"Professor!" Scott exclaimed, "Rogue was kidnapped!" It was getting dark. Xavier, who was waiting for them back at the institute, raised an eyebrow.
"What makes you come to this conclusion, Scott?"
"She apparently was met by a stranger -at least to us- and was taken off in a motorcycle." Beast explained. "Rahne lost the scent when the trail led to a highway." Rahne looked down.
"Don't worry, Rahne," the Professor consoled, "you did the best you could. We didn't ask for anything more." He turned to the other students. "This presents a challenge to the rest of us. It won't be until Saturday that Logan comes home. We're going to have to solve this as best we can without his aid."
"Sorry to interrupt, Prof.," Kurt apologized, "but it's not like she hasn't been kidnapped before." Xavier raised an eyebrow (he does that a lot) at the suggestion.
"Gambit," Scott scowled. "Which reminds me… I saw Mr. Lehnsherr traveling down the highway Rogue's trail led to. Where is he now?"
"He explained to be that he had business to attend to," Xavier answered.
"How long will he be gone?"
"He wasn't sure. Told me that he'd be gone for a uncertain amount of time." Suspicions in the students had been evoked. They looked at each other. Xavier continued, "I don't believe he was behind this. He has… other issues."
"What kind of 'issues'?" Jean asked.
"An old friend… It isn't my business, nor is it yours."
"Just what we need," Kurt sighed, "anther Logan."
"Something about this doesn't smell right, Prof.," said Scott. "I don't trust Mr. Lehnsherr. He's only been our biggest enemy until Apocalypse came around. Then he decides to be an X-Man. People don't just make those changes overnight."
"This is an issue you're going to have to trust me on, Scott," he looked around, "all of you. I believe his change is genuine, and we a least can give him a chance. As for Rogue, he was asleep during the kidnapping."
"Doesn't stop him from having someone do his dirty work for him. Never has before." The X-Men nodded in agreement at Scott's comment. It was true; Magneto was rarely alone in his schemes. "After all, Gambit was once one of his little henchmen, was he not?"
"We don't have enough evidence to be pointing the finger at anyone," Xavier defended. "Anyone could have kidnapped our friend. Cerebro will detect her if she uses her powers. We must wait until she does, or until Logan returns; whichever is faster." Scott submitted in frustration. This was going to be a long wait.
Erik looked out the window of the plane. It was a dark, cloudless night. Under the plane was the seemly endless Atlantic Ocean. He was remembering…
A young Erik was standing in line. He was wearing blue and white striped clothes that loosely fit his slim figure. He limped forward in line. Only three more people in front of him…
He had broken his right leg while laboring the day before. The pain was excruciating but he clenched his jaw and hid it. He had to work… He had to survive.
Behind him a young girl in the same garb watched his limp. She quietly crouched down and placed her hand on his leg. Erik looked back at her and winced as the bone popped back into place. The girl stood up. He tested his leg. It was… healed.
"How'd you-" She put a finger over his lip.
"Shhh…" She looked around. "I've seen you. In the camp. You're like me." Erik looked at her in fake puzzlement.
"Don't try and hide it. You can do things, things that others can't. You have a gift."
Erik eyed her suspiciously. Trust no one. That was the rule of this earthly hell. It was governed by food, work and death. Reluctantly he opened up.
"Name's Magnus. But call me Erik." He paused. "You can… heal people?"
"To be honest, I don't know. I seemed to be able to mimic other people. And if they have gifts…" Erik gave her a confused look. "Okay, here. Let me show you." She looked around to make sure no one was watching. She raised her hand and focused on the chain around her neck. After a while of straining, the metal identification tag lifted into the air. Erik grinned. It was then that an SS soldier grabbed him by the collar and pushed him forward.
"Your turn, worm," he sneered in German.
Erik walked up to the red-stained table and sat down. An SS worker with a grim face held up a needle. Erik gave him his left arm and gritted his teeth as the black needle slowly dragged across his skin. He looked at the worker with hatred, wishing to strangle him. But all resistance ends in death. Finally the process was over and he looked down at his new name: number.
He managed to linger long enough until his new friend got her arm tattooed. She got up and walked over to him.
"You need to get going," she whispered, "before you get in trouble."
"I didn't get you name."
"Shard. I live over in the original Auschwitz." Erik's mouth opened in horror.
"You mean," he lowered his voice, "where all the-"
"Experiments are," she finished. "They mutilate us for 'the good of the rest of the population.'"
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. From what I hear, there's isn't a better chance of survival in Birkenau." She narrowed her eyes. "I was a twin. The lucky one of the two. The control. They won't keep me much longer. Now my counterpart is gone…"
"My sister," she whispered, "could heal people. She could cure any disease, anyone… except herself." A tear rolled down her cheek. Erik almost laughed. Such sentiments are a delicacy in this hell. He was almost jealous. One's mind just closes itself off to those kinds of things, after seeing… too much.
"There is no room for attachment like that in a place like this, Shard," he scowled.
"There are things we must hold on to," she argued. "No matter what happens."
"My entire family was shot in front of my eyes. Murdered. I wasn't given that luxury." He pointed to himself. "They made me build this accursed place; my own prison." He shook his head. "You can't talk to me about 'holding onto things.' There is nothing left to hold onto."
"You, my friend, are wrong." She looked around. "You really need to get going. Have faith, Magnus; there is always hope."
"Is there anything I can get you?"
Erik looked up. A young flight attendant was walking by with her cart. He checked his watch. It was morning and she was making her breakfast round.
"Sir?" she asked
"No, I'm fine, thank you."
The attendant nodded and then proceeded in asking the people that sat next to him what they would like.
"Not hungry?" asked the man who was sitting besides him.
"Not really," Erik answered. He tried to turn away to prevent a conversation from starting, but it was too late.
"Name's Eric." He held out his hand and Erik shook it. "And you?" Eric asked.
"Magnus." Erik sighed. Shard always had insisted on calling by his real name.
"Sounds Polish."
"It is."
"Visiting or, more likely, returning?" the Eric asked.
"Returning," Erik sighed again. "What about you."
"Oh, well, business trip and that sort of stuff." He began to get up. "Speaking of which, I'd gotta take care of some stuff… It was nice talking to you, Magnus."
Erik watched as the man left and traveled up the isle. After Mr. Name-Copy-Cat walked from sight, he diverted his attention once again out the window. This was turning out to be a long flight. (Seven hours is a lot, especially if you're used to zipping around in little metal spheres.) He played with the idea of using his powers to speed up the flight. Patience, Magnus, he advised himself.
"What was that?" the captain asked.
"I donno," answered the guard, "sounded like some sort of explosion."
"That is not good. Let's have a look around." They both walked around and shined their flashlights throughout the hold.
"Here, Sir!" The guard shined his flashlight on the remains of a crate. The captain studied the remains with a worried look on his face.
"What are we gonna do?" asked the guard.
"I'm afraid we have to call the coast guard. If this was an accidental explosion of a bomb… And we don't know if there are any more …"
"I'll contact the French guard right away," the man said to the captain.
"Good," said the captain. "Once we get this ship in French waters, we'll have it evacuated. Then the guard can give it a thorough examination. Dismissed."
"Oh," the captain stopped the guard. "I don't want any of this to get out to the crew. If they begin to panic, well, I've lost my crew. Understood?"
"Yes Sir."
Gambit and Rogue watched from behind a crate as the two men walked away. Rogue waited until they had shut the door behind him.
"You fool!" She tried to keep from yelling. "Look at this mess you got us in!"
"Don' worry, chere. I get us outta dis one, you see." Gambit crowed.
"I hope you have a plan."
"Plan? No, no, chere. I Gambit; Gambit no need no plan." Rogue sighed at his arrogance and resisted the urge to strangle the Cajun.
"Sometimes I just wish that we never had such powers. It's just ruins our lives. Well, maybe not yours, but at least mine."
"Don' think dat way, chere," Gambit consoled, "I know what you be talkin' 'bout, but remember dat we'd of neva met had if we have no powers."
"That's a bad thing?" Rogue said, in half-joke.
"Ouch," Gambit recoiled. "You cut me deep dere."
"It's not you," she rectified, "but think about it. I could live an normal life, with normal friends. An' I wouldn't have to hide behind these gloves. You don't know what it's like, to be hindered like this."
"Maybe not de same," Gambit remarked, "but we both outcasts. At least you look normal. You think it easy to talk t'people when they notice you have black an' red eyes. Le Diable Blanc, the White Devil. Dat's what dey called my back home."
"How elevating," Rogue commented.
"Yeah," he sighed, "grown t'hate dem too."
"I think their kinda cool," she admired. "It's kinda like your trademark, besides your cards that is. Like how I have that white streak in my hair."
"Never though of it dat way," he admitted. Light was beginning to creep though the tiny windows. "So…" He reached into a crate and pulled out a bright red apple. "Up for an early breakfast?"
Rogue groaned and pushed it away. She had a diet of apples for half a week now. Only a few more days of this… Then, no more apples!
"Ladies and gentlemen, we will be landing in Warsaw in less than an hour and have already begun the descending process." The captain's voice chirped over the intercom. "I ask that you put you seats in an upright position and make sure that your table trays are-" The voice was cut off at the sound of a loud crash.
"I'm sorry," said a familiar voice, "but it seems that the flight plans have changed. This plane is now under Reaver control. We would advise you to stay in your seats; anyone found near the cockpit will be shot on spot. This plane has a bomb in the cargo bay that'll go off in five minutes, unless you surrender Graydon Creed to us. Thank you for flying with us." The intercom was turned off. Two men with large machine guns walked down the isles, looking side to side.
As people panicked around him, Erik looked at the empty seat next to him. Eric, he thought, that devil-
"Mommy," he heard a Polish child ask in the seat in front of him, "are we going to die?"
"No," she answered (in Polish), "I'm sure that they'll leave when they find what they want."
So, they want Graydon Creed eh? He thought. I'll give them Graydon Creed. He stood up and waved to the Reavers. They walked towards Erik, guns pointing at him.
"Creed?" the bigger one asked.
"What do you think?" he mocked. They grabbed him roughly and marched him up the isle.
"That smart talking won't get you far, Creed," said the shorter one.
"We'll see about that," Erik muttered. They dragged him up to the cockpit where two bloody pilots were gagged and bound.
"Hey boss, this guy says he's Creed," said one of the Reavers that had a gun resting in his back. Bad Eric stepped out from the pilot's seat.
"Ahhh," he said, walked up to Erik, "Mr. Magnus, how noble of you. Unfortunately for you, it will cost you your life. I know the man I seek and he is not you."
"I know," Erik grinned. He broke free of the Reavers' grip and gave Bad Eric a hard blow to the face. Bad Eric stumbled backwards. He regained his balance and wiped the blood from lips.
"You will pay for that," he growled. Erik Lehnsherr raised his hand and all the Reavers' guns were in the air, pointing at their owners.
"I think not," he grinned. Bad Eric laughed as his arm transformed into a large gun. He fired several rounds at Erik L.. Bad Eric stared in horror at the bullets levitating in front of Erik's chest.
"So you're a mutant too," he recognized.
"What was your first guess?" Erik clenched his fist and Bad Eric's gun-arm began to twist and pull. Bad Eric winced and pleaded with him.
"Then you must understand why we want Creed," he appealed. "He wants us all dead."
Erik sighed. He knew who Graydon Creed was. But anti-mutant lobbyist and founder of the Friends of Humanity, a national movement dedicated to wiping out the mutant menace. He would have let them take Creed, had it been his old life. But this was now, and as hard as it was…
"Sorry, no can do," he answered. Bad Eric's face straightened.
"Fine," he said with a nasty smile. "I see you have made you decision, and here are the consequences." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small remote device and pressed the classic big red button on it. The plane shook violently as the tail blew off. Erik released Bad Eric and ran to the center of the plane. The Reavers used the time to grab their parachutes and leap from the falling plane. Bad Eric looked at him and saluted.
"Good luck, Magnus," he sneered as he leapt from the plane.
Erik looked at the task ahead of him. People around him were screaming and cursing in both Polish and English. He glanced out a window. The ground was getting dangerously close. Above him the roof cracked open and the plane began to split in two.
"Oh no you don't!" he yelled and magnetically closed the opening. Holding his arms out, he slowed the plane to a gentle stop. After a few minutes, the people stopped screaming when they realized that they weren't falling. They all watched in amazement as Erik guided the aircraft onto the runway. When the plane touched ground they all cheered. Erik looked around at the adoring crowd. Maybe there is hope for humanity, he thought to himself.
Creed watched from the back of the plane as the mutant was cheered on. Burning with hatred, he crossed his arms thought to himself. This was a hard blow to him, having your life saved by the ones you despised. Maybe there was a way to turn this situation against the mutie…