Chapter 5: Koven

Sara awoke in incredible pain. Not pain from bodily wounds, but pain from cramped muscles and bones. She couldn't move an inch: it felt like she had been stuffed into a too-small coffin. Her knees were almost jammed into her chin, and her elbows smarted from rubbing against a rough surface. Her numb hands were tied with what felt like coarse rope in front of her knees, and there was a rag stuffed in her mouth preventing her from screaming.

Where was she? The last thing she remembered was falling asleep on the plane to Shanghai. There had been a man sitting beside her, and they'd talked…and the last thing she remembered was eating her dinner and going to sleep.

How long had it been? Whenever she had to travel she called Logan to let him know she arrived all right. If it had been long enough, he would know she was missing by now, and he'd be looking for her. So she would have to hold out until he found her. In the meantime, maybe she could figure out where she was…

She had been outside with Logan during their vacation in the mountains, breathing in the air. Curious about his senses, she'd asked him what he smelled. For answer he'd brought out a black scarf, tied it around her eyes, and told her to tell him as much about her surroundings as she could without seeing anything.

Well, eyes in this tiny box were completely superfluous. She closed them and tried to take a breath. It was hard to breathe deeply with her knees pressed so tightly against her chest, but she did manage to get a whiff of stale air, gasoline, and sweat. As she was trying to puzzle where she would get those two smells together, the floor under her shifted, and the left side of her crate slammed against a hard vertical surface. Her elbow protested at the impact with a spike of white-hot pain, and she cried out. The gag muffled it, of course, but she jumped as she heard a rough male voice very close to her ear say, "She's awake."

The pressure of the top of the carton on the back of her head was suddenly gone and her tiny prison was flooded with light. She squinted as the sunlight temporarily blinded her, and as the spots cleared from her vision and she got used to the light, she saw a clean-shaven face she remembered from the plane. Only now there was nothing pleasant or cordial about the expression on that face; it was twisted in an expression of hatred and loathing. "Well, the little mutie freak is awake," he drawled to someone she didn't see. "How are you, little freak?"

"Carson?" she blinked. "Why are you doing this? What have I done to you?"

"My name's Ben," he said. "You didn't do anything. I work for the Shadowman. You were promised to him by--"

"Richard," Sara finished for him. "Why can't he leave me alone?" she mumbled to herself.

Ben chuckled. "You wanna be left alone? Okay, then." And the top of the crate came down, sealing her inside, and no amount of yelling or banging from her got them to open it again.

She was bruised and in pain from her numb arms and legs when the vehicle she was in stopped. She felt the box lifted, then a period of extended jolting as whoever carried her made their way, grunting, up a set of what sounded like metal steps from the way the men's footfalls thudded on them. The crate was put down, none too gently, on a level surface, and now the top was taken off. The crate was kicked over on its side, and she rolled out.

She lay for a moment, biting back her sobs of relief at finally being out of the horrible box. A face loomed over her, but blinded by tears she couldn't make out details. She held out her hands mutely, and the face in front of her disappeared for a moment. Seconds later, the rope on her wrists was cut, and her legs and arms unfolded finally. She cried for a long time as returning circulation drove needles of pain into her limbs. It was a long time before she could concentrate on anything but her own pain, and then the conversation started making sense.

"I told you to make sure she was not hurt!" the man who released her demanded. "The last subject you brought me could not be used for days! I do not have days, my people will be here for me at any time!"

The men laughed unpleasantly. "All you asked us to do was bring her. You didn't say what condition this one had to be in!" The second man nudged Sara in the kidneys none too gently.

Ben closed up the crate. "We want our payment," he said firmly.

"You'll get it," the man said. "Gero!"

Sara's blurry eyes picked up a huge, hulking figure coming forward. Moments later there was a sickening crunch as Ben and his friend's neck snapped. She screamed in terror as their blood splattered all over her from their ruined bodies.

"She is all right," the man spoke. She blinked, cleared her eyes and gasped in shock. This was not a man. This…well, the closest she could come was a cross between a hawk and a man. "Gero, take this one downstairs and prep her tonight. I detected an incoming transmission from the Majestrix's flagship to her human lover," he said the word human as if it left a bad taste in his mouth, "and we do not have much time. She will be here in three days. My specimen must be ready by then. Did you prep the metarium?"

"Prepped the metal almost is, Master," said another voice, a midnight, sepulchral voice that made Sara's skin crawl. "Downstairs I will take her, on the table she will be waiting."

"Good." Sara found herself picked up like a sack of potatoes and thrust over a shoulder that was lumpy in all the wrong places.

"Wait!" she cried as she was taken out of the office. "Wait! Please! What are you doing!" But there was no answer.

She was flung down on a cold steel table and her clothing was stripped off. Curiously enough to her there was no sexual lust; he was undressing her like a child would undress a doll. She looked earnestly into the darkened hood, to the two white eyes that burned within them, and pleaded. "Please, whoever you are, let me go. I didn't do anything. Please let me go!"

The voice spoke in the hood. "Silent you will be. Fool you are, to feel not the honor given you."

"Honor?" she cried, her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach as she felt heavy leather straps being buckled around her wrists, waist, throat and ankles. "What honor is there to be tied up like a sacrifice?"

He threw the hood back, and she gasped in shock. Half this man's face was a smooth metal plate, gleaming in the light from the overhead lamps. It looked like it had been fused to the skin on the other half of his face. What that cloak hid she could only guess. "The second you will be, an army of Master's making you are in. Master's empress is coming, and pleased she will be that experiments have succeeded." He turned, and walked away, leaving her shivering there on the cold table in the chill laboratory.

Sara blinked as a hand shook her awake. She had gone numb from the cold, and had even slept a little, as impossible as it seemed. The hawkman…the Shadowman, she corrected herself…stood beside her table with his assistant beside him, and he was holding a marker. She lay still as the marker traced lines all over her body. She thought she must look like a roadmap when he was done.

"Start there," he said, pointing to a spot somewhere on her abdomen. "Remove the skin in the indicated areas. Be sure the biorestrainer is activated; we do not need her to heal the incised skin before the metal is ready. Nor do we need her alerting any stray Earthers who might be in the area with her cries." He walked away and Sara felt pain as a hot laser lanced into her skin in the indicated spot. She tried to scream, but no sound came out. She looked down in mute anguish at her body as huge swaths of skin were cut away, leaving bare the raw red flesh underneath. The laser sealed the blood vessels as it went, and she saw no blood on Gero's hands as he cut away her skin.

The pain grew worse as more of her body was skinned, until she couldn't have made a sound even if she hadn't been prevented. Then the Shadowman brought a container full of something that boiled and bubbled, and began to pour it into the gaping holes in her skin as Gero disappeared. Sara felt pain like she'd never experienced before, pain as if everything Richard had ever done to her was multiplied tenfold, and mercifully blacked out.

Above the table, Richard Ryan stared down at the table with his ex-wife on it, feeling vaguely revolted. "What does he think he's doing?" he whined petulantly at the tall cloaked figure who joined him on the catwalk. "He looks like he's making her invulnerable."

"Silent you will be, fool," Gero thundered at him. "Master will do what is necessary for the experiment to be completed."

"But it's not right!" Ryan whined. "He's supposed to kill her!"

Below them Koven sighed. "Gero, I am tired of this Earthman's whining," he said. "Get rid of him, please."

Ryan didn't even have time to scream as Gero's massive metal fist crushed his throat and killed him.

Logan poked his head into the kitchen. "Jean, Sara hasn't called yet, has she?" he asked her.

Jean looked up in surprise. "Why, no, she hasn't," she blinked at the kitchen clock. "She should have landed a while ago, right?"

"Yes," he said, "and I have a bad feeling about this. Where's Chuck?"

Jean's eyes went unfocused for a moment. "He's in the Danger Room watching Storm."

Logan entered the observation room. "Chuck?"

Xavier looked up. "Yes, Logan?"

"Sara hasn't called yet. I'm a bit worried."

Xavier looked at his watch and got suddenly alarmed. "She should have landed hours ago," he said, turning his hoverchair quickly. "I will call her office immediately."

Worry turned to panic as Harmon confirmed she hadn't arrived. "She hasn't gotten to Shanghai," he reported to the X-Men grimly once they were assembled in the War Room. "Harmon doesn't know where she is."

Storm said in alarm, "Logan, when this man stopped you in the parking lot of that bar, did he say where the Shadowman was?"

"No," Logan ground his teeth.

Xavier spoke. "We need to find her, as quickly as possible. Storm; take Rogue, Jean and Betsy with you to Ryan's house. See if you can confirm whether he did betray her to the Shadowman or not, and if he did, where we can find him. Logan, Scott, Warren, Remy, return to that bar where Logan first met his informant and see if you can track him down."

Storm pulled up in front of Ryan's house and shut off the engine. Jean probed the house with her telepathy, looking puzzled. "I can't pick up anyone inside," she frowned. " Let's go."

Rogue and Betsy crept up to the living room window as Storm and Jean followed. All was dark inside. There was no sound, but they all smelled the thick stench of blood. Jean eased the window up and they climbed inside. Betsy was the first to reach a light switch, and flicked it.

The room flooded with light, and Jean had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from gagging. The former Senator Ryan lay on the carpet of the living room—or rather, his body lay on the floor. His head sat grotesquely on the top of his coffee table, looking mildly surprised at finding himself dead. Partly coagulated blood coated the table, spreading outward from the stump of neck left attached to the head.

Rogue made gagging noises, and her shoulders heaved. Storm was frozen in place, looking sick. Betsy surveyed the scene with detached interest, and Jean thought rather weakly that this was nothing new to an assassin.

It took some time for them all to notice that the stains on the carpet weren't all random. Someone had written on the carpet, with Ryan's blood, "Beware the Shadowman." Jean shook her head. "We're not going to find any answers here," she said. They turned to leave.

Betsy said, "Wait." She crossed the room, being careful not to step on anything, and picked up, from a section of carpet near the door, a single black feather. She brought it back for them to look at. "A Shi'ar crest feather," she said. "Charles said Lilandra's exile was coming here. I guess we know who the Shadowman is now."

The guys entered the bar, and other patrons cleared the way. Normally Gambit would have liked to flirt with the girls, especially that cute brunette sitting over at an end table, but he told himself firmly that there was a time and a place for that, and now was neither. Sara was in trouble, and they had to find her first.

Logan marched up to the bar, and didn't waste time mincing words. "I'm lookin' fer a guy named Tony," he growled at the bartender. "Ya seen 'im anywhere recently?"

The bartender looked nervous. "Uh, I, uh, no, I haven't," he said, but he smelled so strongly of fear Logan's lips curled in disgust. He reached over the bar and grabbed a handful of the guy's shirt, hauling him bodily over the bar. The entire place froze. "Truth, bub," Logan rumbled.

"He was here earlier," the man spluttered. Logan felt a grim satisfaction. This man scared easy. Lucky this was the place he'd met Tony. "He got a loft down 43rd, over his bike shop. Check there."

Logan dropped him and turned, stalking out of the bar. He and Remy got into his pickup; Scott and Warren followed in Scott's Mustang.

The sign said, "Tony's Shop'. Just that, and nothing more. Nothing ostentatious. Nothing really extraordinary. But as Logan got out of his pickup, he smelled blood. He took a deep sniff. "Smell that, Cajun?" he snarled.

"Ah oui, mon ami," Gambit whispered back, keeping his voice low as they started to ascend the steps to the loft. Scott and Warren waited by the car, ready to head off any trouble that might approach from the street. "Dis don' look good. Don' smell good, neit'er. Gambit don' like dis," but he followed Logan anyway, and used his kinetics to blow a tiny hole in the lock on the door. Logan counted to three, silently, in his head, knowing his teammate was doing the same, then spun and kicked the door in.

The smell of blood was very strong in here. Gambit flicked the light switch by the door and they both saw Tony lying on the floor, bleeding from a nasty gaping hole in his head. It was supposed to kill him, but the two X-Men had gotten there apparently just behind Tony's assailant. He was still alive, though just barely.

Logan's bellow of frustration filled the night, and Scott and Warren took the steps two at a time. Scott took one look at the man on the floor and knew this was Logan's informant. He turned to Warren. "Fly him back to the mansion," he said tersely. "Hank should be able to keep him alive long enough for Charles to pull the Shadowman's location from his mind."

The two teams gathered in the War Room, waiting in tense silence for Charles to appear. Each told the other the tale of their excursions, and Betsy showed the guys the black crest feather. "Its one of the Shi'ar's, all right," Scott said grimly. "Apparently the Majestrix's hunch was correct. That exiled scientist did come here. But how did he manage to decapitate Ryan? None of the Shi'ar we've ever seen has that kind of strength."

Xavier floated his hoverchair into the room, looking pale and drawn. From the look on his face, they all knew it wasn't good news. "I tried," he said without preamble. "His brain is too badly damaged for me to pick up anything coherent from it. He is, for all intents and purposes, dead, but I asked Hank to try to keep him alive until Lilandra arrives. Possibly she might have some technology that we don't that would enable us to get what we need from his mind. In the meantime, I don't know what else we can do."