Writer: Rowland Wells
Disclaimer: I am in no way any part of Marvel Comics or any affiliation of their enterprise. I do not own the X-Men or any Marvel Characters.
Alternate
X-Men
#08
"undertow"
For the first time in several days, Bobby Drake was opening his door to the rest of the Mansion once more. Descending into his miserable funk, he had done nothing to contribute to the innocent and upbeat demeanour that he normally displayed. He had been disturbed ever since their confrontation with the troops in Croatia, where everything spiralled into chaos. Scott had been shot in front of him, even though the jacket he was wearing caught the bullet, Bobby was put off emulating their courage. The skirmish on the Whitehouse's front lawn hadn't added to his shaken attitude either; he received a rather vicious jolt to the system from a misguided lightening strike. The situation had resolved itself, but the damage was done, and he felt claustrophobic toward the world. The others tried to cheer him up, but for a time, he shoved them out the way; he erected a shell around himself.
Luckily, a hiatus was upon the students, and since being back, they hadn't come across any lethal situations involving voracious Middle-Eastern militants or giant mutant-burning China dolls; and now, he was free once more. Bobby left the teenage odour emanating from his musty room, having opened the windows, and came downstairs into the kitchen. He saw Ororo at the table, munching idly from a box of crackers. She stared into space, distantly, but brightened as he sat next to her. 'What up, sunshine?' She said. Bobby found Ororo fascinating. She was always two things at the same time – an innocent, irresponsible girl just out of her teenage years, timid and tentative; but yet held a motherly aspect over all of these parts. She had an intuitive characteristic that prevailed in certain situations, and with Charles sure that she should be an important role-model for the others when older, Ororo was destined to stay with the X-Men. She had protected Bobby when they were trapped under gunfire in Pula, and now he felt a rather strong attachment toward her. He watched her pitch into the crackers, and she regarded his observation, giggling slightly. 'What's up – how come you decided to leave your dominion? Had enough of the smell of your own sweat?' She laughed. 'Want a cracker?'
He picked one out, and looked into her brown eyes. He cast his gaze over her smooth, dark skin, showing in patches – her long wavy locks of silvery white hair showered over bare shoulders, and a few stray strands danced over the grin she wore on her perfect face. 'Bobby – you awake?'
'Yeah. I'm just thinking about everything again; it goes round in my head sometimes, and looking at you reminds me of that bit in Pula, when you held me close.'
Her face displayed a more sombre appearance now, and she placed a hand across his cheek. It reddened to the touch. 'I saw you there… alone.' She said, speaking gravely. 'You needed someone, and not because they were out to kill us, but because it was too much for a kid to handle. I was watching over you, so that's why. I did what I did, because I had to.' She retracted, and stood up, putting the box away. 'I would do it again.' There was a slight pause between them as they stared, and she altered the mood, perking up. 'What are you doing for the rest of the day?'
Bobby ignored her question, and tried to step carefully around his. 'You think I'm still a kid?'
She didn't know how to respond, and if she did, then it was going to be delicately. 'In your case, I believe something was lost from you that defined a child; the way they understand and react. You are as much a man as anyone else here, Bobby – believe that.'
'Do you see me as one?' He asked hesitantly.
She turned her back on him quickly, but stopped at the door. She expected him to say that, and perhaps it was not the best thing for her to do, if she stayed with him in the conversation. 'I should go for my lesson.'
Once she was gone, he grabbed the box out of the cupboard, and swiped it onto the floor. Picking the closed packet up, he relented, and threw the rest of it in the bin. If only she had eyes for him; if those eyes could only see past his youth. Bobby sat himself back down, and groaned loudly.
* * *
Brightening as she left Bobby behind, Ororo cruised out into the garden. She was bewildered at his behaviour, but having encountered similar reactions toward her from past friends, she knew only too well that he was smitten and jealous. She held the ideal that she should either talk it out with him, or leave it alone for a few days. Of course he was a beautiful person, full of life and energy, but he was also a young boy, entering the world at a shaky angle. Right now, she didn't want to stir him up. Right now, she had her mind set on another – someone who she would gladly pay back the attention.
Tracing the path of the colourful gardens, Ororo went behind them to the line of trees adorning a high brick wall. Underneath the branches, where the sunlight trickled through the shady ambience, Hank sat hunched and cross-legged, holding a clipboard in one hand, and a mug in the other. 'Time for your mathematics lesson, Ms. Munroe.' He stated, almost grinning. Two deck chairs were placed half in shade, with a small table romantically in between. He picked a vacuum flask off the table and filled her glass with some clear Japanese tea. 'Did you bring all of the appropriate stationary?' He asked, watching the tea fill to the brim. A smirk plastered itself on his face, and Ororo shifted her weight. She motioned to him with a single, long finger. 'Come into the sun and maybe you can show me how to sharpen a pencil properly.' She stared at him, coyly. 'You get a good grip around the head, yes? Then apply pressure, slowly forcing it in…'
Hank eyed her suspiciously. 'Alright, that's enough. How about we get down to business – your math lesson?'
'Oh it's stopped…' She sighed, standing her ground in the mid-afternoon sunlight. 'I thought you might prolong our pleasure.'
He looked her up and down, getting hot under the collar, and tried to shake it off. Hank told himself he wasn't really experiencing this, but it wasn't working very well. 'Are you serious, Ororo? No-one put you up to this?'
She looked at him quizzically. 'Why would you say that, Hank? What are you thinking?'
He shied away from her gaze, staring into the grass. 'You know – it's just… dating the fat guy an' all. I just didn't think you saw me like that.'
'Jesus, man, lighten up – I can help you get your groove on, and besides, maybe I like the larger guy. Plus,' she bent over and tapped his forehead lightly 'you've got the brains to go with the whole package.'
'So… you don't want a math lesson.' He said, looking into her dark eyes.
'Nope.' She tilted his chin up slightly, and still bent over, kissed him.
From beyond the ornamental gardens and next to the Mansion patio, Bobby flipped his skateboard over the low brick wall and ground over it. His face cracked into a smile as he pulled off another tricky move.
* * *
At night, the Mansion was rarely buzzing; most of the students preferring to concentrate on their own matters, rather than hold a communal gathering each sundown. Taking this evening as no exception, Logan wandered down to the kitchen to get himself some water. He had spent the time watching a battered television set in his bedroom, drinking slowly. He tried his best to avoid Jean and Scott, who didn't hold him in the highest of their regards, and stuck to his own thing a lot of the time. He couldn't hold it against either of them, even if Slim was not his favourite person. Although he didn't consider it a betrayal of her trust exactly, Logan had violated Jean's feelings, considering she detested him to begin with. He had ruthlessly seduced her in front of Scott, and then summoned the courage to murder the man whom had taken him in as a new protégé. Perhaps it was a decline of his original morals and ideals, but Logan couldn't bring himself to kill Charles when the time came. He put it down to his age, because, as was evidence by his lined looks and greying hairs, Logan wasn't getting any younger. Sympathy was not something that most contract killers were required to come to their assignments with, but now he just didn't care. They had put up a nice homestead for him for free, and all he had to do was tell the others how to murder without being caught. It was, of course, called "combat", but Logan's stance on the subject of fighting was as non-committal as everything else he spoke about. Not that he spoke much.
Charles had come to him earlier, asking him to stay on the grounds and look after the kids whilst he went on a small trip to find another addition to their collective. Grudgingly accepting even after their arguments, Charles left in the newly refurbished Blackbird with his peace of mind. Logan took to the task in his own way, posting a note on the front door telling them all to stay in. He then went up into his room and got slowly drunk. The cooler by his bedside was finished, so his came down to find Bobby still in the kitchen. He washed his face in the sink, and then poured a glass from the filter. 'It's a bit late to be eating from the ice-cream box, eh?' He said, sitting opposite. 'You could at least use a spoon, kid.'
Without looking up, Bobby placed the box down. 'Don't call me a kid; I'm as old as what I do here.'
'That don't make no sense… I saw you skateboarding in the afternoon; and if that's true, then I guess I'm bein' an adolescent tonight – staying in my room.'
Bobby murmured sarcastically, and pushed the box away from him. 'I don't want this stuff anymore.' He rested his head down on the table, forlornly.
'What's eating you?'
'I feel fine… maybe it's the draught.' Bobby replied. Logan rose and closed the window, sticking his glass on the window sill. He sat back down, and scratched himself, boorishly. 'What a night, huh?' He said, raising his eyebrows sardonically. Sensing the situation, he got up.
Bobby spoke out as he was just about to leave. 'Logan – have you ever been in love?' He fidgeted awkwardly, and placed the ice-cream box back in the fridge.
'God, why d'ya wanna know?' Logan sighed, moving his gaze over to the water on the window sill. It vibrated slightly, ripples glazing over the surface.
'How old are you? You had to have been in love a couple of times – do you know when you are?' Bobby asked. 'Is there a point in a life where people cannot fall in love? I mean, does it only happen after a certain age, or can it happen any time?'
Logan focussed on the water in the glass more intently, then tried to listen for any loud music or activity in the floors above which could account for it. 'What? Why? Look - slow down a minute…' He mumbled, trying to block out Bobby's distracting enquiries.
'Is it best to tell someone that you like them, or would that be a mistake if you hardly know them at all?' Bobby asked.
His ears pricked up for the sound of footsteps, and his addled mind raced as paranoia started to set in. 'Jesus, kid, hang on!' Logan exclaimed. 'Keep quiet for a second.' The rippling water slowly subsided, and he took a few strong sniffs of the air. An unusual scent perforated his keen senses, one that didn't seem familiar. It was hardly present at all, just a tiny trace, becoming almost imperceptibly stronger as the source came closer. Logan barely had time to react, before their table split in two, and he threw Bobby to the floor. A line of bullets thudded into the walls overhead, and the shuffle of scurrying feet pattered from behind. 'Keep your head down!' Logan screamed wildly. He jumped to his feet, and faced a stranger covered in black military gear. The man's face was obscured with a large set of goggles, but he knocked Logan clean out of the way, cocked his gun quickly, and fired on Bobby's defenceless form. The young student was paralysed with fear, and he emitted a small groan of misery before the bullets made contact.
* * *
The cool night air was disturbed by the turbulence issuing from the flock of helicopters flying over Salem Center. Their sophisticated engine designs kept every unit quiet for the particular operations each were usually brought in for. A full moon shone across the area, illuminating the helicopter's heavy, black shapes as they sped toward the school on the edge of town. Coming to a stop, still suspended in the cool air, cabin doors slid open, and the agents dropped silently down to the ground. The black-suited men surrounded the grounds in a matter of seconds, and began climbing the walls delicately. Several people descended the ropes from the final helicopter, and slowed their movements along the lawn as their agents swarmed the Mansion like parasites.
* * *
Flashlights illuminated the empty corridors of the huge Mansion, as every agent danced across the wooden floors, stopping outside the designated rooms. The pattering of elusive feet echoed subtly, while the men signalled to each other among the darkness. Several ascended the main stairs, listening for the appropriate commands in a headset. A few more of them heard the faint sound of conversation from the kitchen, and proceeded through the tight passages until they stood right outside.
Two agents shone their lights onto the doorframe of a primary target. A third nodded to everyone in sight, and then turned the handle so slowly. He peered inside, and switched his infra-red visor on. The two sleeping bodies stirred slightly, almost aware of the extra presence in the room. The agent took no time in raising his gun, but was alarmed when the young redhead sat upright. Jean barely had time to mutter: 'Who's there?' before a small dart sprang into her neck, disabling her nervous system in a matter of seconds. Another shot into Tessa's sleeping form, sending her off to sleep as well. The telepaths had been dispatched, so now the rest of the Mansion had to be secured.
Further down the opposite corridor, another three agents stood outside Scott's room. They stalked in via the unlocked entrance, but froze as they saw the bathroom light seeping out of a closed door. Signalling slightly, the main agent crept along the carpet, and listened through the wood. The faint trickling of water spluttered into life, and the agent burst through. He hooked arms under Scott's, and then let his partner incapacitate the student. 'Jesus Christ!' Scott screamed, struggling lamely with the man. The butt of a rifle struck him cruelly across the spine, and Scott flinched, the red glasses flying off his face. Totally unprepared for the result, the agents had no time to react as the red bolts from his open eyes sprayed across the bathroom ceiling, blowing part of the roof off the Mansion. A colossal boom resonated throughout the estate, and the bathroom wall collapsed in on itself in a pile of rubble. Scott's limp form was hurled backwards, crushing one of the agents as he impacted on the broken doorframe.
Several more of the military men cascaded into the men's dormitory corridor as Hank bounded out of his door, shocked by the explosion. His eyes registered complete astonishment before his tired body was laced with more of the tranquilliser darts. He stumbled lazily against the wall, and fell.
'Get our men out of there!' The leader called, in between spurts of spitting gunfire. He was approaching the kitchen, but their scout had been impaled against the fridge by the Wolverine's vicious claws. The feral mutant was currently bouncing off the walls toward the rest of the agents. He pounced on the one in front, snapping his neck violently, and then lurched onto the leader. Bobby was shouting for help as he ran out of the kitchen in a torrent of slushy ice. Two agents trying to pin him down were doused in white, and slipped against the walls. Logan drew his fingers up the Kevlar jacket of the leader, blood dripping pitilessly from the tips. Bobby ran past; tugging at Logan's reddened shirt tails. 'Leave them for dead – we have to find the others!'
The agent screamed as the claws dug into his chest, striking every vessel and artery available. He gurgled pathetically, and Logan jumped off his body, following the other student.
After the immediate noise of the cave-in, the agents upstairs surrounded the other rooms, and burst through. Surveying the contents of one room, they spied a young girl just waking from her slumber. The darts fired from each barrel, but went straight through her body. Kitty yelled in horror, and lost control, phasing right the way through the ceiling. She was deposited in the Professor's leather arm chair, and got to her feet watching the other agents follow her. The mass of armoured black reached out for her lithe form, but she phased herself once more, and ran into their bodies. Before they could reach around and grasp her, Kitty had gone into the wall behind, disappearing from sight. She went all the way back upstairs, searching for the remains of the others, but came to Piotr's room. She rushed into a scene where the agents burst in the doorway, and he stood alone. They panicked, and hurriedly fired on him. Piotr's skin was abruptly covered in a fine metallic sheen, and the numerous bullets ricocheted off him. Kitty jumped into the foray and through the men once more. Wasting no time, Piotr grabbed each agent roughly in his huge hands, and launched them both into the far wall. They tumbled through in a pile of broken bones, and Piotr stepped over, motioning for Kitty to follow. 'If the escape tunnel is open, we can get away using that – come on!' The burly Russian charged off down the steps with his girl in tow.
The Mansion was aflame with glittering torch lights, blaring down every corridor as the agents blanketed the entire estate. The reverberating sounds of gunfire trickled down the hollow passages, and all around the remaining students, chaos was bulging from every open door. Somewhere along the way, Bobby got separated from Logan's prowling form, but he evaded the troops long enough to get into the centre lobby. The darkness shrouded his small body, and he was alone once more in all the commotion. Slowly the noise subsided until only his breathing echoed in the silence. In time with his, though, was another, perched behind him on the stairs. Sabretooth's snarling grew in pitch, as the gunfire started up again. 'Hey, hey sunshine…' He scowled, bearing his line of razor sharp teeth. He pulled Ororo's beaten body up from behind his tall frame, shoving her in Bobby's face as a trophy. 'Your woman's been taken care of, so now all that's left is you. Try to make this fun for me, okay?' He tossed Ororo, barely conscious, into the corner, and stalked his prey in a tight circle. 'Take your best shot, bitch.' Bobby screamed back; but by the end of the sentence, Sabretooth was on him, scraping jagged nails into the unblemished flesh. He ripped away the skin along Bobby's rising arm, and took hold of the back of the student's head. He tugged him into the air by the scruff of his neck, and drew a long line across the belly. 'Maybe I'll spill your guts… before I skin ya!' He taunted. Bobby raised his hands once more to manifest his power, but Sabretooth seemed to know, and punched him viciously around the face a couple of times. Abruptly, a blood-curdling roar thundered down the empty corridor, and a surging flash of cold metal stung into Sabretooth's shoulder. He screeched mightily, and tossed Bobby away. 'Runt!' He called, clutching his streaming shoulder, and laughing manically. 'Sorry we haven't kept in touch, 'cos I always love to keep my friends close…' He tugged at Logan's lightening fast form, plucking him off the floor. Logan snarled, bearing his fangs, and spat at his tormentor. 'I'm not sorry, you slimy shit!' He sliced both claws into Sabretooth's furry chest, and propelled himself out of the vice. 'I keep my enemies closer, as you can feel!'
Bobby picked himself off the ground, running over to Ororo. He graced his stained fingers over her face, feeling for a pulse quickly. 'Leave now!' His teammate called. Bobby witnessed the intensity with which he was acting, and decided to tear himself from Ororo, and exit through the open lobby doors. 'I see you've found a new flock to screw over, Runt – when are they gonna find out you're such a loser?' Sabretooth shouted, striking out. Choosing not to respond to his taunts this time, Logan dodged to the side, and struck three of his claws into the hairy, strained neck. Sabretooth recoiled with sour pain, but in his insurmountable rage, he ignored it, and leapt on Logan's complacent body. He pinned him down to the carpet, and drew his claws viciously up his opponent's abdomen. Drawing copious streaks of bloody flesh, Sabretooth ended their brawl when he struck Logan around the head several times with his hardened knuckles. Finally, when his enemy was foaming at the mouth, Sabretooth let up, and simply scratched 'runt' into Logan's forehead. 'Welcome back.' He muttered, spitting.
Escaping into the open, Bobby half-expected his freedom, but as his luck would normally show, the helicopters were resting out on their front lawn. Innumerable guns rose up to his body, but pulling one last move out of his head, Bobby summoned a large barrier of solid ice around his frail body. The bullets struck and chipped the ice into pieces, and he seemed to have protected himself, until Rogue appeared from the Mansion's entrance behind him. Unaware of her presence, Bobby was about to wreak havoc on the men below, but Rogue caressed the back of his neck with her bare hand. Absorbing the memories and powers of her host, but also the pain, she let Bobby slip quietly into unconsciousness, her clutch around his spine remaining.
Now the only perfect survivor of the assault, Piotr helped an exhausted Kitty out of the escape hatch on the side of the Mansion's walls. 'Take my hand – quick.' He whispered. She dragged herself out of the hole in the wall, and it slammed shut behind them. 'God, what do we do now – they've got us completely surrounded!' She exclaimed in horror. 'Everyone else is gone, we've_got_to_leave!' She tugged insistently on his arm. They parted the foliage of the bushes behind the grounds, and silently made their way to the garage. Kitty phased into the wall, and then opened the door from the inside, letting them gain access to the abundant amount of vehicles parked in one space. They got into Scott's smooth Porsche, and Piotr drove it under the opening space of the garage door. Purring sensually as it slid out, Piotr stepped on the pedal as they hit the stony path, sending the two teenagers out of the compound. The agents opposite on the lawn spied the action, and ran to intercept the escaping car. A torrent of bullets fired across the bow of the speeding car as it headed for the entrance. 'Hold the hell on!' Piotr howled as a massive structure of ice formed just ahead of the entrance. His fast hands snapped the handbrake on, but the Porsche was moving too fast to prevent collision. Rogue ran into view, casting more of the ice in front of the car. As they impacted on the bank, the bonnet crumpled up and Kitty managed to phase herself just as it hit, sending her through the glass unhurt. As she hit the ground, though, the fall knocked her blissfully asleep while Piotr's metallic form was effectively crushed within the compressed wreck. The agents walked over and pulled him out, collecting Kitty to throw on their pile of useless bodies as well.
Surveying the scene, Sabretooth leered gruesomely at Rogue, which she took correctly to be a smile. She brushed it off, and stepped into the lead helicopter, a sting of unadulterated hatred and guilt forming in the very bottom of her starved stomach. The agents gathered themselves, and entered the vehicles once more, carrying their cargo with them.
* * *
The motion on board the helicopter was finally enough to rouse Bobby from his perpetual daze. He felt awfully sick, the liquid inside gushing from side to side as though he were being tossed about. Registering his surroundings painfully, a small wire cage separated his body from the other students who were concealed from the cabin as well. He was at the back of the helicopter's seating area, with several of the grim-faced, black-suited agents in front. They kept staring straight ahead, oblivious to his waking movements. A sharp pain suddenly made itself very clear to Bobby's mind, as it bludgeoned his neck. His head was becoming hazy again, a side-effect from Rogue's long-lasting grip. Not only had it drained him enough to unconsciousness, but it left a cruel pain that switched from his neck to his shoulders every few seconds. He rubbed it intensely, focussing on the contents of the cabin. A narrow passage split the seats into two lots, and at the other end was the pilot's cockpit. His cage was directly in the middle, and while he looked around to find the others, he saw their cages faced up the side walls. Not everyone was present, though, and Bobby assumed they must be behind the door leading to the rest of the vehicles inside. The alternative explanation didn't bare thinking about.
Trying to shut that prospect out completely, Bobby concentrated on the people who were with him. To his left, he could see Hank and Kitty, both asleep. At least that was what he assumed. Only one of the cages on his right was full, with Ororo in it, badly beaten. She had been cleaned up though, the streaks of blood and cracked skin having been treated. Her silvery hair had been trussed back, and a large metal collar surrounded her neck. It had a solitary flashing light on it, which lit a continuous sequence of green dots. He placed his fingers through the wire mesh, but could only hold onto the metal as she was slumped against the other side. Considering the students facing the inside of the cabin, Bobby knew that he had been put up front because he was one of the mutants whom the agents could see as least threatening. None of the telepaths had been put here, with good reason. Their mental capacity could be enough to overpower the entire crew with a simple thought, or even produce an electrical malfunction. Neither Logan, nor Piotr, with his inhuman strength as a metal giant would have been placed here due to the high risk of a breakout. Bobby found himself wondering what there would be to stop them if they could attempt an escape. Then he realised the collar surrounding Ororo's neck might be that defence. He had one around his own, too; a thick aluminium band with thin material lining for that little bit of comfort. He tugged pointlessly at the collar, but it didn't appear to have a seam anywhere along the surface. Useless, he thought. He might as well have been comatose like his friends. He couldn't even look out the window.
The interior stank of a rancid chemical smell, one that he recalled from his encounters with the infirmary back at the Mansion. The agents had clearly been generous in patching each of them up during the flight; it might have even been what woke him. His jaw ached quite a bit, but the pain was nothing compared to what he had experienced before. The darkened swelling would reduce eventually; he knew that – it would only take time. The cold of the seat permeated through his body, and he realised he was still wearing his night-clothes from before, probably because they were still in a shape to be worn, whereas several of the others were in what resembled surgical scrubs. Bobby was, of course, no stranger to the cold, but it was disorientating because the sensation wasn't catalysed by his abilities. He checked himself, stroking up the legs, and hips, both arms, and finally his chest. Nothing was wrong on the outside, save the marks from his scuffle with the giant tramp he'd had earlier. Although Logan recognised the man from somewhere, Bobby had no idea whom Sabretooth was, or even why he was there with all the black-ops people. Not that he cared much. His only concern now was an instinctual one, brought on from their circumstances.
The seated men were all watching a film, but the sound quality was terrible, and Bobby couldn't even pick up what was being said. Deciding that he needed to ensure the others were alright, Bobby used his power to lower the temperature of the moisture in the air. Right on the tip of his index finger, a tiny, thin plume of ice formed, just coating the nail. He pointed his hand into the wire mesh, extending the plume sufficiently to touch Ororo's face. He held his hand steady, just concentrating on the task, when a sharp sting vibrated into his neck. He screeched, the jolt shaking his body, and the ice snapping. The pain cascaded down and outwards from his head to his toes, enveloping his senses with its cold swiftness. As quick as it came, it dissipated, leaving him slightly numb and weary. One of the agents stood, and walked over to the cage, grasping his sidearm for Bobby to see. 'What's the problem, getting testy?' He asked. The man was tall and skinny, with a small patch of shaved hair decorating the side of his balding head. He had a thick strain of South African in his accent, which Bobby was mildly surprised at for a white man. He spied the string of ice, as it rolled out onto the cabin deck. The man trampled it under foot, and looked accusingly at the young student.
'Hey – let me out.' Bobby stated, flatly.
'I'm afraid I can't do that, Drake. You're not supposed to be using your powers in here either. What did you think that neck brace is for?'
'Let me out.' He repeated, defiantly.
The agent scrutinised him slyly, then turned on his heels.
'Hey!' Bobby screamed as loud as he could. 'You_do_as_I_say – you kidnapped me, so don't screw us around, or you'll regret it!'
'Not with that leash on, I won't. You're our little pet for a while, now.'
Bobby grasped the mesh on Hank's side, shaking it wildly. 'Wake up, dammit!' He yelled.
The agent swiftly pointed the loaded sidearm at him, and pressed down on the trigger. Bobby was struck in the upper chest, and he relaxed somewhat, leering crudely at the man. The same, warm sensation embraced his senses once more, and he slouched against the cold metal interior of the cage. He mumbled something, incoherently, but the agent had left him, and Bobby was allowed to pass out in peace.
* * *
When Bobby finally came to, the helicopter was stationary, and his eyes took time to adjust to the bright light shining in the cabin. It was an unnatural light that shone through him, purged him, while it simply illuminated the agents as they opened the cages. They herded the students out of the vehicle like cattle, slapping chains on each pair of wrists. Even before Bobby opened his mouth to speak, the tall, skinny man barked out: 'No talking!', so he said nothing. His eyes communicated the same level of alarm to the others without the need for speech. He eyed Ororo carefully, but she kept her head bowed low, shamefully. He was prodded in the back violently, and prompted to move. Leading the strange herd down a sole, white corridor, he swiped a look behind him at the others, just to ensure their safety. The same, whiter-than-white light permeated the others, shrouding them, as each walked from the huge, sterile hangar. Tessa and Jean were the last to leave, each with a bizarre headset attached that shielded their eyes, presumably to stop them communicating with each other telepathically. As the troupe proceeded deeper into the compound, the tall skinny man explained the concept of their collars. 'Each neck brace holds the pattern of your unique X Genes, taken from a small pin-prick of blood. It therefore has been programmed to register when your powers are about to kick in, for whatever reason...' He explained, leading them down many corridors. 'The particular trait associated with each of you will be acknowledged by the brace, and it will emit a sharp electrical jolt into the back of your neck.' He chuckled, almost sadistically. 'Although, don't be fooled by the starter, because if you continue to power up, it will continue to emit the electric pulses in increasing intensity, as you, Mr Drake have already discovered. The concept is: three strikes and_you_are dead. The collar is reset every five minutes, though – giving as ample time to react to whatever futile scheme you've got planned. The same electrode that has burrowed into your spinal column is the same one that can register the chemical reactions swelling in the body to produce a result, so we've got you all under our thumbs while you're wearing those things.' He stopped outside a large double door, and placed his head into a small retinal scanner at the side. The lock clicked open silently, and the doors slid apart, revealing a vast control arena. Data banks, com stations, and huge consoles were illuminated by the same artificial light in the hanger. Black suited agents paraded in and out of the large room, carrying small data pads. None of them took notice of the new arrivals.
The man continued, beaming an arrogant smile. 'My name is Doctor Kyle Kryles, and I've been your guide so far, but unfortunately for you, the tour ends here. Welcome; ladies and gentlemen,' he exclaimed, proudly 'to Weapon X.'
* * *
'Let me show you to your accommodation,' Dr Kryles said, smiling falsely. He tugged Bobby by the loose shirt he was wearing, and the students were forced to follow him. He led them down another long set of corridors, these ones not so effectively lit. They had left the radiant white light behind, substituting it for a claustrophobic, futuristic, and interior grey. More and more agents were walking about this area, each holding more elaborate weaponry at their sides. Their black glasses and fixed stares betrayed nothing of their individuality, if indeed they had any. Each wore a dark suit, with thin black tie over a starched white shirt. The asserted their most basic authority through that. As the group stumbled by, the agents ignored them simply as more food for the machine; more mutants and black-ops assassins to be toyed with until graced by perfection.
Still leading his fellows, Bobby looked around him as he was dragged into the huge cell-block area. It was glowing with an ethereal green, coming solely from the coloured laser beams guarding every cell entrance. There were lines of them, stretching far back on every level in the giant room, making up balconies. Each floor was accessible only by the steel flights of stairs on either side. Looking up, Bobby stared into the flow of light that ended at a point where only darkness embraced it. He sustained a gasp of amazement, trying to rebuke himself afterwards, due to their situation. His eyes wandered back down, to where they were being marched; the ground floor of the room, where some cells were empty and other's unlit. The group broke into smaller sections; they were being divided to fit the cells. Kryles flipped a switch at each entrance, prompting his cattle inside. He stepped into the first room, with Jean and Tessa, and removed the piece of headgear for them. 'Don't move – this will only hurt if you make it.' He stated. Grabbing the collar with both hands behind their backs, he performed a small movement which tugged both off. None of the others could see what was happening. The Doctor tapped a small seal of metal on the back of Tessa's neck, speaking to them. 'You listen – this is the only part of the collar that remains. It still enforces everything I've just told you, plus a little bit extra. Don't toy with it, or you'll be sorry; it can pick up tampering, and none of you are fast enough to remedy its effects.' He pointed to a camera in the corner of the room, almost invisible to the two women. They stared at him blankly, not knowing how to react to this implausible situation. 'That maintains control in this room.' Kryles said. 'You cannot open the bars, they only operate on the outside, and they too will administer a small electric shock if you touch them, which I sincerely hope you won't. Don't test us; we know what we're doing.' He chuckled.
Walking over to the other groups, he placed them in their cells as well. Scott and Piotr were next, then Ororo and Kitty, and finally Bobby and Hank. As they were forced into the tight rooms, fit for only two people each, Bobby gazed out once more at the giant area. So many people were a part of this; it impressed him, this working machine. It was a masterpiece of engineering and manipulation.
Once the bars had been activated, Dr Kryles tossed the collars into a small waste disposal unit that popped out the side at the end wall. He walked back, and stood for them all to see. At the entrance of the passage, Logan was held with a gun to his head, and trussed up like a chicken. 'I hope you all feel comfortable, because this will be your home for the next few months. Once you're all fit to graduate, we'll move you up to individual rooms – provided you cooperate with our needs.' He inserted a key into the lock mechanism, and all the laser bars suddenly shot across the view, keeping the students in. 'Remember,' he said, putting the key back. 'We're watching you via those cameras, analysing your bodies via those chips, and listening to you through a million microphones all at the same time. We take pride in our work.' He smiled, signalling to the guards around Logan. 'And by the end of all this, you will too.'
Once out the room, and into the leading corridor, Dr Kryles walked up to Logan, who had a grim sneer plastered on his face. 'You've someone who wants to see you again, Wolverine. I think you might know him.'
'Who are you, his lapdog?' Logan smirked. Without warning, Kryles turned and smashed his hard elbow into Logan's forehead, knocking the mutant over. The straight-jacket and handcuffs prevented any serious action, but he leapt to his feet furiously, snarling. 'You got a pretty itchy temper there, bub…' Logan whispered through grated teeth. His lips drew back, revealing to the Doctor two rows of sharp white fangs.
Kryles eyed him suspiciously. 'No talking.' He said, leading the way again.
* * *
By the time they were back at the large white control room, Logan was being dragged by the arms, half-insensible. His sly comments hadn't helped the good Doctor's temper, but he didn't let the sharp pain sway him. The other agents had disbanded and only two were left with him. Kryles led them through the sterile room, dodging desks and panels that jutted incongruously out of the flooring. They bounded up a flight of stairs leading to an upper balcony that looked out over the room. The Doctor knocked once on the fine, black wooden door of an out-of-the-way office and stood patiently. 'He'll be so glad you're here, my friend.'
'Screw you…' Logan muttered, his brain still aching.
The Doctor smacked him around the head.
Then the door opened, and Hawk Spaskyich was standing there, cigarette in hand. He looked distastefully on the pile in front of him, but then brightened, visibly, as recognition flooded over his features. 'Wolverine!' He exclaimed, joyously. 'Nice to see you back, looking so healthy – come in, please.' Dismissing Kryles, he shut the door, and seated Logan. He sat behind his overly large desk, and poured himself a small whisky. 'How's life been treatin' you – having fun with the little league players? Anything actin' up I should know about? Hmm?'
Logan sat despondently, while the burly Texan sucked at his malt. 'Same old stubborn bastard, eh?' Spaskyich's expression changed from one of pleasantness to sourness. 'Haven't changed have you, Wolverine – not even after all the stress you must have got out of your system. You still a rancid loser.'
'The place may look a little different, but the smell still lingers on – especially 'round you, ya dirty pig.' Logan spat. He slumped back into the leather chair. 'I'd piss on you from here if I could.'
Spaskyich smiled falsely. 'You'll be lucky if you ever piss again once you pick a fight with me.' He stood, finishing his drink. 'And your friends? I'll make sure they get the treatment you did, Wolverine; only, because it's the new millennium, the treatment's been updated somewhat. You remember it don't you? A fine medical procedure…' Spaskyich mused.
'Think I give a crap 'bout them? I was recruited to kill their boss anyway.' Logan retorted bitterly, staring straight ahead into the banks of books and cds, all lined perfectly.
'I know we found you with them, so ya must've been taking a while to do it. In the old days, you might have been in and out in less than thirty minutes. Perhaps you've grown impotent.'
'I'm as fast as I ever was, jackass.' He replied, flinching slightly in the straight jacket.
'We'll see.' Spaskyich leaned in close, eyeing Logan intently. 'I would make sure you were on top form before I sent you to finish what Magneto wanted done – top form.'
He went over and opened the door. Kryles and the other two agents picked him up. 'We'll speak more in the morning, but for now, you're all gonna be seen to. Our Doctor is in, Wolverine.' Spaskyich said, closing his office door behind him. 'More fuel to the fire…' He reflected, whilst sitting down, alone.
Kryles led him back into the cellblock, and passed the other students on the way. The green laser bars separated, and they put Logan in, taking his collar and straight jacket off. 'If you're a good boy, you'll stay without this on.' Kryles shook the jacket in his hand. 'But if you fool about, and chase your tail, then this leash is going back – and we'll leave you like we have this poor man.' The Doctor flipped a switch, and the cells opposite the students illuminated, revealing the other occupants of their confined passage. 'Goodbye for now.' He said, exiting. Opposite them, under the slight glow of the cells down lighters, Remy was lying crudely on the floor, unmoving, save for a small breath every so often. A single, thin streak of red coursed down from the side of his mouth, pooling ever so slightly on the floor. Each breath was a grunt. His straight jacket was tied tightly around his body, hugging every curve and muscle in a vice-like grip. In the cell next to his, Rogue sat on the cold floor, head in her hands, as far from the alienating bars as possible.