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
#16
"blunt force trauma"
The Savage land, home to many forgotten peoples of the intolerant and blinkered world, was still alive with auspicious prosper. It had risen through the fire of Magneto's retribution to survive under the partial care of the master's Acolytes and their dedication to his higher cause. Not alone in ruling this verdant Eden among the Antarctic Circle's boundaries, Fabian Cortez was allowed to simply commandeer Magneto's colossal fortress of Avalon in his absence. The Savage land itself was a fruitful garden stuck in time, its contents dating back to the prehistoric ages of the Earth's relative infancy. Attached end to end in a ring entirely around the perimeter of the land were enormous active volcanoes, each of which helped to fuel the constant warmth that heated the soil beneath the Cortez's feet. Animals, plants and minute civilisations all contained in the relatively small bubble of time never knew of the advances outside their boundaries. It was a secluded haven for mutant refugees, and anyone else wishing to ascend the petty ambitions of a few twisted individuals that played for power over the globe.
No-one knew why this part of Earth had remained constant while the rest was overrun with humanity and their ingenious inventions. The structure of the land was relatively stable underneath the seabed, but the erupting volcanoes ensured a cornered, private environment in which life had flowered without obstruction. It was a vast, temperate, jungle vista, shrouded in mystery of the ages, and not one resident questioned its presence anymore than they would question their own existence. The Savage land was part of the Earth's creation, and it would remain unique in its splendour until the end of days when only the planet could die.
It was a living, breathing masterpiece, Cortez thought, standing at the huge glass window in Magneto's original hallways of Avalon. Everything lost among their annals of a most useless, base and ignorant civilisation was kept here, he marvelled. It was a testament to nature and evolution. Strongly welcoming the new age of Homo Sapiens Superior, he advocated the assault of overwhelming power on the weaker species. They are vermin, unfit to rule even themselves anymore, he thought, turning his gaze to the gigantic testament to architecture his lord had assembled. Smooth surfaces of marble, steel and stone all fit into place congruently, resulting in a near perfect assembly of majestic quality with only a wave of his hand. Cortez could only imagine what it would be to wield such great power.
Anne Marie, his sister, interrupted the grandeur of it all with her persistent voice. She ambled over to him adorned in robes of fine silken material. 'Your attempt with our lord – how goes it?'
He strangled his eyes away from the beauty of the jungle vistas and observed her.
'Is he starting to remember?' She repeated.
'I am doing my best with what little power I fully control. Hopefully, he will recall everything about his quest.'
'You sound uncertain, Fabian.' She said, keeping her distance from his fiery temper. He had become very different from how she used to picture him. The devoted pleasance to which he gave all of Magneto's underlings had disappeared the day of his lord's failure, and Cortez seemed embittered to say the least.
Sure to veil his emotions from her purveying senses, Cortez smiled and evoked more pleasing an appearance for her benefit. 'I think he always wanted to remember, but the psychic dampening Xavier placed was too strong for even our master to overcome. It will be intensive, but soon we will rise mightily once more to combat the very existence of these pathetic world leaders. They will know that we cannot falter by a simple cheap trick.'
'What are your intentions?'
What are my intentions? Fabian queried himself ahead of answering. 'I will force humankind to see my way.' He put simply.
'Our way, brother; you plan to exercise our control over the powers of this most vile world;' she responded 'a world that we will make right once more, for mutants to rule – Homo Sapiens Superior.'
Yes, he thought, but not in the way you imagine.
* * *
The summer heat radiated through the musty brown clouds lingering above the New York City skyline, scorching the helpless people scattering around like ants within the wide streets. They panicked beneath the hot glow, running for shelter under parasols spread over outcropping restaurant seats. The middle of the season in New York was nothing compared to states and cities located nearer the equator as Remy knew, but bearing that in mind still didn't stop him from sweating in the baking interior of a yellow cab. Rogue looked across at him amiably and he gave a small grin despite the swelter that seemed to irritate everyone in the vehicle. Logan sat shotgun while the driver swore and blared his horn through contorted lines of crushed traffic. They tried pathetically to squeeze into the right lane, but were cut off by another brutally rude cab that zipped in first. Apart from the white noise of the mercilessly inaudible static radio, all Rogue could hear was Logan's loud sighs as he grumbled when the driver made a wrong move. She was definitely wishing they had never tried a cab to Salem Center.
Finally making it out of Finland via a partially hijacked flight from a local airstrip, the three exiled mutants landed in Richmond in Virginia. Upon staying the night there for rest, they started off on a road trip that would then take them through Washington D.C, Baltimore, Philadelphia and finally into Maine. Rogue had to say that Logan didn't make for the greatest of travelling partners; his dogmatic persistence was trying when they were depressed, and it was quite obvious that he was fed up of them, when they were exhausted with his company. They had hitch-hiked through several states, and then bored of constantly being rejected for their irritable natures, Remy had decided on stealing motorcycles and a truck to gain some distance. It wasn't vital that they reach Xavier's institute on any given time, but it was vital that they actually reach it. If Logan hadn't been so driven, Rogue would have given up hope and abandoned the constant plays for power among mutants. Her involvement had so far yielded nothing but misery and stress, and the southern beauty seemed perfectly fine to disappear into myth. Remy was welcome to tag along, but only if he kept his hands off her.
She enjoyed his company a lot, and he certainly was romantic and considerate, but there were times when she couldn't understand why he bothered looking out for someone with whom he couldn't be intimate. The man clearly needed Rogue's support, but what he desired was unobtainable. Rogue simply put it down to her own doubt and low self-esteem. Had she been more capable, she was sure she wouldn't have wound up in half the things she had. On the outside, Rogue was seductive, but she was still young and therefore often considered useable. If someone set out to catch her like Weapon X had, then they would.
Now, on an inclination from Logan, they were headed for Xavier's school for Gifted Youngsters. For a time, under Magneto's supervision, the X-Men were considered her enemies, but she had no qualms about letting the grudge go. Magneto himself had been one of the only people able to touch her upon discovery of her powers, and Rogue felt indebted to him for that bond. She was never in his regime for power or money, but simply as a drifter looking for a place to stay. Her alignment was of no consequence after her mentor's downfall, but escape from the ensuing blame-landing was. Remy, who was captured originally by genetic researchers looking to investigate mutant evolution, was able to escape the same cascade, and eventually the two managed to travel part of the way to France. Unfortunately SHIELD intervened, and both were deposited under the care of Weapon X. Now free of that, they hoped to rely on secrecy to leave them undetected. Logan had changed the plan though by turning up at the last minute with supposedly better intentions for them. Reluctantly forced to follow, all three were now stuck in the same traffic jam, headed for nowhere in summer heat so hazy, it could melt the paint off the top of the taxi.
'How much further is it to Xavier's?' Rogue asked, trying to wave some cool air onto her face. The black interior of the vehicle wasn't helping to calm the heat, and even with the windows all open, hot exhaust transferred from one car into another. 'God knows, love.' Logan responded. His method of maintaining correct temperature was to stay completely still with one arm out the window and the other on his leg. Remy flustered uncomfortably, and then drew a few fingers over Rogue's cheek. 'Neh.' He said, suppressing a puerile giggle. They laughed just as the taxi jerked into life and moved forward. 'We're finally going somewhere.' Rogue assumed. The car stuttered several meters, and then broke away from the main haul at speed. Managing to get to the off-ramp without too much hassle from other drivers, the taxi accelerated over the boiling black tarmac and through the city on the raised highway routes. Enthused, the driver turned up the radio, which was currently spurting out Hispanic jazz-salsa fusions. Rogue wondered even at this travelling time whether they would make it before nightfall as congestion was still perpetual in the heart of the city. So much had happened recently to her and Remy; it almost seemed a shame that they would spend the remainder of the summer in Xavier's school. France was supposed to be lovely at this time of year.
As the taxi slowed to queue in a tiny tailback before the correct turning, a loud thump from the bass speakers in the taxi made Rogue jump. She wasn't a generally of a nervous disposition, but that was unnatural in her opinion; the radio couldn't have been that loud. 'Do ya wanna turn down the bass a little?'
The driver shook his head. 'There're two speakers in the front with no equalizer – how was that me?'
A thin needle injected itself into the taxi roof, cutting away the ceiling material with its razor edge. Stunned and fascinated, Rogue might have believed this was a heat-induced hallucination if the needle had not sprouted to a claw and ripped away half the roof. Screaming, although she didn't realise it, her hands caught the door release mechanism and she shoved it open to escape in a flurry of tangled clothes and matted hair. Half-turning during the ensuing panic, she caught sight of Sabretooth supported on the stable part of the cab roof. She called for Remy, but her voice was lost in the barrage of yells and crying.
'Open up!' Victor shouted, tearing away the first half of the car. The driver went limp suddenly as the back of his head was caught up in Sabretooth's deadly grasp. Remy cried something inaudible and raised his hand to the ceiling material still intact. 'Get the hell outta here!' He shouted to Logan, who had popped his claws for the tussle. Sabretooth smashed the windscreen and reached through it for Logan's disappearing form. Abruptly, the taxi's surface boiled beneath his feet, and the feral mutant tumbled over as it burst into a shower of flame. Remy stumbled onto the tarmac as a travelling car just narrowly missed his falling body by inches. Screeching to halt against a tall green road sign, the passengers got out and ran for fright. 'Get in!' Rogue shouted to her companions while she started up the engine of the abandoned car with keys still in the ignition. Reversing it quickly, Sabretooth shot across the windscreen view but was then struck down by her accelerating moves. Remy bustled into the back seats, letting off another distracting explosion from a charged pebble in the road. 'Make for the Mansion!' Logan howled urgently. The car sped off, bypassing the accumulating traffic and Rogue managed to maintain concentration even while the other drivers panicked and let the highway go haywire.
Sabretooth rose from the sun-baked tarmac, spun over and jumped atop the starting cars still on the road. 'Catch me if you can, runt, I'm off to get those two!' He was perched like a jackal on the roof of a speeding car while Logan raced after them all on swift feet. After almost a hundred feet, the vehicle with his adversary was travelling too fast to catch up. Deciding to exact revenge, Logan thrust a bewildered motorcycle driver off his new purchase, and slammed his foot down on the silver pedal. Screeching like a newborn infant's birth scream, the bike accelerated up the packed highway, zooming past more cars and open spaces along the giant expanse. Occasionally glancing to the side to judge his distance, Logan moved opposite the car Sabretooth was on. The wind bashed against his unprotected face, and Logan strained difficultly to see through the oncoming rush. They were snaking their way further into the city amid all the towering, advanced industry skyscrapers, and they were travelling at a colossal speed to do it. Extending his six claws once more, Logan looked to Rogue and Remy, both making headway in front of this bizarre spectacle. Police sirens burst into life in the distance, and he knew now there was no way he would reach the Mansion by even tomorrow morning.
The insane car burnt its rubber tires along the pollution-blackened surface as it bobbed in all directions. Victor Creed took great pleasure in ramming his claws through the roof of this moving transport. Pulling the surprised passengers out and tossing them along the tarmac they were covering, allowed a free seat for his operation in the driver's position. He slithered in, and held his own during the most treacherous stunt on four wheels. The car swerved perilously to and fro as he adjusted himself, and then again deliberately as his intention was to knock the pestering runt off his orbiting bike.
Rogue took great control of the vehicle as it careered along the open stretch of road, dodging several discarded cars and escaping trucks. She briefly noticed the police helicopter now monitoring their position above, and then focussed on the road in front. The raised highway was several meters off the surface of the main concrete pathways, and stretched from several key points in New York City to others. It allowed for rapid access to many areas, but only if you were prepared to do incredible speeds down it one moment, then stay stuck in tailback queues the next. Rogue ensured they were gaining speed ahead of the following vehicles, while keeping control of the unpredictable steering wheel. It would lurch from one side to the other at this velocity, and it took most of her precision and strength to bear with the car's insane stunts. Chancing a look behind, she managed to quickly catch Sabretooth's car spinning out of control.
Having exceeded the speed limit, Victor Creed was not liable for explaining why his vehicle then careened out of control. Logan was riding alongside, but his pathetic attempts at flanking his enemy did nothing. Only the unpredictable incompetence of the car's structure let it jack-knife into the waylaid van without any control at speed well over one hundred miles per hour. Bracing for the sudden and fatal impact, Sabretooth reached for the gap in the roof and pulled himself through it. In the split seconds before the strike, his crazed mentality launched him into a frenzy of masochistic ecstasy, and he sported a smile on his withered features as the van loomed into view. His car caught the side of the obstruction abruptly, and the resulting shatter of glass and metal grated against even his ears. The car smashed into the van, then swivelled to the side and proceeded to barrel-roll down the length of road. It ended the spectacular display by cart wheeling through the air while he was tossed from the roof by centrifugal force. A terrific crash and burn resonated throughout the city while the pursuing police cars were stopped in their trailing tracks. Sabretooth flung across the air and landed nimbly on the bonnet of another stationary car. The passengers screamed as he posed on the surface, and then leapt for Logan's accompanying motorcycle.
Registering complete shock as his enemy sailed from one spot on the car and then into him, the two careered off the motorcycle at speed and scraped along the black tarmac. Blood splashed over the road, and Sabretooth thrust five claws on his left hand into Logan's shoulder as soon as they rose. 'Die ya gutless bastard!' He shouted in his repulsive bloodlust. Immediately a police car, just able to pass through the fire of Sabretooth's previous vehicle, couldn't brake fast enough. It hurtled across the tarmac, screeching mightily before impacting on the unsuspecting worm. Victor Creed took the full force of the unprepared car straight in the chest, and he crumbled into a lifeless mass of bloody bones, striking the side of another queuing truck. The opposing force smashed with the huge dent and was knocked straight over in a clatter of shattering glass. 'Jesus!' Logan cried, hardly able to understand his luck.
Slowing as their stolen car came to an off-ramp along the highway, Rogue allowed them to cruise into another lane of traffic. 'Let's get out of here – the cops are looking for us, and I doubt they're going to ask just questions.' She said to Remy while they escaped the monitored streets. People stirred from their autonomy at the screeching brake of tires, and watched curiously as the two southern mutants flustered into the crowded streets. The helicopter flew overhead, cautious of the skyscraper aerials poking into the clouds. For a few moments, its view was obscured by buildings and more New York City dwellers, so it rotated around the obstacles, and flew in search of the escapees.
Slumping exhausted against an alley wall, Rogue and Remy breathed a grateful sigh of relief. In the back streets, the heat couldn't penetrate so effectively, and they took several seconds to organise the rushed events that had passed in a blink of an eye. 'Comment vas-tu?' Remy asked, reverting to a natural use of southern French. He carefully held her face in the light with his gloved hands, and searched her panting, subtle looks for any abrasions. Remy pressed her against the wall, and she let out a long, pent-up groan. 'When are we ever out of goddamn trouble?'
The dank stench of indisposed garbage and rotting rainwater perforated their senses once they had calmed down, and Remy led her carefully out of the alley. As if on cue though, he was picked by the collar of his stained shirt and tossed back into the dark, squalid confines of the passage. Rogue looked at their new attacker, and her heart leapt into her mouth. A sickly feeling of rising nausea embraced her senses and she turned about, lest she vomit. Hauled by her neck, she was thrown to the floor as well. Staring down on them, the man spat and leered a crude Texan grin.
Logan threw himself over the raised highway concrete barrier, and landed several seconds later on the tarmac of the roads below. Panicking at the oncoming assault of speeding traffic, he rolled out of the way and then jumped over the braking vehicles bonnets. He had to find Remy and Rogue before the police captured them – his entire objective had been to let all three of them into Charles's dream once more, without fear of past discrepancies. He deemed it the only way out of the continuing fiascos each found themselves constantly in. The police sirens echoed overhead in request for his humble presence, but Logan wouldn't grace them with an appearance. Making a way off the main road underneath the highway, he stumbled, cut and bloody, toward the main centre of the city, hoping that by the time he reached Greenwich Village he might look presentable.
Shoving a queasy Rogue against the dank alley wall while people walked oblivious to the arrest just metres away, a newly surfaced Spaskyich held them prisoner. 'Ha! I knew I'd be able to find you bastards running home to Charlie's house. Didn't think ya'd lost me forever, did ya?' He jeered, revelling in his own competence. Catching sight of Rogue removing a thin glove, he smacked her across the face with the brunt of his elbow, and she winced. Furious, Remy swung a leg up to Hawk's unguarded side, but the ex-Commander was too alert. In a swift move he pulled a pistol from behind and shot a single bullet into the oncoming limb. Remy yelled and crumbled to the floor. The bullet had just grazed the skin, but it was enough of a countermeasure to ensure little resistance. 'Keep you hands and feet to yourselves, kids.' He growled, bearing his ugly maw. Choosing to defy his enemy once more, Remy picked a card from the deck held in his long coat pocket, charged it up with energy, and let it fly from his hand. Although not quite on target, the explosion was off-putting enough for him to grab up Rogue's arm and pull them to the streets ahead. Spaskyich yelled mightily, and managed to shot off another several rounds, all of which landed in a bystander's body. The innocent woman dropped dead, and a tumultuous uproar was incited. Dodging more congested cars, Remy limped speedily in between boots and bonnets, towing a disengaged Rogue behind him. 'Merde!' He shouted, forgetting for an instant his English. Shoppers and business people scattered in the hail of screaming panic, and just as they darted for cover in the most ridiculous of places, Rogue was buffeted to heavily. Her shirt ripped over the sleeve, exposing a long line of skin. As the people ran past, they made contact, and she started a terrible chain of victims. Normal men and women whose memories she absorbed suddenly fainted from contact, and she cried out for the one person who could help her. More screams went up, helicopter's appeared through the musty clouds to witness the action, and all the while Spaskyich was coming up just behind them. Steadily becoming disorientated from the constant impulses of emotions, memories and abilities even from normal humans, Rogue was due to collapse. 'Help me!' She called desperately to Remy.
The Cajun took in the entire scene, and then focussed his talents on one abandoned car stuck in the centre of the road to cause the biggest distraction yet. Forgoing his respect for other people's property and safety, he charged the vehicle with his unique ability. Grabbing Rogue by her shielded arm, while she attempted to cover herself from affecting anymore people, they ran across to the other side of the street. The car exploded mightily, and tossed high into the air – dispersing the crowd but also generating some space for them. The roar of fear and horror hailed the new surprise of lit engines as many more vehicles caught fire in the sparking burst. Stealthily weaving his way between the cars before they went up too, Spaskyich soon caught up with the two mutants. As people shoved past, and crashed through the barrier of hysteria, Spaskyich took Remy by the shoulder and landed a swift blow clear across his temple. The Cajun collapsed to the floor while Rogue was left snivelling at gunpoint in the middle of the street. Ahead of the entire New York City police force appearing, Spaskyich soon cajoled his captives to a more secluded spot for delivery.
* * *
Determined not to let the two mutants disband and jump ship, Logan ran deeper into the city. Lights blared on and off like demented strobes, and sirens yelled their animosity for mutant blood. The streets were filled with chaos, and all because of Sabretooth's agitated motives. Whatever the reason for his reappearance, Logan was sure it signified danger on the tracks, so whisking himself off to Xavier's was the only option left. With the combined power of Charles's mind and the Cerebro computer unit, Logan would be able to detect Rogue and Remy somewhere in New York. It never crossed his mind that they could vanish from the city faster than he could.
Zipping in and out of alleyways and back streets, the feral mutant made sure he stayed concealed from passing police cars or stressed businessmen carrying revolvers in their suitcases. He pulled his collar tighter around the large scrape in his neck, and headed for the outskirts of the city. There he figured he might chance upon another motorcycle or truck to drive all the way to Westchester County. A simple apology for his absence and abandonment from the team in their hour of need would suffice, and then he could get on with locating the two deserters. Thinking about it, Logan realised that perhaps he had pushed Remy and Rogue too far in making them come to America again. After all, what exactly were they going to do in Finland? Logan wondered. He had motivated them, and they should have been grateful enough to at least pause down the highway for him to get in after Sabretooth was hit. That was not the case though, and Logan did feel slightly betrayed; without his assistance all this time, they might never have got out of Virginia. Rogue and Remy had both been through way too much to just go AWOL; with their two unique talents, they deserved to be part of a unique organisation like the X-Men. The other mistake Logan was making though was to assume his place in the team existed anymore.
He was entering more low-life territory now, coming into contact less and less with the skyscrapers and office-blocks that typified New York. Flats, illegal landfills, drilling sites, bars and drunken hobos met his gaze instead, and he was glad of that. The heat of summer, enhanced through airy brown smog was starting to waver as the day progressed, and Logan supposed that it must have been about four o'clock. Taking time out for a large drink after feeling the effects of his slow but steady dehydration, he made for the nearest bar and stepped in. Flicking his beady eyes to the tv screen, weary of his appearance in a public place after the uptown incidents, he made to the corner of the stools and called the bartender over. In the middle of his perfect drink, with condensation dripping idyllically down the side, Logan received a purposeful tap on the shoulder. 'Friends of yours, asshole?' The overweight boozer indicated, pointing to the screen showing reported images of Rogue and Remy making their way through the scattering crowds after the car bomb. Having not been watching the news, Logan perked up, and placed his half-empty tall pint glass down. 'I don't know what you're talkin' about.' He replied, ducking his head a little lower. A shove to the back could not have aggravated Logan more; he twisted round and shattered the now empty glass against the boozer's thick head. Immediately the entire bar recoiled, and the friends of the fallen man stepped back to find a pool cue. 'Mutie – why don't you just die in a hole, 'stead of causing all this trouble!' The bartender yelled, retracting from behind the counter. Logan examined the man's intrepid face quickly; the shallow breathing, the scared, dilated pupils and fidgeting hands. Deciding to make his point, the mutant threw his arm with all three claws extended down onto the line of shot glasses ready to have whiskey poured into them. Skewering the glasses on each edge, Logan shook them in front of the bartender's face. 'Which one of you has keys to that bike out there?' He called, still facing the petrified man. Nobody responded, so Logan flung the glass into the wall and it smashed terrifically. He then swivelled on the boozer, just getting up. 'Is it you?' He enquired with false charm.
'Blow me.'
Logan shot one of his claws clean through the boozer's left forearm, and to the man's dismay it hurt quite a lot. Choosing to leave amid the wretch's high-pitched whine, Logan bounced out of the doors to the relief of the anxious crowd. Moments later the bike engine revved loudly, and sped off.
He would make good time on this beautiful machine – it looked brand new, with only minor dust marks blown across its sleek black paintjob. Ignoring the changing lights, Logan simply drove straight through, and glanced for the nearest directions. Salem Center was just seven miles from here, so he stepped on the accelerator.
* * *
Sweeping high above the towers and skyscrapers of the grand West coast cityscape, the Blackbird flew in search of the conflicting trouble-starter previously seen all over the news. On board, Hank piloted the jet while Ororo, Warren and Betsy sat anxiously in the backseats, ready to mete out Sabretooth's due punishment. Having seen the devastation broadcast over the airwaves, Charles decided to end his rampage by pitting the worm against his elite force, who Victor Creed seemed so hell-bent on destroying. Whatever the reason for the mutant's appearances, Charles was sure that he could be stopped in a final confrontation.
Without the use of the Cerebro computer unit, the Professor was unable to communicate long distances with his students, but Hank knew the purpose of their visit to the city anyway. Deciding to ignore his want for secrecy due to the altered, animal-like façade, Hank focussed on the task in hand. Biased opinions on his edge over the human form couldn't distract from their objective, even if he matched Sabretooth's feral and animated exterior. He only wished that people might see past the ferocious shell to the vivacious creature underneath. Deciding to hush his qualms for fear of compromising their relationship with the rest of society, Hank looked to his girlfriend Ororo, who was wrapped up in the freedom of their mode of transport. Hank found nothing could draw her attention from flight in open space, especially since Ororo was learning to emulate the experience herself. 'Are you nervous?' He asked in his throaty murmur.
'I cannot wait to do this myself, lover-boy.' She replied, her leg shaking slightly on the metal flooring.
'I mean about that seven-foot walking tramp.' He kept his eyes straight on their incoming destination.
'Hell yes.'
Behind them, Betsy was concentrating on the brief amount of experience she had under her belt. Nothing would prepare her enough for the real combat of a voracious enemy like Sabretooth, but with her swiftness and agility, she was truly formidable nonetheless. She swayed her dark hair with the purple dye colouring it, making sure it trickled down the sides of her face serenely. She tied it in a bun at the back and smiled to Warren watching her. Extending a hand worriedly, she held it tight as the jet prepared to touchdown on the hospital roof.
* * *
Managing to catch five minutes rest at the expense of the hundreds of patient's suffering all around her, Doctor Cecilia Reyes was watching the televised broadcasts of today's catastrophic events. Her concentration couldn't centre entirely on the heat-affected wavy screen as certain prejudices arose when humans and mutants clashed on her part, but she attempted to act nonchalant for the good of her job and safety in downtown New York. The reporters were displaying the amazing series of events which led to a riveting five-mile car chase along route 401, resulting in several casualties and the ignition of many fire-fighting obstacles. Turning away for some variety within her extremely scarce break time, Cecilia let her eyes wonder over the contents of the waiting room. Ordinarily they would be inundated with patients, complaining of all types of ailments and sicknesses, but for some peculiar reason no-one was present. Briefly, trauma cases usually flooded in, but on a day like this, she expected a lot more damage than was precisely coming their way. Landing on one elderly man sitting uncomfortably in the chairs, Cecilia noticed his eyes gazing up at the reports still overwhelming every channel. He shifted, like something was making him very edgy, so to combat the uneasiness, the old man slipped a cigarette into his hands. About to walk over and restrict his enjoyment, Cecilia was suddenly stopped in her tracks; the man flicked his thumb against his other fingers and generated a small spark, powerful enough to burn the end of the smoke. She realised correctly that he was a mutant, but that still didn't excuse him. She went over, told him to put it out, and then twisted around as the hospital double doors burst open.
'Auto versus pedestrian – looks in very bad shape…' The paramedic team announced. Springing into action, Cecilia grabbed the side of the rolling gurney and looked down into the patient's corroded features. Splayed mousy-blond hair in the shape of a crop covered his bloody scalp, and he had many large cuts issuing blood from their gaps. His mouth hung open in a slack gape, and she briefly noticed his tremendously sharp teeth before the gurney smashed into the ER room. It always comes in bursts, she thought while placing latex gloves over her dark-skinned hands.
* * *
Darkness and a numb sensation in his entire body was all he could feel anymore. For a while there had been absolute blackness, and he wasn't even aware of himself for that time. He assumed it had lasted for quite some time, but there was no way of telling how long time lasted when you were unconscious. There was nothing to look at but empty vastness; nowhere to focus on but a long stretch of infinity, echoing off into the colourless void space. He might have been able to discern the noises if he at least understood the jargon spouting next to his ears in amongst the mumbling engine growl. Slowly, the dark embrace receded into a comfortable mesh of sickly warmth. It was as if the relief was fake, prescribed and only to make him numb once more. Drugs didn't work on his metabolism if that was what they were using. He couldn't absorb them for long enough, and his healing factor always combated the sensations first. Struggling lights shone through the clearing foggy darkness and the swaying motion became more recognisable. Suddenly there was a jolt, and he vomited. An increasing convulsing sensation overtook his fragile body, and he started to seize. It was at about this time that Victor Creed realised he was convulsing. His brain was frying inside his head, and neuron control was next to useless. Most of the damage had been internal, as no bones broke the surface, but on the inside, chaos reigned supreme. He was suffering massive internal haemorrhaging, and several organs were turned to a pulp. He took pride in the fact that he would be able repair that damage soon enough, as the large dose of drugs brought him under the spell of sleep once more.
'…Get me an EKG, chem. 7, blood/alcohol and a tox screen – I'm trying to isolate the bleeding here… hold that will you?'
'He's not under the influence or anything here – what happened to him? Hey, Ed – what happened to him?'
'I heard it was auto versus pedestrian – blunt force trauma all over his body…'
'Get me a gastric lavage kit. Damn – intubate him – I'm trying to stop the bleeding here!'
'Come on and get out of the way – we've got casualties from the explosions downtown. Who the hell is running amuck in this goddamn city?'
'Look at this – we're full up here, move into ER 2… stop this bleeding!'
'Tox screen's negative –'
Victor's eyes blinked open without seeing anything, his mind surfacing from the drug induced exhaustion infiltrating his addled brain. He let out a long grinding wail of anguish as their medication quickly ran through his system, and pain registered violently on every single nerve ending on his body. Sight had still not returned to him, but the fear and alarm consuming his paranoid mind ensured he realised what was going on around. The antiseptic iodoform smell of hospitals lurked strong in the air, and the rustling of latex, the clanging of scalpels and other instruments all indicated he was under the knife in a trauma ward nearby the hit. Victor Creed struggled as what seemed like a contained bubble fit snugly over his mouth, and needles slid home into his veins. 'He must be seizing again – get it under control! Make sure he doesn't dislodge any of the IVs.' A voice yelled. The pain was resonating throughout his body, making every nerve and tendon rattle and hum. He had been struck by a speeding police car, and was just beginning to recover with the aid of the Doctor's treatment, but Victor wasn't consciously aware of all this. Right now, his only objective was to free himself of the stomach knotting agony, and get away from everyone else. He screamed as a fresh arc of blood spurted over the emergency room walls. 'Restraints – I lost my scalpel in him…'
'Jeez, this guy was almost dead when we brought him in!' The voice yelled cautiously.
Victor lurched from the table, his vision now returning, and he wrenched the needles from his arms. The Doctors and Nurses jumped out of the way totally bewildered at this bizarre horror spectacle. The security bounded through double doors pulling their pistols on him. A pool of trauma material and blood let one of the guards slip in it while the other miss-fired as his arm was tugged downwards. At the crack of the gun, the Doctors leapt out of the way, and Sabretooth sprang into life. His damage was quickly repairing itself on the inside, but the man still resembled a walking visage from hell. He snatched up the assisting Doctor in one hand and batted him against the bloody wall. Cries escalated as the shouts of "mutie" went up, and the fire alarm was pulled. Bullets embedded in his flesh couldn't stop his enraged and confused form from advancing. Swiping the two guards clean out the way, Sabretooth crashed through the emergency room doors, and bounded down the corridor.
Expecting light resistance, he was mistaken as several more guards stopped to aim and shoot. Patients ducked left, right and centre, and all the while the overhead blare of warning issued its grating noise into the sterile atmosphere. Smashing up the front desk, Sabretooth tossed staff and patients alike to and fro. An elderly man stepped in front of him, preparing to combat his path of destruction, but Sabretooth raised his hand to strike. The man focussed himself, and sent out a bolt of lightening that struck the madman in the chest. The concussive force sent him flying into an office, and then the man ran in afterwards. The remaining security dogged the tussle to the door but witnessed Sabretooth dispatching the elder gruesomely. Lightening pierced out of his dying bodily wounds, and Victor caught a bolt straight through the arm. The carcass burst into white light and incinerated with the last breath. Shielding his eyes, Victor turned to dash, but noticed his arm, up in orange flames. It smouldered, and he charged at the disbelieving guards. Their barrier of raised pistols could not halt him, and he simply tossed them out of the way before his arm burnt entirely. The cry scissored the ultra-tense air of the hospital ground floor, and onlookers could only scream their horror at this morbid display of macabre violence. A fire extinguisher shot across his bow and suddenly doused his flaming limb in white effervescence, and Hank McCoy was standing ready to combat him. Sabretooth yelled his disapproval, and sliced five claws through the extinguisher. It showered the two comically with white foam as the sprinkler system engaged above. 'Hank, get back!' Ororo called, as the water covered his blue fur and clothes. Sabretooth brushed off the foam in a fit of rage, but the young enchantress issued a ball of lightening at his manic form.
Silently praising the intervention of these mysterious mutants, the bystanders dashed for the exits. Doctors, Nurses, guards and maintenance men ran outside, ready for the two opposing sides to battle it out. As Sabretooth was knocked back toward the trauma rooms, much of the staff was still trapped for the violence, and too afraid to escape, they watched slack-jawed as their original patient miraculously recovered before their eyes. 'We got all the balls in the world here!' Victor taunted, picking himself up from the devastated hall floor. 'Come to play with me, did you?'
'What the hell are you doing back here?' Warren asked as Betsy came up beside him. The four X-Men rallied around their opponent's position, hesitant of his lethal flailing arms.
As Warren made a step toward him, Sabretooth lunged, but was tugged back by Hank's hefty arms encircling him. Twisting violently, the blue mutant was thrown off and smashed through a wire mesh enforced window. Deciding to play his sadistic games with them before leaving, Victor made sure to deal punishment for their insolence. Ororo brought up a sharp wind that propelled her back from his reaching grasp, and as he overstretched himself, Betsy managed to kick his legs out from under him. Landing on his back, the British mutant was able to straddle his chest and take hold of his mind. The crippling invasion left Sabretooth defenceless on the outside while he took care of her assault mentally. Although his vision was starting to cloud over once more from her attack, Victor knew she was still on top of him. He thrust ten claws deep into both her shoulders, and Betsy was left crumpled on the hospital floor. She cried out, but her voice was lost amid the action.
Sensing his loss, Warren forced new energy into his flight, and collided with a dashing Sabretooth to send them both into the original trauma ward. 'You bastard! You've wrought enough pointless vengeance on innocents for today, and I'm going to murder you for it!' Warren screeched, pinning the man's arms at his sides. In a battle of poignant wills, Sabretooth cruelly overpowered the student's weaker force and reluctantly headed for the exit, now desperate for some means of escape. Victor judged he was in too deep now, and with his resulting rage at the girl's moves, they might be out for blood. Hank lurched in from the double doors, and the feral protagonist found himself surrounded once more. Picking the dropped strip lights off the floor, Warren dashed them spectacularly across Sabretooth's skull, bringing him down in a shower of fluorescent white sparks. He was about to drive the jagged edges of the remains through the opponent's back, but Hank stopped him abruptly. 'Jesus Warren – we're peacekeepers, not vigilantes!'
'What about my girl? That lanky bastard mauled her, and now she's on the goddamn floor – just look!'
The dark-skinned Doctor hidden in the corner of the room emerged from the unlit shadows. 'I can help her!' She said, placing empty hands at a non-threatening stance. She had been there the entire time, unmoving, and none of them had noticed. Her lab-coat was covered in random sprays of blood, and she shook, scared. Raising a hand to her stethoscope, which wobbled with hesitant vibrations, she made to go for Betsy. 'I have to secure her condition –'
'Who are you?' Warren shouted accusingly. His eyes wondered to the girl being attended to by Ororo just outside the room. His heart fell with each pass over the scene, and any shred of rational emotion was leaking through his sweating body.
'Look out!' The Doctor screamed swiftly as Sabretooth reared off the floor and bore down on Warren's cowering form. The man's constitution was incredible, but Warren would marvel at that later. Right now, the enemy's massive maw opened up to reveal rows of sharp fangs. His breath floated over Warren's face, and Sabretooth advanced menacingly. 'You're gonna pay just like your bony little girl, flyboy! I'm gonna tear ya apart…'
In the instance of his striking action, the Doctor sprung into life and took Sabretooth in her arms, wrapping herself completely around him for the X-Man's escape. Utterly surprised, the mutant thrust her away as Warren retracted to the back of the emergency room in a flurry of fear. 'You've caused too much trouble, you slimy son-of-a-bitch!' She yelled, her powers intensifying through elevating fury. Thin dreadlocks of matted black hair tossed out of the way serenely as a bubble projected itself around the woman. Her face contorted in concentration and contempt as her hands rose in power. The impenetrable state of the field pressed against Sabretooth's stunned form and the two students looked on in mute disbelief. 'I've got to get to Betsy…' Warren exclaimed, darting out of the room via the other entrance. Hank remained, unblinking, as the Doctor's might finally crushed Sabretooth against the barrier, and he was thrown through the thick brick wall. Tumbling swiftly out the other side in a haze of dust and mortar, Sabretooth was flung into the gathered crowd. They scattered fearfully, and he jumped out of their way, relinquishing his wrath. As the smoky film of dust cleared, the Doctor, now revealed as a mutant too, was left standing for all to see.
* * *
Seemingly peaceful in the abandoned hospital once more, Doctor Cecilia Reyes attended to the beautiful young woman whose complexion was stained with blood pumping from ten sharp incisions in each battered shoulder. Warren grabbed her hand as she panted her exertion, the lines on her forehead crinkling as she openly wept. 'I overdid it…' She moaned quietly, while Cecilia shoved gauze into the open wounds. Hank assembled equipment on a nod from the Doctor and watched as she helped to stabilise Betsy's condition. 'She's bleeding profusely from several main arteries, if I can't have some transfusions on this broken equipment, then she ain't going to make it.'
'Well do something!' Warren shouted, his experience with many accidents and wounds in the team vanishing from worry. He stroked Betsy's face as the girl panted and groaned from the strain. * Oh dear – Warren – get me out of this mess… * She sighed, her mind communicating with his in her hour of need. She breathed through gritted teeth.
'Don't worry; we'll take care of you.' He cooed. Her dark eyes gazed up to Warren and she strained a smile, but it was interrupted with a hard wince. Ororo held the other hand as it reflexively tensed and relaxed while the pain washed over her. 'Her pulse is weakening – where is the other Doctor and the Nurses?'
'God; I don't know – get that IV kit there, and tap her… you know how to do that?' Cecilia asked, quickly working to obtain the right amount of drugs and pharmaceuticals. Hank bent over Betsy and tied a strip of material around her elbow. With precision, he slid the needle into her vein, and retracted the hold. Quickly observing the abandoned state of the hospital halls once again, he shook his head at the simple carelessness and negligence with which even Doctors and Nurses would treat a broken mutant.
'I've got a line.' Hank said, extracting several more bottles from his rapid forages to the stores. 'What next?'
'Put her on a heart monitor… now!'
Hank wrapped the equipment around Betsy's fingers and wrist. Suddenly the monitor flickered into life, but its warning beeped dangerously constant. Calm descended on them while they registered the dire incident, and took time to react. Eventually breaking the silence, Cecilia checked Betsy's body over. The monitor then gave out a sudden long string tone as the girl's heart became affected by the loss of blood.
'She's in v-fib – give me the paddles.' Cecilia charged up the crash-cart unit, and then shouted: 'Clear!' as a bolt of electricity perforated the wounded girl's body. She rose and fell gracefully, the charge taking its toll on her weakening heart. Two arms and legs cracked down on the table mechanically as Betsy's mind faded to black.
'Come on, goddamit!' Warren shouted; his emotion surging like a jackhammer.
After a moment that seemed much too long for any of the students there, Cecilia breathed a sigh of relief and touched a bloodstained finger print on the heart monitor. 'Normal sinus rhythm – look. She's out of the woods, but this has to have attention…'
Warren hugged Betsy's unconscious body, wiping away tears that welled in his blue eyes. 'Oh my god.' He whispered, looking down at her face.
'Don't worry – we've got her… we've got her.' Cecilia responded. She proceeded to take new equipment from their sterile packing, and cleaned around the wounds. Placing several bags of blood on the hanger, she fitted in the lines and sat back to attend to other things.
'Look at this place!' Ororo remarked, placing the accumulated equipment on the tabletops. 'It's like a bomb's just hit it.' Gurneys lay trashed in every corner, posters were ripped off walls, equipment still tumbling from boxes and trays, and everywhere she looked, chairs were empty; not a single person had stayed to deal with the menace. Their only support was with another mutant, courageous enough to sacrifice her life for the good of the others.
Hank came back in with a grave look on his face for the others to see. 'I don't want to say this, but we have to move Betsy before the staff returns. Police will want questions answered, and our telepath is out of commission. No-one here wants your buddies,' he pointed to their new accomplice 'probing us with all their medical equipment and jargon. I know it's cruel, but we have to account for our own safety.'
'I don't think we have a choice to move her out of the hospital if that's what you're considering.' Cecilia answered, laughing at the ridiculous nature of his proposal.
'Look at me. Am I normal for every one of those Doctors and Nurses out there to see?' Hank said flatly, while Ororo and Warren helped to place Betsy on a gurney, set up for the transfer. The Doctor waited for a moment before looking to the others. She gaped at the severity of the girl's wounds; Ororo's surreal silvery-white hair, Warren's two large white feathered wings flapping away the heat in the room, and lastly Hank's cagey, animal, blue-furred appearance. Deciding to stay sober, she said: 'So?'
Watching helplessly while the four X-Men headed for the elevator that would take them to a parked Blackbird on the roof of the hospital, Cecilia stepped over the rubble and wreckage as timid staff members returned, aghast. 'She might arrest – you have to take care of her!'
Warren stepped away at the end of the corridor, making sure they were relatively out of sight. 'You know we can't stay.' He replied. 'We've got medical apparatus where we're going anyway – she'll be in good hands.'
'Then what are you going to do?'
Handing a folded card over quickly, Warren tapped it in her hands. 'Listen – call us on that number, and you might find out what the world has in store for people like you and me.'
She shook her head uncomprehendingly. 'What do you mean – the Sentinel thing? That's over and done with.'
He had little time to spare, so prior to answering her; Warren stepped hurriedly into the elevator as the doors sealed shut.
She twisted the card and read the details on it: "Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters: 1407 Graymalkin Lane – Salem Center – Westchester County."