Disclaimer: Do you have any idea how boring it is coming up with a new
disclaimer everytime I write a chapter, just to say I didn't create the X-
Men? And isn't this common knowledge? I'm not making any money writing
this. Did you throw down $2.25 to read this? NO! Did I put any thought
into this non-money-making-idea? NO!
Lilvior: Again, sorry it's taken so long. I hope you enjoy the next chapter (as it's a bit longer than I'm used to). Thank you for your patience.
Torturegirl2003@yahoo.com: I hope I'm introducing a more entertaining side of Scott Summers to you. Here's hoping you keep reading.
Anyone else?: If you don't like what I'm doing, please e-mail me and let me know what you don't like. I'd really appreciate the criticism.
"How long was I out?"
A cool processed wind flowed unabated into Scott Summers' face. He was lying on his back; large, bright light shining his face.
"Not long," came the digitized reply. "Seven minutes, thirty-two seconds."
Scott's lips and tongue were cracked, his eyes burned and tingled. His hand reached for his head in a slow, trembling motion. Instinctively, he scanned the perimeter of the dark room, not even sure what he was looking for.
Mr. Sinister held out his hand, palm up. "Your watch, Mr. Summers."
The LCD read 1:38 pm. Compulsively, Scott scanned back through his mind. Considering the tumultuous start to his day, it sounded about right to him.
Sinister was preoccupied, working feverishly at a monitor set up against the thinly-cushioned table Scott sat upon.
Suddenly Scott cried out in pain! His hands shot up to his temples as he tried to regain his composure.
Sinister glanced over from his work. "Curious," he muttered, and returned to his work.
Gradually, the pain subsided. Tears streamed down the bridge of Scott's nose. He thrust his glance up at Sinister, jaw clenched. "What was that about?! What did you—"
"What did I do?" Sinister mocked. "Don't forget, dear boy, YOU commissioned ME to remove that toxin from your blood stream! After all I've done for you, do you still not trust me?"
With a quick shove, Scott pinned Mr. Sinister against the far wall of the tesseract chamber. Teeth gritted, he muttered ", What've you ever done for me?"
Seemingly taken aback, Sinister flung the boy away with a gesture. "You would ask such a question of me?" He stomped back over to his workstation, hands animating his anger. He stopped, and calmed himself. Placing both fists down on the table, he whispered ", Further proof, eh? Fine. What about Nathan?" When Scott didn't seem to catch on, he continued ", Think back, Scott. We were in Alaska. You were grieving over the loss of one you thought was you son. You were mistaken then, as you are now. I gave you new hope, assuring you that your son was not the madman, Stryfe, who you believed was dead; rather, it was Cable, a son whom you have renewed a relationship with, am I right?"
While Sinister stood with his back turned, Scott recoiled behind him. "Yes," came Scott's response.
Mr. Sinister turned and smiled. "And I fought at your side against the Dark Riders that same night! You trusted me then. Will you trust me now as you trusted me then?" Scott nodded. "Then may I return to the present?"
"Of course," Scott replied, sheepishly. "What's the prognosis?"
Sinister reached and turned another monitor Scott's way. "You'll be pleased to know the toxin has now been diluted with an enzyme of my own design." He noticed the cautious reaction on Scott's face. "Oh, don't worry. I "piggy-backed" it on a non-reactive allergen and introduced it to your bloodstream. It will travel through your body making short work of the toxin, and then your immune system with take it from there. Quite harmless, I assure you."
"What about that sudden migraine, for lack of a better word," Scott pressed.
"A number of things, I'm sure. Fatigue, malnutrition, returning equilibrium; has it resurged?"
"No," Scott replied.
"Then I wouldn't worry about it. Any other questions?"
"Yea," Scott began. "Didn't you feed me to the Dark Riders?"
Mr. Sinister looked at him, quizzically. "Beg your pardon?"
"Your story. When we met in Alaska. Didn't you wind up abandoning me in the middle of that fight?"
Sinister's eyes narrowed as he smiled widely. "Who won, Scott? I didn't go far, but I knew I needn't bother. After all, they WERE the Dark Riders. If memory serves, the fight went on about another two and a half minutes before they finally decided you were 'worthy for the coming storm' as they so dramatically put it."
"Point taken," Scott boasted.
Elsewhere in the world, though still unknown to all forms of tracking technology, the X-Men's Blackbird screamed across the dark sky. While Warren piloted the craft toward its destination, Logan observed Kurt and Bobby sitting beside each other, silent as can be. Neither was looking forward to their current mission: a possible confrontation with the psychotic Sabretooth.
"Know how yer feelin'," Logan said in a very unusual somber tone. "If it helps, remember that ya got me on back-up."
"No offense, Logan," bit Bobby ", but you were on 'back-up' last time we dealt with Creed--" looking towards the cockpit, he lowered his voice to below a whisper before he continued "-- and look what happened."
Logan scowled at the younger X-Man. He gritted his teeth in preparation for his retort when a voice called from the cockpit.
"Don't go there, Bobby! Logan's no more responsible for Creed gutting Psylocke than any of us! Now drop it!" Warren's eyes never left the horizon. He didn't raise his voice in a vicious tone. He corrected his friend and the subject was dropped.
"I believe vhat Bobby is trying to say is, he vould rather you join us," Kurt reconciled. "Und he is not alone."
"I hear ya, Elf," Logan lamented. "Truth is, I wouldn't mind getting a piece 'a Creed myself. But you heard Hank. We ain't supposed ta 'engage' Creed. Just watch 'im. See if he takes us to Jeannie."
"Or Sinister," Nightcrawler corrected. "Now zere is an image I cannot force from my mind. As Jubilation would say, he is 'mondo creepy.'"
Bobby smiled as his friend attempted to be hip; Logan snapped his fingers. "That's right," Logan began ", you been in England all the times we dealt with Mr. Sinister!"
"Ja," replied the young German. "Is it too late to be brought up to speed?"
"Ja," answered Warren, from the cockpit. "We over Chinatown now. Creed's on his way south. Logan, you're out first! We're dropping you at Ellis Island. Take the ferry back to the city and stay near Ground Zero. Normal people can't smell anything there, but it should be just enough to mask your presence from Creed. Bobby, you're out at the Village. Head towards Chinatown and be on alert! I'm going to hide the Blackbird under the Brooklyn Bridge and start scanning from the skies. Kurt, in lieu of a telepath on this mission, we need you to keep us all in contact from here. Everybody ready?"
"And we're not using communiqués, because...?"
"Because two of our own were taken right from under our noses. Let's not risk any communications being intercepted. Maintain radio silence."
"So, uhm...this is a great 'copter, Forge," Jubilation attempted. "Didja make it yourself?"
"Yes," came the exacerbated reply.
"Kewl." The youngest X-Man looked around, searching for something to talk about. She hadn't been this quiet since before she joined the X-Men. "So...is it an 'X-Copter?'"
Forge sighed. "No," came his reply.
"'Cause y'know it's got blades, right? And they, well kinda, they form an 'X', right?"
No answer was forthcoming.
"Fine," Jubilee muttered under her breath ", Mr.-medicine-man-turned-techno- man Forge, too good try and have a decent conversation, I'm not the one who sent you to visit your old girlfriend, no, that was Pappy X who did that, not me, but apparently you don't want to talk about that either, just wanna be silent the whole ride down to New Orleans, well fine, I can be silent too, after all, I spent years with Wolverine and he perfected that silent tough guy persona that you just g'ed—"
Jubilee's tirade trailed off as Forge took in the unenviable task before him. Jubilation was right about one thing; he certainly did not want to visit with his "old girlfriend" any more than he cared to attempt to take her and her team back to the mansion. What would he say? What could he say? He and Ororo hadn't spoken for years. Not out of spite, there was just nothing to talk about. They were always busy, she with her team of X- Men, he with his inventions and his incarnation of X-Factor. And on that topic, he had to admit he was insulted that he had not been included in the mission involving Sabretooth. After all, other than Wolverine, he had the most dealing with Sabretooth as the killer had been drafted to his X-Factor team by the government. Certainly his talents would be of greater use in Manhattan than in New Orleans. Why couldn't Charles see that?
With the Blackbird docked under the Brooklyn Bridge, Kurt Wagner was the only X-Man in the field with access to Cerebra. He watched the familiar dots of color on the screen, knowing full well that three in particular were his friends, and one was a dangerous enemy.
Suddenly, the 'blip' signifying Sabretooth changed course. He was no longer headed to Chinatown, he was on Broadway headed in Logan's direction. Well that won't do, he thought to himself, and with a thought he teleported out into the city to warn his friends.
BAMF!
"Logan," Kurt cried ", he's headed your way. Be ready." And with that, he teleported away, this time towards Bobby.
Logan barely had a chance to comment. He smiled at the thought of Warren's plan going to shit. Then the smell of brimstone hit his nostrils. Damn Elf, he thought to himself, I'll never get used to that.
BAMF!
Kurt had to teleport nine times before he spotted Bobby in a crowd crossing Canal Street. He quickly thought to activate his image inducer before rushing to meet his comrade. Then it hit him. Bobby was crossing Canal Street at Broadway. Creed could be anywhere.
When he caught up to Bobby, he noticed the fear in the boy's eyes. Had he startled his friend by showing up without warning? Surely Bobby was used to his teleportation. "Bobby, Creed is—"
"Behind you," finished Bobby.
"Vas?!" Kurt whipped around, expecting an attack. He needn't have worried. Creed was across the way, a block and a half down the street.
"Get outta here, Kurt," Bobby stammered. I got him, but there's no reason to give him two targets to smell, even if we are downwind."
"Understood." And with that, Nightcrawler BAMFed out of sight.
Suddenly, a brisk wind came across Bobby Drake's backside. Almost instantly, Victor Creed stopped in his tracks down the street, sniffing the air. Damnit Kurt, thought Bobby, you just gave me away!
A/N: Hoo-kay, first off Mr. Sinister and Cyclops had a bit of a heart-to- heart in Alaska in X-Men (2nd series) # 23. Andy Kubert (who handled art chores on the Origin mini-series and the current 1602 maxi-series) was merely a fledgling penciler back then. Ah, memores...
Right after Magneto Logan's Adamantium skeleton out, Professor Xavier allowed Sabretooth into the mansion for "rehabilitation." Needless to say, it didn't work. In Uncanny X-Men #328, Creed finally escaped, eviscerating Psylocke while doing so. Continued in the one-shot Sabretooth: The Red Zone, the original members of the X-Men hunted him all across New York City.
Shortly thereafter, Creed was remanded to the care of Forge, at that time field-leader of X-Factor.
Lilvior: Again, sorry it's taken so long. I hope you enjoy the next chapter (as it's a bit longer than I'm used to). Thank you for your patience.
Torturegirl2003@yahoo.com: I hope I'm introducing a more entertaining side of Scott Summers to you. Here's hoping you keep reading.
Anyone else?: If you don't like what I'm doing, please e-mail me and let me know what you don't like. I'd really appreciate the criticism.
"How long was I out?"
A cool processed wind flowed unabated into Scott Summers' face. He was lying on his back; large, bright light shining his face.
"Not long," came the digitized reply. "Seven minutes, thirty-two seconds."
Scott's lips and tongue were cracked, his eyes burned and tingled. His hand reached for his head in a slow, trembling motion. Instinctively, he scanned the perimeter of the dark room, not even sure what he was looking for.
Mr. Sinister held out his hand, palm up. "Your watch, Mr. Summers."
The LCD read 1:38 pm. Compulsively, Scott scanned back through his mind. Considering the tumultuous start to his day, it sounded about right to him.
Sinister was preoccupied, working feverishly at a monitor set up against the thinly-cushioned table Scott sat upon.
Suddenly Scott cried out in pain! His hands shot up to his temples as he tried to regain his composure.
Sinister glanced over from his work. "Curious," he muttered, and returned to his work.
Gradually, the pain subsided. Tears streamed down the bridge of Scott's nose. He thrust his glance up at Sinister, jaw clenched. "What was that about?! What did you—"
"What did I do?" Sinister mocked. "Don't forget, dear boy, YOU commissioned ME to remove that toxin from your blood stream! After all I've done for you, do you still not trust me?"
With a quick shove, Scott pinned Mr. Sinister against the far wall of the tesseract chamber. Teeth gritted, he muttered ", What've you ever done for me?"
Seemingly taken aback, Sinister flung the boy away with a gesture. "You would ask such a question of me?" He stomped back over to his workstation, hands animating his anger. He stopped, and calmed himself. Placing both fists down on the table, he whispered ", Further proof, eh? Fine. What about Nathan?" When Scott didn't seem to catch on, he continued ", Think back, Scott. We were in Alaska. You were grieving over the loss of one you thought was you son. You were mistaken then, as you are now. I gave you new hope, assuring you that your son was not the madman, Stryfe, who you believed was dead; rather, it was Cable, a son whom you have renewed a relationship with, am I right?"
While Sinister stood with his back turned, Scott recoiled behind him. "Yes," came Scott's response.
Mr. Sinister turned and smiled. "And I fought at your side against the Dark Riders that same night! You trusted me then. Will you trust me now as you trusted me then?" Scott nodded. "Then may I return to the present?"
"Of course," Scott replied, sheepishly. "What's the prognosis?"
Sinister reached and turned another monitor Scott's way. "You'll be pleased to know the toxin has now been diluted with an enzyme of my own design." He noticed the cautious reaction on Scott's face. "Oh, don't worry. I "piggy-backed" it on a non-reactive allergen and introduced it to your bloodstream. It will travel through your body making short work of the toxin, and then your immune system with take it from there. Quite harmless, I assure you."
"What about that sudden migraine, for lack of a better word," Scott pressed.
"A number of things, I'm sure. Fatigue, malnutrition, returning equilibrium; has it resurged?"
"No," Scott replied.
"Then I wouldn't worry about it. Any other questions?"
"Yea," Scott began. "Didn't you feed me to the Dark Riders?"
Mr. Sinister looked at him, quizzically. "Beg your pardon?"
"Your story. When we met in Alaska. Didn't you wind up abandoning me in the middle of that fight?"
Sinister's eyes narrowed as he smiled widely. "Who won, Scott? I didn't go far, but I knew I needn't bother. After all, they WERE the Dark Riders. If memory serves, the fight went on about another two and a half minutes before they finally decided you were 'worthy for the coming storm' as they so dramatically put it."
"Point taken," Scott boasted.
Elsewhere in the world, though still unknown to all forms of tracking technology, the X-Men's Blackbird screamed across the dark sky. While Warren piloted the craft toward its destination, Logan observed Kurt and Bobby sitting beside each other, silent as can be. Neither was looking forward to their current mission: a possible confrontation with the psychotic Sabretooth.
"Know how yer feelin'," Logan said in a very unusual somber tone. "If it helps, remember that ya got me on back-up."
"No offense, Logan," bit Bobby ", but you were on 'back-up' last time we dealt with Creed--" looking towards the cockpit, he lowered his voice to below a whisper before he continued "-- and look what happened."
Logan scowled at the younger X-Man. He gritted his teeth in preparation for his retort when a voice called from the cockpit.
"Don't go there, Bobby! Logan's no more responsible for Creed gutting Psylocke than any of us! Now drop it!" Warren's eyes never left the horizon. He didn't raise his voice in a vicious tone. He corrected his friend and the subject was dropped.
"I believe vhat Bobby is trying to say is, he vould rather you join us," Kurt reconciled. "Und he is not alone."
"I hear ya, Elf," Logan lamented. "Truth is, I wouldn't mind getting a piece 'a Creed myself. But you heard Hank. We ain't supposed ta 'engage' Creed. Just watch 'im. See if he takes us to Jeannie."
"Or Sinister," Nightcrawler corrected. "Now zere is an image I cannot force from my mind. As Jubilation would say, he is 'mondo creepy.'"
Bobby smiled as his friend attempted to be hip; Logan snapped his fingers. "That's right," Logan began ", you been in England all the times we dealt with Mr. Sinister!"
"Ja," replied the young German. "Is it too late to be brought up to speed?"
"Ja," answered Warren, from the cockpit. "We over Chinatown now. Creed's on his way south. Logan, you're out first! We're dropping you at Ellis Island. Take the ferry back to the city and stay near Ground Zero. Normal people can't smell anything there, but it should be just enough to mask your presence from Creed. Bobby, you're out at the Village. Head towards Chinatown and be on alert! I'm going to hide the Blackbird under the Brooklyn Bridge and start scanning from the skies. Kurt, in lieu of a telepath on this mission, we need you to keep us all in contact from here. Everybody ready?"
"And we're not using communiqués, because...?"
"Because two of our own were taken right from under our noses. Let's not risk any communications being intercepted. Maintain radio silence."
"So, uhm...this is a great 'copter, Forge," Jubilation attempted. "Didja make it yourself?"
"Yes," came the exacerbated reply.
"Kewl." The youngest X-Man looked around, searching for something to talk about. She hadn't been this quiet since before she joined the X-Men. "So...is it an 'X-Copter?'"
Forge sighed. "No," came his reply.
"'Cause y'know it's got blades, right? And they, well kinda, they form an 'X', right?"
No answer was forthcoming.
"Fine," Jubilee muttered under her breath ", Mr.-medicine-man-turned-techno- man Forge, too good try and have a decent conversation, I'm not the one who sent you to visit your old girlfriend, no, that was Pappy X who did that, not me, but apparently you don't want to talk about that either, just wanna be silent the whole ride down to New Orleans, well fine, I can be silent too, after all, I spent years with Wolverine and he perfected that silent tough guy persona that you just g'ed—"
Jubilee's tirade trailed off as Forge took in the unenviable task before him. Jubilation was right about one thing; he certainly did not want to visit with his "old girlfriend" any more than he cared to attempt to take her and her team back to the mansion. What would he say? What could he say? He and Ororo hadn't spoken for years. Not out of spite, there was just nothing to talk about. They were always busy, she with her team of X- Men, he with his inventions and his incarnation of X-Factor. And on that topic, he had to admit he was insulted that he had not been included in the mission involving Sabretooth. After all, other than Wolverine, he had the most dealing with Sabretooth as the killer had been drafted to his X-Factor team by the government. Certainly his talents would be of greater use in Manhattan than in New Orleans. Why couldn't Charles see that?
With the Blackbird docked under the Brooklyn Bridge, Kurt Wagner was the only X-Man in the field with access to Cerebra. He watched the familiar dots of color on the screen, knowing full well that three in particular were his friends, and one was a dangerous enemy.
Suddenly, the 'blip' signifying Sabretooth changed course. He was no longer headed to Chinatown, he was on Broadway headed in Logan's direction. Well that won't do, he thought to himself, and with a thought he teleported out into the city to warn his friends.
BAMF!
"Logan," Kurt cried ", he's headed your way. Be ready." And with that, he teleported away, this time towards Bobby.
Logan barely had a chance to comment. He smiled at the thought of Warren's plan going to shit. Then the smell of brimstone hit his nostrils. Damn Elf, he thought to himself, I'll never get used to that.
BAMF!
Kurt had to teleport nine times before he spotted Bobby in a crowd crossing Canal Street. He quickly thought to activate his image inducer before rushing to meet his comrade. Then it hit him. Bobby was crossing Canal Street at Broadway. Creed could be anywhere.
When he caught up to Bobby, he noticed the fear in the boy's eyes. Had he startled his friend by showing up without warning? Surely Bobby was used to his teleportation. "Bobby, Creed is—"
"Behind you," finished Bobby.
"Vas?!" Kurt whipped around, expecting an attack. He needn't have worried. Creed was across the way, a block and a half down the street.
"Get outta here, Kurt," Bobby stammered. I got him, but there's no reason to give him two targets to smell, even if we are downwind."
"Understood." And with that, Nightcrawler BAMFed out of sight.
Suddenly, a brisk wind came across Bobby Drake's backside. Almost instantly, Victor Creed stopped in his tracks down the street, sniffing the air. Damnit Kurt, thought Bobby, you just gave me away!
A/N: Hoo-kay, first off Mr. Sinister and Cyclops had a bit of a heart-to- heart in Alaska in X-Men (2nd series) # 23. Andy Kubert (who handled art chores on the Origin mini-series and the current 1602 maxi-series) was merely a fledgling penciler back then. Ah, memores...
Right after Magneto Logan's Adamantium skeleton out, Professor Xavier allowed Sabretooth into the mansion for "rehabilitation." Needless to say, it didn't work. In Uncanny X-Men #328, Creed finally escaped, eviscerating Psylocke while doing so. Continued in the one-shot Sabretooth: The Red Zone, the original members of the X-Men hunted him all across New York City.
Shortly thereafter, Creed was remanded to the care of Forge, at that time field-leader of X-Factor.