out ahead of a team sent to kill him. Word was he was dead, but I never believed it."
"I always knew I'd see you again, runt," Hardishane crowed. "I really owe you for my current fugitive status."
"Oh no, bub. I owe you for Sverdlovsk. Four good men didn't make it back, but I'm happy to collect for them, too." They locked eyes for a moment, neither backing down. "Nice company you're keepin'. Suits you."
"They do know how to handle you muties, don't they?" Hardishane beamed. "They hired me to give 'em a security review. Set a thief to catch a thief, eh?"
"Must make you happy, eh, darlin'?" Logan glanced at the officer.
"That's Chief Magistrate to you, mute." Her eyes shifted to the mercenary for a moment. "He has offered some useful advice from time to time," she said simply. Somehow her contempt still came through.
"They lost a mutie a couple years back. Just one, but word got out, and the rest of the genejokes got hard to control for a while. So the ministers brought me in." He grinned. "Good thing, too. Recognized you right off when I saw the tapes from the cameras at the train station. You set off the mute-sniffer there." His smile broadened. "Thanks for justifying my budget, those things are expensive."
"You'd do well to tell us who you're working with. We've been watching you since the terminal, we know you've sent and received transmissions. We haven't tracked them yet but it's only a matter of time." The Chief was all business. "We'll get it out of you one way or another, but it'll hurt less if you tell us now."
Logan sat up. His arms were held uselessly behind his back by thick metal clamps, but his legs had only a long chain between them. He had a shot in his side, a cut along one thigh, and his shoulder hurt a lot. He still tingled from a stun beam. "I think we shall wait," Storm said calmly.
"You're tough, lady, but we're gonna give you the full workup when we get in. You scan human, but there's something funny about a black woman with blue eyes." The mercenary frowned. "And such a good shot. I didn't count on you blowing Pipeline's link. Now we have to ride these ships back."
"Perhaps we have a few more surprises," Storm smiled, sitting up despite the pain, drawing as much attention as she could.
Hardishane was frowning. "Watch 'em. Even without powers, they're..."
Wolverine was already moving. He jumped forward, spinning. A bullet glanced off the clamps, and then he was amidst the troops. A bit of twisting and kicking and he had the chain shot apart. Storm wrapped her legs around a trooper and clubbed him unconscious with her own clamps.
The Chief smashed the edge of her hand into his neck, and his side went numb. {Better move now, while I can,} Logan thought. He whirled and slammed the door open. The occupants were not prepared for such a suicidal maneuver. As he was pulled out into the slipstream, he saw the aircar wobbling in the sudden turbulence.
He worked to turn in the air, looking down. They had been only a hundred feet or so above ground. {Yup, there's the river. Comin' up fast,}" he had time to think. {Too fast without my healin' factor?}
He activated the emergency beacon in his boot as he smashed into the water, blacking out.
"It's been fifteen minutes with no contact at all," Peter was saying. "Rachel can't find a trace of them psychically. We need to move now."
Kurt came to a decision. "I agree. Kitty, take us up, head to their last reported position." As the craft lifted, a sharp buzzing filled the cabin.
Rogue was speedily working controls. "Wolvie's beacon. About 25 miles west. He's moved about 8 miles south from last reported. Take us about two minutes to get there."
Greg piped up. "I can get there faster." He looked nervous but game.
Nightcrawler thought quickly. "Rogue, Colossus, you can take g-forces. Go ahead with Fortress, we'll be coming up behind." They crowded into the airlock as the Blackbird began accelerating. There was a bit of turbulence as they left the plane, then a quick rumble as the trio shot off toward the source of the distress signal.
Greg kept a firm hold on the other two as he surged forward. In less than three seconds they were supersonic. He had them wrapped in a field shaped to minimize drag, but they were still putting out a heck of a shockwave.
Less than a minute had passed since the beacon started. Two aircars were circling over a river in a mountain ravine; they were tossed about by the sonic boom as Greg overshot and looped back. Rogue detached and dived for the water, homing on Wolverine. Colossus called out "Fastball Special!" to Fortress as the aircars started firing on the new arrivals.
Greg knew this drill. He hurled Colossus with all his might at one of the aircars, then circled behind the other, chopping at the engine with a forcefield axe. He'd thrown Peter badly and only clipped the first craft; but as it shot at him, a tossed boulder from below split the ship in two. Magistrates bailed in a cloud for the river below.
By the time the Blackbird swooped onto the scene, Rogue was yanking the collar and restraints off an unconscious, half-drowned Wolverine, and Fortress and Colossus were tearing into the remaining, demoralized Magistrates, half of whom were still in the water. Phoenix telepathically blasted them all unconscious.
Fortress hesitated, but when Nightcrawler repeated the order he went ahead and rescued the Magistrates in the river from drowning. Kitty and Rachel started working on Logan, who stirred after a few minutes.
"Damn," he coughed, bringing up a little water. "Flamin' spleen always gives way when I take a hit like that. Hurts like hell 'til it heals." He continued more seriously. "They were waitin' for us. They've got Storm. We need to find her, fast, before they do to her what they did to Greg."
Three aircars came in hot to Hangar One of the Citadel. Hardishane and the Chief got out of theirs on one side, and several troops came out the other side carrying a bruised and unconscious Storm. "I told you people he was dangerous. If you weren't so fired up to start questioning them we'd have both of them here, sedated and safe."
The Chief glared at Hardishane. "If you hadn't put Pipeline too close to the action, we wouldn't..."
A man in a business suit broke in. "Where is the other subject? I have the lab ready, but I was told to expect two?"
The Chief motioned Hardishane to be silent. "I'm sorry, Genegineer. He leaped from a moving aircar. We have two squads searching the area for him or his remains. Mr. Hardishane was adamant that we proceed."
"Very well. Notify me the moment there's word. If he can heal himself, as you say, that would be a valuable addition to the Gene Pool." He bustled off with the troopers carrying Storm, just as another Magistrate came up and saluted.
"Ma'am, squads Lima One and Five reported that they were under assault from multiple rogue mutes shortly after you separated from them. We haven't heard anything since."
Hardishane was furious. "Cripes, you people couldn't run a birthday party, much less a security force!" He turned on the Chief. "That's why I was so 'adamant'. Your people let him get off a message. They've got backup here, on the island. This installation is going to be attacked, and soon."
"We'll be ready. We have handled similar problems before." The Chief was already headed toward the elevators. "And now we'll see how well your organizational changes hold up."
Storm woke with a start; her pain had increased, but was now rapidly fading. The vacant face of a mutate hovered over her, working on her wounds. She tried to move, but she was very firmly restrained this time. In moments, she felt whole and refreshed... and very afraid. From what she could see, she was clothed in one of the suits the mutates wore.
"Ah, you're awake. Excellent." A man moved into her field of view. "I must say, you're a fascinating case." He smiled, almost paternally. "What on Earth happened to you? It was difficult even determining what your powers had been. Wipeout blocks the function of the high-energy portions of a mutant's metabolism, but in your case the modifications were far more thorough."
She stared. "Dr. Moreau, I presume."
He looked startled. "You know me? Well, not surprising, I suppose. If you were coming here to look at mutants, naturally my name would come up." He turned back to his console. Technicians moved around the laboratory. "Well, you'll tell us all about it soon enough. On the bright side, I'm almost certain I can restore your powers. I think I've determined your old pattern, and we'll just reimpose it when we perform the resequencing."
Storm felt crawling horror stir inside her. She'd wished for her powers back many times. {Goddess, no, not like this!} "From what I've seen of your work, I don't think I'll be able to tell you much of anything." She looked pointedly at the mutate standing emptily next to her, trying to keep up a brave front. {The others are coming for me, I know it!} she thought desperately.
Moreau frowned. "Yes, the older process was rather crude, I admit. If the subject resisted, it did tend to produce... rather limited results." Again the paternal smile. "We've made many refinements, of course. You'll be quite happy, never fear."
He began tapping at his controls. "Such versatility. Normally this would take longer, but I hardly need to do any power modifications in your case. You'll be useful militarily, of course, but we also won't have to worry about drought anymore. We can save so much money on irrigation systems..."