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
#11
"no more no quarter"
The sterile steel wall behind Rogue's hunched back was truly unyielding, and a great fear from pain shrouded her nervous stance since being put in the cell. She was cut off from everyone else in the block, including her only companion in the compartment following hers. An incredible towering sense of isolation overcame her much of the time, disabling her completely for the duration of the sour mood. Fresh air and warm sunshine were two of the simplest aspects of a free environment that she longed for the most, and even those were denied to her. This feeling of forced seclusion was so strong that Rogue found herself crying for hours some days, unable to eat or drink. The suffocating sensation was so powerful it once forced her into a fit of hyperventilation, and then the only way to stop it was for the guard beside to beat on her. Not such a method of torture, but rather that of discipline, Spaskyich believed it was the only way to break her spirit. And he had successfully. Her only communication was with Remy, who was hardly ever conscious or even in the next cell much of the time. The thickness of the separating walls, and the strictness of enforced silence made a conversation almost impossible, not that there was much to talk about. The severity with which Spaskyich and Kryles pursued escapees was demonstrated with her Cajun boyfriend, and Rogue wished he had never attempted his egression. Although touch between the two was impossible for more than about five seconds, she still felt much attachment to the rugged French swamp rat.
After escaping Magneto's much media-covered downfall, the two mutants abandoned the Savage land and their fellow acolytes to seek out a new life. They had flown from Australia to France, hoping to reconnect with any relatives Remy might have had in some of the major French cities, but during the flight they had to change aircraft, and SHIELD agents had picked them up in an effort to punish followers of Magneto's regime. Given the magnitude of their master's incentives and actions, Nick Fury – the head of the military Division of the CIA, SHIELD – inadvertently handed Remy and Rogue over to the Weapon X programme, hoping that Hawk Spaskyich would take care of them. Fury was clearly not fully aware of the true nature of Weapon X, otherwise he never would have commissioned such a transfer. But that was his error, and now the two were paying for it.
Rogue wished she could tell Remy how she felt at the moment; how she would breathe against his ear, touch his heart and kiss his mouth with her soft red lips. She wanted to be with him now, as she always had since being torn from his side.
Remy was currently tied up in the cell next to hers, nearly touching the other side of the same sterile steel wall. His fastenings had been reduced to a simple pair of metal handcuffs securing his hands behind the back, and although he was once a thief of sorts, a key card had to be swiped through a reader on the manacles to let him go. Instead of toying with the idea of escape again, he shook the metal cuffs idly against the wall, banging a repeating pattern into the rest of the cellblock. If things were up to him, Remy would have taken Rogue to Prague, instead of the more practical destination of France which wound up getting them both caught. There was no doubt in his mind that being anywhere in America was unsafe, and wherever they were now, that was no safer either. The guards had had a field day when he was brought back to the Installation, asking him never to leave again without their permission; Remy was quite sure that the only way he could escape without a scratch was through the morgue.
Morbid thoughts kept him awake at night, the pain never ceasing to catalyse his depressed mind. His bruises were starting to go down now, and Doctor Kryles had taken excellent care to ensure nothing serious consumed his beaten body, but furtively Remy was formulating a plan to leave. Having already discovered and briefly studied the layout of many of the ventilation ducts, Remy was confident he could lead Rogue through the miniature tunnels and into the cold air of the snow outside. The opportunity though could only arise in the event of a prison riot, which he was in no shape to incite at the moment. For now, the only option was to keep up good behaviour, and say nothing to anyone. He desperately wanted to see Rogue, but their time together was confined to eating in the mess and the off-chance of an encounter in the sparring rooms. Pride was not a strong aspect of his personality, but it would be difficult to show his damaged face for more than a few minutes at a time.
So he lay crumpled on the floor, resisting the urge to taunt the guards, as much as he wanted to. The lights had been turned down in his cell, largely due to the depressive effect it had on the other inmates once their saw him in that state, trussed up like a chicken; and so it was relatively dark, save for the greenish iridescence of the laser bars. They cut across the length of the entrance, stopping anyone leaving with electric shocks. He realised how ineffectual it was to try and escape, and gave up hope after a while, consigning himself to a lifetime of banging handcuffs against the metal wall.
'Rogue!' He called, after a while. 'You can hear me, neh?'
The thick steel of the walls around them prevented much sound carrying, but Remy was too upset to keep his voice low for the guard's diligence.
'I can hear you.' She replied quietly.
'Good.' He said, resting his head on the floor.
A commotion coming from the inside of the main corridor alerted the two young mutants and both watched from their views in the nearly empty cellblock floor. Only one guard was on duty in the low-lit area, and he seemed undisturbed by the hustling going on just outside. Instead, he concentrated on a magazine in hand, and propped himself up to the far back wall. Through the bars, Rogue tapped on the metal a couple of times. 'Do you think the rest of the X-Men are coming back?'
Remy shook his head, even though no-one could see. 'This place, it is starting to get quiet – hope they stir it up.'
Rogue chuckled softly, leaning against the wall parting the two. 'You're so bad.'
The black-suited agents poked Scott and Jean down the main corridor, back to their cells. Spaskyich had informed the people watching his new recruits that two of them required some rest after a rather stressful ordeal. The other students on the mission were ferried into the control room for debriefing and an accolade from the Commander himself. The break of the outside operation was pleasant for the two young students, in that it didn't have them holed up in the dark, secluded and enforced surroundings that were Weapon X, but compared to their freedom, it was still a terrible experience that none would have wished to undergone. As the agents were opening the two dingy cells once more, Scott looked over to an inconsolable Jean, still expecting her defeated mood to show through. She was trembling even now after her horrific actions, and he had to be with her that night, otherwise she might break completely. Scott felt her spirit was strong, but not that strong. His own neck and back were still shivering with traces of muscle spasm from when Spaskyich activated the metal chip, but they were finally starting to disperse. He grabbed and held onto the wall as if to symbolically protest, and said: 'Let me stay with her tonight.'
The agent paused, watching Jean as she suppressed a whimper, and then closed Scott's cell, motioning for the both of them to step inside hers. Scott held his hands around her shaking shoulders protectively, as the green bars appeared across the entrance and locked them away from the rest of the world. As the agents departed, Jean sobbed unashamedly and buckled onto the bottom bunk mattress. 'My god,' she snivelled 'what have I done to deserve this?' Tears began to well in her perfect green eyes, and one rolled down her cheek. Scott brushed it away with his thumb, hugging the girl as she cried into his shoulder. 'I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…' He repeated in an effort to comfort her. 'You had to do it, Jean –' he shook her, staring through his ruby glasses at those green eyes. 'You had to shoot him.'
She struggled angrily, pushing him away, and getting up. 'He was an innocent man - a man with a family! I shot someone who never deserved it in the first place!'
'You don't know that, Jean.' Scott tried to assure her, but it wasn't working so well.
'I would have known that if,' her tears came more readily now 'if I'd had my telepathy…'
He got up and embraced her sobbing form, almost wiping a single streak from his own eye.
From across the cellblock floor, Rogue watched the two students comfort each other, her frustration mounting. She was locked behind these green bars all day long, without a single glimpse of light or breath of fresh air, and constantly all alone, while those two gained the sympathy of one susceptible man in black. 'Quiet down over there!' She called, just about taunting the couple. 'Some of us are trying to sleep.'
Even though she was choked up with tears, Jean found the energy to launch a spiteful retort, but it didn't make her feel any better. Nothing would let her feel the same again, ever.
* * *
He was more like an animal – a beast – cowering in the dark, away from prying eyes that would fear and avoid him. He would be judged and reviled for his appearance, lacking any visible signs of a human nature underneath the sprouting tufts of fine blue fur. People would be too scared to understand why and how this change had come about, instead opting to dread such a creation of God. Except he was not a creation from God; no such deity would allow people to view a creature with such a hatred from first sight. He was a creation of man – an alteration to the physical human body, perfecting it into such a state that he now truly earned his alias as The Beast.
And he would have to live with the change. He would have to live with the knowledge that his modifications were the result of a random series of events, leading to that one fateful point which catalysed his awful predicament and catapulted him into a world of prejudice, pain and loneliness. A single man was responsible for all this, and he would never be forgiven for his hand in a devastating science that made a mockery of the Lord's image – his science of progress. Ororo could not look at him in the same light.
* * *
Sitting back to enjoy his small tumbler of bourbon, Spaskyich observed the parading Doctor in his office with mild enthusiasm. He scratched gruffly at the flesh gap between the top of stained combat trousers and the bottom of a grey t-shirt, while relaxing amongst the whir of office computer equipment. To say that the young new recruits' operation was an unbridled success would be an understatement, so he let Dr Kryles pour on the praise at his expense. They had achieved their goal with little resistance, and in the process, broken their wills and reservations just a little bit further. Spaskyich was thankful for the deprecating treatment they regularly received, and his agenda against any form of Homo Sapiens Superior research was becoming more apparent and successful because of it. Already his Weapon X agents had stunted the growth of several key research facilities within Europe, regardless of SHIELD involvement, and this latest effort with Jean's climatic finale had eliminated the most important figure, Dr Nathaniel Essex. With his presence taken from the equation, Spaskyich estimated that his private vendetta toward the major mutant genetic research programmes would leave the world free of unnecessary science and technology for at least another few years. At the rate his whirlwind of destruction was travelling, he could set back the entire genetic movement by twenty years, and at the least, allow for the industry to recognise how futile its pursuit is. It would clearly take time for Spaskyich and his secluded army to make a full impact on the civilised world, but the focussed Texan bigot would not stop until the interest in mutant evolution dispersed worldwide. Already his base of operations had been relocated three times, but each time Weapon X moved, it became a more efficient unit, a tighter establishment, and a more voracious force. Any SHIELD communication was kept strictly to a minimum, and Spaskyich made sure they always tied up loose ends. He sure didn't want the Captain of the most powerful agency in the world breathing down his neck constantly.
At the moment, Hawk was listening to the good Doctor's review of the debriefing, wondering whether to tip some more bourbon into his glass, or wait until Kryles left to do it in secret. After much debate as the South African rambled on, he took another glass of it straight down his throat, and slammed it roughly on the wooden desk. 'Enough!' He shouted, grinning magnificently. 'I've decided to devise a couple more plays; that means I want you to prep three of the kids, and get them moving before the sun comes up.' He was to the point.
Kryles sat in a leather chair opposite, and took out a notepad. He scribbled in neat handwriting, and rubbed the mistakes with a clean eraser.
'Use Kitty, the Russian and the tall dark haired telepath… I want to get rid of the remaining Essex team before any SHIELD soldiers have a chance to interrogate them.' He stared up at the lights, smiling indulgently to himself. 'Ya can guide them on this one, Kyle – and don't screw up, or I'll have you for breakfast my friend.'
The Doctor looked at him, thinking the alcohol was affecting and waited for proper confirmation. 'You want us to kill off the rest of Essex's scientists? How?'
'They're being held at an outpost south of here, right on the tip of Scandinavian territory in a small public building. Of course it don't look too obvious, but in a small town where nobody wants to guess, they don't go looking for trouble. Get those three into the place; get rid of the team and then exit. You,' he pointed at Kryles demandingly 'keep your finger on the execution button, because if they're found out, I don't want anyone squealing to Fury about their stay here. The last thing I want is to be shut down after all my effort.' The Doctor got up to leave, and his superior handed him a small paper with the details written on it.
Kryles got up and walked out of the Commanders office, and back to his post in medical. It would be a challenging manoeuvre, to engage SHIELD soldiers on their home ground; but with a little ingenuity on his part, anything was possible. If Kitty, Piotr or Tessa took a wrong turn, he had no compunction about letting them die. It wasn't his job to care for them, after all.
* * *
The crisp white snow stained an idyllic red when Logan's crimson blood spattered over its expanse. Droplets spouted into the air, arcing briefly in the cold moonlight before splashing down on every surface around him. The loss of blood was making him excruciatingly nauseous and light-headed, but in his daze, Logan recognised the symptoms like an old companion. It was lessening with each passing stride, the healing factor within his sturdy body compensating for the damage to the back of his neck and spine.
After cutting through the walls in the main sparring room, Logan had to pounce on and then kill three of the black-suited guards who obviously weren't used to the cold. They shivered in the cold air, looking for him once his escape became evident. They definitely weren't used to the environment, but Logan didn't really feel anything for them as each was murdered. Part of his old nature had activated during the escape, and there was a certain element of pleasure in meting out their punishment. One, he recognised from the beatings after his encounter with Sabretooth, so he took that man's gun, and ran off into the night. All the while the chip at the back of his neck stung with intense pain, but Logan knew Spaskyich had no intention of killing him. It was a rather brutal game they played, and Logan had won it several times before. This time would be no different; it was just a matter of will power.
To deal with the off-putting electric pains in his head, Logan ran a mile or so from the tip of the underground Installation, and then set about removing the metal chip. Dr Kryles had informed them that sufficient tampering with the device would kill the bearer, but Logan assumed he had nothing to lose. As it kept distracting him, he finally succumbed to tearing the chip away with three claws on his right hand. There had been a lot of tissue damage, and so much pain, but luckily he was far enough from the searching guards to let a scream or two perforate the still forest. After passing out, he awoke in a sweat, his body trying to recover from the awful cold air. The blood had seeped beautifully into the snow, bloating it like a stuffed animal. He had gone to the nearest stream, frozen over in the early morning hours, and plunged through the ice to the water underneath. After washing the evidence on his body away in the freezing liquid, he had resumed the escape. Unfortunately, the combined actions resulted in a rather vicious migraine, and he found it hard to concentrate. Awaking a little later after blacking out once more, Logan tried to resume his run.
Although the blood left a trail for them to follow, he was getting better, and every step became a lengthy stride. The wounds to his head and neck were healing over by themselves after a while, and the longer he travelled, the less it hurt and showed. He was trotting through the cold snow before his sensitive nose picked up on the familiar scent of his mortal enemy. Slowing to a crawl before the inevitable confrontation, Logan tried to gain his bearings, hoping that once he had dispatched the miserable tramp once and for all, his escape might become easier. Sabretooth had been one of his opponents since both their enrolment in the Weapon X programme back in the 1960's. Chosen for their particular resistance to age and wear, they were both implanted with severe osteopathic reconstruction materials to combat foes on a uniquely feral level, previously unmatched by any other Weapon X agent. Adamantium, a rather potent alloy of hardened metals, was bonded to the bones in each mutant, allowing for Logan to pop six long lethal claws, and Victor Creed to keep the tips of his nails as sharp as ever with the deadly material. Although both were practically indestructible through physical damage, there was a certain amount of punishment they could take before finally going down. The intense hatred had arisen from arguments and the vicious nature of each person, escalating into such a fury, that even the sight or mention of the other could get the adrenalin fuelling around the body. Logan couldn't quite remember why he hated Sabretooth so much, but it didn't matter, as his enemy detested him with the same strength and zeal. Whatever the reason was, Logan's addled brain couldn't remember. The nightmares and horror that plagued his subconscious at night was from memories long lost in the brain. His first stay at Weapon X had traumatised him so much that he blocked out that part of his life from waking thoughts. Nothing was fully what it had seemed in his past because of the psychological damage, but he didn't want to stay in the same place to compound the damage. In the end he ran, because facing the reality of the programme's longing pursuit for an ultimate warrior had yielded to much harm, and after seeing Hank, Logan wasn't about to stick with it to watch the others break. If they had to be altered to fit one sick man's aspirations, then Logan vowed he wouldn't be with them to witness it. Perhaps he had led the Weapon X agents to the Mansion, but there was nothing more he could do. If Logan had tried to riot and kill everyone in the Installation, then Spaskyich could well have executed him, but escape allowed a different sequence of events to play out, and Logan assumed that he might be able to leave untraced.
The scent from Sabretooth was unmistakable, and so very close, which left Logan wondering whether he should bother to run. Ahead of him was a sharp cliff that dropped to a bigger forest floor; Logan wished he knew where he was going. Stealing a map before his departure would have been the most sensible thing to do.
Although his entrance was completely silent, Logan knew before Sabretooth landed on his back that he was coming. He may not have heard the approach, but his sight and sense of smell indicated as much. Sabretooth dug ten thin nails into Logan's already damaged back, and ripped at the bare flesh powerfully. With a high-pitched howl into the night atmosphere, the X-Man spun around and hurled his opponent onto a toppled tree trunk. Six long, thin metal claws slipped out from incisions just above the knuckles, and Logan bore ferociously down on him. 'Why'dya leave, buddy-boy?' Sabretooth asked, spitting a wad of bloody saliva at him. 'Your boss's playing with Hank kinda scared me off. I Figured I didn't want to wind up under Spaskyich's knife once more!' Given the chance at his downed body, Logan sliced, but cut through the wooden trunk while Sabretooth slipped up behind him. Noticing his entanglement with the object, Victor took perfect advantage of the situation to exercise his superiority. He landed several heavy blows across Logan's cheek, before the three claws bent through the wood and came out the other side. Pouncing atop his floored enemy, Sabretooth scratched at his chest and belly, trying to spill guts across the forest floor. 'No metal enforced bones round here, runt!' He taunted, circling Logan's stomach with a sharp nail. He dug it in, and enjoyed listening to another high scream pierce the misty ether surrounding them. He smacked Logan's bloody head against the dirt a couple of times, and then dragged him by the scruff of his neck onto an ice covered pond.
In one swift motion, Sabretooth plunged Logan's unintelligible struggling body through the ice and into the frozen water below. Both hands wrapped around his neck, and Sabretooth leered bitterly as he strangled him. 'You never die any other way, so I thought I'd try and drown you for a change!' He screamed, laughing like a hyena. 'No blood to the brain means no mutant healing power… See if ya can survive like that, ya filthy bastard!' Under the surface of the water, the thick freezing liquid invaded his lungs, pooling up in every open recess of his body. Blood clouded the clear water, and soon Logan was staring through a misted blanket of crimson. The thick fingers gripped violently around his neck, squeezing every last inch of breath from his straining lungs. He gargled, producing tiny bubbles from an open mouth. Two eyes rolled back in his head, and after a couple of seconds, he seemed to stop moving.
Sabretooth held on like his life depended on it, and wouldn't let up until he could see every last air bubble spread out on the surface. Instinctively, he started to release his hairy fingers, but suddenly thought to ensure death. Logan took the quick chance to fling his disregarded limb up between Sabretooth's open legs, landing a blow that not even his opponent could stomach. Sabretooth grimaced, and let up on his tight grip, but Logan had the opportunity to spring another volley of attacks. He threw himself up through the water and breathed in mouthfuls of crisp fresh air as Sabretooth splashed painfully into the pond. Gasping, Logan then launched his free claws into the downed man's torso, rolling over him and onto the grass. Still embedded in Sabretooth's bloody chest, the X-Man used his impetus to drag the opponent off the forest floor and into the air. At the critical moment, Logan withdrew his six weapons, and sent Sabretooth flailing over the high cliff top. Nothing but the empty tumble of loose pebbles resonated over the area as Logan watched him fall.
Deciding not to hang about, he ran off toward lights in the valley below, trying to stay free from trouble.
* * *
The former students from Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters were being used as tools of war once again. Spaskyich ordered the infiltration of a SHIELD outpost located on the southern most tip of Finland, south of where the Weapon X Installation had taken root. Although none of the students knew it, they were travelling to a small town just outside Hanko, and their orders as Dr Kryles conveyed them, were to eliminate the remaining scientists that formed Dr Essex's Salekhard genetic research division. After Jean shot Essex, his team abandoned their location in the West Siberian Plains but were picked up by a monitoring SHIELD squad, who then sent them back to Finland for quick interrogation and debriefing. Spaskyich's own personal agenda toward genetic research and implementation brought on the assignment, and without the knowledge of his superiors, he hoped to kill off the other scientists without Captain Fury finding out.
Spaskyich couldn't send all the new recruits, as specific cases had arisen, such as Logan's quick and unmonitored escape, but Tessa, Piotr and Kitty were to perform the small feat of espionage. Doctor Kryles took over control of the operation, and outfitted them with certain equipment and materials to complete the job. They were reluctant at first, but a slow aversion to mutiny had developed specifically for such attitudes to work, and now they were forced to do his bidding. Landing just beyond the town's limits, all three were instructed to enter through a small ventilation system that started in a locked warehouse on the edge of town. Kitty was allowed to use her unique abilities for the first time in a while, and managed to phase inside the building to unlock it. No resistance was met while they were at the warehouse, so they proceeded to enter through the giant fan housings at the back of the building. Whirring blades blocked their path, but Kryles instructed the use of a small explosive to dispatch the mechanisms. The three young students slipped down through the long tunnel and came to several small openings at the base of the approach.
After Kryles explained which tunnel to take, they moved down in single file, crawling for five minutes or so until a relatively large junction was reached. Again, their instructor indicated for them to reach the control centre, and then turn down into the detention block. The space inside was extremely disconcerting in some places, but they learned to overcome the difficulty of claustrophobia. Infiltrating the detention block vents had been a lot tougher than Kryles or even Spaskyich had estimated, largely due to the fact that every exit led out to above the hallway, and not the individual cells. The situation was worsened tenfold when Tessa attempted to set up the explosive gas canisters issued to them by the available air vents, which happened to be guarded with tripwires. She couldn't have known that at the time, but alarms lit up the control centre's computers for every guard to see. The students themselves weren't even aware of their mistake until Kryles pulled them out of the vent system.
Passing the building in the centre of town, Tessa, Piotr and Kitty knew it had gone haywire when several people in strikingly similar military-looking uniform ran in and out like rabid dogs on too much caffeine. They were never stopped or confronted, since the SHIELD soldiers should not have been in the town to begin with, but a certain commotion went up inside the building as the gas canisters went off harmlessly. The three were monitored leaving, and every piece of available information on them was quickly relayed to the screen on Nick Fury's computer. Upon confirmation of their details, Fury made several telephone calls, and got his act together.
It would take several hours for Hawk Spaskyich to realise his mistake, and even then it would be much too late. His zealous nature in the pursuit of bigotry and prejudice among the people of the world had not only established him, but also brought about his downfall.
* * *
Onboard the X-Men's Blackbird, Betsy sat in the back communicating with Kurt through her telepathy. He was still struggling to converse in English, but she could understand him fluently through his mind. Even though the shock of this new position disturbed her on every level, it had to be better than what she had left behind. That much both new mutants were sure of.
Warren sat in the Pilot's seat, handling the jet with ease as it glided smoothly through the atmosphere. Flying at just above two thousand feet, the jet could easily outrun the fastest commercial airliner, but lacked the manoeuvrability to compete with military jet engines, which could combat the Blackbird with infuriating simplicity. His eyes were just about the most effective and suited for piloting the jet, seeing as he had the vision of an eagle. He was however, rather jumpy sometimes, and Charles was not greatly in favour of him flying through bad weather or sticky situations. Whatever view on his capabilities though, Warren was in the lead seat because Charles, in the co-pilot's position, was being contacted through SHIELD's specialised signal. A mutually beneficial relationship had been set up between Xavier's School and the organisation, just because of Xavier's take on world affairs, so their communication was already more than on a first-time basis.
Charles sat agitatedly in his chair, prodding at the com controls with his fingers. Their altitude and location were not part of the best radio conditions known to man, but Charles managed to enhance the signal somewhat, listening to it through the jet's loudspeakers. Crackling noise issued through the pressurised cabin, and all four people perked up as Fury's voice faded in. 'Signal One to CX Blackbird, can you hear us?' The voice announced. An image on the dashboard in front of Charles flicked on, and a man's face, lined from years of responsibility appeared. He wore a pair of minimalist dark glasses, presumably to cover the appearance of only one working eye, and his cigarette smoke clouded the screen for a moment.
Charles spoke up enthusiastically. 'We read you at SHIELD headquarters, what do you have to say, Fury?'
'Hey there, Charley old boy, how's everything going with you?' The image cracked a smile at him, stubbing the cigarette out.
'I'm in a bad state right now – half my school's been kidnapped and I've spent the last week trying to find them! Even with my telepathy and this jet, I still haven't been able to pick up on anything. At the moment, we flying over Poland – can you help us?' He begged, wishing he could speak to the important man in person.
'That's why I've called, Xavier. Just over an hour ago, we received some disturbing news from a small building of ours in the southern most part of Finland – three young'uns came into town and broke into a warehouse of ours. They proceeded to gas our detention block through the ventilation shafts; now I don't really know what's going on, but this has the subtle markings of some sly high-class operation. What light can you shed on it? You lost a guy and two girls recently?' Fury responded, raising an eyebrow.
'Yes, plus many more – four women and five men of varying ages in total, plus the school itself has been partly demolished.'
'Trust me, we already know; but listen, one of the girls has been identified as Katherine Pryde from Anaheim in California, whereas the other girl is one of yours, I know: Tessa Niles. The fella we picked up on was some Russian guy from a part of Moscow. I've tracked them back to a small unauthorised Installation west of Lisalmi, near many of the lakes in the centre of Finland. I'll send you the approximate co-ordinates… I think you may have heard of it before – the Wolverine bears the markings of it.' Fury continued, lighting another smoke.
Charles shook his head ruefully. 'It's because they found where he was staying, wasn't it? Somehow, those bastards found out. Who's in charge of Weapon X at the moment?' He enquired, hoping to get a swift answer.
'Hawk Spaskyich – who also had his hand in the Sentinel Contingency, wiped out just over a fortnight ago. Charles,' he called 'not only has the man gone over my head to bury himself like a tick in the skin once more, but he's taken a lot of SHIELD funding and resources with him. This latest assault, for particular reasons I can't tell you, is due to his unending vendetta against mutantkind. The man's a sadist, and I'm personally heading up my elite combat force to dismiss the operation entirely. Weapon X, Charley, is ending.'