"Calliban, locate Callisto..." commanded Evan, after being assured all the other Morlocks were healed or taken care of.
Calliban complied, placing his hands to his temples in a gesture all to familiar to Evan, having spent a good deal of his freshmen and sophmore year around telepaths. "She is no longer in Bayville," stated Calliban, as his pale, hairless brow furrowed, and his concentration deepened. He was expanding the range of his power, which could find any mutant in the entire world. Suddenly his eyes popped open, in the closest expression Evan had ever seen to surprise.
"She is in Africa," he stated in dull monotone.
"Africa?" asked Evan in astonishment. "How the heck did she get to Africa so damn fast? These guys have better teleportation that Nightcrawler," he grumbled, gesturing vaguely at the fallen tribesmen and his impromptu guard of Scaleface.
"I do not know how... but Callisto is in Africa."
"Where in Africa?" asked Spyke angrily, already forming a plan in his mind.
"Near Kenya... no other mutants are near her," stated Calliban.
"Fine... Scaleface," he said, a bit louder, gaining the attention of the dark-haired shapeshifter. "I'm leaving you in charge... I'll be back in a month or so," he said, and without another word grabbed his backpack (previously unused), stuffed in some foodsupplies, hoisted it over his shoulder and stalked out of the Alley, without so much as glancing behind him. However, he hadn't even gotten a mile from the Alley before he heard the steady splash-splash-splash of footsteps, and he glanced back. Sure enough, Torpid, Lucid, Facade, Calliban and Cybelle were there, following him.
"What're you guys doing? I'll do this alone... I'll bring her back."
"You will need help," replied Calliban, holding Callisto's dropped weapon nervously. "She is our friend too, Spyke," added Lucid.
Spyke was about to angrily reply that Callisto was more than a mere friend to him, or even a leader. But his voice choked on the words, and he could not bring himslf to say them in frnot of the others. Despite all his power, his skill, his courage, he was still a teenaged boy, and admitting his feelings for Callisto would be infintely more difficult than rescuing her.
Reluctantly, he sighed and said "Alright, you can come along... but if you're coming with me, you obey me. Africa is my homeland, I know how it works," he stated quietly. It was something of a stretch, but they needed a strong leader right now, and he had to assume the position.
He only hoped he would be half as good as Callisto would be in his place.
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In the alleyway, the manhole slid open, and Spyke hauled himself out with the grace of an acrobat, reaching down to give a hand to the far less agile Torpid, helping her to her feet as the other Morlocks filed out, one by one, nervously watching the surrounding landscape. None were truly comfortable on the surface, but at least it was night, where their visible mutations were only visible if they walked out into the light. Which they would not do.
Spyke led them, walking confidently, as the others sticked to the shadows (or in the case of Torpid, the shadow of her protector) as they made their way to the docks. From experience, Spyke knew that Bayville connected to the Atlantic ocean from the bay on which it was named. All they needed to do was 'procure' a ship. Much as Evan would've preferred to head the opposite direction, to the Institute, he knew he couldn't. If he did, it would involve Storm, and she had already had enough troubles dealing with the Hungan. He would handle this, he though grimly. And if that psychotic witch-doctor had so much as laid a hand on Callisto's head.
Spikes jutted angrily from his arms, spurred by his thoughts of vengeance. Angrily, breathing slowly to calm himself, he drew them back in before he startled anyone.
Thankfully the docks were abandoned this time of year, most people busy with schooling or real work, and at this time of night the docks were closed, the gates shut and locked, designed to keep out intruders. Spyke, silently, beckoned Cybelle forward. The dark-skinned mutant slid off her glove, placing her hand against the chain-link fence in a wide circle, watching the metal fall to the ground, seared around the edges. One by one, the Morlocks slipped inside. Spyke paused at the security camera, readying a spike, then paused, looking directly up and into it, giving it a good look at his face.
"I'm just borrowing it. I promise I'll bring it back," he said, then launched the spike an destroyed the camera before it could see any of the other Morlocks. They wasted no time in finding a boat. Most of them were small fishing boats, some speeders, but mostly pleasure things, nothing that would last in the rough and tumble waves so frequent in the Atlantic ocean.
"This one!" called out Lucid, beckoning the others over as he pointed at the craft in question. Spyke nodded in approval. It was big enough to survive the ocean, and sturdy enough, yet small enough to remain unnoticed until out in international waters. "Even better, its owner left its keys in the ignition," added Lucid with a smile.
"How can you tell?" asked Spyke, then immediately remembered who he was talking to and smacked his forehead. He must've seen it for himself. "Right, of course... all right, everyone on board. Cybelle, break the lines. Calliban, you're with me," he barked out orders, as he and his pale-skinned companion made their way to the steering wheel and started up the engine.
Cybelle wasted no time in burning through the ropes holding down the ship. As she and the remaining Morlocks climbed aboard the ship's name came into view. Ironically, named the S.S. Eloi. Had Callisto been here she likely would've laughed.
But she wasn't.
And they needed to save her.
Spyke gunned the motor, manuvering the ship out just as easily as he'd been trained to do with the Blackbird, though he confessed it was easier to manuver a plane at low altitude than a ship on the surface of water. Too many variables in the shifting water, and more than once he nearly dinged the ship clean against the docks before managing to regain control. Finally, the ship managed to clear the rocky walls that marked the docks and headed down the peninsula to the open sea, and from there to the coast of Africa. The ship had sufficient supplies (added to that of the Morlocks) as well as enough gas, and a few sleeping bunks below, presumably for the fishing crew on long journies.
It was a ragtag ship, with an even more ragtag crew, but it would do.
Spyke hoped.
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Groaning, Callisto shifted, sitting upright, clutching her head, which seemed on the verge of splitting open.
"Ah good, you've awoken," came a low, sinister voice to her left. Without even bothering to look Callisto reacted purely by instinct, launching herself towards the strange voice, but to her surprise she was yanked back by the force, her arms shackled by iron chains, driven deep into the ground. Thus, she could not even reach her opponent, though now she could get a better look at him.
A tall, dark-skinned man dressed in african traditional garb, down to the many golden bands along his neck, forearms and ankles. The tattoo of a jawless white skull was imprinted onto his face, and from out of its sockets his own eyes glared at her menacingly, 'causing Callisto to shrink back an inch or so. Clasped in the strange man's hands was a bone scepter, tipped with a multifaceted crystal.
"Most unwise to try and defy me," stated the strange man again, grinning at Callisto.
"What the hell do you want?" growled Callisto back at him, though she shivered fearfully. "Who are you? What is this place?"
The man gestured with his free hand, and torchlight lit the room they were in. It was big, dark, and very, very old. Callisto could tell that immediately. It had the look and feel of an ancient temple, though she did not recognize the culture, the walls lined with columns of wood, that crisscrossed along the ceiling. No carvings on the walls, no hieroglyphics, no animal statues. Only a great circled carved in the floor, where Callisto currently kneeled (unable to fully stand because of the chains). In the torchlight, Callisto could now see the two of them were not alone. At least a dozen tribesmen, dressed as their leader and armed with a variety of spears, machetes, and blowguns, lined the edges of the room, keeping into the flickering shadows.
"I am the Hungan," stated her captive, bringing her attention back to him. "And it is not the place of slaves to question their masters," he added, lifting up his scepter and pointing it right at Callisto, who shrank back fearfully, though she could not say why. A string of nonsensical words followed, as he chanted a magic spell, and the scepters crystal glowed softly.
Suddenly all sensation fled her body, as her one good eye rolled back into her head and she felt some-thing- flow from her mouth. One final thought flitted through her mind before her body collapsed.
Evan...
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Author's Notes:
And the Morlocks are off to the rescue. Against both the Hungan and his dark sorcery soul-stealing. Isn't he mean? Speaking of Morlocks, did anyone catch the irony of the ship's name? I doubt any sailor worth his parrot would name their ship that, but it seemed like a cute joke to insert into all the suspense.
Faith Darkholme: I like all the characters on that show (except Havoc) but I seriously haven't seen the Morlocks or Spyke get much screentime, especially key members of the Morlocks like Callisto and Calliban, we know next to nothing about. And people complain about the Brotherhood not being seen much.
WYLK: Oh you shall see soon enough. Oh and FYI? The Hungan refers to their leader with the freaky staff. At least that's how Nirambo referred to them. I dunno what he calls his group of mute tribesmen.