Title: CEREMONY OF INNOCENCE
Author: Marvelous
Chapter Summary: Wolverine's arrival fails to improve Scott's situation. Movie continuity is thrown out the window.
Chapter Four
Wolverine was barely inside the dam, and already things weren't going according to plan.
Getting inside the compound hadn't been difficult. He had just walked up the water overflow tunnel and surrendered himself to the nervous cluster of heavily-armed soldiers who surrounded him. Somewhere in the chaos, Mystique had seamlessly infiltrated the group. The metamorph had taken the form of one of the soldiers and simply walked on in. If he allowed himself to dwell on it, Wolverine figured the body of the poor sucker she had replicated was probably freezing in one of the snowdrifts up on the surface. Unlike the X-Men, Mystique didn't seem to have much regard for the sanctity of human life. To hell with it, neither did Wolverine. These bastards had taken the kids from their beds in the mansion in the middle of the night, had taken Xavier and Cyclops from Magneto's cell. Growing evidence suggested these bastards - or bastards just like them -- had taken Wolverine's past away from him as well. And if what Magneto had told them was true - which, granted, was not a given, considering the source - Stryker was planning to use the professor and Cerebro to impart some permanent damage onto the world's mutant population. So maybe Mystique had a point.
He hadn't heard any alarms, so Wolverine figured Mystique hadn't been discovered yet. If things were going according to the plans they had made in the Blackbird - again, not a given - then Jean and the others were already inside the dam as well. So far, so good.
What irked Wolverine at the moment was that he had seen no sign of Stryker, and his captors didn't seem to be taking him to see him. Wolverine's hands were manacled in an ingenious device that hobbled his fists directly under his jaw. If he extended his adamantium claws, they'd sink into his chin and out through his brain. He could probably still get out of the contraption if he put his mind to it, but for the moment it was wiser just to see where this was going. Hopefully somewhere close to wherever Stryker was, so he could ask the son of a bitch a few pointed questions about the holes in his Swiss-cheese memory before gutting him. The idea made him smile.
The solider flanking him glanced over at Wolverine and noticed his smile. His brows raised slightly. Wolverine met his stare with one of his own. To Wolverine's annoyance, the man looked smug, as if he knew something Wolverine didn't.
Maybe he did. When the soldier turned away at last, Wolverine caught a faint whiff of something coming from him. A clean scent of mint and soap and bergamot, a scent instantly familiar to Wolverine. Cyclops. The bastard smelled like Cyclops. His clothes reeked of him.
Wolverine's nose twitched. He should be glad - this pretty much proved the professor and Cyclops were around here somewhere - but instead he was unsettled. Something about the man's smirk made Wolverine wonder if the kid were still alive. Not that there was any love lost between him and Cyclops, but Jean loved the kid dearly, and it was important to keep Jean happy. Wolverine could feel his claws tickle his knuckles from beneath his skin.
They were moving down a long, empty corridor. The awkward little group came to a stop in front of a heavy metal door with a tiny barred window. One of the soldiers drew back the heavy bolt over the door. Wolverine's nose twitched again. Even without looking through the window, he knew the room was occupied. Cyclops.
The door swung open into a small cell. Wolverine let himself be pushed inside. The kid was sprawled across a bunk against the wall, his face turned away from the door. He wasn't moving, even at the considerable noise the group was making, but Wolverine could tell he was breathing. He was a little surprised at the relief he felt.
Having established that Cyclops was alive, Wolverine didn't spare him another glance. Instead, he stood patiently and looked at his captors. He raised an expectant eyebrow.
A little to his surprise, the soldier who had opened the door stepped forward and began unlocking his elaborate manacles. "You can wait here for Colonel Stryker," he said.
It irked Wolverine that the soldiers were regarding him so lightly. With his hands free, he could attack now. He'd win, too. However, there was the problem of Cyclops, who seemed to be down for the count. Besides, he really did want to talk to Stryker. Anyway, the metal door and concrete walls of the cell wouldn't be an obstacle to his claws, if the soldiers were stupid enough to leave him here without the manacles.
Apparently they were. The soldiers gradually moved back, keeping a close watch on him to make sure he didn't try any funny business, then clanged the metal door shut. Wolverine heard the scrape of the bolt moved into place.
Alone except for his unconscious teammate, Wolverine looked around the cell. He assumed it was bugged, and probably equipped with surveillance cameras, though a cursory inspection turned up neither. No sense hunting for them; if he disabled them, they'd be replaced, and besides, he wasn't doing anything worth monitoring anyway.
He examined the metal door, ran a hand down its surface. And stopped. Something about the feel of the metal. Not steel, like he had supposed. He popped out a single claw and scraped it along the door. It didn't scratch the surface. The door, like his claws, like his reinforced skeleton, was adamantium. That was interesting.
The walls were concrete, though. Wolverine sank his claw into a patch of wall near the door, just to confirm.
His claw sank through the concrete like it was clay. And abruptly stopped about four inches into the wall. The cell walls were reinforced with adamantium.
Maybe the soldiers weren't such nitwits after all.
Hell, he really didn't have any immediate plans for escape anyway. Presumably Stryker would come to see him in his own sweet time. Meanwhile, Jean and the others were probably somewhere around, looking for the kids and Xavier. Wolverine wasn't wearing his X-Men uniform because he didn't need Stryker knowing he'd hooked up with Storm and Jean after fleeing the mansion during the attack. It was better to let him think he'd come up here on his own looking for answers about his past, instead of charging to the rescue with the remaining X-Men.
His examination of the cell complete, Wolverine at last turned his attention to Cyclops, who was still either unconscious or deeply asleep. Wolverine would lay money on the former. Even under less constrained circumstances, the kid was too uptight for undisturbed sleep.
He noticed for the first time that Cyclops didn't have his visor. Gee, that couldn't be good. He knew the kid was pretty good at keeping his eyes shut without his protective eyewear to avoid destroying anything in his line of sight, but he didn't know why Stryker would take away the visor without restraining those highly dangerous eyes.
Maybe he had. Wolverine noticed the thick metal collar around Cyclops' neck. He sat down on the edge of the bunk and examined it closer. He had no real idea of its purpose, but it probably wasn't innocuous. Maybe it controlled Cyclops' blasts. Wolverine touched it gingerly, noting the mess of dried blood around it at the back of Cyclops' neck. The damn thing was embedded into him.
There was something else on Cyclops' neck. A circular scar, like the one Nightcrawler had, that he said was caused by the acid Stryker used to put him under his control. Magneto had a similar scar. Great. All he needed was to have the kid working for Stryker.
He rolled the kid onto his back. Cyclops made a small, incoherent noise of protest, but showed no signs of coming out of whatever he was under. Wolverine noted the pushed-up shirt sleeve and the angry red needle mark on his inner arm.
He also noticed the state of Cyclops' clothing, the unzipped pants, the unbuttoned shirt. Wolverine's eyes narrowed. Cyclops was too meticulous about his appearance to let himself be in such a state. He had been roughed up; one cheek was marked with purple bruises. Had he been raped as well? The kid was damn pretty - as pretty as Jean, in his way - and there had been something about that soldier's smirk... Wolverine took a deep sniff.
The scent of the soldier was all over the kid, in the way Cyclops' scent had been on him, but Wolverine didn't smell much in the way of blood. Or semen. That was reassuring. He didn't like the kid much, but rape was a hell of a thing to happen to anyone.
Cyclops' hands were manacled with thin steel cuffs in front of him. Wolverine snikked out his claws and snipped through the metal. A flick through each cuff, and the metal fell away in pieces. The kid had something dark beneath the fingernails of both hands. Wolverine picked up one of his hands to examine it closer. Dried blood. He turned over the kid's hand, and looked at the small crescent-shaped scars on his palm. So the kid had been tortured, and had clenched his fists in pain. His wrists, too, had been gouged by some kind of restraints other than the handcuffs. Wolverine found similar wounds on his ankles as well.
What the hell had they done to him? Wolverine leaned his back against the wall behind the bunk and gently rested Cyclops' head in his lap. He pulled open Cyclops' shirt and examined his chest. A few bruises, nothing bad. He pressed carefully against his ribs, checking to make sure none were broken, then rebuttoned his shirt and zipped up his pants. He smiled wryly. Two days of imprisonment, a little torture thrown in the mix, and the kid still smelled good. He smelled a whole lot like Jean; Wolverine could never work out if they shared the same cologne, same soap, same shampoo, same deodorant, or if they spent so much time together that their individual personal scents had blended into one.
With surprise and irritation, Wolverine noticed he had the beginnings of an erection. From thoughts of Jean, or thoughts of the kid? Either or both, he figured; Cyclops annoyed the hell out of him most of the time, but he was awfully nice to look at. And when he was lying like this across Wolverine's lap...
With an annoyed grunt, Wolverine slid Cyclops off of him and rested him back on the bunk. He turned his attention to the collar. Should he risk cutting it off? Most likely, it was used to somehow torture the kid. He decided he'd better not until he learned a little more about its purpose.
Something had subtly changed with Cyclops. He hadn't moved at all, but Wolverine's acute senses tipped him off to an increased heart rate, a quickening of the pulse, signs of growing fear. The kid was awake and aware of his surroundings, and obviously had no idea whose lap he had just been dumped out of.
"Hey, kid, it's me. Wolverine," Wolverine said in a low voice. He gave Cyclops a pat on the shoulder, shook him slightly.
The kid turned his head in Wolverine's direction, but didn't open his eyes. "Wolverine?" he asked. His voice was a little slurred.
"Yeah. Don't open your eyes. You don't have your visor."
The kid seemed to smile at this for some reason, a grim twist to his lips. "It's okay." With some effort, Cyclops pulled himself up into a seated position. Wolverine reached out help him, then stopped as he saw the twitch of long lashes. Cyclops was opening his eyes. Fantastic. Wolverine was about to get his head and torso blasted into oblivion.
Nothing happened. Instead of facing a deadly blast of red, Wolverine was staring into a pair of wide-set, perfectly lovely blue eyes. Hell, with those eyes, he might even be prettier than Jean. Cyclops smiled ruefully.
"It's the collar," he said, gesturing toward it. "It short-circuits my blasts."
As if uncomfortable with his proximity to Wolverine, Cyclops shifted over a couple inches and leaned his back against the wall. He moved as though it hurt him.
"Wouldn't take much to get that collar off you," Wolverine said. He slid out a claw for emphasis.
"Better not. It's wired into me somehow. I don't know how to get it off without messing with my nervous system more than it already has. Anyway, without my visor, I'd have to keep my eyes shut." He looked over at Wolverine. "You the cavalry?"
Wolverine shrugged. "Not really." He didn't elaborate. Cyclops shot him a look of mild annoyance until he continued. "I'm here on separate business. Looking up an old friend."
Cyclops threw him a skeptical glance. "Any friend of yours in this place, I don't want to meet."
"You probably already have. Goes by the name of Stryker."
Cyclops snorted. "Yeah. Met that one. Wish I hadn't." He looked directly at Wolverine. Wolverine felt an odd thrill at those pretty eyes. It was almost a relief when Cyclops looked back down at the bunk. "Old friend, you say?"
Wolverine shrugged. "Not sure. Following something from my past. Just so happens you're here. The prof around here anywhere?"
"I don't know for sure. I haven't seen him since we were grabbed at Magneto's cell."
"You haven't seen anything of the kids, either?"
The reaction to this was immediate. Cyclops whipped his head around to stare at Wolverine, then flinched as the motion hurt his neck. "The kids? What kids?"
From Cyclops' expression, it was clear he anticipated the answer. Wolverine took a deep breath.
"The mansion was attacked the night you and the professor went to see Magneto. Special Ops arrived by helicopter, took out the defenses. They took some of the kids."
"You were supposed to be watching them." Cyclops' tone was flat with anger.
"Look, there were about fifty of them, okay? Heavily armed. They were shooting the kids full of tranquilizers. They were inside the mansion before we even knew they were out there." He stopped. He was about to mention that Magneto had told Stryker all about the defenses of the mansion, then realized he'd better not. If anyone was monitoring their conversation, they didn't need to know he had met up with Magneto. "I took out as many as I could. The big kid, the metal guy, whatshisname, got most of the kids out safely, but Stryker's goons got a few before I could stop them." He glared at Cyclops. "All of the kids were out of the mansion one way or another by the time we cleared out."
"Who's 'we'?" Cyclops asked. The anger was still there, but it had been mostly replaced with sharp concern.
"Me, Iceman, Rogue, and the firebug. Pyro. We hid out at Bobby's house." He looked at Cyclops, hoping the kid was sharp enough to read between the lines. There was no sense spelling it out for any eavesdroppers that they had met up with Storm and Jean in Boston. Cyclops knew Bobby lived in Boston; he could put it together.
Cyclops looked at him for a minute. Wolverine had never seen him this disturbed. Or maybe it was just the eyes; when he had his visor on, it was harder to tell what he was feeling. "You drove all the way to Bobby's house?"
Good, he got it. "Yeah. Left the kids there and came here looking for Stryker."
Cyclops glanced down at the jacket Wolverine was wearing. He would know that it came from the Blackbird. Hell, come to think of it, the jacket must be one of his own. Wolverine noticed a slight easing of tension as Cyclops realized the rest of the X-Men were somewhere in the area. "So we are at Alkali Lake, then?"
"Yeah. Beneath the dam, which is why I missed it before. Too bad. Could've saved me a lot of running around."
Cyclops closed his eyes and drew his knees up to his chest. He had purple shadows beneath his eyes. Matched the bruises. Without his visor, he looked preposterously young and vulnerable. Wolverine looked at the angry red gouges on his wrists.
"They torture you for information, or just for fun?" he asked.
Cyclops opened his eyes. If he was surprised at Wolverine's guess that he had been tortured, he didn't show it. "Neither, really." His hand touched the circular scar on the back of his neck. "Stryker's got this serum or acid or something that brainwashes mutants. I think he used it on the mutant who attacked the President."
Old news, but Wolverine couldn't risk telling him about Nightcrawler. He nodded impatiently for him to continue.
"Anyway, he tried it on me a couple of times, and it didn't take. So he tried to soften me up or something to lower my defenses."
Wolverine paused, then decided to ask. It was what normal people would do, show concern for a teammate. "Was it bad?"
"No." The terse reply didn't invite discussion. Hell, he'd tried.
"The collar?" Tried to sound clinical, detached.
It was a better approach than sympathy. Cyclops relaxed somewhat. "Yeah. It sends shocks into my nervous system, I think. I don't really know how it works. Don't really care. It's the type of thing Jean would understand better than I do." Wolverine felt a little mild guilt at the mention of Jean. Last night, while he'd been cheerfully putting the moves on the kid's fiancee, Cyclops had been getting tortured for kicks.
Cyclops shifted. Wolverine realized he'd been staring at him. "What?"
Wolverine grunted. "Not used to seeing your eyes."
Cyclops gave him a half-smile. "I haven't seen them since I was fourteen. I've been kind of wishing for a mirror."
"They're nice. She'll like them."
Cyclops looked at him for a long moment and didn't say anything. It was strange, being able to see those eyes and to actually get a sense of what the kid was thinking. Right now, he looked exhausted and frustrated and worried. There was also maybe a little relief that Wolverine was with him.
Or maybe he was reading too much into it. Cyclops sounded like his usual self - stiff, prickly, and a tad self-righteous - when he finally spoke. "Right. Well. How about getting us out of this cell?"
"Not that easy. It's lined with adamantium."
"Are you serious?" Cyclops asked.
Wolverine exhaled loudly. "No, kid, I'm picking a wildly inopportune time to joke with you. Yeah. It's adamantium."
"Try cutting through. Maybe the whole cell isn't lined."
"And maybe it is. You want me to scrape off all the concrete just to check?"
"If it gets us out of here, yes." Cyclops glared at him.
So much for their brief moment of bonhomie. "I don't know why I was in any hurry for you to wake up."
Cyclops shrugged. "Well, I'm up," he said. And I'm in charge. It was left unsaid, but it hung in the air between them.
"Smarter to wait it out. Stryker's going to want to talk to me. He'll come soon enough."
"That's nice for you. Unfortunately, Stryker has no interest in talking to me," Cyclops said. His voice was tight.
Wolverine looked over at him. The kid was angry and scared and not doing a good job of hiding it. Wolverine felt a sudden, stupid impulse to reassure him that he would protect him, that nothing would happen to him. Stupid because Cyclops wouldn't appreciate the sentiment, and stupid because he couldn't guarantee he could keep the kid safe.
His superhuman hearing picked up the noise in the hallway before Cyclops. They both turned their heads to look at the door as the bolt was drawn back. They got to their feet. Cyclops' movements were a little unsteady, as if the effects of the drug hadn't worn off yet. He was probably sore from the torture, too. Not in peak condition if fighting was called for.
Wolverine moved in front of Cyclops. He stood with his legs shoulder width apart, shoulders back, knees slightly bent. His arms were loose at his sides. Claws weren't out yet, but it only took a fraction of a second to pop them out.
The door opened. A soldier entered first, assault weapon out. He was clad in body armor and a protective helmet with an acrylic faceplate. This was new. Unless the armor was adamantium, however, it wouldn't do the wearer much good.
The soldier looked from Cyclops to Wolverine. He motioned with the rifle at Wolverine. "You. Over there," he said. His voice was muffled by the faceplate.
Wolverine stayed put. Two more soldiers entered the cell, one armored like the first. The other, the guy who had smelled like Cyclops, wore only his fatigues. Behind them, last of all, entered Stryker. Unarmed, unprotected. He held something small in his hand, a metal rectangle. Wolverine couldn't tell what it was.
Stryker held up the object. His thumb moved across the surface, passing across a small dial.
Without a word or sound, Cyclops dropped to his knees. Wolverine turned to see him grope for the bunk to steady himself. The other hand clawed uselessly at the collar. He lowered his head and turned in the direction of the bunk, away from Wolverine, as if he didn't want him to see the extent of the pain he was in.
Wolverine's claws slid out from his knuckles. Teeth bared, he turned to Stryker.
Stryker held up the box and waggled it in the air. His thumb was still on the dial. "Now, Wolverine," he said. "It would be a shame to destroy such a powerful mutant as Cyclops, but now that you're here, he becomes somewhat more expendable."
Wolverine remained still. He retracted his claws. Stryker jerked his head toward the far wall. "Why don't you be a good little animal and go stand over there?"
Seeing no real alternative, Wolverine obeyed. He faced the wall, hands raised slightly to show his harmless intent. One of the armored guards held a gun against the back of his head while the other one stepped forward. Out of the corner of his vision, Wolverine saw he was carrying the intricate set of manacles that had restrained him before. He didn't protest as the cuffs were snapped around his arms, his knuckles once more planted under his chin.
Only when he was satisfied as to Wolverine's relative helplessness did Stryker remove his thumb from the dial. He slipped the metal box into his jacket pocket. Wolverine turned back away from the wall, the guards watching his every move, and looked down at Cyclops.
Cyclops gripped onto the edge of the bunk with both hands and tried to stand. The dark-haired soldier crouched down beside him and hauled him to his feet with an arm around his waist. Cyclops tried to pull away. The man calmly raised his pistol and placed the muzzle under Cyclops' jaw. The man held him tightly by the waist and whispered something in his ear. Wolverine's exceptional hearing picked up on the hissed words: "Miss me, baby?" He saw Cyclops jerk his head away involuntarily. The hair on the back of Wolverine's neck started to prickle.
Wolverine turned to Stryker. "I want to talk to you."
"And we will talk, Wolverine. I'm looking forward to getting caught up. But first, I think a little demonstration is called for." Stryker had a little case with him, Wolverine saw. He crossed the cell and placed it on the bunk. He popped the latches and withdrew a large plastic syringe. It was filled with yellow liquid. He held it up in the air.
"This, if you were wondering, is a marvelous little discovery of mine, an essential extraction of a powerful mutant ability of mind control, distilled into a more convenient form." He glanced over at Cyclops, his brows furrowing. "With the exception of young Mr. Summers here, the effects have been remarkable."
The man holding Cyclops was grinning, his eyes oddly bright. Cyclops was staring at Stryker with undisguised loathing.
"While I can't say I'm not disappointed it hasn't worked on Cyclops, we won't have the same difficulty with you." Stryker smiled at Wolverine. "I think it's time we provide your fearless leader with a demonstration of just how effective this serum can be."
Wolverine eyed the syringe, then snorted. "What - you're going to shoot me up with your zombie juice, then let me and Cyclops battle it out?" He sounded more nonchalant than he felt. If that was Stryker's plan, and if the stuff worked on him, he'd cut Cyclops to ribbons.
"Not exactly. I'd like to keep the boy alive, if possible. But I do think he needs an object lesson." Stryker's smile widened. "You're going to rape him."
It took a moment to register. "What?"
"I'm sure you heard me," Stryker said.
In the soldier's grasp, Cyclops was perfectly still. His eyes were perhaps a little wider than they should be, but that was about it. Wolverine couldn't look at him. Far easier to look at Stryker. "You're a real son of bitch."
"And you're a mutant. So is he." Said as if it were the last word in the argument.
Wolverine bared his teeth. The soldier nearest him turned him around and shoved him against the wall. With his arms restrained, Wolverine's forehead hit the concrete with a thunk that finally shook away the shock of Stryker's words. He welcomed the sudden rush of fury. He snarled and growled like the animal Stryker accused him of being. He backed up against the arms that were pushing him forward. The other armored guard joined his companion and shoved him back into place, holding him fast.
Stryker was behind him now. Wolverine felt a hand push his head forward. His forehead ground against the wall. Then came a quick burning pain on the back of his neck. He could feel his flesh trying to heal itself even as it burned. Maybe his mutant healing factor would negate the effects of the acid on his system.
The sides of his world began to cave in. He was falling down a long, endless tunnel, though his head still seemed to be pressed firmly against the cold cement. It was his conscious self instead, some very vital part of his humanity that was falling, fading away, disappearing.
And was gone.
Author: Marvelous
Chapter Summary: Wolverine's arrival fails to improve Scott's situation. Movie continuity is thrown out the window.
Chapter Four
Wolverine was barely inside the dam, and already things weren't going according to plan.
Getting inside the compound hadn't been difficult. He had just walked up the water overflow tunnel and surrendered himself to the nervous cluster of heavily-armed soldiers who surrounded him. Somewhere in the chaos, Mystique had seamlessly infiltrated the group. The metamorph had taken the form of one of the soldiers and simply walked on in. If he allowed himself to dwell on it, Wolverine figured the body of the poor sucker she had replicated was probably freezing in one of the snowdrifts up on the surface. Unlike the X-Men, Mystique didn't seem to have much regard for the sanctity of human life. To hell with it, neither did Wolverine. These bastards had taken the kids from their beds in the mansion in the middle of the night, had taken Xavier and Cyclops from Magneto's cell. Growing evidence suggested these bastards - or bastards just like them -- had taken Wolverine's past away from him as well. And if what Magneto had told them was true - which, granted, was not a given, considering the source - Stryker was planning to use the professor and Cerebro to impart some permanent damage onto the world's mutant population. So maybe Mystique had a point.
He hadn't heard any alarms, so Wolverine figured Mystique hadn't been discovered yet. If things were going according to the plans they had made in the Blackbird - again, not a given - then Jean and the others were already inside the dam as well. So far, so good.
What irked Wolverine at the moment was that he had seen no sign of Stryker, and his captors didn't seem to be taking him to see him. Wolverine's hands were manacled in an ingenious device that hobbled his fists directly under his jaw. If he extended his adamantium claws, they'd sink into his chin and out through his brain. He could probably still get out of the contraption if he put his mind to it, but for the moment it was wiser just to see where this was going. Hopefully somewhere close to wherever Stryker was, so he could ask the son of a bitch a few pointed questions about the holes in his Swiss-cheese memory before gutting him. The idea made him smile.
The solider flanking him glanced over at Wolverine and noticed his smile. His brows raised slightly. Wolverine met his stare with one of his own. To Wolverine's annoyance, the man looked smug, as if he knew something Wolverine didn't.
Maybe he did. When the soldier turned away at last, Wolverine caught a faint whiff of something coming from him. A clean scent of mint and soap and bergamot, a scent instantly familiar to Wolverine. Cyclops. The bastard smelled like Cyclops. His clothes reeked of him.
Wolverine's nose twitched. He should be glad - this pretty much proved the professor and Cyclops were around here somewhere - but instead he was unsettled. Something about the man's smirk made Wolverine wonder if the kid were still alive. Not that there was any love lost between him and Cyclops, but Jean loved the kid dearly, and it was important to keep Jean happy. Wolverine could feel his claws tickle his knuckles from beneath his skin.
They were moving down a long, empty corridor. The awkward little group came to a stop in front of a heavy metal door with a tiny barred window. One of the soldiers drew back the heavy bolt over the door. Wolverine's nose twitched again. Even without looking through the window, he knew the room was occupied. Cyclops.
The door swung open into a small cell. Wolverine let himself be pushed inside. The kid was sprawled across a bunk against the wall, his face turned away from the door. He wasn't moving, even at the considerable noise the group was making, but Wolverine could tell he was breathing. He was a little surprised at the relief he felt.
Having established that Cyclops was alive, Wolverine didn't spare him another glance. Instead, he stood patiently and looked at his captors. He raised an expectant eyebrow.
A little to his surprise, the soldier who had opened the door stepped forward and began unlocking his elaborate manacles. "You can wait here for Colonel Stryker," he said.
It irked Wolverine that the soldiers were regarding him so lightly. With his hands free, he could attack now. He'd win, too. However, there was the problem of Cyclops, who seemed to be down for the count. Besides, he really did want to talk to Stryker. Anyway, the metal door and concrete walls of the cell wouldn't be an obstacle to his claws, if the soldiers were stupid enough to leave him here without the manacles.
Apparently they were. The soldiers gradually moved back, keeping a close watch on him to make sure he didn't try any funny business, then clanged the metal door shut. Wolverine heard the scrape of the bolt moved into place.
Alone except for his unconscious teammate, Wolverine looked around the cell. He assumed it was bugged, and probably equipped with surveillance cameras, though a cursory inspection turned up neither. No sense hunting for them; if he disabled them, they'd be replaced, and besides, he wasn't doing anything worth monitoring anyway.
He examined the metal door, ran a hand down its surface. And stopped. Something about the feel of the metal. Not steel, like he had supposed. He popped out a single claw and scraped it along the door. It didn't scratch the surface. The door, like his claws, like his reinforced skeleton, was adamantium. That was interesting.
The walls were concrete, though. Wolverine sank his claw into a patch of wall near the door, just to confirm.
His claw sank through the concrete like it was clay. And abruptly stopped about four inches into the wall. The cell walls were reinforced with adamantium.
Maybe the soldiers weren't such nitwits after all.
Hell, he really didn't have any immediate plans for escape anyway. Presumably Stryker would come to see him in his own sweet time. Meanwhile, Jean and the others were probably somewhere around, looking for the kids and Xavier. Wolverine wasn't wearing his X-Men uniform because he didn't need Stryker knowing he'd hooked up with Storm and Jean after fleeing the mansion during the attack. It was better to let him think he'd come up here on his own looking for answers about his past, instead of charging to the rescue with the remaining X-Men.
His examination of the cell complete, Wolverine at last turned his attention to Cyclops, who was still either unconscious or deeply asleep. Wolverine would lay money on the former. Even under less constrained circumstances, the kid was too uptight for undisturbed sleep.
He noticed for the first time that Cyclops didn't have his visor. Gee, that couldn't be good. He knew the kid was pretty good at keeping his eyes shut without his protective eyewear to avoid destroying anything in his line of sight, but he didn't know why Stryker would take away the visor without restraining those highly dangerous eyes.
Maybe he had. Wolverine noticed the thick metal collar around Cyclops' neck. He sat down on the edge of the bunk and examined it closer. He had no real idea of its purpose, but it probably wasn't innocuous. Maybe it controlled Cyclops' blasts. Wolverine touched it gingerly, noting the mess of dried blood around it at the back of Cyclops' neck. The damn thing was embedded into him.
There was something else on Cyclops' neck. A circular scar, like the one Nightcrawler had, that he said was caused by the acid Stryker used to put him under his control. Magneto had a similar scar. Great. All he needed was to have the kid working for Stryker.
He rolled the kid onto his back. Cyclops made a small, incoherent noise of protest, but showed no signs of coming out of whatever he was under. Wolverine noted the pushed-up shirt sleeve and the angry red needle mark on his inner arm.
He also noticed the state of Cyclops' clothing, the unzipped pants, the unbuttoned shirt. Wolverine's eyes narrowed. Cyclops was too meticulous about his appearance to let himself be in such a state. He had been roughed up; one cheek was marked with purple bruises. Had he been raped as well? The kid was damn pretty - as pretty as Jean, in his way - and there had been something about that soldier's smirk... Wolverine took a deep sniff.
The scent of the soldier was all over the kid, in the way Cyclops' scent had been on him, but Wolverine didn't smell much in the way of blood. Or semen. That was reassuring. He didn't like the kid much, but rape was a hell of a thing to happen to anyone.
Cyclops' hands were manacled with thin steel cuffs in front of him. Wolverine snikked out his claws and snipped through the metal. A flick through each cuff, and the metal fell away in pieces. The kid had something dark beneath the fingernails of both hands. Wolverine picked up one of his hands to examine it closer. Dried blood. He turned over the kid's hand, and looked at the small crescent-shaped scars on his palm. So the kid had been tortured, and had clenched his fists in pain. His wrists, too, had been gouged by some kind of restraints other than the handcuffs. Wolverine found similar wounds on his ankles as well.
What the hell had they done to him? Wolverine leaned his back against the wall behind the bunk and gently rested Cyclops' head in his lap. He pulled open Cyclops' shirt and examined his chest. A few bruises, nothing bad. He pressed carefully against his ribs, checking to make sure none were broken, then rebuttoned his shirt and zipped up his pants. He smiled wryly. Two days of imprisonment, a little torture thrown in the mix, and the kid still smelled good. He smelled a whole lot like Jean; Wolverine could never work out if they shared the same cologne, same soap, same shampoo, same deodorant, or if they spent so much time together that their individual personal scents had blended into one.
With surprise and irritation, Wolverine noticed he had the beginnings of an erection. From thoughts of Jean, or thoughts of the kid? Either or both, he figured; Cyclops annoyed the hell out of him most of the time, but he was awfully nice to look at. And when he was lying like this across Wolverine's lap...
With an annoyed grunt, Wolverine slid Cyclops off of him and rested him back on the bunk. He turned his attention to the collar. Should he risk cutting it off? Most likely, it was used to somehow torture the kid. He decided he'd better not until he learned a little more about its purpose.
Something had subtly changed with Cyclops. He hadn't moved at all, but Wolverine's acute senses tipped him off to an increased heart rate, a quickening of the pulse, signs of growing fear. The kid was awake and aware of his surroundings, and obviously had no idea whose lap he had just been dumped out of.
"Hey, kid, it's me. Wolverine," Wolverine said in a low voice. He gave Cyclops a pat on the shoulder, shook him slightly.
The kid turned his head in Wolverine's direction, but didn't open his eyes. "Wolverine?" he asked. His voice was a little slurred.
"Yeah. Don't open your eyes. You don't have your visor."
The kid seemed to smile at this for some reason, a grim twist to his lips. "It's okay." With some effort, Cyclops pulled himself up into a seated position. Wolverine reached out help him, then stopped as he saw the twitch of long lashes. Cyclops was opening his eyes. Fantastic. Wolverine was about to get his head and torso blasted into oblivion.
Nothing happened. Instead of facing a deadly blast of red, Wolverine was staring into a pair of wide-set, perfectly lovely blue eyes. Hell, with those eyes, he might even be prettier than Jean. Cyclops smiled ruefully.
"It's the collar," he said, gesturing toward it. "It short-circuits my blasts."
As if uncomfortable with his proximity to Wolverine, Cyclops shifted over a couple inches and leaned his back against the wall. He moved as though it hurt him.
"Wouldn't take much to get that collar off you," Wolverine said. He slid out a claw for emphasis.
"Better not. It's wired into me somehow. I don't know how to get it off without messing with my nervous system more than it already has. Anyway, without my visor, I'd have to keep my eyes shut." He looked over at Wolverine. "You the cavalry?"
Wolverine shrugged. "Not really." He didn't elaborate. Cyclops shot him a look of mild annoyance until he continued. "I'm here on separate business. Looking up an old friend."
Cyclops threw him a skeptical glance. "Any friend of yours in this place, I don't want to meet."
"You probably already have. Goes by the name of Stryker."
Cyclops snorted. "Yeah. Met that one. Wish I hadn't." He looked directly at Wolverine. Wolverine felt an odd thrill at those pretty eyes. It was almost a relief when Cyclops looked back down at the bunk. "Old friend, you say?"
Wolverine shrugged. "Not sure. Following something from my past. Just so happens you're here. The prof around here anywhere?"
"I don't know for sure. I haven't seen him since we were grabbed at Magneto's cell."
"You haven't seen anything of the kids, either?"
The reaction to this was immediate. Cyclops whipped his head around to stare at Wolverine, then flinched as the motion hurt his neck. "The kids? What kids?"
From Cyclops' expression, it was clear he anticipated the answer. Wolverine took a deep breath.
"The mansion was attacked the night you and the professor went to see Magneto. Special Ops arrived by helicopter, took out the defenses. They took some of the kids."
"You were supposed to be watching them." Cyclops' tone was flat with anger.
"Look, there were about fifty of them, okay? Heavily armed. They were shooting the kids full of tranquilizers. They were inside the mansion before we even knew they were out there." He stopped. He was about to mention that Magneto had told Stryker all about the defenses of the mansion, then realized he'd better not. If anyone was monitoring their conversation, they didn't need to know he had met up with Magneto. "I took out as many as I could. The big kid, the metal guy, whatshisname, got most of the kids out safely, but Stryker's goons got a few before I could stop them." He glared at Cyclops. "All of the kids were out of the mansion one way or another by the time we cleared out."
"Who's 'we'?" Cyclops asked. The anger was still there, but it had been mostly replaced with sharp concern.
"Me, Iceman, Rogue, and the firebug. Pyro. We hid out at Bobby's house." He looked at Cyclops, hoping the kid was sharp enough to read between the lines. There was no sense spelling it out for any eavesdroppers that they had met up with Storm and Jean in Boston. Cyclops knew Bobby lived in Boston; he could put it together.
Cyclops looked at him for a minute. Wolverine had never seen him this disturbed. Or maybe it was just the eyes; when he had his visor on, it was harder to tell what he was feeling. "You drove all the way to Bobby's house?"
Good, he got it. "Yeah. Left the kids there and came here looking for Stryker."
Cyclops glanced down at the jacket Wolverine was wearing. He would know that it came from the Blackbird. Hell, come to think of it, the jacket must be one of his own. Wolverine noticed a slight easing of tension as Cyclops realized the rest of the X-Men were somewhere in the area. "So we are at Alkali Lake, then?"
"Yeah. Beneath the dam, which is why I missed it before. Too bad. Could've saved me a lot of running around."
Cyclops closed his eyes and drew his knees up to his chest. He had purple shadows beneath his eyes. Matched the bruises. Without his visor, he looked preposterously young and vulnerable. Wolverine looked at the angry red gouges on his wrists.
"They torture you for information, or just for fun?" he asked.
Cyclops opened his eyes. If he was surprised at Wolverine's guess that he had been tortured, he didn't show it. "Neither, really." His hand touched the circular scar on the back of his neck. "Stryker's got this serum or acid or something that brainwashes mutants. I think he used it on the mutant who attacked the President."
Old news, but Wolverine couldn't risk telling him about Nightcrawler. He nodded impatiently for him to continue.
"Anyway, he tried it on me a couple of times, and it didn't take. So he tried to soften me up or something to lower my defenses."
Wolverine paused, then decided to ask. It was what normal people would do, show concern for a teammate. "Was it bad?"
"No." The terse reply didn't invite discussion. Hell, he'd tried.
"The collar?" Tried to sound clinical, detached.
It was a better approach than sympathy. Cyclops relaxed somewhat. "Yeah. It sends shocks into my nervous system, I think. I don't really know how it works. Don't really care. It's the type of thing Jean would understand better than I do." Wolverine felt a little mild guilt at the mention of Jean. Last night, while he'd been cheerfully putting the moves on the kid's fiancee, Cyclops had been getting tortured for kicks.
Cyclops shifted. Wolverine realized he'd been staring at him. "What?"
Wolverine grunted. "Not used to seeing your eyes."
Cyclops gave him a half-smile. "I haven't seen them since I was fourteen. I've been kind of wishing for a mirror."
"They're nice. She'll like them."
Cyclops looked at him for a long moment and didn't say anything. It was strange, being able to see those eyes and to actually get a sense of what the kid was thinking. Right now, he looked exhausted and frustrated and worried. There was also maybe a little relief that Wolverine was with him.
Or maybe he was reading too much into it. Cyclops sounded like his usual self - stiff, prickly, and a tad self-righteous - when he finally spoke. "Right. Well. How about getting us out of this cell?"
"Not that easy. It's lined with adamantium."
"Are you serious?" Cyclops asked.
Wolverine exhaled loudly. "No, kid, I'm picking a wildly inopportune time to joke with you. Yeah. It's adamantium."
"Try cutting through. Maybe the whole cell isn't lined."
"And maybe it is. You want me to scrape off all the concrete just to check?"
"If it gets us out of here, yes." Cyclops glared at him.
So much for their brief moment of bonhomie. "I don't know why I was in any hurry for you to wake up."
Cyclops shrugged. "Well, I'm up," he said. And I'm in charge. It was left unsaid, but it hung in the air between them.
"Smarter to wait it out. Stryker's going to want to talk to me. He'll come soon enough."
"That's nice for you. Unfortunately, Stryker has no interest in talking to me," Cyclops said. His voice was tight.
Wolverine looked over at him. The kid was angry and scared and not doing a good job of hiding it. Wolverine felt a sudden, stupid impulse to reassure him that he would protect him, that nothing would happen to him. Stupid because Cyclops wouldn't appreciate the sentiment, and stupid because he couldn't guarantee he could keep the kid safe.
His superhuman hearing picked up the noise in the hallway before Cyclops. They both turned their heads to look at the door as the bolt was drawn back. They got to their feet. Cyclops' movements were a little unsteady, as if the effects of the drug hadn't worn off yet. He was probably sore from the torture, too. Not in peak condition if fighting was called for.
Wolverine moved in front of Cyclops. He stood with his legs shoulder width apart, shoulders back, knees slightly bent. His arms were loose at his sides. Claws weren't out yet, but it only took a fraction of a second to pop them out.
The door opened. A soldier entered first, assault weapon out. He was clad in body armor and a protective helmet with an acrylic faceplate. This was new. Unless the armor was adamantium, however, it wouldn't do the wearer much good.
The soldier looked from Cyclops to Wolverine. He motioned with the rifle at Wolverine. "You. Over there," he said. His voice was muffled by the faceplate.
Wolverine stayed put. Two more soldiers entered the cell, one armored like the first. The other, the guy who had smelled like Cyclops, wore only his fatigues. Behind them, last of all, entered Stryker. Unarmed, unprotected. He held something small in his hand, a metal rectangle. Wolverine couldn't tell what it was.
Stryker held up the object. His thumb moved across the surface, passing across a small dial.
Without a word or sound, Cyclops dropped to his knees. Wolverine turned to see him grope for the bunk to steady himself. The other hand clawed uselessly at the collar. He lowered his head and turned in the direction of the bunk, away from Wolverine, as if he didn't want him to see the extent of the pain he was in.
Wolverine's claws slid out from his knuckles. Teeth bared, he turned to Stryker.
Stryker held up the box and waggled it in the air. His thumb was still on the dial. "Now, Wolverine," he said. "It would be a shame to destroy such a powerful mutant as Cyclops, but now that you're here, he becomes somewhat more expendable."
Wolverine remained still. He retracted his claws. Stryker jerked his head toward the far wall. "Why don't you be a good little animal and go stand over there?"
Seeing no real alternative, Wolverine obeyed. He faced the wall, hands raised slightly to show his harmless intent. One of the armored guards held a gun against the back of his head while the other one stepped forward. Out of the corner of his vision, Wolverine saw he was carrying the intricate set of manacles that had restrained him before. He didn't protest as the cuffs were snapped around his arms, his knuckles once more planted under his chin.
Only when he was satisfied as to Wolverine's relative helplessness did Stryker remove his thumb from the dial. He slipped the metal box into his jacket pocket. Wolverine turned back away from the wall, the guards watching his every move, and looked down at Cyclops.
Cyclops gripped onto the edge of the bunk with both hands and tried to stand. The dark-haired soldier crouched down beside him and hauled him to his feet with an arm around his waist. Cyclops tried to pull away. The man calmly raised his pistol and placed the muzzle under Cyclops' jaw. The man held him tightly by the waist and whispered something in his ear. Wolverine's exceptional hearing picked up on the hissed words: "Miss me, baby?" He saw Cyclops jerk his head away involuntarily. The hair on the back of Wolverine's neck started to prickle.
Wolverine turned to Stryker. "I want to talk to you."
"And we will talk, Wolverine. I'm looking forward to getting caught up. But first, I think a little demonstration is called for." Stryker had a little case with him, Wolverine saw. He crossed the cell and placed it on the bunk. He popped the latches and withdrew a large plastic syringe. It was filled with yellow liquid. He held it up in the air.
"This, if you were wondering, is a marvelous little discovery of mine, an essential extraction of a powerful mutant ability of mind control, distilled into a more convenient form." He glanced over at Cyclops, his brows furrowing. "With the exception of young Mr. Summers here, the effects have been remarkable."
The man holding Cyclops was grinning, his eyes oddly bright. Cyclops was staring at Stryker with undisguised loathing.
"While I can't say I'm not disappointed it hasn't worked on Cyclops, we won't have the same difficulty with you." Stryker smiled at Wolverine. "I think it's time we provide your fearless leader with a demonstration of just how effective this serum can be."
Wolverine eyed the syringe, then snorted. "What - you're going to shoot me up with your zombie juice, then let me and Cyclops battle it out?" He sounded more nonchalant than he felt. If that was Stryker's plan, and if the stuff worked on him, he'd cut Cyclops to ribbons.
"Not exactly. I'd like to keep the boy alive, if possible. But I do think he needs an object lesson." Stryker's smile widened. "You're going to rape him."
It took a moment to register. "What?"
"I'm sure you heard me," Stryker said.
In the soldier's grasp, Cyclops was perfectly still. His eyes were perhaps a little wider than they should be, but that was about it. Wolverine couldn't look at him. Far easier to look at Stryker. "You're a real son of bitch."
"And you're a mutant. So is he." Said as if it were the last word in the argument.
Wolverine bared his teeth. The soldier nearest him turned him around and shoved him against the wall. With his arms restrained, Wolverine's forehead hit the concrete with a thunk that finally shook away the shock of Stryker's words. He welcomed the sudden rush of fury. He snarled and growled like the animal Stryker accused him of being. He backed up against the arms that were pushing him forward. The other armored guard joined his companion and shoved him back into place, holding him fast.
Stryker was behind him now. Wolverine felt a hand push his head forward. His forehead ground against the wall. Then came a quick burning pain on the back of his neck. He could feel his flesh trying to heal itself even as it burned. Maybe his mutant healing factor would negate the effects of the acid on his system.
The sides of his world began to cave in. He was falling down a long, endless tunnel, though his head still seemed to be pressed firmly against the cold cement. It was his conscious self instead, some very vital part of his humanity that was falling, fading away, disappearing.
And was gone.