Logan had taken the long route home. With good weather and light traffic he would arrive back early afternoon. Just in time for his favorite activity. Danger Room training.
He'd stopped off at a local bar for a drink and a chance to unwind, parking his red motorcycle outside. It was a quiet place, just off the road, with few customers just passing by on long trips. No problems with him. He liked it quiet while he drank.
"What can I get you sir?" asked the bartender, cleaning out one of the glass mugs with a cloth as he addressed his latest customer.
"Whatever you got on tap," replied Logan, sitting down on a stool. Idly he reached out and grabbed some of the free peanuts. Last time he'd eaten had been yesterday morning, after all. Not that he cared overly, he could go days without food if he really wanted to. Still, once he got back to the Institute he fully intended to indulge himself in Ororo's wonderful homemade cooking.
His drink arrived, and Logan swallowed the whole thing in one swig, immediately asking for another as he wiped the back of his mouth with his hand.
Suddenly Logan's instincts warned him of danger. Frowning, he stretched out with his senses. Sight, hearing, smell. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But Logan listened to his instincts. They'd pulled his bacon out of the fire more times than he could recall, and this seemed like another one of those times.
He slid out of his seat, his head moving from left to right like a lighthouse tower, searching, looking. Now he recognized this place. He'd been here before, with Creed of all people. No regular customers, just two truckers in the corner. Nothing dangerous there. The bartender had a shotgun under the bar, Logan could smell the gun powder, but he wasn't a threat. Neither were the barmaids. Unless you counted the redheaded one who kept giving Logan a once-over.
Grumbling, Logan slapped down a twenty and grabbed his jacket, making his way outside. Perhaps whatever he sensed was out there. Let's see. Two big tankers, two cars and a motorcycle, plus his own. That accounts for everyone inside. And... a black van? Logan's instincts went into the mental equivalent to Defcon four as his adamantium claws shot from between his knuckles. His eyes darted, searching. He caught their scent now. Humans, nobody he recognized. Mixture of sweat and leather that usually he only came into contact to from either swat teams, policemen, or soldiers. Wonderful.
He only narrowly managed to avoid the first projectile, leaping forward and rolling. The second hit him in the arm, but he barely paid it any attention as he leapt to his feet and caught sight of his first opponent. Dressed all in black, definitely swat team or the equivalent. And professional, from the way he held his weapon. Not that it matter much when Wolverine sliced clean through it and slammed his adamantium-plated bone elbow right into his face, sending him reeling to the ground.
Growling, he glanced around for others, reaching over to tear whatever was stuck in his arm out. Some sort of dart, and he didn't need his super sensitive smell to know it'd been poisoned. Something powerful, he realized, as his vision blurred. These guys knew who he was, and what he was capable of. Just great.
"You're not gonna take me down that easily!" he shouted, as two more made their way out from behind the building. They were trying to circle him, and he could tell more had just piled out of the van. Great, he thought.
Wolverine sprang at the first two, slicing through their weapons like a hot knife through butter as darts whizzed clear over his head. He sheathed his claws, slamming both his fists into the two soldiers and sending them to the ground, clutching their injured stomachs.
That was roughly when the taser hit him, full force, in the back. Two lines snapped off, and he didn't have enough time to dodge. Electricity ripped through his short frame, but to his credit Logan didn't scream. He'd felt worse. But between the electricity and the knock-out poisons, it was enough to do him in, and he fell forward onto his knees. One of the soldiers rushed up, and something thick and metallic slammed into the back of his neck. Star swirled in his vision, and he blacked out...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back at Bayville High, things were progressing less than well for the students of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Lunch had finally rolled around, but Amara had been sent home with Scott, coughing and hacking all the way. Roberto had gone back to his additional classes, then met up again with his friends in the food court.
Because of the inclement weather, cold enough to freeze water and slippery ground from all the melted snow, most of the students were inside in the cafeteria, keeping warm and dry. The mutant students were not so fortunate. Due to 'limited space' they were on the whole forced to zip up their coats, grab their gloves and earmuffs, and head outside with their lunches.
Thus it was that Roberto broke out his bag lunch and grabbed an apple, munching into it with vigor as he sat down with his housemates.
"How's it hangin' Roberto?" asked Tabitha, shivering in her flaming pink jacket, her blond locks poking out from behind the dark purple earmuffs wrapped around her head.
"I've had better days," replied Roberto, tilting his head back. He wasn't as cold as his other teammates though. The clouds had dispersed earlier in the day, and the sun now shone down on them, and more importantly, him. Sweet blessed rays with the energy he craved, finishing off his apple and tossing it into a nearby trash can with flourish.
He and Bobby were the only ones who weren't cold. Amara wouldn't have been either, had she been around and managed to conjure even the smallest of hand-held flames to warm everyone. As it was, they were left so shiver.
"Cute," remarked Jubes on Roberto's toss, shivering in her yellow jacket and no doubt envying the others for keeping warm. And, she thought with a cough, healthy. Still, too late in the day to call sick now. Plus she had that test next period in History, and she desperately needed a good grade.
"So Amara went home?" asked Tabby, directing her question to Roberto. She was concerned after all. And not just because Amara could've warmed her up.
"Yeah, went home sick,"
"Wish I could do the same," mumbled Jubilee, taking in a deep breath and tilting her head up... but it was too late.
ACH-CHOO!
"Gesuhntite," Kitty deadpanned. Long years of living with Kurt had given her more than a few words of German to her repertoire.
"Thank you," replied Jubes, taking the offered handkerchief from Bobby and using it to blow her nose. She hated being sick, she hated being cold, and she hated being at school!
Life sucked, sometimes.
"Hey guys?" came a voice, causing all the occupants of the 'mutant table' to turn and see who had come to join them.
To their surprise it was Amanda.
Amanda was a regular at the table, on those days when she and Kurt decided to sit amongst them, as opposed to finding a quiet spot to be alone together. However, to see her there without Kurt was a bit of a surprise. Not that any of the students didn't like her or anything. Since she was the only regular student who actually took time to speak to them as equals, she was viewed as only slightly less than a saint by the oppressed mutant students.
"Hey guys, what's up?" she asked, hands in the pockets of her thick winter coat.
"Not much," replied Rahne.
"Is Kurt alright?" asked Amanda. "I didn't see him in class today."
"Nah he's at home sick," said Bobby, finishing off his can and handing it to Roberto, who crushed it against his head while Bobby and Ray watched, laughing. It was their way of passing the time. The girls rolled their eyes at such barbaric behavior.
"Nothing serious I hope."
"Nah, blue boy'll be up and bouncing off walls again in no time," stated Tabby with a nonchalant wave of her hand.
"Thanks you guys. I'll see you later," replied Amanda gratefully. She smiled and waved, making her way back inside where it was warm.
Finally the warning bell rang and lunch ended. The students dispersed to their classes, tossing out their trash and grabbing their books, prepared to finish off their last two days before the weekend. Just one more day left, grumbled Jubes, as she lugged her pack to her last two classes. She sneezed again, thankful she'd grabbed a napkin from the cafeteria before leading. It wasn't as soft, but it served its purpose.
She just hope she could keep herself from collapsing long enough to take the stupid test.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Senses slowly returned to Logan as he faded out of the black abyss, returning to consciousness. And he could tell immediately it was in very, very big trouble. His skull ached like someone had taken a jackhammer to it and tried to bore through the adamantium underneath. Instinctively he tried to reach up and massage his temples, but for some reason his hands refused to cooperate.
"Finally awake? Took you long enough," came an irritated voice somewhere to his left. Logan risked opening his eyes and turned his head to see who it was.
It was X23.
X23, or Sarah Howlett as she'd been known at the Institute during her brief stay, stood before Logan, though something about her seemed... wrong. Her arms were shackled against her chest, her fists pointed towards her neck. The only way she could use her claws would be if she was willing to slice off her own head in the process. Otherwise she appeared unharmed, though she looked anger enough. But something was very wrong. Something about her hair...
And then Logan realized it. Her hair was falling up. No, not up. She was upside down, and that meant... Logan stifled a groan as he felt blood rush to his head, already making his aching skull feel that much worse.
"Wonderful way to wake up, I know," she grumbled.
"What the...?"
"Don't know where, don't know who, don't know why," she replied, before he finished his question. Grunting, she squirmed against her bonds, but they seemed to have been wrapped around her pretty tight. Almost custom made metal casing designed for her slight frame. And an identical one for Logan's, now that he peered down (or rather, up) and saw it. He and X23 were suspended from the ceiling by metal chains near a walkway. Below them... a bottomless black abyss, near as Logan could see.
"Wonderful. How long have I been here?" he asked, testing his bonds. Gently, for now. He was still recovering his strength, and he didn't think the poison was out of his system just yet. He may be tough and a regenerator, but he wasn't invincible by a long shot.
"About six hours," replied X23, eyes closed, face calm. She was resting, conserving energy. "He's still out, but he arrived about two hours after you did," she added, jerking her head gently in the direction just past her.
Logan lifted his head, peering over and past X23 to see who she meant. When he did finally see who was with them, he stifled a groan.
Their cellmate was also hung upside down, though his wrists were shackled to his back instead of across his chest like X23 and Wolverine. His dirty blonde hair fell much like much like X23's, and his trenchcoat was gone, though everything else he wore looked like it'd been shredded or burnt to a crisp. He didn't look injured, but like X23 and Wolverine, that didn't mean a damn thing since he would've had enough time to heal mere flesh wounds.
Great, thought Wolverine. Who the hell invited Sabertooth to this little reunion?
Author's Notes:
And so the plot thickens. Wolverine's been captured, along with Sabertooth and X23. And soon their mysterious captors will be made apparent. Is it coincidence, or is it part of something larger? The bar that Logan stopped by at was, of course, the same one from 'Weapon X24.' Though that scene in the parking lot I actually got the idea from an almost identical scene from TAS. Specifically, a memory from 'Weapon X, Lies, and Videotape.' X23's name is of course, also a reference to 'Weapon X24.' The arm restrains were modeled after those used on Logan (Mystique, really) in 'X2: X-Men United.' You see? My ideas come from simply everywhere. Frequent updates are officially over because of exams coming up, but they'll still come on a semi-regular frequency.
Todd fan: Hehehe, it certainly would. And between you and me, I think maybe David Blaine might be a mutant too. Maybe its Mastermind in disguise! Hehehehehe. *helps you back into your chair*
Rogue14: I noticed, which is why I commented on it. I'm a big Scogue fan, so don't disappoint me here. Or, or, or... I'll do something not nice!
Snitter in Rivendell: Ah, curse my scatterbrained mind. Yet another mistake I thought I'd corrected. Many thanks for pointing it out. As for casting thoughts you had: No, yes, yes. And the no has a replacement of sorts. And yes I liked that little idea for Scott. I identify so much with his character, he's so very easy to write.
Elrohirthewriter: I said Scott always picked tails, not that he always lost. But does kinda make you wonder with Jean, doesn't it? I mean, she did all but throw him to the lions when he took Kitty driving.
Sandoz: Unfortunately you're probably right, you were pretty darn mean to them, even if your story still had a happy and fitting end. And yeah I know, don't worry, I'm cutting off the sick now, going to go more gradually now that they're taking precautions so they can combat what's behind all this.
The Rogue Witch: Arrrrgh, you're absolutely right, how foolish of me. Damn those stupid Greek Gods changing names on me! And yes Rogue is an instructor. Unfortunately you only get to see what at the end of the story because she's got bigger concerns now with the virus. But believe you me, I chose her well. And don't worry, I love long reviews. I hate people who just say "good stuff, more" or such.
