"It's too bad you didn't accept that bet," Logan said.
Kurt looked over at him quickly. "Was?"
"Isidro's bet?" Logan went on. "The one that said the prof wouldn't find anything in Mexico?"
Kurt looked back out the window of the Blackbird. "For me to win, it meant things were bad enough for us to go there, and that meant someone was in trouble. I cannot bet on someone's pain."
True to form, when Xavier went into Cerebro earlier that day, he did indeed find a mutant down in Mexico. That in and of itself was hardly surprising, but they were within a few miles of Isidro's Grandmother's town. A closer look revealed a relatively young mutant, a girl whose powers couldn't have been active for more than a few months. Her form, from the hazy outline Xavier could see, was only vaguely human. Her legs were digigrade, her hands ended in claws, and her body was partially covered with patches of shaggy fur. Whether the poor girl could return to a more human form or not, Xavier could not tell.
Two things were for certain; she could easily pass for a "chupacabras," and she was frightened.
Xavier sent the three of them again, as they had worked so well in the past. Ororo was their pilot, Logan their tracker, and Kurt their "get us the Hell out of here now" backup. With any luck, the most Kurt would have to do was keep Ororo's seat warm, perhaps do some translating if their target only spoke Spanish.
"I hope our little girl speaks some English," Kurt said. "My Spanish is not the best, and it may sound strange to her."
"Oh? How?" Ororo asked, curious.
"There are differences between Castilian and what they speak in the Americas." He paused for a moment. "I suppose my Spanish to her would sound like my English to you, but not so fluent."
They were growing closer to their target, a small farming community in the middle of gentle, rolling, dusty hills. Though the Blackbird was still quite far away, her long range cameras brought the town in easy view. No electrical wires, no phone lines, and apparently no plumbing. The structures had the distinct look of being made by non-professional hands, the walls built with adobe bricks or cinder blocks and the roofs often just corrugated metal sheets. Half of the houses were one bedroom shacks. None of them had more than three rooms. Simple split wood and barbed wire fences, just enough to keep the farm animals in, enclosed small herds of goats. Long rows of crops reached behind the houses, all dotted with green sprouts. The only road in and out was a packed dirt path, and there were few vehicles around to travel upon it.
"This place is so dry," Kurt observed, watching the views on-screen. "How could anything grow here?"
"Oh, there are lots of methods," Ororo replied without looking away from the controls. "It all centers on irrigation control." She glanced back at Logan, sitting behind her. "Do you have anything in particular planned, Logan?"
He shrugged. "Get some scents from the outskirts, try not to attract too much attention. It'd be a lot easier at night, but it's not like we can just wait around."
Ororo set the Blackbird down behind one of the hills, far enough away to avoid being seen or heard. With any luck, they would never encounter any locals during their search. A couple of foreigners poking around in black leather suits wasn't exactly inconspicuous. Logan went to the back of the jet and grabbed a small pack from the corner, filled with food, water, and first aid supplies. God only knew what shape the girl was in.
"A word to the wise," Ororo said as she shut the Blackbird down. "I think this place might have been a silver mine at some point, because I'm picking up several tunnels and shafts below the surface. Could be that's where our little 'chupacabra' is hiding out."
"Sounds like a good place to start," Logan agreed, slinging the pack over his shoulder.
She gave a shallow, wry smile. "You'll pardon me if I just guard the entrances."
Kurt examined the screen carefully. The tunnels cris-crossed miles of terrain, and several of them were blocked by debris. These were the kind of things people got trapped in with regularity.
"I just hope she hasn't been trapped in one of these tunnels," he commended, half to himself.
"If we find a collie trying to get us to follow her, we'll know for sure," Logan said with a grin.
Kurt laughed. "I can see it now. 'What are you trying to say, Lassie? Did little Stefan fall down the mine shaft, break his ankle, give himself a concussion, and he needs his insulin shot? Is that what you're trying to tell me, girl?' "
"And that's just from two barks and a tail wag."
Logan put in his earplug and slipped on his throat mike, as did Ororo. The equipment was invisible to all but the closest inspection, and a quick mike check proved it was all working correctly. For the moment, there was a fair amount of echoing in the Blackbird, as the open mikes captured and broadcasted every sound, but once they left things would quiet considerably. Ororo lowered the gangplank, then gave Kurt's hand a brief squeeze before she left the pilot's seat.
"Sorry to leave you all cooped up for the duration," she apologized.
"And I hope to remain 'cooped up for the duration', liebling," he said. "Boring means you are all safe and sound."
The two stood up together, and all three of them exited the plane.
"Need any help with the camo net?" Logan asked , turning halfway around.
"No, I can handle it," Kurt answered. "Remember I can reach any spot on the plane by myself."
"Okay. See you around, elf."
He and Ororo took off, hiking away under the warm noonday sun. Kurt hauled the desert camouflage out of its containment, a huge unwieldy pile of netting Logan derisively referred to as the "Blackbird cozy", and teleported up to the top of the jet to do a proper drape.
Good thing I'm doing this now, he thought, shifting back and forth on his bare feet. A little longer in the sun and this jet will be burning the soles of my feet.
:
Angelou sighed through his nose and leaned back in his chair. Stupid tech. Stupid experimental, prototype tech. They'd been using it to track the little mutie bitch for the past week, and it seemed that all it did was go down on them. His partner, Matt, turned about in his seat to face him.
"Lou, you're doing that nose-breathing-wheezy thing again," he warned. "Will you cut it out already?"
"This stupid thing just stopped working again," Angelou complained, gesturing to the setup with a broad wave of his arm. "This is, what, the twentieth time?"
Matt clenched his jaw. Angelou's constant complaining was annoying enough, but did he have to be clueless as well? How many times had he been told that the sensor only picked up active mutant powers? It didn't home in on their DNA, for Christ's sake! Matt stood up in the small confines of the "camper shell" of the pickup truck, glaring at the back of Angelou's shaved head. When he got home, he was putting in for another partner. This idiot was driving him nuts.
"Just... go play FreeCell or check the mail or something, all right?" Matt asked, biting back a host of caustic remarks. "Maybe they sent us more news on Larry."
"Maybe I'll send 'Larry' an email on how much his stuff sucks," Angelou grumbled as he switched positions with Matt.
Maybe we should send your ass back to the Hammerskins, Matt thought. Goddamn slam-dancing, sieg-heiling, beer-swilling bully-boy....
As angry as Matt was, he still could not miss the piercing beep from the sensor console. A contact! And a strong one!
"Whoa! Is it her?" Angelou asked, crowding in next to Matt.
"Dunno," Matt mumbled. "That's not the same beep we got for her...." As he spoke, the console gave another sound, this one lower-pitched and constant. "Ah, that's her. We got her. Just give me a minute to home in...."
Their quarry was very close to Unit 6, now; maybe a half hour away at constant speed. Good. That meant he and Angelou would be finishing up soon, away from this God-forsaken dustbowl. Matt was getting awful sick of Lou's "wetback" jokes. Over the constant low pitch that indicated their target, that startling, piercing beep came up again. What the hell? Was the tracker getting two different readings? Was there another mutant that strong in the area?
"What's with the beeping?" Angelou demanded, pointing at one of the two small speakers.
"Will you shut up?" Matt snapped. "Give me a chance!"
Angelou backed up a step, giving Matt room to breathe. Matt pulled up the information on both targets. The first one they knew quite well by then: they'd been tracking her all week. The second one was completely new, there and gone fast with a "periodic" power.
"We got another one," he said. "We've got her and someone else."
"Dude, check the library! Who is it?" Angelou asked, excited.
Matt felt an angry flush rise to his face. Even if it was standard operational procedure to check the signature against the library of "known mutants", there were only a few dozen or so mutants in that file. The chances were that this was an unknown. And this idiot expected the blip to have some huge file all to itself....
Matt stared at the library entry on-screen, his eyes wide. "Fuck me gently with a chainsaw," he whispered. "He's in there."
"I knew it!" Angelou crowed, pumping his fist in the air. "Who is it?"
Matt kept staring at the red-tagged file.
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Mutant X108:
Aliases: Kurt Wagner, Nightcrawler, the Oval Office Assassin
Nationality: German citizen.
Career: Former circus performer.
Mutant X108 is a superb athlete and an Olympic-class acrobat; it is skilled at hand-to-hand combat and is a master of fencing. Addition: records of the Oval Office Attack show that X108 moves at a speed far beyond what would be considered attainable by training alone. X108 took down three NSA personnel in the time it took for one of them to fire his weapon. Do not engage in hand to hand combat.
Abilities: Mutant X108 has the ability to teleport itself, the clothes it is wearing, and, within limits, a certain amount of additional mass which is in contact with it. Addition: is known to have teleported with other individuals weighing no less than 200 lbs during the Oval Office Attack. Mutant X108 leaves behind a smoke cloud with a stench reminiscent of burning brimstone when teleporting. Its teleportation is invariably accompanied by the muffled sound of imploding air rushing to fill the vacuum left. Addition: during the Oval Office Attack, X108 created such a dense cloud of this smoke that it blocked vision. Apparently, X108 had no problem seeing and attacking through it.
National Security Threat Level: EXTREMELY HIGH
Mutant X108's abilities make it extremely difficult to apprehend. It should be considered armed and dangerous at all times. Addition: has not been seen since the Oval Office Attack. Possibly may have fled back to Germany, though surveillance of its circus home has been unproductive. The wound X108 sustained was minor, and it must be assumed to be in good health.
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There was a detailed description of the mutant, but Matt ignored it completely. His eyes were fixed on the monstrous picture displayed next to the information. He knew that photo. Everyone in the USA knew that photo. Matt gulped past the beating heart in his throat.
"Lou, it's the Oval Office Assassin," he said, his voice unsteady.
"Jesus-fucking-H-Christ," Angelou whispered.
Matt looked to the other screen, images taken from Unit 6's camera. So far, there was only the expected dusty hills and chaparral. It was miles away from the last "blip" of X108's powers, but that didn't mean much. X108 had an unknown range of teleportation; it might be able to jump that distance. Was X108 also tracking their little mutant, or was it just coincidence?
"Can Unit 6 take that thing?" Angelou asked.
Matt nodded. "I hope so. I'm feeding the telemetries now." Silently, he added, This mission just went from a shakedown to a baptism of fire.
Larry had better be right about his pet project this time. They couldn't afford a repeat performance of the "Westchester Disaster."
:
Logan knelt down to examine a set of very shallow tracks, a motion he made for Ororo's benefit. He already knew what they were.
"Coyote," he stated. "Little drops here to the side are chicken blood. Must've gotten into someone's henhouse last night. So much for their 'chupacabra.'"
"Logan, we know our mutant is around here," Ororo started.
"Ain't sayin' she's not." He straightened up. "I'm just sayin' whatever livestock's been lost, it ain't all her fault, if any of it is."
Kurt's voice came over the radio. "I guess you haven't found her yet?"
"No, not yet," Logan admitted. "We've only been to mine openings one and two, though. We're a half mile west of number three right now."
Kurt paused. Logan imagined him checking off points on the map, keeping track of their progress. "Sehr gut."
Ororo paid close attention to the dusty, parched land around them. They were heading into an area of ground so packed that it might as well be stone. Any tracks would be almost impossible to see, now. There had been very little rain here for some time, even though they were in the middle of Spring, and it seemed that the topsoil had been scoured from the land, leaving only bedrock. How long had these people been suffering through their drought? Perhaps she might be able to alleviate that before they left.
First things first, Ororo, she thought. Get the girl, then ease the drought.
"Don't suppose you've seen anything on the scopes?" Logan asked dubiously.
"A rabbit or two," Kurt responded. "Nothing pink, though."
Logan snapped his fingers with mock disappointment. "And here I thought we were gonna have fun on this trip."
"You two are just itching to get at that box of sock bunnies, aren't you?" Ororo asked.
Kurt gave a melodramatic sniff, and in a quailing voice, whimpered, "I miss my blue one already. It's lonely in here."
"Well, you should have brought your little friend with you," Ororo chided, grinning.
"And your blankie," Logan added.
Kurt's voice was back to normal. "No need for a blanket." He sounded like he was standing and stretching. "I've already got one covering the jet."
Logan froze for a second, then his head snapped over to the right. He sniffed again, audibly this time, testing the scents on the slight breeze.
"I think I got someone," he said quietly. "Fresh scent, not more than a day old. Female, young, going through puberty. Might be our girl."
"Which way?" Ororo asked.
He gave a half-smile. "Mine shaft three."
He started jogging, then stopped and knelt down to the ground again, examining something Ororo couldn't see.
Logan pointed at a tiny dark spot, then looked up at her, his face grim with concern. "Whoever it is, she's hurt. She's left a blood trail."
He ran his fingers along the ground and came up with a single hair. It was tough, like the bristle of a boar, or a very short whisker. It was also exactly the same color as the dry earth beneath it. Logan carefully handed it to Ororo, nodding.
"Not a human hair, but it's got a human scent. It's our girl. Has to be."
Ororo was suddenly very glad he came along. She had excellent tracking skills, honed on the Savannah, but as good as they were, she would never have seen any of this.
"She's hurt badly enough to drip blood on the ground, but not enough to leave a visible trail," Ororo stated, looking ahead to their destination; a large, untended hole in the earth. "She's probably still alive, but she'll need medical attention, Kurt. Get the bed ready."
"I'm pulling it out now," he replied. "Tell me if you need me."
Ororo and Logan took off at a dead run, their feet hitting against the hard ground without raising so much as a puff of dust. Suddenly, there was a strange, layered sound; an electrical arc, a dual-toned synthetic whine, and a "phunt" similar to an impacting PVC tube. Something slammed into Logan with the kinetic force of a freight train, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying to the right. Storm took to the air, an instinctive reaction that may well have saved her life. The sound repeated in quick succession, and the hillock near where she'd been standing was torn away in huge blocks. She looked to her right and caught sight of a large robotic, bipedal vehicle, frighteningly similar to the ones they had fought so recently. How had it gotten so close? There was no place for something so large to hide out here! It tracked her with its arm, firing again and again. Short, thick, orange-red beams glistened like the facets of a gemstone as they flew by her.
Then, to her horror, the enemy lowered its arm and faded from sight. She looked to the ground for its footprints, hoping to track it that way. Such a large robot must be very heavy and leave deep prints. But the ground was so packed, or the device so light, that it left nary a mark in the stripped ground. And now she had no idea where to dodge to. She flew up high in a random, zigzagging pattern, and clouds appeared in the previously clear sky.
"Storm!" Kurt shouted. "What is it! What's happening!"
"Another one of those amplifier suits!" she shouted back, as the winds raised her higher and higher into the air. "This one can go invisible! Logan's down!"
At first they were little cottony balls in the sky. They joined together into an overcast blanket of white and darkened to a menacing gray. Rain dotted the packed earth, instantly absorbed into a dark, dry spot. Then sheets of rain pelted the arid ground. In seconds, puddles began to form. She searched for the enemy, outlined in the constant shower. She looked for the splashes of its huge feet in the puddles. She was determined to find this suit, one way or another. It would have to possess Kitty's phasing ability to remain invisible through all this.
So where was it?
Nightcrawler appeared on the muddy ground, Logan wobbled to his feet, and still, no suit anywhere in sight. That left three possibilities. One, it could phase. Please, Goddess, don't let that be true. Second, it had teleported away. That didn't make sense: why would it go all the way out here just to run away? That left the third option, and from the direction Logan and Kurt turned, they were thinking the same thing. Storm's pulse quickened and an involuntary shudder rippled through her body.
The hellish thing had gone into the mine shaft.
TBC…