Rise Through The Fire Chapter 9: counter, a x-men fanfic

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

#20

"counter"

Sitting stark on the hardened wood seat of the underground interrogation room within the core of a SHIELD outpost in New York City, Sabretooth stared across at his tormentors while they poked him with a constant volley of unanswerable questions. Taking no risks, the investigators employed for the job of questioning after the mutant was captured on the highway scene, had several riot prods and a rather large set of steel handcuffs stiffly tightened over Victor's wrists. He was effectively pinned down in this dull grey room that he knew had seen many a beating within its walls. Anticipating the upcoming punishment would thrill him moderately, but the humiliation of mild pain and anger without freedom to express his disproval would prove quite frustrating for him; almost distressing. The lights were dimmed above the heads of his interrogators, concealing their identity, but what seemed like a massive flood of glowing brilliance shone directly into his scarred and hairy face. It was distracting, and quite the turn-off in these few moments of expectancy. A quiet moan escaped his lips as the man in front brandished his tool hesitantly. Prod my with it – I want to feel its warm greeting on my body, he thought to himself. Shuffling while the two men orbited him, Victor closed his eyes to avoid the yellow glare.

His body tingled momentarily as he heard the vacuum of air swish while a flailing limb cut through its denseness. He erupted into a cold sweat, just longing for the relief he would feel once the immediate sting dispersed, and he would left with an orgasmic glow rolling out of his body. All too unexpectedly, the grinding, perforating pain met his upper torso, and he jerked backwards in reflex. A cry escaped him, and the riot prod was retracted after its offensiveness was complete. Aahhh, he thought, reflecting on the sensation.

'Enough with your muttering bull, Sabretooth – stop leading us around in circles and just tell us where you started out from. I mean, you didn't just appear in the city, did you?' Ed Hedge asked, switching the room tape recorder back on while he conversely turned the charged weapon off.

'Yeah, give us a straight answer, or we'll rain down so hard, you won't know what hit you!' The partner agreed, slamming an outstretched palm down on the secured metal table top.

Victor shook his head wearily, recovering from the disabling jolt. He spluttered out a question. 'What was ya name again? Just so I know when I go 'round the cemetery and shit on your grave…'

SHIELD Public Disorder Investigator David Tythe opened what was available of Sabretooth's documented files and shot him a belittling glance. 'Funny – you must have razor sharp wit for comments like that. Excuse me if I don't find them so disparaging, but they just seem desperate and pathetic to me. It's Dave.'

'Glad to have that under my belt.' The chained mutant signalled, nodding his head.

'If you're not careful, I'm going to electrocute you with this, under_your_goddamn_belt.' Ed replied menacingly.

Sabretooth shivered sarcastically, but his body still felt the reverberating waves of electric disturbance buzzing through every wired nerve of his tired body.

'How did you recover so quick after that incident at Bronx County General a few days ago?' Dave asked.

'Oh, you're up t'speed on that thing, ain't ya? What, are they not telling you everything 'bout me from upstairs? Why don't you just get someone higher up to blow me while you figure this damn thing out on your own!' Victor retorted, planting a smug grin on his coarse and ugly features.

Dave gave their captive another impertinent look, then motioned Ed over to the corner of the room. Both men wore authoritative badges on their uniforms, but the truth of the matter was this blithe tête-à-tête was getting them nowhere. Sabretooth's status as a loose threat to the nation's security, mutant or otherwise was unacceptable, but now they had him in their sights, they had nothing to charge him with. Not yet did they know of his involvement in Hawk Spaskyich's escape from ground headquarters in Washington D.C.

'God, how does he look at his grubby fat face in the mirror each morning?' Dave asked, toying with a biro in his front shirt pocket.

'If I don't like the reflection, I smash the mirror, gentlemen.' Victor shouted, overhearing their private discussion. He laughed stupidly to himself while the revised their options behind him.

'Alright – here's what we do to crack this son-of-a-bitch –' Ed was interrupted rolling up his sleeves for more seditious action when Captain Nick Fury breezed in through the interrogation room door. He wore a sleek black jumpsuit, covered in reams of ammunition, miniature-sized button pockets, and strapped on equipment. Running a hand through his greying hair, the Captain planted himself firmly opposite his captive, and cleanly swiped the room tape recorder off the table. It clattered to the floor and Fury extended a thumb and forefinger, grasping hold of Sabretooth's jaw. 'Face me.' He said by way of explanation. 'Give me what I deserve from you: your full attention.'

Victor nodded noncommittally and grunted out an acknowledgement.

'No more of these pathetic, irreverent questions, I want your honest replies to the following ones instead. If you don't, I'm not going to stop that tape recorder there, to hit you, and then put it back on. You're under my personal jurisdiction now, and I you can receive no quarter on my behalf. Got it?'

The mutant responded again, deciding to play a suave act while the SHIELD agents wondered around blindly for resolution.

'We know you weren't one of the captured mutants from the Xavier School, and due to your unique stance on the students attending the premises, we know you weren't there to help them either. So what, pray tell, were you doing there?'

'I was getting' a closer view, boss man. That a crime? Sure don't seem like it last time I saw in this damn part of the country.' He replied angrily. It was Spaskyich's personal whim that Sabretooth be dragged back to Weapon X in the first place; for a time, Victor Creed had been taking time off in New Orleans. He had enjoyed it there.

Nodding to Ed Hedge, Fury commissioned a small electric burst into the spine of their ruffled friend. Sabretooth jumped violently, but settled down as Fury's condemning stare intensified. 'You were there to join in, you ugly bastard. Someone filled you in on all the commotion topside and you crawled from the dripping sewers only to beat on innocent law-enforcers for your own amusement. Did you think you were making a scene, Creed?' Fury asked, leaning toward his unbreakable opponent. 'Well I got news for you, pal, SHIELD has eyes and ears everywhere, so we know exactly where you came from, and what you were thinking of doing.'

'So ya'll are not as revoltingly naïve as I thought… s'good to know.'

Another piercing blast coursed into his back, and Sabretooth snarled viciously, his rage mounting to active levels. Without his restraints, he would have leapt up and eviscerated these pompous wastrels before they'd even blinked. Keep pushing my buttons patch-eye and I'll blind you completely, Victor thought, looking at the dark material covering the Captain's left eye.

'So why were you on the scene? Figured for some action with the students, maybe a little brawl with the cops to get the blood pumping around the body? Wanted_to_get_your_face on tv?' He demanded, heatedly.

Observing the pause present between the two bitter enemies, Fury slumped back into the chair as a thought struck him. His one eye surveyed the contents that made up Sabretooth's gaunt, yet muscular features. Unkempt, dirty fair facial hair gathered around his face, while a newly shaved head allowed for more of a military façade showing through. Fury shook his head in amazement as the process filtered though his mind. Finally, after moments of contemplation while Dave and Ed wondered if he had stopped the interview, the Captain got up and walked to the side of his captive mutant. 'You were there because the news crews were orbiting the crime scene like desperate flies. Urgh… In your foolish arrogance, you thought you might appear to be one of those students of Xavier's, just to catalyse the already pressurised boiling pot of hatred for mutantkind in this country!' A sharp strike knocked Sabretooth off his stool, but at the precise and determined moment, the mutant leapt to his feet with astonishing agility. He lurched, still bound, toward Fury in an act of uncontained rage, only to be flung to the wall at the last second by the combined weight of the two investigators. Turned suddenly to brutal bodyguards, Dave Tythe and Ed Hedge beat Sabretooth repeatedly with the riot prods until they had him subdued in a dribbling mess on the cold hard floor.

Nick Fury stood over Victor's fallen head, and crouched down for more of a patronising pose. 'Everybody already despises mutants in New York – especially New York! The site of so many Sentinel massacres! You sly, boorish, crass, son-of-a-bitch – you assumed that showing more carnage and destruction on America's News Screens the following morning might allow for the nation to act out against mutants through sheer spite! I cannot believe you, Victor Creed; what you attempted was beyond despicable.'

Sabretooth laughed through his saliva-caked mouth. 'Ha… but not beyond the capacity of me, huh? Aren't I just a real piece o' work.'

Holding back no more time for this ruthless scoundrel, Fury stood from the floor, and tossed the file back to the two investigators. 'Hawk Spaskyich – tell me where he is, and we'll go easy on you for a while. Because,' he paused for effect 'where you're going, they hate your kind.'

'And what am I?' Sabretooth enquired.

'We have it on camera and we can locate him, but with your help… it can be made easier. The other person you made his breakout with, though… I wouldn't mind knowing who she is. If you cooperate, I might let you be there when we haul them in… just so they can see how much of a snake you are.'

'You can put it all up your ass, 'cos I ain't spewing my guts for you or anybody else in this feeble building.'

Saddened by the response, Fury dashed a heavy boot over the wretch's face, then turned and walked out. Whatever happened to Val, his friend and colleague, this idiot would surely never tell. Most likely, Sabretooth would taunt him of her death, even if it was uncertain.

Fury made a decision to question him further, but later. For now his prime concern, work-related and as a more private vendetta, was locating the whereabouts of the former Weapon X Commander Hawk Spaskyich.

                                                *        *        *

Hugging the long leather trench coat tighter around her small body, Kitty stepped from the door of the yellow cab onto the thick concrete curb of uptown Washington D.C. The wind blustered slightly through the trees, asking leaves to prance amid the wavering midday air. The breeze hit her long unrestrained hair, and she made an effort to clamp the hat down on her head lest it blow away. The sun still hid behind the veil of grey cloud gathering over much of America, and she felt disappointed that not even the weather would perk up to enhance their awkward circumstances. Birds twittered, but many were muted by the stream of traffic stop-starting along the roads next to them. 'There's a beautiful atmosphere around here.' She mentioned sarcastically. 'I can literally feel the depression looming over this city, just like in every other place we've been to in the last twenty-four hours.'

Piotr straightened from the driver's rolled-down window having paid, and patted her on the back affectionately. 'Don't complain, Kitty… we have a way to go before our eyes will meet another bright morning.' He looked around for the particular sights in his mind, and started toward them. They were somewhere near the sights and monuments of Capital Hill, making for the organisation whose headquarters sat, concealed, among this focal point of American and International political history. Not many people ever had a chance to see the area in their one lifetime, yet both students were here for a second in as many months. The reparations and restorations too many buildings, parks, houses and roads were nearly complete after Magneto's exhibit of might in the heart of this fair city. The two mutants felt it was such a shame that this was the chosen location of his final flight, as the radiance of honourable perfection was just beginning to show through once again.

They walked through the park dividing the Washington Monument and Congress from the rest of the city, aiming for the large centre just next to it which would hopefully house their hope in finding a betraying devil, Cortez, and the leader of the X-Men. 'I must explain that I am sorry I've dragged you into this, Kitty. It was never my intention for you and me to go it alone. Even though Fabian Cortez and Magneto, if he is alive as you say, reside in the Savage land once more, I had intended for the team to search them out and call down the thunder as we try… now, I doubt we will be able to "reap the whirlwind" by ourselves.' He paused, thinking of the subsequent explanations. 'What I'm trying to say, is that my exclusive right to the heads of both villains is exclusive; and just because I brought you along for the ride, I do not expect you to go through with these insane stunts if you would prefer not to.'

She wrapped an arm around his as they made a way into the pleasant grasslands. 'My poor mother flipped when she saw me on the Whitehouse lawn after the news put it all over paper and tv news channels. I got such a scolding from her; I thought my ears would be ringing for weeks. She threatened to take me out of the school too, but my charm worked wonders on her fiery Jewish spirit.' Her kind young eyes turned to Piotr suddenly. 'The reason I stayed was because I'm an action junkie.' She laughed at the statement, but it was made in all fairness. 'I don't want you thinking that I can't handle myself among the dangers of this world, even when they're insurmountable, and we're up against preposterous, insuperable odds. I knew you were going for Cortez's head after what he did to your cousin, Andreyev, and I still came along.'

'We should have made the distance as a team, not lone wolves.' Piotr replied dismayed.

'Of wolves, look at Logan – he makes his business fine as a merc, and we still hate him for it. People sometimes have to go it alone. We should have gone with the team, yes, but is there really a team left to go with? And due to extenuating circumstances, I doubt any of them could have done so because we have the police chasing our tails, twenty-four seven.' She moved the two of them onwards. 'Perhaps we should count ourselves lucky that we've evaded the authorities for this long.'

'And now we're walking straight into the lion's den, Kitty.' The Russian replied, following her across the park.

'Yes – to SHIELD, where they'll ensure you exact your revenge on Cortez and everyone else stuck in that useless corner of the world.' She said.

'This ridiculous procedure will leave us too beleaguered for anything else… I wish I'd never thought it up.'

                                                *        *        *

The sleek jet-black motorcycle came to rest in a hail of raining dust and earth as Remy skidded to an unexpected stop. With his close monitoring of the girl practically tied to his back while he sped along the back streets of New York's suburbs, he had noticed her sporadic stirring, indicating the drug initially used on her metabolism was wearing slowly off. Letting the hazy brown disturbance filter onto the dirty, puddle-laden ground near the warehouses, Remy loosened the strap about his chest and quickly turned to catch the girl as she slumped off in the other direction. His foot kicked the bike rest into place, and he clambered off. A tug at her dark helmet sprung it off, and he rested it carefully on the handle bars. 'Bonjour ma cherie.' he said delicately, stealing a kiss from her parted lips. She awakened fully, and looked into his crimson eyes. A confused expression lay on her face, and once she fully registered, she shot up. 'Who do you think you are?' She yelled aggravated. Her hand went to her temple quickly, but Remy was more rapid in springing a card from his jacket and charging it suddenly. 'I wouldn't, Ms Grey. Y'never know where this thing could go.' He nodded to the object in hand. 'Lower ya hand, and maybe I won't hafta hurt ya.'

Jean reluctantly stopped her physical threats, because after all, his movement in the flick of an eye would strike her, and maybe she might have enough force to deflect it with her mind, but maybe she would be to slow. Whatever the results yielded, it wasn't worth the initial impacting agony in her chest. 'Son-of-a-bitch… why am I here? You stupid Cajun rat! I cannot believe you kidnapped me. You're going to have the whole of the X-Men down your throat in a second.'

'Y'ain't seen the News then, ma cherie. If you be lookin' at tes braves on the big screen, you see that they got their hands full from the lawmen. Personally, I think you got the best deal outta all o' them.' Remy replied. He didn't intend it to be obnoxious, but for her particular situation, there was nothing else it could have come across as. His red eyes gazed up at the warehouse's corrugated silver gate, and he called out, sure that someone on the opposite end would respond. 'I got the sassy lady right here, now open up or I'll make my own way in.'

Observing the rolling action as the gate reverberated and then slid upwards, Jean sighed uncomfortably. She attempted to repress her pooling feelings of anxiety and stress, but it was working too well. She began to sweat, and shivered fearfully as Remy prodded her with the tip of his finger. 'Make a move girl, 'cos there's people in there who be a lot worse than me.'

She scowled at him angrily, but he raised his hands in protest. 'If I hadn't o' done this, le meneur – he gonna kill my Rogue. Y'understand, don't you? Il devait venir après-moi.'

As she was motioned further into the recesses of the darkened warehouse her mind raced. Already tense enough, she whirled on Remy. 'Don't ever spout that French crap at me again!'

                                                *        *        *

Graydon Creed turned around in his smooth black leather armchair to face one of his loyal officers in the Friends of Humanity. Dressed in an immaculate dark black suit and starched white shirt, he poured the man a glass of one of his secret alcoholic beverages hidden in a small cabinet underneath his desk. Popping an ice cube in his own, and two in the other man's, Graydon leant back in his swivel chair and took a remote control to a television set positioned in his office wall. Without a word, he switched it on, and let the slide-show images take effect on the man's understanding of their current situation. Pictures of the exterior of Xavier's Mansion were at most intervals, coupled with photographic shots of the damaged interior, the gardens and surrounding landscape. Before long, Graydon flicked the set off, and placed the control back on his desk. 'What you have just seen is what greeted my Construction Company workers' eyes every morning at promptly eight o'clock, yet for all their intense and fanatical vigour as followers in the FOH, it is not what met their minds in those same days. Something,' he sipped at his drink 'or someone possessed their minds with uncontrolled aggression, and forced them to see only what they expected to see. Now of course, I'm not a lawyer, but in my experience as a man of the world, I might just have to call that: rape. How exactly can we be forced to co-exist with these mutant terrorists if they won't even take off their masks in plain sight? What can be deduced from these delinquent and foolish actions though is that Charles Xavier meant for us never to find out. For all his rhetoric and propaganda in the face of unwanted co-habitation, he didn't think we could handle the truth.'

'Well sir, it seems like you can't.' The man responded to the speech, gulping down his drink quickly.

Graydon Creed eyed him dubiously, wondering if this was indeed the correct man for the job. 'I'm not interested as to whether I can handle it or not; that's why I want you to do something about it. My little anonymous assisting tip-off to the New York Police Department, however malicious it might have been, proved fruitful, yet unsuccessful in the long-term. Alright, many of the mutants were captured – and some it seems as the News put it – have died, but still their resilient testament to diversity stands. I plan for that mansion to fall in on itself due to their actions. My construction company dealt with its reparations, but a lack of respect on their part brought about its destruction.' Creed mused over the prospect, unaware that his eyes looked past the man sitting idly in front. 'Perhaps you are not the man for the job Ketteridge – I must admit I had my doubts. Are you as in tune as I am with the mutant threat to our nation's well-being?'

Rice Ketteridge nodded solemnly.

'Well good. Here are the appropriate instructions for you to carry out. I had my secretary type them up.'

'Oh… I didn't know you had one… ah, yes – this must be her signature.'

The head of the organisation closed his eyes and silently finished his brandy with one ice cube half melting in the deep end. Adjusting his tie, he waited for the officer to leave with the file.

It was no great thing, having a colony – a nest – of mutants present in a town where residents were expected to bring children into the world. Maybe it was considered politically correct to stage these small gatherings in a third world country – maybe, if they were wounded or terminally ill, or something along those lines – but near New York it was just inappropriate. If the whole concept of mutant containment was left up to him, Creed would have had each one executed. No doubt he reflected with exalted wisdom.

                                                *        *        *

Across the length of the East Coast of America sat another highly regarded official, dwelling on mutants and their particular corollaries with all the interest of a good Doctor on a sick patient. His one good eye passed over the details laid out before him on many a small computer screen while the main monitor, the size of a fairly roomy high-priced Manhattan apartment, sent out reams of relevant data with all the necessary beeping noises issuing out of speakers beside it. A horde of animated officials, psychologists, assistants and military officers gathered in the SHIELD ground headquarters control room while they individually scrutinized the blaring information on Sabretooth, Dr. Nathaniel Essex and Hawk Spaskyich.

Nick Fury regarded the labelling on screen that protruded from awkward areas on the diagram of each subject. In between clicks of a button as he scanned more data pertaining to the remaining X-Men and their mentor, Charles Xavier, Dr. Valerie Cooper approached him with a leaflet in hand. Her body was bathed in shadow as the light from the screens filled most of the huge room. 'Here's something to take note of, Captain Fury.' She said, adjusting her glasses in the low-end glow from the screens.

He accepted the token and looked at it expecting another pointless message from government officials, only to find it was of rather unexpected meaning. Getting up quickly, he nodded for his advisor in the stead of Val, his missing secretary, and grabbed the telephone which he was carrying.

Looking around the room while the clamour of voices straining to be heard talked louder and louder amid the gigantic hum of the computer systems, Dr. Cooper settled on a larger screen with its cpu just below. A click of the mouse brought a closely-observed recording from a helicopter on-scene during two mutants escape from Sabretooth's violent clutches. From her slightly limited government agency knowledge, Valerie was still able to recognise the two escapees as Rogue and Remy LeBeau in the car. Somehow an orbiting observation unit had captured these images that other airborne reporting crews would not have been able to. Toward the end of the recording, the camera was able to focus on Spaskyich's body as he waded through the crowds with the two in tow.

She presumed after a moment that this was how Captain Fury and SHIELD knew of Sabretooth's close involvement with Spaskyich. Already having seen the old recordings of the breakout, in which a character previously unseen was posing as Fury's assistant Val, Dr. Cooper surmised that this trio was still in connection, and not just mutually acting in accordance to break a known malevolent felon out of his confines, which had been encountered many times before in her line of work. She turned back to Fury as he finished his call.

'Interesting isn't it.' She stated, watching for his reaction.

'Yes it is. I'm not quite sure we can't grant this request though, because after all, they did run from the police – and SHIELD for that matter. I don't know whether my officials and pals in Government are going to like this if they find out I aided two fugitives in jumping our borders.' He said.

'Well it's not right to just keep them in custody for the NYPD to pick up at a later date. We know they're not terrorists, Nick, and this gesture of good faith – even if it is asking for a favour – does emancipate them. It might not appear to be top-notch regard for the PD in that city, but at least we're giving them some good treatment.'

'What if we let them go, Valerie, and they get gunned down by the police for running? What then? We look like idiots, and then two dead, supposed terrorist, mutants, let out from SHIELD custody, are put in every paper the next morning. No, I can't let that happen. I don't give a damn how bad it makes me feel, because for the good of the organisation and the integrity of both mutantkind and enforcement in this country, we have to keep them locked up until pick-up time. The only way they could possibly be liberated from this terrible situation would be if they somehow aided us in any number of our investigations. We have quite a lot, you know.'

'Don't patronise me, Nick, of course I know that, but they're here to help in an investigation. They claim Magneto's been reborn, and taken Xavier back to the Savage land.'

'Well until we can corroborate that accusation, Piotr Rasputin and Katherine Pryde stay here.' He replied adamantly.

'God; the most powerful law agency in the world, and we don't even know if the most threatening and influential tyrant history has ever seen is back in business!' She exclaimed, partly annoyed with his refusal to identify with their condition. Her own slant on the state of affairs was perhaps clouding her judgment, but right now, an offensive stance would be their only hope in investigating the declaration. If left unchecked, then there was no telling how far-reaching Magneto could become.

So far SHIELD investigators had determined Sabretooth's involvement with the third party candidate, Nathaniel Essex, but his whereabouts were less established.

                                                *        *        *

His team of fanatical scientists and technicians were currently escorting the young woman from her darkened cell in the underground passages of this discovered warehouse. They had been freed from captivity in different safe houses dotted around the country by Mystique's daring exploits. Her knack of employing stealth and disguise to infiltrate all these varying organisations truly astonished Essex when he dwelt on her. It was shame that Sabretooth, his burly lackey picked up from the remnants of Weapon X, did not share that same approach to covert operations. It was because of this obsessive need for sharing violence and the pathetic vendettas he held that his presence was currently under SHIELD's thumb. Essex might hope to free him at a later date, but for now he presented no big threat to the Marauder stability.

The Marauders were the team of mercenaries employed by Essex in the hopes of maintaining tight security amongst his secluded organisation. Mystique and Sabretooth were the mutant mainstays of these elite, but Gambit was soon to be drafted in, along with the unwilling addition of an altered Ms. Jean Grey. The rest of the group consisted of armed and hired warriors.

At that moment in time, Dr. Nathaniel Essex was watching from his position above all his laboratory equipment while the guards on duty helped bring Jean through the mire of the underground tunnels. Forced at gunpoint, much like the maniacal Doctor had been many weeks ago, Jean was quieted and left to stand still. 'Isn't this a cosy scene? Don't I feel just like I've been in this situation before… except… this time, it will be you begging for you life at the end of a thick, black gun barrel.' Approaching from the back of the crowded room, Remy stepped out, and his new master surveyed him like a piece of meat. 'Déjà vu, n'est-ce pas?' Essex asked of his recently acquired ward. He chuckled a little at his own comment, then whirled around and descended a small flight of steps leading up the elevated walkway.

In front of the crowd of mutants and humans were banks of stolen and retrieved computers, many types of science equipment, and all manner of genetic contraption employed due to the Doctor's obsession with his field of research. Damp yellow lights illuminated the scene gently, waving at each heavy footfall in the decrepit infrastructure. Essex patted his equipment lovingly, and stared out at the crowd with his dead black eyes. 'Like what you see here?' He questioned, walking out to his audience. The scientists huddled together and went off to the computer equipment. Whispers of passing queries echoed in the background like a ghost as Essex pulled Jean from the grasps of his armed men. As she struggled lamely against his huge grip, Mystique stepped forward holding a small pistol in her fist. Essex carried the young woman over to the bank of machinery while his commanding Marauder trailed after them.

                                                *        *        *

From behind the grouped people, Remy inched closer to his object of desire. He slithered in between them and managed to step halfway around the room before getting close to Rogue. She caught sight of him suddenly and tried to stifle a howl behind closed lips. Her eyes flared in anger as he grinned at her, and she moved backwards before hitting the far wall. His brow furrowed in confusion, and he stopped, attempting to plead innocence for an unrealised act. Bumping into another two armed guards, Rogue tried to step between them, but Remy's fingers snaked around her escaping arm. 'Chere!' He called desperately as the guards seized Rogue in their clutches.

                                                *        *        *

Essex placed Jean on a thinly-structured operating table and forced a glaring yellow procedure light upon her face. 'Hold still you foolish wench, or your actions can only catalyse my peaking anger.' He grappled with her weakly, and clamped her two arms under thick leather restraints. 'What are you doing?' She shouted exasperation and exhaustion claiming her fear at this incredulous and deadly situation. 'Jesus Christ, Essex, let me go!'

The team of scientists at the computers helped to secure her down to the table, placing a neck brace behind her fragile neck. 'Don't struggle, girl, this will all be over soon.' One said, positioning the light further inwards, nearly blinding her with white heat.

Essex stood back and marvelled at his strength to secure his killer successfully. Mystique stepped next to him, holstering the pistol quickly. 'It's excellent work.' She commented. 'Too bad Vic isn't here to see this.'

A disturbance from beyond his concentration pulled Essex away from Jean. His great body swivelled at the noise and he strode back into the feeble glow from the overhead lights. Looking to a struggling Rogue, he tugged on her shoulder violently, sending her to the floor. Remy lurched forward to help her, but she scampered backwards. 'Get away from me, you rat!'

Remy moved to pick her up once more, but Essex's great palm separated them. 'Why?' The Cajun asked anxiously.

'I cannot believe you actually did his bidding! What are you? A slave to the Thieves Guild, a slave to Magneto, a slave to Spaskyich and now to Sinister, here! I thought I knew who you were, LeBeau, but you're nothing but a goddamn doormat – a devious bastard – can't you see this freak is going to kill Jean, just like he did to Spaskyich!' She yelled, standing away from them all.

'My dear,' Essex calmed 'I did not kill Spaskyich, I merely set him free – turned him into the being of which he most detested. I made him into what he made of me.'

'And what's that?' Jean screamed panic-stricken.

'I am a being of perfection – a man with all the power of a mutant, but without the genes to distinguish so. I'm what you might call a hybrid…' His hand gripped Rogue roughly around her neck, but in between struggling, the skin began to part down the centre. It flowed into two distinct strings of flesh, and warped until melding into a collar for the girl. She hollered, but Essex's mutated grip remained, until he tossed her to the floor. Rogue's body simply whisked through the warped flesh, and Essex was able to morph it back into a hand-like limb. 'Marvellous.' He said.

'Let's see how fluent you can get once I disrupt your mind Nathaniel! I'll render you so insensible you won't be able to crawl off the floor!' Jean shouted, making good on her threats. Concentrating intensely, despite the lack of physical projection used when her arms were raised, she assaulted his unguarded mind while still in place on the table.

As soon as the wave hit his brain, Essex stumbled but managed to scream out a command to his team at the computers. 'Disable her powers!'

Jean cried out for help as a needle was quickly thrust into her neck. The distraction was enough to throw her hold on Essex away, and she felt an excruciating pain perforate her senses. 'No! Not now!' Rogue shouted, reaching for the redhead's pinned form.

'That agony you're reeling from at this moment, Jean, is a serum I've spent many weeks developing since your liberating bullet to my head. Whatever thoughts I once possessed of understanding the mutant species and its tendency of unpredictability are now gone, like dust in the wind. My new agenda is to give everyone the chance to undergo this invigorating beauty treatment… the same used on my body after I died.'

Jean called out for aid, even as the splitting agony seared her nerve endings and burnt a hole through her frying brain. 'Somebody help me!'

Remy lunged for Rogue, who was attempting to grapple with Essex, but he threw her off swiftly, and she impacted on the Cajun's body. 'I don' want t'hurt you anymore, chere!' He grabbed for her covered shoulder, but missed, and landed an outstretched palm along her neck. Unlike the Doctor, Remy's skin was unshielded from Rogue's inexorable abilities, and after a second or two, he began to feel his energy slip quickly away. 'Get off me…' He groaned, almost passing out. She climbed off, and his limp hand fell away.

'Nothing can stop this beautiful metamorphosis, Jean Grey – just like I was once a cruel and ineffectual caterpillar, so shall you too feel the glory of rebirth through a short and painful cocoon, and onwards to an even greater liberation as a fantastic butterfly!' He paraded around her crying form as the machinery buzzed to life, and the scientists approached, encircling her all with various electrodes and flitting devices designed to tweak her senses and push her over the limit of human endurance.

'And now, you feel the touch of eternity grace your simple body! So shall you who broke my back like Spaskyich, embrace the grandeur of a higher organism, for I have made it that way.' Essex called out, accepting his moved crowd like they were untiring fans of his relentless rhetoric. The lights dimmed as the computers and equipment sucked generator power to fuel this demented procedure. The siren of screaming was unceasing in the large echoing room, and to the surreal Doctor, it seemed like the sweetest symphony of revenge, beauty and cold amiability. 'I give you life!' He decreed majestically to the subjected student.

'You forget, Sinister,' Rogue chimed, astride a crippled Remy 'that the light that burns twice as bright…' She raised a bare-skinned hand that held the Cajun's entire deck of cards; it glowed with ethereal intensity.

'… Burns half as long.' Essex finished, meeting determined black eyes with Rogue's.

In the split second between thought and execution, and explosion burst open the far wall in the large warehouse, sending wood splinters and soaring rubble through the air, and knocking Rogue's concentration off. The abilities absorbed by a downed Remy allowed for the southern beauty to charge his cards with his borrowed power. She flung them from her hand even as the smoke resulting from the rocking explosion billowed into the room. Essex caught several in his lower torso, literally blowing apart as the bursts shattered his moulding body structure. The other load of cards impacted on the machinery opposite the explosion, and sent metal shards, chips, wires and medical equipment everywhere.

The scurrying manoeuvre of huddling feet resonated through the silenced warehouse room while an entire detachment of SHIELD troops invaded the premises under the cover of darkness, noise and spectacular light shows. The first to combat them were the hired mercenaries working for the Marauders, but with less specific training, time and weapons effectiveness, they were cut down where they stood. Now finding cover amid the prancing panic of scattering scientists, the men dived for wrecked machinery as protection while their comrades were blitzed in two by incoming spit-fire.

                                                *        *        *

Mystique was the first mutant to react properly; hitting the ground while dust and dirt flew up all around her. Her eyes caught sight of Nathaniel Essex attempting to reform his shattered body after Rogue's vicious and unprecedented attack. The shape-shifting mutant clambered to her feet under fire, and altered herself to resemble a tiny black rat. The miniscule mammal scuttled along the floor, careful to avoid stamping feet amongst the desperate rush to escape. Spying a gap in the air vents up ahead, Mystique was able to weasel through the gap and out into the free world of New York once again. She dashed for cover, not to be seen again.

                                                *        *        *

Oblivious to the noise-suppressed carnage occurring just blocks away, Logan was out on his brand-new heavy silver motorcycle, scouring the terrain for signs of the treacherous swamp-rat and his redhead package.

Seeking Jean out after his run-in with Scott and his useless band of merry men, Logan had spent the last twenty-seven hours looking for her, and a way out of his endless cycle of betrayal, bad company and even worse decisions. No doubt there was an attraction to Jean which he felt intensely, but the reason for his rather abortive and vain tailing pursuit was to ensure he actually did something with his time, instead of nothing. He had been through too much in the past few months to just settle back into an unshared mercenary lifestyle where jobs were few and far between. Having to be active was the only his brain could stay alive. Already the X-Men had practically dissolved, no thanks to his ministrations, Magneto was back in the Savage land, more powerful and unstoppable than ever, and Sabretooth, however damaged and demented was still alive. Counting his achievements, Logan considered them rather more failures than anything else.

He revved his motorcycle at the stopped lights, considering his options after a long and pointless pursuit. The scent had been familiar and strong at the origin, and living with Remy for a while had enabled him to study his movements, but tracking relied on a predictable pattern of eating, sleeping, working and playing, and since his motives had clearly not been self-providing, it was infinitely harder to locate the swamp rat among a city the size of a small country. Men and women were out for blood already in New York, especially with the incidents happening in the main highway, but Logan was at least thankful that he had been elsewhere during that encounter; from what he had heard of it, many lives had been lost in the senseless skirmish.

Speeding away from the stop, Logan peeked at his rear-view mirrors casually, and stirred from his silent reverie to observe a sudden silver blur skid across the reflection. Chancing a sneaking look over his shoulder at speed, Logan howled as the familiar gaunt face of Pietro Maximoff invaded his view. He looked down at his speedometer, and then gasped as he felt two hands suddenly thrust him off his perch.

The bike skittered across the surface of the empty road, crashing finally with a parked car. Shattered glass flooded into the air, and reflected light at surreal rainbow angles as the streetlamp gave them a warm orange glow to talk under. Cuts and small scrapes quickly self-repaired on Logan's skin as he leant against the lamppost, breathing heavily. His rage soared, and he popped all six claws, lunging at the speedy worm before he had a chance to scarper. Pietro easily outmanoeuvred Logan's angry assault, throwing wildly rude comments at the older mutant in doing so. 'Care to stop now Wolverine?' He asked, slowing to Logan's still-impressive rate of attack.

The feral mutant growled agitatedly, and swished one single claw down to cleave Pietro's shoulder in two. He happened to be too slow.

Fabian Cortez picked up the slack, by slamming a thick arm around Logan's neck, pinning him to the length of the lamppost concrete structure. 'Keep it quiet; pal, because we're not best pleased with your performance. It's all over the nine o'clock news!'

'What're you talkin' about?' He asked, beginning to rest his temper.

'Your friends at the Xavier Institute – I sent you there to kill them, not chase ghosts around New York City while they get apprehended by the NYPD.'

'I see that you've been makin' new friends, Cortez, why can't I?' Logan enquired, cockily.

Pietro shuffled uncomfortably, and scolded him with a bad look.

'His father is his master, not I… Magneto explained that I had to retrieve his precious son, or his empire would have not been quite as splendid as it could have been.'

'Am I to understand, then, that you two don't like each other that much?'

'You should have done the job instead of acting the fool in the suburbs and drinking yourself to sleep! As it happens, we're taking you back for one last chance.' Cortez replied.

'So I guess you ain't gonna give me my file now.' Logan said, never really believing that the Acolyte would have.

'Your file – ah, yes… I burnt it.'

Logan kicked against Cortez's power-enforced hold, but Pietro delivered several quick blows to his face, and the feral mutant was powerless to stop him. Before he could react further, the Acolyte pulled a syringe from his pocket, and inserted the liquid into his bloodstream. 'It's time for him to dwell on his inner-demons.' Cortez described, placing the empty medical tool back. 'We have to get back to the Savage land.'