------
"Ya mighta mentioned this, Nick."
Logan was irate - he'd made that quite clear. That he hadn't lost his temper yet was a good sign, but Colonel Nick Fury, Chief of S.H.I.E.L.D. held no illusions on that score. The old man calmly listened to his speakerphone with half an ear, waiting for the man to take a breath. Opening a drawer in his desk, he withdrew a silver cigar case and pulled out a Havana. The one perk to this job, he thought, was the ability to actually get Cuban cigars despite the embargo.
He bit the end off the cigar, a long-practiced gesture, and spat it into the garbage can. A moment or two later, he leaned back in his chair, puffing away. The perks didn't really outweigh the negative aspects, sometimes. This telephone call for example.
"Look, will you let me explain?" he asked as Logan started to repeat himself.
"Shoot." Oh, if only that was a solution.
"I gave Professor Xavier a heads-up on that new Federal super-hero team last week. It's not my fault he didn't have a chance to pass anything on to you," he said in a calm voice.
There was a heavy silence.
"Gimmie the short version, Nick," growled Logan.
Nick Fury sighed. This had already been a long night and it was only getting longer.
"Fine, the short version is that the U.S. Marshals Service has a new Special Branch called Section X. Better known on Capitol Hill as X- Factor."
"Why the Marshals? Why not the FBI?"
"Because the Marshals have jurisdiction everywhere in the States, Logan. It's not bound by the same laws that the Bureau is." Perhaps if he spoke slowly and in small-syllable words, he could get this man off his line. "Think of it as a federal team of law-enforcing mutants. Deal with it."
"Don't start with me, Nick. What else can you tell me about this X- Factor group?"
Actually, nothing. He said as much.
"Look, Fury," Logan snarled. "You're not helping here."
"I'm sorry Logan, but the Marshals are keeping this team under wraps. For some reason they don't like the idea of their boys working for mine. Why are you so interested in them anyway?"
Logan told him.
"You just decked a Federal cop?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
Hank frowned and hung up the telephone. He'd come up from the lab, thinking he'd take a break from the research for a few minutes. He'd hit a wall in his search for an anti-venom; Moira was still downstairs, covering another angle, but it was slow going. Something in the X-Venom was repelling all attempts at neutralization and after nine straight hours of trying everything in the books, he was exhausted. What better way to relax, he thought, than a simple game of chess with the boys?
Except he couldn't find them anywhere. He'd been out to the pool twice, thinking perhaps they'd be taking advantage of the better weather that afternoon. No luck there. Same with the kitchen, library, and their rooms. He was standing in the vast recreation room, glancing around with a perplexed look on his face and a cel phone in his hand.
Hank had also checked the garage as it was common knowledge that Kurt, who had just received his training permit a few months before, liked to hotwire Scott's little roadster on occasion. Common knowledge to everyone except Scott, that is. Still, all the vehicles were parked in the garage.
Now he'd just hung up on Forge, who was as mystified as he was. No, Forge had said, he didn't know where they were but would he please remind Kurt that he wanted his 'KC and the Sunshine Band' vinyl returned as soon as possible.
Muttering under his breath, he returned to his lab in the basement. Moira looked up from the computer at his desk, where she was running simulations involving complex proteins.
"Tha' was a quick break," she said with a raised eyebrow.
"I thought I'd spend some time with the boys," he said, still frowning. "Cheer them up a bit, you know?"
Moira chuckled. "Sounds like a good plan. Workin' down here all day will drive ye mad."
Hank nodded absently.
"It was a good plan. Except they're not anywhere on the grounds, so far as I can tell," he said. He was missing something, of that he was sure, but he couldn't figure out what it was.
"Ye don' think...?"
"What, that they somehow followed Sean and Jean and the others? Don't be silly." So much for taking a relaxing break. He leaned over the keyboard and punched a couple keys. "They'll probably show up when I cook supper. Have you tried this combination yet?"
Moira shook her head, returning to the task in front of her.
"Yer probably right."
"Pietro?" Kurt whispered, shaking the other mutant's shoulder. He had teleported them into the cargo area of the X-Jet, which was decidedly dark and cramped. And cold. Not for the first time was Kurt happy that he had fur.
Pietro, on the other hand, didn't have that luxury. He'd been tired to begin with, wrung out like a wet rag and strung out on painkillers and boredom since coming to the mansion several days before. Almost as soon as Kurt had 'ported them into the jet, Pietro had curled into a ball and tried to take a nap. There wasn't much room, however, and so it had taken several minutes for both of them to figure out a comfortable position. As it was, Kurt was really happy that Kitty wasn't here to see this. He was sitting cross-legged with his back to the door to the passenger compartment with Pietro's head in his lap. More than once during the trip, he'd found himself stroking Pietro's hair with his tail. Go figure.
And now the jet was landing. Kurt poked at Pietro again, hoping to rouse the speedster. Pietro groaned and rolled over onto his back, eyes fluttering open in the darkness.
"Why are you stroking my hair, you freak?"
"Guten Morgen, sleepyhead. Don't be such a jerk. Ve're landing," Kurt told him.
Pietro yawned, jaws cracking with the strain. "I don't suppose you have any idea how to get out of this freezing cargo bay, do you?" he asked.
Kurt had had three hours in which to consider that problem.
"Ve vait until the plane stops, then hit the button above my left shoulder," he said with a note of finality. He was pretty sure that the big glowing red button was the one for the door.
"Why wait until it stops?" Pietro asked, reaching for the button. "That Cassidy guy is going to be pissed anyway. Might as well get screamed at sooner than later."
Kurt batted his hand down. "Because I'm not sure if that's the door button or the cargo eject one. Vait until ve land, please."
Jean startled awake as the jet touched down. Blinking sleep out of her eyes, she peered out the window to her left. Past the barbed wire security fence, there were barren plains broken only by the occasional tree or shrub. Everything in view was the same drab brown, as though faded or worn. Just miles and miles of miles and miles.
She unbuckled her belt as the plane rolled to a stop, standing up. Leaning over the back of Sean's chair, she checked the view from the front window. She reached down and tapped the Irishman's shoulder.
"You landed us right on the air base?"
"O' course. Quicker an' less noticeable than landing in Denver," he told her.
Good point. The last thing any of them needed was to try to explain their presence to airport security. She turned around, facing the back of the plane.
Everyone was watching her. Jean wished that she could do something about the gloomy looks on their faces. Only Warren seemed unperturbed, but then he didn't really know any of the people being held by Magneto. She put on a determined face.
"All right, guys. Logan is probably waiting out there, so I'll make this short. We're going in, getting our people and getting out again. We're not here to take revenge on Magneto and his cronies, got it?"
There were nods all around.
"Good. Now, Logan is waiting out there somewhere for us. He just spent the last day or so looking around this base. If he tells you to do anything or go anywhere, do it. He knows what he's talking about."
"Uh, Jean?" Bobby poked his head around the back of the co-pilot's chair.
"What is it?"
"The scanners just picked up two people," he said, pointing at the console. Jean looked down, then out the front window. She had to squint against the glare, but she thought she could make out Logan's bulk against the summer sunlight. Who was that standing with him, though?
Shaking her head, she went to turn back to the rest of the team. A surprised gasp from Bobby made her whip her head back.
"Wait! Now there are four people!"
There were a couple more blips on the scanner, right underneath the rear of the jet. Jean pursed her lips, frowning. Taking a deep breath, she quested out with her mind. What she found was unexpected.
"I'm going to hurt those two," she grumbled.
Kurt had the good grace to look embarrassed. He stared at the ground, doing his best to look cute and fuzzy and harmless as Jean verbally railed at him. It didn't seem to be working. The rest of the team was standing well back from her wrath, out of the line of fire. All right, so he'd done a stupid thing. What did she want him to do, teleport back to New York? As if that was even possible.
"Look, Red, we're here now. Can we cut the crap and do what we all came here to do?"
Kurt's eyes widened as Pietro spoke up defiantly beside him. He glanced to his side. The other teen was slouched against the plane with his arms crossed, his usual sneer in place. Jean looked like she was going to burst a vein. He'd never seen her this irate before and it was frightening. Jean moved into Pietro, glaring at him from less than a foot away.
"Don't," she said, ramming a finger hard into Pietro's chest, "ever call me that again." She took a step back. "You two are going to stay with the jet."
"Vhat! That's not fair!"
Jean looked as though she was about to say something along the lines of 'life isn't fair' when Logan pushed through the assembled mutants.
"No they're not," he said in a quiet voice. Kurt chanced a quick look up. Jean was staring at Logan with an unfriendly look on her face.
"I'm not letting them go down there when they could be killed, Logan."
The big man shrugged. "I won't let that happen."
Kurt flinched as Jean's voice popped into his mind. 'We'll discuss this when everyone is safe at the Institute.' He nodded, not meeting her eyes.
"All right, now that's settled," Logan said, turning to face the assembled mutants. Kurt moved around the man to stand with the rest of the group. He let out a sigh of relief. Maybe she'd forget about this after the Professor was rescued. He could wish, anyway.
"You kids are standing on top of one of the largest underground complexes ever built during the Cold War," Logan was saying. "There's two entrances, one in each of those buildings. Jean, I want you to take Doug and Rahne into the old communications center," he said. Kurt could tell she was still very angry by her body language, but she nodded anyway.
"I'll go with her. I promised Scott I'd watch out for her," Warren interrupted. Logan nodded at this.
"Kurt, Pietro, LeBeau, you guys are coming with me into the barracks," Logan continued.
"Wait a minute," Jean said. "You're taking Gambit in there with you?"
A low chuckle slithered out from the shadows below the x-jet. Kurt spun around at the noise, hissing. Gambit stepped out from beneath the plane and the blue mutant blinked. Was that a bandage across the bridge of the guy's nose? He noted the way the young Cajun stepped carefully around Logan.
"Why wouldn' I be goin' in wit' you?"
Jean scowled. "Why would one of Magneto's Acolytes want to help us? Aren't you supposed to be out dominating the world?" she spat.
Gambit chuckled again, reaching into his long frock coat. A puzzled look came over his face and he patted himself down.
"Looking fer this?" Kurt glanced up to see a leather wallet being tossed over his head. Gambit caught it and flipped it open. Inside was a huge gold star in a circle and some kind of picture identification card. Kurt leaned closer, vaguely aware that everyone else was doing the same.
"Vhat is that?" he asked.
"The Louisiana choirboy here is a cop," Logan said over the sudden murmuring. Gambit - Deputy Marshal Remy LeBeau, Kurt read off the picture card - frowned.
"Marshal, Wolverine. Deputy Marshal, not a 'cop,'" Gambit said.
"Yeah, whatever. He's a fed, boys and girls, so he's on our side."
With an impatient gesture, Logan got everyone's attention again.
"Half-Pint, I want ya to phase Bobby and Sean through the rubble in the front of that underground hanger," he said. Kurt listened with only half an ear, instead peeking a little closer at the big star in Gambit's wallet.
He reached out with a tentative finger. The brass was cool to the touch, even in the heat. "That is Marshal as in 'Gunsmoke,' ja?" he whispered to Gambit. The man didn't respond, just smirked and put the wallet away.
Hank blinked tired eyes, staring at the computer screen without really seeing anything. He and Moira had spent nearly twenty hours working on an anti-venom and he was starting to get a little loopy. With a sigh, he picked up his improvised mug and took a sip of that vile homegrown coffee Ororo kept in the kitchen. It tasted like distilled battery acid and was unpleasantly lukewarm, but at least it was caffeine.
"Why didn't I become a lawyer like my father wanted," he muttered to himself, wiping a huge hand across his face. He'd thrown everything but the kitchen sink at this thing since before dawn to no avail. Hank sighed and shut his eyes for a moment, leaning his forehead against the monitor.
If he didn't find a solution, Charles was going to die. Simple as that.
And from what the boy had told them just the other morning, so would everyone else who stood against Magneto in that hangar.
Hank growled, the sound coming out far below the hearing range of a normal human. With a savage inarticulate cry, he slammed a fist on the lab table next to him. Damn it! There had to be some way to stop Magneto! Maybe Moira was having better luck in the biology lab next door. He beat his fist on the table again, feeling glass shatter underneath his huge hand.
Hank opened his eyes, scowling at the table as though it had offended him somehow.
Oh no.
"Moira!" he bellowed. He raised his hand and pulled a shard of glass out of his flesh with a grunt. This wasn't good. Tilting the broken glass to the light, he could still make out a yellowish tint where it had been coated with a sample of the X-Venom.
"Explain again why Logan wanted us to come in through the hanger," Bobby whispered in the dark. It was almost pitch black in the enclosed space and he definitely wasn't comfortable in this hole in the ground. Beside him, he felt Kitty shrug.
"Probably using us as bait," she whispered back.
"We're on a mission, laddie. It's Wolverine, no' Logan," came Sean's voice from the darkness. Bobby stuck his tongue out in the man's direction.
"Then it's Iceman, not 'laddie,'" he breathed.
Kitty elbowed him in the ribs and he sucked in a deep breath. Oh, wow, that was a mistake.
"What is that god-awful stink?" he said a little louder.
"Like, yuck," he heard Kitty say from somewhere off to his left. Then she screamed.
Ok, screw the black ops thing. Bobby fumbled his flashlight off his belt, flicking it on. He regretted it an instant later as the powerful halogen bulb flared to life. He looked around wildly for Kitty. Sean had his light on a moment later and the pair of lights illuminated a war zone.
That hunk of twisted metal behind them was the remains of the Professor's private jet. Bobby had seen it any number of times in the hangar at the Institute and would have recognized it even if the Professor's wheelchair hadn't been lying ten feet away from the ruined aircraft. He flashed his light around, looking for Kitty.
Sean found her first, huddled against the wall a few yards off.
"Wha' is it?" the man asked her. She pointed.
Bobby looked at the very large heap she was gesturing at and his mind took several seconds to register the scene. His eyes widened when he recognized the size 42 Reebok canvas shoes. His vision swam as he forced himself to look at the rest of it.
"Holy crap," he said, swallowing hard. "Is that...?" He finally looked away, back at Kitty. She nodded mutely, tears running down her face as she looked anywhere but at Fred's corpse.
Logan held up a closed fist, stopping in the center of the hallway. Kurt nearly ran into his back, but was pulled up short by a hand on the back of his uniform. Right, fist means stop. He watched as the big mutant sniffed at the air. They'd made it through the barracks without encountering any of Magneto's goons and were now at the end of a long hallway that looked like something out of any war film. Stark grey cinder- block walls were lit by bare bulbs every dozen feet or so. Every so often there was a door, but so far all the rooms had been empty.
Kurt noticed that every one of the rooms was lined with bunk beds. He'd mentioned this to Logan, who nodded and told him that this was the likeliest place to find any hostages. They hadn't so far, but there was a lot of hallway left.
He looked around quickly when Logan growled.
"What-is-it?" Pietro asked quickly.
"Keep yer shorts on, speedy." Logan sniffed again. "Alvers is nearby."
Kurt's heart flipped. They'd found someone?
"Vhat are ve vaiting for?" he asked.
"Because I also smell scum, Nightcrawler."
[Snikt!]
Logan looked back over his shoulder, past Kurt. "I think yer daddy's still hanging around," he said to Pietro. Kurt shared a look with the white-haired mutant. A flicker of motion caught his eye. LeBeau was snapping his staff into its full length.
"We got mo' problems den Magneto, Wolvie. Yo' buddy Sab'etoot' be stalking us."
Jean stood over Doug as he hammered away at the keyboard, lost in the scrolling lines of text on the huge monitor in front of him. Whatever Magneto was up to was in here somewhere hidden behind false trails and dead- ends in cyberspace.
"Any luck?" Rahne growled from her position at the stairs leading to the subterranean level. She shook her head. "I don't know yet." She shared a glance with Warren, who was watching the only other door to the room.
"Come on, Cypher," the little werewolf said. "I thought you were some sort o' hotshot with computers."
"I am, I am," the boy half-muttered. He wiped a drop of sweat out of his eyes. "This isn't an iMac, Wolfsbane. It's a freakin' Cray-1 that's older than I am."
Jean paced back and forth, letting him work whatever magic he had. She let her eyes unfocus as she sent her mind sweeping quickly through the air base. She'd had a fleeting moment of contact with the Professor a few minutes ago, but it had suddenly disappeared. She didn't want to think of the implications of that.
"Wait, I got something."
Jean turned around. A schematic diagram of some sort rolled across the screen. She frowned. It didn't look like anything she'd ever seen before.
"That looks like a soda bottling plant," she heard Warren say with some surprise.
What? "How could you possibly know that?" she asked without taking her eyes off the screen. Another floorplan scrolled past her eyes.
"I am - that is, Worthington Enterprises is - one of the major bottlers for PepsiCo." Jean blinked and turned around. He shrugged at her. "Among other interests, of course. We own several plants that look just like that."
Interesting. Jean tapped a finger on the screen. "Wait, stop moving it. What's that big red mark?" A feathery touch tickled her cheek as Warren leaned in for a look.
"Looks like one of the syrup vats." He paused. Jean looked at him expectantly. "You don't think he's going to spike this soda with the X- Venom, do you?"
Jean blanched.
"I'll bet he has an antidote, too," the blond man said. At her blank look, he went on. "Think about how you described that white-haired kid's reaction to just a little dose. What would he have done for a way to stop hurting?"
Oh no. If Warren was right, anyone who drank that would be affected by the venom. And if Magneto offered to give them a way to stop the effects, mutants all over the world would flock to his banner.
"Ya mighta mentioned this, Nick."
Logan was irate - he'd made that quite clear. That he hadn't lost his temper yet was a good sign, but Colonel Nick Fury, Chief of S.H.I.E.L.D. held no illusions on that score. The old man calmly listened to his speakerphone with half an ear, waiting for the man to take a breath. Opening a drawer in his desk, he withdrew a silver cigar case and pulled out a Havana. The one perk to this job, he thought, was the ability to actually get Cuban cigars despite the embargo.
He bit the end off the cigar, a long-practiced gesture, and spat it into the garbage can. A moment or two later, he leaned back in his chair, puffing away. The perks didn't really outweigh the negative aspects, sometimes. This telephone call for example.
"Look, will you let me explain?" he asked as Logan started to repeat himself.
"Shoot." Oh, if only that was a solution.
"I gave Professor Xavier a heads-up on that new Federal super-hero team last week. It's not my fault he didn't have a chance to pass anything on to you," he said in a calm voice.
There was a heavy silence.
"Gimmie the short version, Nick," growled Logan.
Nick Fury sighed. This had already been a long night and it was only getting longer.
"Fine, the short version is that the U.S. Marshals Service has a new Special Branch called Section X. Better known on Capitol Hill as X- Factor."
"Why the Marshals? Why not the FBI?"
"Because the Marshals have jurisdiction everywhere in the States, Logan. It's not bound by the same laws that the Bureau is." Perhaps if he spoke slowly and in small-syllable words, he could get this man off his line. "Think of it as a federal team of law-enforcing mutants. Deal with it."
"Don't start with me, Nick. What else can you tell me about this X- Factor group?"
Actually, nothing. He said as much.
"Look, Fury," Logan snarled. "You're not helping here."
"I'm sorry Logan, but the Marshals are keeping this team under wraps. For some reason they don't like the idea of their boys working for mine. Why are you so interested in them anyway?"
Logan told him.
"You just decked a Federal cop?"
"Pretty much, yeah."
Hank frowned and hung up the telephone. He'd come up from the lab, thinking he'd take a break from the research for a few minutes. He'd hit a wall in his search for an anti-venom; Moira was still downstairs, covering another angle, but it was slow going. Something in the X-Venom was repelling all attempts at neutralization and after nine straight hours of trying everything in the books, he was exhausted. What better way to relax, he thought, than a simple game of chess with the boys?
Except he couldn't find them anywhere. He'd been out to the pool twice, thinking perhaps they'd be taking advantage of the better weather that afternoon. No luck there. Same with the kitchen, library, and their rooms. He was standing in the vast recreation room, glancing around with a perplexed look on his face and a cel phone in his hand.
Hank had also checked the garage as it was common knowledge that Kurt, who had just received his training permit a few months before, liked to hotwire Scott's little roadster on occasion. Common knowledge to everyone except Scott, that is. Still, all the vehicles were parked in the garage.
Now he'd just hung up on Forge, who was as mystified as he was. No, Forge had said, he didn't know where they were but would he please remind Kurt that he wanted his 'KC and the Sunshine Band' vinyl returned as soon as possible.
Muttering under his breath, he returned to his lab in the basement. Moira looked up from the computer at his desk, where she was running simulations involving complex proteins.
"Tha' was a quick break," she said with a raised eyebrow.
"I thought I'd spend some time with the boys," he said, still frowning. "Cheer them up a bit, you know?"
Moira chuckled. "Sounds like a good plan. Workin' down here all day will drive ye mad."
Hank nodded absently.
"It was a good plan. Except they're not anywhere on the grounds, so far as I can tell," he said. He was missing something, of that he was sure, but he couldn't figure out what it was.
"Ye don' think...?"
"What, that they somehow followed Sean and Jean and the others? Don't be silly." So much for taking a relaxing break. He leaned over the keyboard and punched a couple keys. "They'll probably show up when I cook supper. Have you tried this combination yet?"
Moira shook her head, returning to the task in front of her.
"Yer probably right."
"Pietro?" Kurt whispered, shaking the other mutant's shoulder. He had teleported them into the cargo area of the X-Jet, which was decidedly dark and cramped. And cold. Not for the first time was Kurt happy that he had fur.
Pietro, on the other hand, didn't have that luxury. He'd been tired to begin with, wrung out like a wet rag and strung out on painkillers and boredom since coming to the mansion several days before. Almost as soon as Kurt had 'ported them into the jet, Pietro had curled into a ball and tried to take a nap. There wasn't much room, however, and so it had taken several minutes for both of them to figure out a comfortable position. As it was, Kurt was really happy that Kitty wasn't here to see this. He was sitting cross-legged with his back to the door to the passenger compartment with Pietro's head in his lap. More than once during the trip, he'd found himself stroking Pietro's hair with his tail. Go figure.
And now the jet was landing. Kurt poked at Pietro again, hoping to rouse the speedster. Pietro groaned and rolled over onto his back, eyes fluttering open in the darkness.
"Why are you stroking my hair, you freak?"
"Guten Morgen, sleepyhead. Don't be such a jerk. Ve're landing," Kurt told him.
Pietro yawned, jaws cracking with the strain. "I don't suppose you have any idea how to get out of this freezing cargo bay, do you?" he asked.
Kurt had had three hours in which to consider that problem.
"Ve vait until the plane stops, then hit the button above my left shoulder," he said with a note of finality. He was pretty sure that the big glowing red button was the one for the door.
"Why wait until it stops?" Pietro asked, reaching for the button. "That Cassidy guy is going to be pissed anyway. Might as well get screamed at sooner than later."
Kurt batted his hand down. "Because I'm not sure if that's the door button or the cargo eject one. Vait until ve land, please."
Jean startled awake as the jet touched down. Blinking sleep out of her eyes, she peered out the window to her left. Past the barbed wire security fence, there were barren plains broken only by the occasional tree or shrub. Everything in view was the same drab brown, as though faded or worn. Just miles and miles of miles and miles.
She unbuckled her belt as the plane rolled to a stop, standing up. Leaning over the back of Sean's chair, she checked the view from the front window. She reached down and tapped the Irishman's shoulder.
"You landed us right on the air base?"
"O' course. Quicker an' less noticeable than landing in Denver," he told her.
Good point. The last thing any of them needed was to try to explain their presence to airport security. She turned around, facing the back of the plane.
Everyone was watching her. Jean wished that she could do something about the gloomy looks on their faces. Only Warren seemed unperturbed, but then he didn't really know any of the people being held by Magneto. She put on a determined face.
"All right, guys. Logan is probably waiting out there, so I'll make this short. We're going in, getting our people and getting out again. We're not here to take revenge on Magneto and his cronies, got it?"
There were nods all around.
"Good. Now, Logan is waiting out there somewhere for us. He just spent the last day or so looking around this base. If he tells you to do anything or go anywhere, do it. He knows what he's talking about."
"Uh, Jean?" Bobby poked his head around the back of the co-pilot's chair.
"What is it?"
"The scanners just picked up two people," he said, pointing at the console. Jean looked down, then out the front window. She had to squint against the glare, but she thought she could make out Logan's bulk against the summer sunlight. Who was that standing with him, though?
Shaking her head, she went to turn back to the rest of the team. A surprised gasp from Bobby made her whip her head back.
"Wait! Now there are four people!"
There were a couple more blips on the scanner, right underneath the rear of the jet. Jean pursed her lips, frowning. Taking a deep breath, she quested out with her mind. What she found was unexpected.
"I'm going to hurt those two," she grumbled.
Kurt had the good grace to look embarrassed. He stared at the ground, doing his best to look cute and fuzzy and harmless as Jean verbally railed at him. It didn't seem to be working. The rest of the team was standing well back from her wrath, out of the line of fire. All right, so he'd done a stupid thing. What did she want him to do, teleport back to New York? As if that was even possible.
"Look, Red, we're here now. Can we cut the crap and do what we all came here to do?"
Kurt's eyes widened as Pietro spoke up defiantly beside him. He glanced to his side. The other teen was slouched against the plane with his arms crossed, his usual sneer in place. Jean looked like she was going to burst a vein. He'd never seen her this irate before and it was frightening. Jean moved into Pietro, glaring at him from less than a foot away.
"Don't," she said, ramming a finger hard into Pietro's chest, "ever call me that again." She took a step back. "You two are going to stay with the jet."
"Vhat! That's not fair!"
Jean looked as though she was about to say something along the lines of 'life isn't fair' when Logan pushed through the assembled mutants.
"No they're not," he said in a quiet voice. Kurt chanced a quick look up. Jean was staring at Logan with an unfriendly look on her face.
"I'm not letting them go down there when they could be killed, Logan."
The big man shrugged. "I won't let that happen."
Kurt flinched as Jean's voice popped into his mind. 'We'll discuss this when everyone is safe at the Institute.' He nodded, not meeting her eyes.
"All right, now that's settled," Logan said, turning to face the assembled mutants. Kurt moved around the man to stand with the rest of the group. He let out a sigh of relief. Maybe she'd forget about this after the Professor was rescued. He could wish, anyway.
"You kids are standing on top of one of the largest underground complexes ever built during the Cold War," Logan was saying. "There's two entrances, one in each of those buildings. Jean, I want you to take Doug and Rahne into the old communications center," he said. Kurt could tell she was still very angry by her body language, but she nodded anyway.
"I'll go with her. I promised Scott I'd watch out for her," Warren interrupted. Logan nodded at this.
"Kurt, Pietro, LeBeau, you guys are coming with me into the barracks," Logan continued.
"Wait a minute," Jean said. "You're taking Gambit in there with you?"
A low chuckle slithered out from the shadows below the x-jet. Kurt spun around at the noise, hissing. Gambit stepped out from beneath the plane and the blue mutant blinked. Was that a bandage across the bridge of the guy's nose? He noted the way the young Cajun stepped carefully around Logan.
"Why wouldn' I be goin' in wit' you?"
Jean scowled. "Why would one of Magneto's Acolytes want to help us? Aren't you supposed to be out dominating the world?" she spat.
Gambit chuckled again, reaching into his long frock coat. A puzzled look came over his face and he patted himself down.
"Looking fer this?" Kurt glanced up to see a leather wallet being tossed over his head. Gambit caught it and flipped it open. Inside was a huge gold star in a circle and some kind of picture identification card. Kurt leaned closer, vaguely aware that everyone else was doing the same.
"Vhat is that?" he asked.
"The Louisiana choirboy here is a cop," Logan said over the sudden murmuring. Gambit - Deputy Marshal Remy LeBeau, Kurt read off the picture card - frowned.
"Marshal, Wolverine. Deputy Marshal, not a 'cop,'" Gambit said.
"Yeah, whatever. He's a fed, boys and girls, so he's on our side."
With an impatient gesture, Logan got everyone's attention again.
"Half-Pint, I want ya to phase Bobby and Sean through the rubble in the front of that underground hanger," he said. Kurt listened with only half an ear, instead peeking a little closer at the big star in Gambit's wallet.
He reached out with a tentative finger. The brass was cool to the touch, even in the heat. "That is Marshal as in 'Gunsmoke,' ja?" he whispered to Gambit. The man didn't respond, just smirked and put the wallet away.
Hank blinked tired eyes, staring at the computer screen without really seeing anything. He and Moira had spent nearly twenty hours working on an anti-venom and he was starting to get a little loopy. With a sigh, he picked up his improvised mug and took a sip of that vile homegrown coffee Ororo kept in the kitchen. It tasted like distilled battery acid and was unpleasantly lukewarm, but at least it was caffeine.
"Why didn't I become a lawyer like my father wanted," he muttered to himself, wiping a huge hand across his face. He'd thrown everything but the kitchen sink at this thing since before dawn to no avail. Hank sighed and shut his eyes for a moment, leaning his forehead against the monitor.
If he didn't find a solution, Charles was going to die. Simple as that.
And from what the boy had told them just the other morning, so would everyone else who stood against Magneto in that hangar.
Hank growled, the sound coming out far below the hearing range of a normal human. With a savage inarticulate cry, he slammed a fist on the lab table next to him. Damn it! There had to be some way to stop Magneto! Maybe Moira was having better luck in the biology lab next door. He beat his fist on the table again, feeling glass shatter underneath his huge hand.
Hank opened his eyes, scowling at the table as though it had offended him somehow.
Oh no.
"Moira!" he bellowed. He raised his hand and pulled a shard of glass out of his flesh with a grunt. This wasn't good. Tilting the broken glass to the light, he could still make out a yellowish tint where it had been coated with a sample of the X-Venom.
"Explain again why Logan wanted us to come in through the hanger," Bobby whispered in the dark. It was almost pitch black in the enclosed space and he definitely wasn't comfortable in this hole in the ground. Beside him, he felt Kitty shrug.
"Probably using us as bait," she whispered back.
"We're on a mission, laddie. It's Wolverine, no' Logan," came Sean's voice from the darkness. Bobby stuck his tongue out in the man's direction.
"Then it's Iceman, not 'laddie,'" he breathed.
Kitty elbowed him in the ribs and he sucked in a deep breath. Oh, wow, that was a mistake.
"What is that god-awful stink?" he said a little louder.
"Like, yuck," he heard Kitty say from somewhere off to his left. Then she screamed.
Ok, screw the black ops thing. Bobby fumbled his flashlight off his belt, flicking it on. He regretted it an instant later as the powerful halogen bulb flared to life. He looked around wildly for Kitty. Sean had his light on a moment later and the pair of lights illuminated a war zone.
That hunk of twisted metal behind them was the remains of the Professor's private jet. Bobby had seen it any number of times in the hangar at the Institute and would have recognized it even if the Professor's wheelchair hadn't been lying ten feet away from the ruined aircraft. He flashed his light around, looking for Kitty.
Sean found her first, huddled against the wall a few yards off.
"Wha' is it?" the man asked her. She pointed.
Bobby looked at the very large heap she was gesturing at and his mind took several seconds to register the scene. His eyes widened when he recognized the size 42 Reebok canvas shoes. His vision swam as he forced himself to look at the rest of it.
"Holy crap," he said, swallowing hard. "Is that...?" He finally looked away, back at Kitty. She nodded mutely, tears running down her face as she looked anywhere but at Fred's corpse.
Logan held up a closed fist, stopping in the center of the hallway. Kurt nearly ran into his back, but was pulled up short by a hand on the back of his uniform. Right, fist means stop. He watched as the big mutant sniffed at the air. They'd made it through the barracks without encountering any of Magneto's goons and were now at the end of a long hallway that looked like something out of any war film. Stark grey cinder- block walls were lit by bare bulbs every dozen feet or so. Every so often there was a door, but so far all the rooms had been empty.
Kurt noticed that every one of the rooms was lined with bunk beds. He'd mentioned this to Logan, who nodded and told him that this was the likeliest place to find any hostages. They hadn't so far, but there was a lot of hallway left.
He looked around quickly when Logan growled.
"What-is-it?" Pietro asked quickly.
"Keep yer shorts on, speedy." Logan sniffed again. "Alvers is nearby."
Kurt's heart flipped. They'd found someone?
"Vhat are ve vaiting for?" he asked.
"Because I also smell scum, Nightcrawler."
[Snikt!]
Logan looked back over his shoulder, past Kurt. "I think yer daddy's still hanging around," he said to Pietro. Kurt shared a look with the white-haired mutant. A flicker of motion caught his eye. LeBeau was snapping his staff into its full length.
"We got mo' problems den Magneto, Wolvie. Yo' buddy Sab'etoot' be stalking us."
Jean stood over Doug as he hammered away at the keyboard, lost in the scrolling lines of text on the huge monitor in front of him. Whatever Magneto was up to was in here somewhere hidden behind false trails and dead- ends in cyberspace.
"Any luck?" Rahne growled from her position at the stairs leading to the subterranean level. She shook her head. "I don't know yet." She shared a glance with Warren, who was watching the only other door to the room.
"Come on, Cypher," the little werewolf said. "I thought you were some sort o' hotshot with computers."
"I am, I am," the boy half-muttered. He wiped a drop of sweat out of his eyes. "This isn't an iMac, Wolfsbane. It's a freakin' Cray-1 that's older than I am."
Jean paced back and forth, letting him work whatever magic he had. She let her eyes unfocus as she sent her mind sweeping quickly through the air base. She'd had a fleeting moment of contact with the Professor a few minutes ago, but it had suddenly disappeared. She didn't want to think of the implications of that.
"Wait, I got something."
Jean turned around. A schematic diagram of some sort rolled across the screen. She frowned. It didn't look like anything she'd ever seen before.
"That looks like a soda bottling plant," she heard Warren say with some surprise.
What? "How could you possibly know that?" she asked without taking her eyes off the screen. Another floorplan scrolled past her eyes.
"I am - that is, Worthington Enterprises is - one of the major bottlers for PepsiCo." Jean blinked and turned around. He shrugged at her. "Among other interests, of course. We own several plants that look just like that."
Interesting. Jean tapped a finger on the screen. "Wait, stop moving it. What's that big red mark?" A feathery touch tickled her cheek as Warren leaned in for a look.
"Looks like one of the syrup vats." He paused. Jean looked at him expectantly. "You don't think he's going to spike this soda with the X- Venom, do you?"
Jean blanched.
"I'll bet he has an antidote, too," the blond man said. At her blank look, he went on. "Think about how you described that white-haired kid's reaction to just a little dose. What would he have done for a way to stop hurting?"
Oh no. If Warren was right, anyone who drank that would be affected by the venom. And if Magneto offered to give them a way to stop the effects, mutants all over the world would flock to his banner.