Title: CEREMONY OF INNOCENCE
Author: Marvelous
Chapter Summary: Things fall apart. Scott's day gets worse.
Rating: R for adult situations, rape, language.
Chapter Five
Jean Grey stared at the banks of monitors inside the security checkpoint room. Beside her stood Nightcrawler and Storm. Storm was dividing her attention between watching the monitors and keeping an eye on Magneto, who stood at her shoulder, elegant and aloof. Mystique sat in the room's sole chair. Her blue hands moved with surprising speed and grace across the keyboard. The pictures on the monitors shifted continuously. Jean could barely keep up with the images flashing across the screens as Mystique systematically checked the views from all the security cameras in the compound.
Thus far, things were going smoothly on their end. Mystique, in the guise of a soldier, had smuggled them all inside the dam. Jean was using her telepathic shields as best she could to keep their presence disguised. It was a strain, and it meant she couldn't try to use her mental links with the professor or Scott to find their location.
She wished their plan didn't rely so heavily upon the cooperation of Magneto and Mystique, both of whom would cheerfully betray the X-Men in a flash if the right opportunity arose. Impossible to do this without Mystique, however, who in addition to her formidable powers of shape-shifting was also turning out to be something near brilliant. Who knew?
At the sight of something on the monitors, Storm touched Jean's shoulder. "There. It's the children. Mystique, can you get their location?"
Mystique barely glanced at the scene that had captured Storm's attention. A cluster of kids, the missing students from the Institute, trapped in a small, dark cell. The camera had no accompanying sound, but they appeared to be in decent shape. "Sub-basement two, west sector," Mystique said.
Storm looked at Jean and Nightcrawler. They had no schematics of the building, so the information wasn't as helpful as it sounded. "Kurt and I will go after them, okay, Jean?" The question was asked out of politeness, not a request for permission. With Cyclops and the professor gone, Storm herself was probably the logical choice to lead the group.
Jean gave her a quick smile. Storm was making it very clear that Magneto was not in charge of any X-Men, no matter what they owed him after he saved their lives by preventing the Blackbird from crashing. "Go. We'll keep looking for Scott and the professor. Hopefully that's what Logan's doing as well. Get the kids, okay?"
"Okay." Storm shot a dubious look at Magneto and Mystique, not comfortable at leaving Jean alone with them, but left without protest, trailed closely by Nightcrawler.
During the exchange of conversation, neither had noticed as Mystique's attention was momentarily drawn by something on one of the monitors. Beside her, Magneto raised an elegant brow. They exchanged a quick glance. With a fluid movement, Mystique typed something on the keyboard. The scene on the monitor in question shifted to a view from a different camera, an exterior shot of the snowbanks outside the dam.
Jean turned around. Her telepathy warned her that something had passed between Magneto and Mystique. She looked at the monitors and saw nothing suspicious. Magneto and Mystique were both watching the screens, faint traces of smiles on their faces.
Jean frowned.
As soon as Wolverine lifted his head, Scott knew he was in serious trouble. There was something about his teammate's movements, the unnatural set of his shoulders, that broadcast a clear signal that Wolverine was no longer himself. The armored soldiers kept their grip on him; apart from raising his head away from the wall, Wolverine remained still.
Stryker stared at Wolverine, his head tilted to the side. After the difficulties with Scott, he was taking no chances. He observed Wolverine for a long silent moment before gesturing for the soldiers to step back. They unlocked the manacles and released their holds on his arms, but kept their weapons at the ready.
"Turn around," Stryker said. Wolverine turned around.
Scott felt his stomach constrict at the sight of Wolverine's eyes. The usual brown was washed over with an unnatural silver sheen. His face was blank.
A smile spread across Stryker's face. "That's very good, Wolverine," he said. "Very good indeed."
Scott stood perfectly still. The soldier, Jordan, still held him by an arm around his waist. Jordan could probably detect the increase in his heart rate.
Stryker addressed the two armored guards. "You may go now," he said. They saluted and left. They closed the metal door behind them, but left it unbolted.
"And now..." Stryker turned to Scott. He motioned for Jordan to release his arms. Jordan obeyed, giving Scott a little shove forward. "Wolverine, I want you to fuck this mutant."
Coming from Stryker, the words were a horrible obscenity, laced with a lifetime of hatred and malice. All at once, Scott understood the depths of this man's loathing for Xavier, for the Institute, for Scott himself by association. Scott's abilities made him a useful tool for Stryker, but Stryker was going to make sure he suffered first.
And the suffering would be considerable. Wolverine was shorter than Scott, but considerably broader and more muscular. His healing factor made it impossible to put him out of commission through conventional means. Scott's blasts were gone, and he was already weak and injured. Even if Wolverine kept the claws sheathed, this was a fight Scott would lose.
Wolverine walked toward him. His face was still blank. There was none of the ferocity he always displayed in battle, the snarls and growls, the fury. He reached out to grab Scott's arm. As if there were no possibility Scott would resist.
It might not be a well-matched fight, but Scott had every intention of resisting. His only plan was to get to the door and out of this cell. His odds improved slightly out in the corridor. He dropped low to the ground, ducked past Wolverine, and made a break for the door.
Wolverine sprang. He was alarmingly agile considering his musculature. He caught Scott around the waist and brought them both to the floor.
Scott ignored the surge of pure panic and tried to slither forward out of Wolverine's grasp. Wolverine wrapped one arm around Scott's chest, trapping his arms and holding him fast. He held the other hand up near Scott's throat. The claws popped out. Scott stared at the razor-sharp blades an inch from his nose.
"No claws, Wolverine," Stryker called out. "We don't want to kill him."
The claws retracted. The hand moved to the back of Scott's neck and forced his head down. Scott managed to work one arm free from Wolverine's grasp. He tried to crawl forward, anything to get out of the grasp, and found himself anchored in place.
The arm around his ribs dropped to the front of his pants. "Logan," Scott said, as calmly as he could manage. "Logan, don't do this." It was the first time he could remember ever using Wolverine's given name.
By way of reply, Wolverine yanked down Scott's pants, taking his briefs down as well. Scott felt one of Wolverine's massive thighs pressing between his knees, forcing his legs apart.
Scott wondered if Logan, even in his brainwashed state, would be able to pull this off. Wolverine liked women. Specifically, he liked Jean. He couldn't stand Scott. It would be a hitch in Stryker's plan if Wolverine couldn't get it up for Scott. One couldn't just command an erection.
That fleeting hope was dashed in the next instant. Wolverine's jeans-clad form was pressed tightly against him. Even through the thick denim, Scott felt an unmistakable bulge against him. Crap. Wolverine bent over Scott, one arm bracing himself on the floor, the other releasing his grip on Scott to unbuckle his own pants. When Scott tried to move away, the hand pressed against the small of his back and pushed him down.
There was no preparation of any kind. Scott's mind nearly exploded with the brutality of Logan's first thrust. Not Logan, though. Not really him. It was easy enough to believe that; apart from an occasional grunt of exertion into Scott's ear, Wolverine was a blank. He drove into Scott ruthlessly, but without either anger or erotic heat. Scott was being raped by a machine.
Scott shut his eyes tightly. The less aware he was of Stryker and Jordan watching his humiliation, the better. The pain was bad, very bad, but he'd had worse. The collar was worse, come to think of it. He was torn and damaged, but he was alive. And would stay alive, would get through this, unless Stryker had anything more creative planned for him.
With a final grunt, Wolverine finished. His order carried out, he pulled out and shoved Scott away from him, then re-buckled his pants. Scott inhaled deeply. His chest constricted; he focused on taking one deep breath, then another, until he was under control. Determined not to think too carefully about what just happened, Scott pulled up his pants. His meticulous nature made him wish he could clean away the blood and fluids on his thighs first, but reclaiming his shattered dignity was of paramount importance.
Stryker looked at Wolverine, who rose to his feet, clothes rearranged, face blank, looking for all the world as if he had not just participated in the savage attack on Scott. "Excellent, Wolverine. Stay right there for a moment." Stryker glanced down at Scott, then turned to Jordan.
"The boy's a little ripped up, but I believe he's good for another round, if you're feeling up to it."
Jordan smiled. Scott got unsteadily to his feet. "Just try it," he said. His voice wasn't as calm as he would have liked.
"That's the plan, baby," Jordan said. He passed his pistol over to Stryker. "If you'd care to keep that for me, sir, I won't be needing it."
Scott took advantage of his slight inattention and charged him. Jordan moved back to deflect the brunt of the attack and caught Scott by the shoulders. He surged forward and pinned him against the wall. Scott's arms were crushed against his chest. "Getting frisky, huh, bitch?" Jordan asked. Scott tried to push him off and found himself held in place.
"Get the hell off of me, you bastard," he said.
Jordan snaked one hand in the back of Scott's hair, yanked his head back, and smashed his mouth down on Scott's. Scott bit down, trying to take as much of a chunk out of Jordan's lips as possible. Jordan pressed him harder into the wall and pulled back from the kiss.
"Glad you like it rough, baby," he said. He yanked Scott away from the wall and shoved him toward the bunk. He pushed him down on his back and climbed atop him, ignoring Scott's attempts to push him off. He straddled Scott, his knees pinning his arms to his sides. He began unbuttoning Scott's shirt.
"We're going to do this right," he said. He yanked the shirt down around Scott's shoulders, then shifted his knees further apart. Scott suddenly found his arms free. He rose up to push Jordan away. Jordan held him in place with a hand against his bare chest and pulled the shirt entirely off.
He glanced back at Stryker. "I think I'm going to need Wolverine for this," he said. He unhooked a pair of handcuffs from his belt.
At the sight of the handcuffs, Scott went wild. He reared up and succeeded in partially dislodging Jordan from his position on top of him. Jordan grunted and hit him. Scott fell back, dazed.
And then Wolverine was at the side of the bunk, pulling Scott's arms above him in obedience to Jordan's instructions. A metal cuff snapped around one wrist. The cuffs were passed beneath the metal bolt holding the bunk to the wall, then the other cuff was fastened around Scott's other wrist. He was trapped.
With Scott now in place, Wolverine impassively stepped back. Jordan knelt over Scott once more. He unfastened Scott's pants and pulled them completely off. The briefs followed. Scott found himself exposed beneath the other man.
Unlike Wolverine, Jordan had no intention of being emotionless and robotic about this. He ran his hands over Scott's chest, his hips. "Nice. Very nice. You're a very pretty baby, Scott."
Scott didn't answer. He glared up at him, refusing to look away. Jordan laughed. He knelt between Scott's legs and spread them apart. "A little broken in, but I bet you're still tight," he said. He placed a hand under Scott's knee, lifted it up and to the side, until Scott was spread wide open. With the other hand, he unfastened his own trousers.
It wasn't much worse than what Wolverine had done. Even so, Scott couldn't help making a small noise in his throat at the first painful thrust. He turned his face to the wall and tried to concentrate on anything other than what was happening to him. Jordan kept up a constant string of muttered profane endearments, until a gasp from him indicated it was over. Jordan collapsed on top of him, then pulled out. He stretched out his body on top of Scott's, pressing his face close to his. "Tight as hell. I was right," he said.
He reached a hand back and scooped up some of the fluids spilling out of Scott, then wiped the mess across Scott's cheek. "Mine, baby," he said. He turned Scott's head to face him and kissed him, hard and brutal.
Scott was beyond protest at this point. He lay on the bunk, enduring the kiss. He desperately needed a moment to recover his poise, his sanity. Jordan patted him on the cheek and climbed off of him, then yanked up his pants.
Stryker walked over, crouched beside Scott. "How are we holding up?" he asked cheerily. His eyes glittered. "You know, Scott, I only wish I'd thought to have Xavier here to watch this. To see his darling boy getting mauled by the Wolverine." He glanced over at Wolverine. "Speak of the devil, I do believe he's ready for another round."
Scott closed his eyes. He didn't watch as Wolverine approached, didn't flinch at the feel of big hands on his shoulder and hip. In the midst of his agony, he felt a pang of compassion for Wolverine. When the effects of the serum wore off - if they wore off - Wolverine would be furious at what Stryker had forced him to do.
Wolverine flipped Scott onto his stomach. The handcuffs twisted and tightened around already strained wrists. Wolverine climbed onto the bunk behind Scott, jerked him up to his knees. Scott felt a now-familiar hardness pressed up against him, and waited for the inevitable.
Wait. Something was different. Wolverine was bent over him again, his hands clutching Scott's shoulders. His face was very close to Scott's ear. Scott flinched as Wolverine sniffed him. Sniffed his neck, his hair.
This was new. This was weird and creepy, but it was a departure from the mechanical quality of the first rape. Wolverine sniffed Scott's hair again. A low growl came from him.
One of the hands lifted to Scott's hair and began to comb through it. Stroking him. The right hand tightened on his shoulder. The right claws popped out. Scott couldn't help yelping as the foot-long blades extended inches from his chin.
"Wolverine!" Stryker's voice held a distinct note of alarm and displeasure. "No claws."
Wolverine didn't obey. He growled again, right in Scott's ear. Scott shut his eyes tightly. He was about to get impaled.
"Wolverine, put your claws back in. That is an order!" Stryker was coming closer now, Scott could tell by his voice. "Wolverine!"
Wolverine bellowed then, a primal exclamation of pure fury. Scott felt the hand on his shoulder move, heard the sickening sound of metal slicing flesh.
Not his flesh. Scott opened his eyes and twisted his head to the side. Stryker was standing a foot or so away from the bunk. Both of his hands were clutching at his throat. Two of Wolverine's claws entered the front of his neck and exited out the other side.
Wolverine retracted his claws with another yell. Stryker's body remained upright for a moment, wobbling in the air, then pitched forward to the ground.
Jordan didn't hesitate. Before Stryker's body had even hit the floor, he snatched up his gun and opened fire on Wolverine. Three shots hit Wolverine's unprotected chest.
It barely slowed him down. With a howl of fury, Wolverine leapt at Jordan and brought him to the ground. Trapped on the bunk as he was, the attack was out of Scott's range of vision, but the wet tearing noise and the ragged gasp of agony that followed left no doubt what had happened.
Wolverine rose to his feet. Both sets of claws were covered with blood. Scott watched as Wolverine approached him. He struggled to sit up, as much as he could manage with his hands cuffed to the bunk.
With shock, Scott noticed that Wolverine hadn't shrugged off the effects of the serum after all. His eyes were still covered with a silver sheen. His face was no longer blank, but he was clearly not himself. He looked at Scott without recognition, his lips drawn back in a snarl.
"Logan-" Scott said. Wolverine growled at him. Scott kept silent. Wolverine raised one set of claws. Scott shrank back against the wall.
Wolverine's wrist flicked down. Twice. The handcuffs fell off of Scott's wrists.
Scott stared up at Wolverine. The bullet holes in Wolverine's chest were closing up, the gush of blood slowing to a dribble, then stopping altogether. Wolverine shut his eyes and wobbled slightly on his feet. Apparently his body's unique method of repairing itself took a good deal out of him.
Scott slid off the bunk, keeping a wary watch on Wolverine. He crossed the cell gingerly, ignoring his various pains, and retrieved his clothes. His hands shook so badly he had trouble buttoning his shirt. He dressed as fast as he could, his attention divided between the cell door and Wolverine. The gunshots would bring more soldiers. He bent down to pick up Jordan's gun. His hands trembled still more as he tried to pry the weapon out of Jordan's stiffening grip. His mind, overloaded with recent traumas, refused to process the sight of the horrible, ripped-apart corpse of his rapist. He concentrated on getting the gun, nothing more.
A large hand closed around his wrist and jerked him upright before he could accomplish his task. Wolverine, fully recovered from his wounds, dragged him toward the door without looking at him. He tightened his grip on Scott's wrist, then kicked at the door.
It flew open. At almost the same moment, an alarm went off in the corridor. Scott followed Logan out of one hell and into another.
Author: Marvelous
Chapter Summary: Things fall apart. Scott's day gets worse.
Rating: R for adult situations, rape, language.
Chapter Five
Jean Grey stared at the banks of monitors inside the security checkpoint room. Beside her stood Nightcrawler and Storm. Storm was dividing her attention between watching the monitors and keeping an eye on Magneto, who stood at her shoulder, elegant and aloof. Mystique sat in the room's sole chair. Her blue hands moved with surprising speed and grace across the keyboard. The pictures on the monitors shifted continuously. Jean could barely keep up with the images flashing across the screens as Mystique systematically checked the views from all the security cameras in the compound.
Thus far, things were going smoothly on their end. Mystique, in the guise of a soldier, had smuggled them all inside the dam. Jean was using her telepathic shields as best she could to keep their presence disguised. It was a strain, and it meant she couldn't try to use her mental links with the professor or Scott to find their location.
She wished their plan didn't rely so heavily upon the cooperation of Magneto and Mystique, both of whom would cheerfully betray the X-Men in a flash if the right opportunity arose. Impossible to do this without Mystique, however, who in addition to her formidable powers of shape-shifting was also turning out to be something near brilliant. Who knew?
At the sight of something on the monitors, Storm touched Jean's shoulder. "There. It's the children. Mystique, can you get their location?"
Mystique barely glanced at the scene that had captured Storm's attention. A cluster of kids, the missing students from the Institute, trapped in a small, dark cell. The camera had no accompanying sound, but they appeared to be in decent shape. "Sub-basement two, west sector," Mystique said.
Storm looked at Jean and Nightcrawler. They had no schematics of the building, so the information wasn't as helpful as it sounded. "Kurt and I will go after them, okay, Jean?" The question was asked out of politeness, not a request for permission. With Cyclops and the professor gone, Storm herself was probably the logical choice to lead the group.
Jean gave her a quick smile. Storm was making it very clear that Magneto was not in charge of any X-Men, no matter what they owed him after he saved their lives by preventing the Blackbird from crashing. "Go. We'll keep looking for Scott and the professor. Hopefully that's what Logan's doing as well. Get the kids, okay?"
"Okay." Storm shot a dubious look at Magneto and Mystique, not comfortable at leaving Jean alone with them, but left without protest, trailed closely by Nightcrawler.
During the exchange of conversation, neither had noticed as Mystique's attention was momentarily drawn by something on one of the monitors. Beside her, Magneto raised an elegant brow. They exchanged a quick glance. With a fluid movement, Mystique typed something on the keyboard. The scene on the monitor in question shifted to a view from a different camera, an exterior shot of the snowbanks outside the dam.
Jean turned around. Her telepathy warned her that something had passed between Magneto and Mystique. She looked at the monitors and saw nothing suspicious. Magneto and Mystique were both watching the screens, faint traces of smiles on their faces.
Jean frowned.
As soon as Wolverine lifted his head, Scott knew he was in serious trouble. There was something about his teammate's movements, the unnatural set of his shoulders, that broadcast a clear signal that Wolverine was no longer himself. The armored soldiers kept their grip on him; apart from raising his head away from the wall, Wolverine remained still.
Stryker stared at Wolverine, his head tilted to the side. After the difficulties with Scott, he was taking no chances. He observed Wolverine for a long silent moment before gesturing for the soldiers to step back. They unlocked the manacles and released their holds on his arms, but kept their weapons at the ready.
"Turn around," Stryker said. Wolverine turned around.
Scott felt his stomach constrict at the sight of Wolverine's eyes. The usual brown was washed over with an unnatural silver sheen. His face was blank.
A smile spread across Stryker's face. "That's very good, Wolverine," he said. "Very good indeed."
Scott stood perfectly still. The soldier, Jordan, still held him by an arm around his waist. Jordan could probably detect the increase in his heart rate.
Stryker addressed the two armored guards. "You may go now," he said. They saluted and left. They closed the metal door behind them, but left it unbolted.
"And now..." Stryker turned to Scott. He motioned for Jordan to release his arms. Jordan obeyed, giving Scott a little shove forward. "Wolverine, I want you to fuck this mutant."
Coming from Stryker, the words were a horrible obscenity, laced with a lifetime of hatred and malice. All at once, Scott understood the depths of this man's loathing for Xavier, for the Institute, for Scott himself by association. Scott's abilities made him a useful tool for Stryker, but Stryker was going to make sure he suffered first.
And the suffering would be considerable. Wolverine was shorter than Scott, but considerably broader and more muscular. His healing factor made it impossible to put him out of commission through conventional means. Scott's blasts were gone, and he was already weak and injured. Even if Wolverine kept the claws sheathed, this was a fight Scott would lose.
Wolverine walked toward him. His face was still blank. There was none of the ferocity he always displayed in battle, the snarls and growls, the fury. He reached out to grab Scott's arm. As if there were no possibility Scott would resist.
It might not be a well-matched fight, but Scott had every intention of resisting. His only plan was to get to the door and out of this cell. His odds improved slightly out in the corridor. He dropped low to the ground, ducked past Wolverine, and made a break for the door.
Wolverine sprang. He was alarmingly agile considering his musculature. He caught Scott around the waist and brought them both to the floor.
Scott ignored the surge of pure panic and tried to slither forward out of Wolverine's grasp. Wolverine wrapped one arm around Scott's chest, trapping his arms and holding him fast. He held the other hand up near Scott's throat. The claws popped out. Scott stared at the razor-sharp blades an inch from his nose.
"No claws, Wolverine," Stryker called out. "We don't want to kill him."
The claws retracted. The hand moved to the back of Scott's neck and forced his head down. Scott managed to work one arm free from Wolverine's grasp. He tried to crawl forward, anything to get out of the grasp, and found himself anchored in place.
The arm around his ribs dropped to the front of his pants. "Logan," Scott said, as calmly as he could manage. "Logan, don't do this." It was the first time he could remember ever using Wolverine's given name.
By way of reply, Wolverine yanked down Scott's pants, taking his briefs down as well. Scott felt one of Wolverine's massive thighs pressing between his knees, forcing his legs apart.
Scott wondered if Logan, even in his brainwashed state, would be able to pull this off. Wolverine liked women. Specifically, he liked Jean. He couldn't stand Scott. It would be a hitch in Stryker's plan if Wolverine couldn't get it up for Scott. One couldn't just command an erection.
That fleeting hope was dashed in the next instant. Wolverine's jeans-clad form was pressed tightly against him. Even through the thick denim, Scott felt an unmistakable bulge against him. Crap. Wolverine bent over Scott, one arm bracing himself on the floor, the other releasing his grip on Scott to unbuckle his own pants. When Scott tried to move away, the hand pressed against the small of his back and pushed him down.
There was no preparation of any kind. Scott's mind nearly exploded with the brutality of Logan's first thrust. Not Logan, though. Not really him. It was easy enough to believe that; apart from an occasional grunt of exertion into Scott's ear, Wolverine was a blank. He drove into Scott ruthlessly, but without either anger or erotic heat. Scott was being raped by a machine.
Scott shut his eyes tightly. The less aware he was of Stryker and Jordan watching his humiliation, the better. The pain was bad, very bad, but he'd had worse. The collar was worse, come to think of it. He was torn and damaged, but he was alive. And would stay alive, would get through this, unless Stryker had anything more creative planned for him.
With a final grunt, Wolverine finished. His order carried out, he pulled out and shoved Scott away from him, then re-buckled his pants. Scott inhaled deeply. His chest constricted; he focused on taking one deep breath, then another, until he was under control. Determined not to think too carefully about what just happened, Scott pulled up his pants. His meticulous nature made him wish he could clean away the blood and fluids on his thighs first, but reclaiming his shattered dignity was of paramount importance.
Stryker looked at Wolverine, who rose to his feet, clothes rearranged, face blank, looking for all the world as if he had not just participated in the savage attack on Scott. "Excellent, Wolverine. Stay right there for a moment." Stryker glanced down at Scott, then turned to Jordan.
"The boy's a little ripped up, but I believe he's good for another round, if you're feeling up to it."
Jordan smiled. Scott got unsteadily to his feet. "Just try it," he said. His voice wasn't as calm as he would have liked.
"That's the plan, baby," Jordan said. He passed his pistol over to Stryker. "If you'd care to keep that for me, sir, I won't be needing it."
Scott took advantage of his slight inattention and charged him. Jordan moved back to deflect the brunt of the attack and caught Scott by the shoulders. He surged forward and pinned him against the wall. Scott's arms were crushed against his chest. "Getting frisky, huh, bitch?" Jordan asked. Scott tried to push him off and found himself held in place.
"Get the hell off of me, you bastard," he said.
Jordan snaked one hand in the back of Scott's hair, yanked his head back, and smashed his mouth down on Scott's. Scott bit down, trying to take as much of a chunk out of Jordan's lips as possible. Jordan pressed him harder into the wall and pulled back from the kiss.
"Glad you like it rough, baby," he said. He yanked Scott away from the wall and shoved him toward the bunk. He pushed him down on his back and climbed atop him, ignoring Scott's attempts to push him off. He straddled Scott, his knees pinning his arms to his sides. He began unbuttoning Scott's shirt.
"We're going to do this right," he said. He yanked the shirt down around Scott's shoulders, then shifted his knees further apart. Scott suddenly found his arms free. He rose up to push Jordan away. Jordan held him in place with a hand against his bare chest and pulled the shirt entirely off.
He glanced back at Stryker. "I think I'm going to need Wolverine for this," he said. He unhooked a pair of handcuffs from his belt.
At the sight of the handcuffs, Scott went wild. He reared up and succeeded in partially dislodging Jordan from his position on top of him. Jordan grunted and hit him. Scott fell back, dazed.
And then Wolverine was at the side of the bunk, pulling Scott's arms above him in obedience to Jordan's instructions. A metal cuff snapped around one wrist. The cuffs were passed beneath the metal bolt holding the bunk to the wall, then the other cuff was fastened around Scott's other wrist. He was trapped.
With Scott now in place, Wolverine impassively stepped back. Jordan knelt over Scott once more. He unfastened Scott's pants and pulled them completely off. The briefs followed. Scott found himself exposed beneath the other man.
Unlike Wolverine, Jordan had no intention of being emotionless and robotic about this. He ran his hands over Scott's chest, his hips. "Nice. Very nice. You're a very pretty baby, Scott."
Scott didn't answer. He glared up at him, refusing to look away. Jordan laughed. He knelt between Scott's legs and spread them apart. "A little broken in, but I bet you're still tight," he said. He placed a hand under Scott's knee, lifted it up and to the side, until Scott was spread wide open. With the other hand, he unfastened his own trousers.
It wasn't much worse than what Wolverine had done. Even so, Scott couldn't help making a small noise in his throat at the first painful thrust. He turned his face to the wall and tried to concentrate on anything other than what was happening to him. Jordan kept up a constant string of muttered profane endearments, until a gasp from him indicated it was over. Jordan collapsed on top of him, then pulled out. He stretched out his body on top of Scott's, pressing his face close to his. "Tight as hell. I was right," he said.
He reached a hand back and scooped up some of the fluids spilling out of Scott, then wiped the mess across Scott's cheek. "Mine, baby," he said. He turned Scott's head to face him and kissed him, hard and brutal.
Scott was beyond protest at this point. He lay on the bunk, enduring the kiss. He desperately needed a moment to recover his poise, his sanity. Jordan patted him on the cheek and climbed off of him, then yanked up his pants.
Stryker walked over, crouched beside Scott. "How are we holding up?" he asked cheerily. His eyes glittered. "You know, Scott, I only wish I'd thought to have Xavier here to watch this. To see his darling boy getting mauled by the Wolverine." He glanced over at Wolverine. "Speak of the devil, I do believe he's ready for another round."
Scott closed his eyes. He didn't watch as Wolverine approached, didn't flinch at the feel of big hands on his shoulder and hip. In the midst of his agony, he felt a pang of compassion for Wolverine. When the effects of the serum wore off - if they wore off - Wolverine would be furious at what Stryker had forced him to do.
Wolverine flipped Scott onto his stomach. The handcuffs twisted and tightened around already strained wrists. Wolverine climbed onto the bunk behind Scott, jerked him up to his knees. Scott felt a now-familiar hardness pressed up against him, and waited for the inevitable.
Wait. Something was different. Wolverine was bent over him again, his hands clutching Scott's shoulders. His face was very close to Scott's ear. Scott flinched as Wolverine sniffed him. Sniffed his neck, his hair.
This was new. This was weird and creepy, but it was a departure from the mechanical quality of the first rape. Wolverine sniffed Scott's hair again. A low growl came from him.
One of the hands lifted to Scott's hair and began to comb through it. Stroking him. The right hand tightened on his shoulder. The right claws popped out. Scott couldn't help yelping as the foot-long blades extended inches from his chin.
"Wolverine!" Stryker's voice held a distinct note of alarm and displeasure. "No claws."
Wolverine didn't obey. He growled again, right in Scott's ear. Scott shut his eyes tightly. He was about to get impaled.
"Wolverine, put your claws back in. That is an order!" Stryker was coming closer now, Scott could tell by his voice. "Wolverine!"
Wolverine bellowed then, a primal exclamation of pure fury. Scott felt the hand on his shoulder move, heard the sickening sound of metal slicing flesh.
Not his flesh. Scott opened his eyes and twisted his head to the side. Stryker was standing a foot or so away from the bunk. Both of his hands were clutching at his throat. Two of Wolverine's claws entered the front of his neck and exited out the other side.
Wolverine retracted his claws with another yell. Stryker's body remained upright for a moment, wobbling in the air, then pitched forward to the ground.
Jordan didn't hesitate. Before Stryker's body had even hit the floor, he snatched up his gun and opened fire on Wolverine. Three shots hit Wolverine's unprotected chest.
It barely slowed him down. With a howl of fury, Wolverine leapt at Jordan and brought him to the ground. Trapped on the bunk as he was, the attack was out of Scott's range of vision, but the wet tearing noise and the ragged gasp of agony that followed left no doubt what had happened.
Wolverine rose to his feet. Both sets of claws were covered with blood. Scott watched as Wolverine approached him. He struggled to sit up, as much as he could manage with his hands cuffed to the bunk.
With shock, Scott noticed that Wolverine hadn't shrugged off the effects of the serum after all. His eyes were still covered with a silver sheen. His face was no longer blank, but he was clearly not himself. He looked at Scott without recognition, his lips drawn back in a snarl.
"Logan-" Scott said. Wolverine growled at him. Scott kept silent. Wolverine raised one set of claws. Scott shrank back against the wall.
Wolverine's wrist flicked down. Twice. The handcuffs fell off of Scott's wrists.
Scott stared up at Wolverine. The bullet holes in Wolverine's chest were closing up, the gush of blood slowing to a dribble, then stopping altogether. Wolverine shut his eyes and wobbled slightly on his feet. Apparently his body's unique method of repairing itself took a good deal out of him.
Scott slid off the bunk, keeping a wary watch on Wolverine. He crossed the cell gingerly, ignoring his various pains, and retrieved his clothes. His hands shook so badly he had trouble buttoning his shirt. He dressed as fast as he could, his attention divided between the cell door and Wolverine. The gunshots would bring more soldiers. He bent down to pick up Jordan's gun. His hands trembled still more as he tried to pry the weapon out of Jordan's stiffening grip. His mind, overloaded with recent traumas, refused to process the sight of the horrible, ripped-apart corpse of his rapist. He concentrated on getting the gun, nothing more.
A large hand closed around his wrist and jerked him upright before he could accomplish his task. Wolverine, fully recovered from his wounds, dragged him toward the door without looking at him. He tightened his grip on Scott's wrist, then kicked at the door.
It flew open. At almost the same moment, an alarm went off in the corridor. Scott followed Logan out of one hell and into another.