From One Cage to Another

by pari

Disclaimer, etc., found in Chapter One.

A/N: This fic lives. Who knew. Most of this was written a long time ago, and was just sitting on a disk in my desk waiting to be polished and completed. I'm not sure how I did on the polishing, but the chapter is complete, so that's something.

Chapter Three

The fight began.

Or it should have. Logan and Alec were used to the other man taking the first swing. So, in the cage together, they ended up each circling the other, waiting for an offense that never came. Till Alec finally shrugged and thought, "Fuck it." It was time to get the show on the road.

So he punched Logan. Not hard enough to knock him out…but enough to do a little damage. Get the fight going.

Only Logan didn't look too "damaged". In fact, his head whipped around when Alec hit him, but other than that he didn't seem effected at all. 'Well, this is new,' Alec got the chance to think.

Right before Logan punched him back.

He'd been so surprised by *not* seeing his opponent at least stumble beneath his blow, that Alec let his guard down. For only a moment. A moment too long. When Logan's fist met his jaw, he went flying backwards, and landed face up on the cage floor. When his ears stopped ringing, Alec heard the crowd going wild.

Alec immediately sat up. "What the hell?" he asked aloud.

His opponent was standing over him, smiling. "What's wrong, kid? Head hurt?"

Alec frowned.

"Whoa ho ho…ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer was saying. "Could we be looking at a new champion here?" Alec could practically hear him smiling. He jumped to his feet.

'Not on your life, pal.' Okay, forget everything else. If this guy was still smiling after Alec's next punch, then something was definitely wrong.

Alec knocked away the hand Logan had offered to help him up.

"I'm fine," he ground out. 'Time for Round Two.' Even if it was still only Round One.

"I'm fine," the kid had said, and Logan couldn't help but grin, even through the soreness in his jaw; the surprise that said soreness even existed. The kid packed a punch, Logan would give him that. Not enough of a punch to take Logan down - which is what he suspected his opponent might have been trying to do. But it was a punch all the same.

With not bad stamina behind it. Logan usually let his opponents get a blow or two in before he took them down - for the sake of the show (which is really what the crowd wanted). Only he'd figured that pretty boy there could use a little humbling. Imagine his surprise when "pretty boy" turned out to be more than just a pretty face. Twelve wins or no - that blow had been hard enough to knock a man thrice Alec's size cold. At least the kid's lip was bleeding. And this time, Logan noted, he wasn't smiling through the pain.

Then Alec hit back. This time, with more might. The sound of the blow resonated through the crowded room and the crowd cheered loudly. Logan gingerly touched his now busted lip.

"Fuck!" he hissed under his breath as *then* Alec smiled.

"*Your* head hurt?" he asked.

Logan's eyes narrowed.

And the fight *really* began.

**** ****

The sound of flesh hitting flesh, of blow after blow, filled the cage as the two men inside it danced around one another, dodging. Sometimes staggering from a punch, sometimes lunging to avoid one, sometimes lunging to administer one to the other.

The audience had already lost track of who was hitting who and who was being hit. Alec and Logan were at times almost a blur and exhausting even to watch. All anyone knew was that they'd never seen anything like it before and that they were unable to look away. Even if they still somehow managed to place their bets on the winner, should one ever arise. The pools were the largest they'd ever been.

"Where the hell did those two come from?" one spectator asked the other, partially in awe; partially in disgust. He'd lost a month's rent betting someone would go down in the fifth round. No one did.

"I don't know," replied his friend, around a cigarette. He shook his head. "The fight's fake. It's gotta be. The whole prize money thing musta been a gimmick."

The other man nodded, angrily.

Then the cage shuddered as Alec slammed into it, grabbing the chain link for support. He wasn't acting this time around, and his knees threatened to buckle. He'd never been hit so hard in his life, he was certain of it, and pain radiated throughout his chest from its source - the two broken ribs in his right side.

What the fuck was going on?

All other concerns had faded. The need for exertion, for money… The fight wasn't about any of that anymore. It wasn't even about pride at that point. It was about proving his own sanity. No way that guy could be winning. *Winning*. Against Alec. 'Against me,' Alec pondered. No way.

He wasn't X5 - he was too old for that. And Alec had already considered the fact that he might be. That was the only explanation Alec could come up with for his opponent's strength and stamina. If anything, he could be X4 or X3- but Alec knew for a fact that none of those series were around anymore… Right? So the man had to be human. Didn't he?

And Alec could prove it. If he could win. But his chances of doing so seemed ever more and more unlikely. Perhaps if he dodged every single blow the man had to give… Which is what Alec had been trying to do. And for the most part he'd succeeded. Except for a punch here or there. Except for too many punches here or there…

If this guy wasn't X4, then what the hell was he?

If this kid didn't go down *fast*…then what the hell was he? What the hell was he going to do, that is.

Logan stood - somehow - fists at the ready. He could barely feel them anymore, his arms ached so badly from holding them in place. And he tried to make his words, when he was able to speak, sound less breathless than he knew himself to be.

"Had enough yet, kid?"

It was the exact same thing Alec's last opponent had asked him…right before he'd kissed the floor. But Logan didn't care. He didn't care much about anything, just so long as Alec hit the same floor. Or sat on it. Or walked away. Logan didn't care. Just so long as something, somehow kept him from having to follow Alec across the cage one more time. He'd never been so exhausted in all his life, he was certain of it. His lungs ached as though he'd been underwater for the duration of the fight. And he'd never swung so hard, for so long, in a competitive match before. Yet Alec never went down. He took the blows satisfyingly *not* well…but he didn't go down like Logan practically prayed for him to do. He was fast. *Too* fast. Almost a blur at times, and Logan had no idea whether it was because the kid was really *that* fast or if he was just *that* tired. He only knew that the fight had gone from being something to do for money to something else. Pride, maybe? And the validation of his own sanity? No one could be that fast. No one could beat him in the cage. No one human anyhow… No one.

'No way am I going home hungry after all this,' Logan thought to himself. Even if he hurt too badly to eat tonight anyhow.

Alec didn't even respond. He just jumped right back into the fight.

'Hungry' was starting to look like a pretty nice place to be about then.

**** ****

Caught up in the action going on inside the cage inside the bar, neither Alec nor Logan had any idea about the action simultaneously occurring *outside* the bar. The dark vans that had arrived, screeching to a halt in front of the building, then carefully pulling into an alley, out of sight.

However, Agent Walker was aware of all this, of course. Walker, Otto, took a quick glance around him before heading for the alley where his fellow operatives were parked. He nodded at the man that stepped away from the others, all of them nearly indistinguishable in their dark uniforms, helmets, and shields. The man met his approach.

"Ready to go?" Otto asked him.

"Ready as we're gonna be, sir," the man replied. Otto nodded.

"Then you know what to do. Tell your men to keep things simple. Get in, grab the target, and get out." Just as the man was about to walk away, nodding, Otto added - almost as an afterthought, or as if he wasn't happy with what he was about to say: "Oh...and be careful. We have visual confirmation that 494 is in the building with him."

The other man visibly started. "494? Isn't he..."

Otto resisted the urge to sigh. "He was supposed to be. Obviously he isn't, otherwise I wouldn't be mentioning him."

"No, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Just proceed with the mission as planned. Watch yourself, watch your men. But do not, under any circumstances, open fire. White wants us to bring 494 in alive. He'll be arriving shortly with an auxiliary unit to facilitate 494's capture. Concentrate on your own target, and we'll concentrate on ours."

"Yes, sir."

**** ****

"So...I was thinking, you know, you could help a guy out and fake it or something. Come on... I'll even split the pot with you."

Logan and Alec continued to circle one another. Logan tried to focus on what the other man was saying. From somewhere the little shit had gotten a second wind, and was trying to carry on a conversation as if they were talking over lunch.

"Don't you ever shut up?" he grumbled, breathlessly. The split in each lip that formed Alec's grin was some small comfort, at least. To Logan.

Alec winced even as he smiled. "Why? Getting sleepy, old man? It's about past your bedtime, isn't it?"

Alec usually didn't resort to cheap shots like that one, but figured his opponent could use the motivation of a nice insult or two. Or maybe he was the one who needed a little extra motivation, despite the fact that those nifty X5 regenerative capabilities of his were starting to kick in. His ribs no longer felt as though they were on fire, although they stung like a bitch. All those years as a kid Alec had spent in submersion testing and endurance drills made it possible for him to stay on his feet and even keep talking, despite being exhausted. He planned to use what energy he had for all it was worth.

"You wish," Logan was responding. Actually, he did. Not that he was going to say as much.

"Hey, there's no shame in conditional surrender," Alec lied. Knowing that if Lydecker had been around to hear him say that, he'd have given him a week's solitary.

Logan snorted. "So why don't you 'fake it or something,' hmm?"

"You gonna give me half?"

Logan raised an eyebrow. "What do you think?"

"Damn." Alec sighed, dodging his opponent's next punch.

"Okay, go. Team one...now." Through the comm. systems in their helmets, four of the agents assigned to secure the perimeter heard their commander's order and entered the building through the rear exit. Meanwhile, the commander entered through the front with two more agents. The bar's bouncers were big, but not stupid, and simply backed away when they saw that it was government officials storming their doors. Martine, the man Agent Walker had granted command of the mission, glanced towards the bar and saw an old man in a cheap suit making a bee-line for the manager's office. Ah...so his was one of the typical post-Pulse establishments. Illegal in probably ten different ways. Martine smirked and made a mental note to have a little...discussion...with the bar's proprietor after their mission was accomplished. Then he turned his attention back to more pressing matters.

"Steinman, do you copy?"

"Yes, sir," came the reply over Martine's earpiece. Steinman and two others were waiting outside in one of the vans, ready for prisoner transport. "Let me know when Agent White's unit arrives," he told him.

"Yes, sir."

"Leary, Parsons, take position."

"Yes, sir."

"Team Two?"

"Awaiting your command, sir."

Martine looked back as the two agents who'd accompanied him through the front took their places at that exit. He passed the bar and paused in a shadowy alcove just outside the crowded main area of the club. On all sides of the room, he knew, his men were moving in from the rear, forming a loose perimeter, and stopping those spectators who'd seen them from running or spreading word that something was about to go down with a meaningful look and a wave of their rifles. All the same, Martine knew they'd have to act fast before word spread anyhow and the building emptied altogether.

"Sir, the rear exit is secure," came the reassuring report. Martine nodded. "Both teams, prepare for my mark."

"Hey...wait a minute..."

It was only shortly after he and his opponent had stopped talking again that Logan realized something was very wrong, though he hadn't decided what. Something just felt...off. More off than the kid in the cage with him. Logan tried to force his fuzzy mind to concentrate on something outside his exhaustion, his pain, and the kid causing it, but whatever was bothering him remained just outside the edge of his senses. Someone, something in the crowd... Was it something he'd heard? Something he'd seen out the corner of his eye? Every time he made as if to look, Logan's opponent lunged, trying to take advantage of the moment.

Dinner be damned, if the hairs on the back of his neck weren't standing on end, Logan would have called the fight just then. But he didn't want to give away that he was onto something going on until he'd had the chance to look around and see what was going on.

Nonetheless, the next time his opponent got a hit on him while he was trying to get a handle on the situation, Logan's patience snapped, and he found himself speaking before he could hold back.

"Would you just stop already!" Then Logan realized how that must sound.

But the kid didn't smirk nearly as much as Logan might have expected. He looked nearer to kissing Logan for being the first to supposedly give up than he did to gloating. Logan took an involuntary step back.

"Well, it's about t..."

Then that strange something that had been nagging at Logan's senses peaked, just as the kid's words faded away and he caught sight of something over Logan's shoulder.

"Down!" the kid suddenly yelled. Instinctively, Logan followed his command, dropping to the mat, even as the kid moved at him with a speed to make his earlier footwork look sluggish. He pushed Logan down faster with a hand on his back. Before Logan could think to protest, the gunfire the kid had somehow anticipated began. Bullets flew over their head and hit the cage door directly behind where they'd been standing, ripping it off its hinges.

Over the screams of fleeing spectators all around, Logan could hear a voice from the back commanding someone or something to "move in."

Logan sighed into the dirty canvas of the mat on the cage floor.

Someone, somewhere, simply didn't want him to eat tonight.