Chapter Four – A Faceless Adversary
Logan was a creature of habit in some things. Patrolling the mansion was one of them. Every night, come hell or high water, he made a sweep of the grounds before systematically checking inside. Only after he was certain everything was secured and everybody safe did he allow himself to rest.
It was a practice he'd taken up from Day One, all those years ago when Charles rescued him from the recesses of his own bestial mind and brought him here to recuperate. At first it had been a way of saying thank you to his unusual saviour – after all, how many people could say a seventeen-year-old kid had rescued them from the life of a mindless animal? Then it had progressed into a sort of guardianship, protecting Charles in case that psycho, Cain, ever returned and did more than break his spine.
However, as Charles matured and moved away to college, Logan had also moved on. He explored far and wide in search of answers to his past, returning sporadically. He reclaimed his old habits whenever he did, but it had become a ritual without much deeper meaning until Charles brought the first of the kids into his care.
He still remembered coming back one day to find a couple of children playing in the pool – a girl and a boy, no more than thirteen if they were a day. Since he hadn't given forewarning of his arrival, Logan hadn't known who they were or what business they had at the mansion until he got there.
"Students," Charles had said. "Here to learn and live their lives in safety."
Logan left again, but returned more often, staying longer each time. The outside world seemed to have no answers for him – or at least none it was willing to give up – and he watched the two kids grow, just as he'd watched Charles all those years before.
They got to know him, thawing him a little after his travels had toughened his shell. He found himself missing them whenever he was out on the open road, wondering how they were doing. If their burgeoning academia was denting their ability to play and be kids. If either of them could benefit from learning a good right hook. He noticed the smirk on Charles' face when he turned up on the doorstep, but paid it no heed. For his part, Charles remained silent concerning the embryonic connection children have an uncanny knack to create.
More arrived. First the Elf, then Half-pint. Logan stayed, finding a new purpose within the Institute walls. More came, and his resolve hardened. These kids were soft, untrained – easy prey, and unable to defend themselves. No matter how potent their powers, they were still just kids. They needed protecting, and though he'd never admit it to anyone, he refused to believe that anyone could do the job better than him.
Thus it was that his old habit found new meaning. Logan was on the prowl again, but this time he had people to protect, and that made him even deadlier to anyone foolish enough to penetrate the Institute.
Tonight, however, the phrase 'hell or high water'was taking on a whole new meaning.
Where the hell did all this pissin' rain come from? he thought, sliding down an embankment and blinking as water got into his eyes. 'Ro never mentioned no storm tonight. At least not to me.
Of course, the fact that he hadn't seen Ororo all day might have accounted for that, but Logan was in no mood for technicalities. Rain meant his enhanced senses were of little use, since all foreign scents were washed away, and the sheets lashing against his face meant he couldn't see more than three feet in front of him at any given time. His familiarity with the layout of the grounds helped immensely, but it was still tough going.
He took a moment to shake himself, dog-like. Considering his guardianship of the Institute, the irony of the move wasn't lost, but somehow his increasing saturation took the edge off it. He moved on with a barely suppressed growl that his brain was making comedic connections instead of taking point on the area.
So far things had proved all clear. He'd surveyed the front of the mansion, combing the initial grounds up to the gate and checking the security system was up and operational. It was, but experience had taught Logan not to rely on machines, so he continued his methodical patrol regardless. Machines could give false readings, or be fooled by tampering. He could not.
However, he was fast approaching the point where he just wanted to give up and go back inside where it was dry and warm. Healing ability was a great advantage, but it did absolutely diddly-squat to help with numb fingers, and his famous nose felt like it was about to drop off with the cold. He grunted as he brushed more water from his eyes, and mused that he really shouldn't have worn his leather out. The rain had ruined it within five minutes of stepping out the door. By now it was irredeemable.
Half-pint must be rubbin' off on me. Never would've considered the state of my clothes on a patrol before.
He almost missed it. Had it not been for the flash of lightning emphasising all shadow, he probably never would've noticed the faint shift of black on black. He froze immediately.
Thunder grumbled, hot on the heels of the lightning. The storm was right overhead. Logan felt the oppression of it squeezing his skull. Shaking off this unwelcome feeling, he strained all his senses, trying to filter out the steady thrumming of rain when his nose proved unable to help. His eyes narrowed, but darkness swallowed the terrain, and falling raindrops made it difficult to see much of anything except the looming bulk of the thicket. Tree branches whipped in the wind, making things even more difficult, but he persevered.
He knew he'd seen something – something that didn't belong out here.
He didn't turn around, but slowly moved his head, keeping his gaze fixed on the spot he'd seen the movement.
Nothing.
Dammit, where's 'Ro with a lightning bolt when you need her? Can't see crap in this squall.
No convenient flash this time. He concentrated so hard on that the backs of his eyeballs started to ache.
A tiny shift rewarded the pain. Logan's mouth twisted into a grim line. He'd been right. Something was in the grounds, and it was definitely something that didn't belong. It moved silently, almost as good as himself when he glided forward, stalking it with a hunter's grace.
Almost.
Whatever it is, it's good, he was forced to grudgingly admit, at the same time dismissing the notion that it could be one of the kids sneaking out. None of them were even close to him for stealth. Beast was, perhaps, if he tried. Maybe the elf in a pinch, or Wolfsbane when she was wolfed out. however, this thing was definitely not Kurt, nor their resident blue gorilla, and it was more certainly bipedal.
It slipped from him several times. He had to stop stock-still to see it again – never more than a fleeting glimpse, but enough to tell him that he wasn't following a stray animal. It was too big, and moved with too much grace. He'd been caught out before, trailing cats through the undergrowth, and had long since come to the conclusion that all Bayville felines must have come from the same flawed forefathers.
This... thing was puzzling. It moved like a Bayvillian moggy, but was obviously too big.
Sabertooth? Nah, too small for that.
There had been no circuses or fairs in Bayville for many a long month, and the news had made no mention of any escaped zoo animals, so he crossed that off the list. Besides which, even though he didn't trust the Institute's security system, he was aware that nothing confined to animal intellect could get past it. The lasers would've finished it off long before it got three feet in, let alone this far. Which also led on to the little matter of how anything had gotten over the wall in the first place.
Yet it moved with such a random pattern, and changed direction so many times that Logan eventually wondered if it was in fact some kind of animal. It claimed no specific direction, and more often than not avoided the Institute instead of heading towards it, as he would've expected had it been one of the Brotherhood or other such enemy mutant. Not that the stealthy movements and ability to evade him so easily hadn't already clued him into the fact that it wasn't any of those inept bozos. The Brotherhood couldn't sneak their way out of a paper bag. Logan had long since lost any scrap of respect he'd had for that bunch of poor quality –
He stopped. It was gone again; vanished into the dark like a wraith.
Raindrops slid down his face. He silently searched the gloom for any sign of it – the crack of a twig, the shush of a leaf. He was hyper-aware. Any aberrant sound would've set him off.
Nothing of the sort reached him, but the sensitive state left his muscles tensed – something he was glad of when the shadows to his left suddenly exploded. Something struck his side, gouging a deep gash right through the leather and driving into the flesh beneath, before he rolled and expertly threw it off again. He leapt to his feet, claws popped, but it was already gone. A snarl rippled his lip.
That confirmed the suspicion that the sneak wasn't friendly, at least. Not that it did him much good right now. He could feel the wound closing up, but it galled his pride that somebody – something – had managed to get the drop on him.
He growled. It wouldn't happen again.
Looks like our little visitor's fast as well as sneaky. Wonderful. One hand traced the half-moon curve it'd taken out of his jacket. Strong, too. Even better. Wet or not, leather was a tough substance, which was the primary reason motorcyclists wore it. Its protective qualities were sometimes all that stood between having four limbs and not, especially if a bike went into a slide and took the rider with it. Yet the intruder had cut straight through it like tissue paper. Not an encouraging development.
Seconds passed, impossibly long. Nothing moved, though Logan tilted his head this way and that. He was almost convinced it was going to attack from the same spot again when something rammed into his back, knocking him off balance. Needles dug into his shoulders, his jacket proving useless again.
Logan fell, but twisted around to slash upwards with his claws. Yet the thing was gone again, and he landed heavily in the sodden litter. Leaves scattered everywhere as he sprang back up. To lie down in battle was to die.
This thing had a curious method of attacking. He knew it was there, so the element of surprise was gone, and it was obviously aware of that. However, the fact hardly mattered. Logan was no fool, but it took him a moment to remember where he'd seen such tactics before. Half-lidded memories of watching a pack of wolves take down a moose came to the fore. His brain focussed on how they dove in to slash at the massive beast, drawing blood and then darting away again to avoid being trampled. Animals used such strategy when the prey was bigger than themselves and could do harm if engaged more fully, wearing it down until it was effortless to finish off.
So, you're definitely smaller than me. Thanks for clearing that up, bub.
The light shift of shadows and wiry frame he'd been following supported such an assumption.
Logan's mouth set into a grim line as he tensed himself for the next assault. If he knew the style he could be ready with an effective counter. When something slid along the ground to his right he met it as it leapt up, grabbing the scruff of the neck with one hand and hoisting it aloft. If it wasn't on its feet then it couldn't dodge and slash and he could properly tell what he was dealing with.
He was only mildly surprised when his fingers sank into a loose flap of skin instead of a shirt collar or similar, leaving his opponent to swing freely in front of him.
Pain suddenly erupted in his chest, blinding and sharp. He grunted as the creature bit down hard on his hand and scrabbled at his wrist. Blood flowed – not enough to seriously wound, but enough to piss him off.
And a pissed off Logan is a very dangerous creature indeed.
He snarled – a wild, untamed sound. For a moment the whatever-it-was seemed to falter, but only for a moment. The snarl was abruptly cut off as it twisted its body around and something sharp scratched a deep score across his cheek, lancing into his left eye. The faint wet pop was indistinguishable against the rain.
Logan roared, dropping the bundle and clutching at his face. Healing factor repaired injuries, but it didn't stop pain, and right now he was in a world of it. His eyeball throbbed, vision swimming. He cursed as it faded to a hazy red and then went completely dark.
Crap, that'll take a bit of time to heal. Time I ain't got to spare in this fight.
He heard a hiss, like air coming out of a tyre, and the sound of scattering leaves. A presence jumped to his left, taking advantage of his newly blinded side. It obviously didn't know him very well, because he anticipated such a manipulative move and turn to meet it, thrusting his claws out and up. He couldn't see properly, but there was a satisfying squeal. The creature dropped to the ground and backed away a few feet.
As if on cue, a burst of lightning bathed the area in a white glow, and Logan finally got a good look at his attacker, despite his bum eye.
He was surprised - and not a little vexed - when he did.
It was small, no bigger than Jamie, or perhaps Amara at a push – wiry, but still tiny compared to what he'd been expecting. Rain plastered down a coat of fur draped in little more than rags that had once been clothes. From the way it crouched its body clearly shared several attributes with predators. A wide, flat head, a broad mouth and thick, squat neck. It narrowed pale eyes at him, hissing through a mouth stuffed with fangs. The hiss was the first and only noise it had made throughout the entire scuffle.
He noted quickly that it cradled one of its arms, and a liquid darker than water coursed through powerful, clawed fingers. He'd wounded it then, but not enough to take it out completely; just enough to hinder it the same way it'd hindered him. The score was even.
From what he could see, the feet were almost paw-like, with unsheathed claws still coated in the last vestiges of his own blood where they'd raked his chest and face.
This was what he'd been fighting? This had done what Sabertooth couldn't? This little shrimp? He felt suddenly galled, and his view of his old nemesis dropped a couple more notches.
Everything took a split-second. Then blackness descended once more, and a round of thunder drowned out everything.
Logan tensed, feeling hot, sticky blood run out of his wounds and onto his shirt. They'd been deep, and took a little longer to close up than he would've liked. When the next assault came he winced because it reopened them partially, and his pain threshold was high, but not damn high enough.
The creature shot low, belly hugging the floor. It twisted itself around to slash at his ankles with what felt like razors. It was trying to cripple him, cut the tendon and knock him down where he couldn't protect himself so well. Yet more wolfish behaviour from something that looked like Garfield's evil grandchild.
Clever, Logan thought, leaping a good few feet in the air and coming down with the intent of spearing it. But not clever enough.
His claws, however, hit only soaking wet leaves, and though he waited gamely for another assault, it didn't come. He was left standing, squinting around and wondering where the hell the thing had gone.
Damn.
This was a lot tougher than it should've been. His left eye throbbed hideously, a distraction, and he spat out a mouthful of blood like it would help relieve the pain. His senses were peaked, but all he could see was rain, and all he could smell was gore – his own, and the other mutant's.
He'd already come to the conclusion that he was facing a mutant. It was all the creature could be. A small, more sensible part of his brain demanded why it hadn't showed up on Cerebro if that was the case, but he drove it back again. No distractions during a fight. Easy way to get yourself killed, or at the very least, wounded so bad you'd be feeling it for a week afterwards.
Dammit! Where did it go? It obviously didn't know about his healing factor, or else it wouldn't leave such large gaps between attacks. Its strategy was clever, but his mutant ability negated it, sewing him back up while he waited for it to try and carve fresh bits off.
Oh fu – there! To the left! His head snapped up, and he saw the slip of matte black on glossy wet backdrop. Just a flicker, but it moved with enough purpose that he knew it had given up fighting him for an entirely different tack.
It was heading toward the Institute.
Oh no you don't, bub! Not on my watch.
Abandoning stealth for speed, Logan tore through the undergrowth in pursuit. The figure chanced a look behind it at the noise, and then did likewise. The open ground between the trees and the mansion provided little cover anyway, but now it concentrated solely on streaking like a living bullet instead of keeping itself concealed in shadow.
This thing was dangerous. If he was having problems subduing it, however slight, there was no telling what might happen if it got into the mansion. Logan didn't even like to think. His claws were already out, but he suddenly felt the need to make some other show of aggression, to show this thing that he had its number and was about to shred the paper it was written on.
So he threw back his head and roared.
It was a wild sound, the kind that makes hair stand on end, and it was much, much louder than his earlier attempt – all raw anger and the primal desire to protect his own. Logan hadn't spent years guarding these kids just to let some skinny little reject from a Hammer Horror movie break in and hack them to pieces. He poured every ounce of feeling he had into that single, gut-wrenching bellow, not even noticing when windows lit up seconds later.
Jean sat bolt upright, every nerve alive and dancing. The back of her neck prickled. The end of a scream rolled around her bedroom.
She was out of bed and stumbling towards the door within seconds, wiping sleep from her eyes and wrenching it open to see what was going on. Outside in the hall she could see several others doing the same. A figure later identified as Bobby dashed past at something approaching mach three.
"What's going on?" She grabbed the nearest available person, who happened to be Kurt.
He shrugged at her, still in his sleeping attire and devoid of a housecoat. The expression on his face and faint whiff of brimstone told her he'd 'ported out here in panic. Plus, where only the hairs on her neck had stood up, he looked like he'd just crawled out of a dryer.
"Ich habe keine Ahnung. I have no idea, but I heard a scream."
"Me too." She blinked, trying to focus on the world of the living she'd been catapulted so abruptly back into. "Sounded like Beast."
"Or Logan." Kurt gestured over his shoulder with a thumb. "Sounded like it came from outside."
"Logan," she said decisively. "He was probably patrolling. But what in heaven's name could have made him scream like that?"
"Search me." Kurt shrugged again, tail wrapping and unwrapping itself around his leg with a dexterity that made the habit look like it was a longstanding one. He glanced down the corridor to where the new recruits were thundering past and cramming themselves against the far window – the one that overlooked the front grounds and the road leading into town. "Nothing good."
Jean had to agree. Logan was a man of few words, but when he said something, it was always worth listening to. Likewise, when he made pissed-off animal noises, it meant that something was most definitely up.
She tugged on Kurt's arm. Together they traced their way down the hall, circumventing the younger students and locating a window of their own. It didn't have such a good view, but at least they didn't have to beat their way through a mass of flailing bodies to see anything.
Not that there was anything actually worth seeing. The pane was smeared with heavy rain and dead leaves that had blown up and glued themselves to the other side. Where they could see through, the grounds looked dark and forbidding. It was the sort of night that nobody in their right mind ventured out in, thus making it ideal for rapists, murderers, serial killers and Freddy Kruger.
No more late night horror movie for you, young lady, Jean thought, peering out and seeing nothing.
Eventually she tutted, raised her hand to guide her telekinesis, and used it to wipe the water away like a windshield wiper. Of course, it clouded right back up again, so she concentrated and a small dome of displaced air appeared, shielding the glass and making it easier to look through.
"That's a really neat trick," Kurt said in a flippant tone that belied how anxious he was. His tail and still-tufted fur were doing a fine job of saying that on their own. "Handy, too."
"I can't see him. Kurt, your eyes are better than mine. What's going on? Is he even out there?" They had to be quick, before Ororo, Beast, or even the Professor emerged to herd them all back to bed.
Kurt pressed his face to the glass, steaming it slightly with his breath. "Nada," he said after a moment. Jean groaned, but stopped when he spoke again, voice tight. "Wait! Wait, I think I see something! They've moved into view now..."
"They?" Jean pounced on the phrase.
"It's Logan and... someone else. They're fighting." Kurt sounded anxious.
And well he might. Jean knew that Kurt wasn't a violent person by nature. When push came to shove, he was willing to go that extra step to defend people and the ideals he believed in, but the little elf really preferred the more diplomatic approach – which was intensely ironic, considering how his appearance had sparked such violence against him in the past. Kurt's nightmares were the primary reason she'd trained herself into shielding while she slept, and talked the Professor into 'lagging' her room.
"Can you see who it is?" If Sabertooth had returned, she wanted to know about it. she shook off the last remnants of sleep to concentrate properly. Logan was a tough old boot, but he wasn't invincible and he might need help.
"Not really." Kurt skittered up the wall, startling her a little. "Ach, they've moved out of range. I'd see more if this window were open." His tail flicked at the sash, but Jean shook her head. A glance at the frame had already told her that this was the window Evan had accidentally blown out of the wall a few months ago, and had consequently become an purely display one ever since. Nothing short of ripping the entire thing out again would do the trick anymore.
"Is Mr. Logan gonna be okay?"
Jean whirled at the voice and was confronted by a trio of Jamies. Her increased shielding was still up, so she hadn't sensed his approach, but she didn't need her telepathy to see the fear written on all three faces.
"'Course he is," said Scott, appearing behind him and laying a brotherly hand on one shoulder. "If anyone can take care of himself, it's Logan. I mean, would you wanna mess with him?"
The Jamies seemed mollified, but only slightly. One faded away.
Jean met Scott's gaze over the heads of the remaining two. He had his glasses on, as per usual, but there was a tense slant to his shoulders. Scott was worried too, and she nodded at him, once again not needing telepathy to know what he was planning. She'd known Scott long enough to already tell what course of action he'd take, and after shepherding the Jamies back into the cluster of younger mutants, the two of them started off down the hall.
Where are you going? Kurt's mental 'voice' called out through their well-established link. Jean winced. She could tune out most things, but direct thought got through her shielding anyway, and Kurt thought very loud when he was panicky.
To see if Logan needs any help.
I'm coming too.
No, stay here and make sure nobody follows us.
But -
Kurt, please. The others, they're excitable and... and... Great, even inside her own head she didn't want to finish that sentence. Like anybody other than Kurt could hear her and deem it rude?
They'll get in the way, I know. Kurt was solemn. Jean briefly glanced over his shoulder to meet his intense eyes. Just don't do anything stupid, ja? Geben Sie acht.
Ja.
Gradually, the sounds of the other students died away. Jean and Scott took a slightly longer route to the front entrance, so as to avoid the stairs to Ororo's attic and the other faculty bedrooms. Instinctively, Jean extended her mental shield to encompass Scott as well so that the Professor wouldn't sense them. Or at least she hoped he wouldn't. If he scanned especially for them he'd know what they were up to, but she was counting on him being too involved with the other kids to notice they were absent.
She was concentrating so much on not letting any chinks into her armour that she wasn't entirely focussed on her surroundings. So when a something suddenly touched her shoulder she almost made a noise that would have turned her face as red as her hair. Scott whipped around, hand already at the side of his glasses, but dropped his arm when he saw who it was.
"Hey," said Kitty. She was half phased through the ceiling, and dropped the rest of the way as they watched. It had been her foot that touched Jean's shoulder, since she hadn't anything else with which to get her attention.
Jean instantly felt foolish, and was somehow glad Kitty and Rogue no longer shared a room this year. Rogue's scowl and surly manner was something she really didn't need right now, and though she didn't like to admit it, the sight of Rogue in her jammies wasn't something she wanted Scott exposed to any more than was absolutely necessary.
She blinked. Where the heck had that come from?
"What's going on?" Kitty asked.
Quickly composing herself, Jean glanced around, recognising the hallway as the one directly below Kitty's room. "Shh, keep your voice down. We're trying to go incognito here."
"Something's going down outside," Scott said in a hushed voice. "Logan caught an intruder, we think. Might be Sabertooth – at least from the sounds of things. He's giving him hell, but we're going in as back-up in case he needs it."
Kitty's eyes grew round. "Is he, like, okay?" It was no secret how close she and Logan were. Some might consider their relationship almost that of a surrogate father and daughter – especially after the incident in Canada, when she and Kurt went along with him on an impromptu trip down memory lane. Jean had been there when the chip was removed from Logan's head afterwards, and had borne witness to Kitty's relentless vigil by his bedside until he woke up.
Scott's jawline was grim. "That's what we're going to find out."
"And make sure of," Jean amended, seeing the brief flash of anxiety on Kitty's face.
"Not without me you're not." It was said with such vehemence, such veracity, that neither of them really felt up to arguing with her.
Jean sighed as she swelled her shield to accommodate yet another person. It was a bit of a strain, and she was glad she'd been fortifying her defences recently. Had this been the start of the year, before her powers evolved that bit more, she never would've been able to manage it.
A wry smirk twitched her lips. She never thought she'd ever be grateful for that day in hell. Funny how things turned out.
"Ready?" Scott was impatient, she could tell by the tone of his voice. She shot him a quick look, making sure he didn't say anything that would upset Kitty. Distressed, she wouldn't much help, and might even prove to be a hindrance. They all needed to stay as level-headed as possible, and keep their wits about them.
Which was why, when the door they were standing in front of suddenly opened, she bit down on so hard to keep from squeaking that she drew blood from her tongue.
A thatch of quills and quick, dark eyes appeared. The room beyond had no light on, and the occupant was wearing black – just what they needed to keep their spirits up.
"What the fuck is going on out here?" Ray demanded, voice low.
Jean groaned, and not just from her hurt tongue. Of course, she should've realised – Ray's room was Kitty and Rogue's old one. No wonder this bit of corridor looked familiar. At the beginning of the semester Kitty had always been accidentally phasing through the door on him, forgetting she'd moved up a floor, which had made for some interesting moments first thing in the morning and last thing at night. In fact, she could almost swear Kitty's cheeks were darkening at the sight of Ray in his nightwear, but the hallway was so gloomy it was difficult to tell.
"Mr. Logan's in a fight," Kitty said simply, maybe even a little defensively. "We think Sabertooth might be in the grounds, so we're going to help him."
Ray's eyes moved between her and Scott, and then on to Jean. They nodded, verifying the story. A strange look passed between the two boys, but Jean spared it no more than a passing interest as Ray spoke again.
"So where're the others?"
"Upstairs playing peekaboo at the window. Kurt's making sure they don't try anything stupid before the other teachers arrive."
"You mean like rushing to the rescue in their PJs?"
Jean looked down. She was forced to admit that her nightdress, though comfortable for the Land of Nod, wasn't exactly battle-worthy.
"Point," Scott said, "but it's not like we had time to change or anything. Things are getting pretty hairy out there, and I'm not just talking about Sabertooth."
Ray nodded, as if Scott had just said something vastly important instead of justifying their clothing. He opened his bedroom door a smidgen wider, slipped out, and closed it behind him.
Kitty immediately stuck out her lip. "Oh no, he's not coming with us."
"And why not?" Ray's voice didn't rise in volume or pitch, but there was a distinct edge to it.
Kitty folded her arms petulantly, face settling into a truly pubescent frown. "He'll mess things up," she said to Scott and Jean, talking over Ray's head like he wasn't even there. "The new recruits always - "
"Kitty," Jean warned, noticing the dangerous glint in Ray's eye. He was daring her to finish that sentence, and Jean mediated like crazy to stop either of them from doing anything that might get them caught. "Look, we don't have time to argue. Every second we waste, Logan's getting his butt ki – uh, fighting outside. Chances are he'll need our help, and we're not getting anywhere by acting like pre-schoolers. Kitty, you may not have noticed, but the new recruits aren't exactly new anymore. Ray's at a higher level of training than you were when the Professor let you out on your first mission."
And look how well that turned out.
She immediately chastised herself for thinking such an unkind thing, but the memory of Rogue's first meeting with the X-Men hung over them like a shroud.
Kitty pouted, but said nothing more. She obviously remembered it, too.
Jean turned. "Ray - " then she stopped, not sure how to go on. 'Don't mess up' seemed pretty trite after what she'd just said. 'Don't prove me wrong' wasn't much better, so instead she simply threw another mental shield over his thoughts, took a moment to get accustomed to the extra strain, and motioned that they should move on.
"Finally," Scott muttered.
The rest of their trip was uneventful, which was good in that they weren't discovered and ordered back to bed, but bad in that it allowed the tension and anxiety in their small group to rise. Jean felt it. Having encapsulated all four of their minds in her shield she was privy to more thoughts than her defences would usually allow, and the combined emotions simmered, pressing like an iron band around her skull. She threw up a few more layers, but had to give up after a while. Shielding took most of her attention, and if she didn't start concentrating on where she was going she'd fall flat on her face – very heroic.
Kitty left off grumbling about Ray as they rounded a corner and came out at the main staircase. The glass doors of the front entrance were shut, rain making it impossible to see anything more than blurry shapes that could've been anything. Her worry for Logan increased by the second, until eventually Jean had to say something or risk having her brain explode from the pressure.
"Kitty..."
"What?" Kitty gave her a blank look, and then looked contrite. "Oh, sorry."
Jean sighed as the excess emotion was abruptly sucked back in, leaving her mind free to move again. Those techniques she and the Professor had been teaching the others were really paying off. She allowed herself a small sigh of relief.
"Now who's messing things up?" Ray asked, voice barely above a whisper but smug all the same.
Kitty shot him a look, and Jean really didn't want to be in his shoes the next time it was Shadowcat's turn to programme the after-school training session.
"Quiet, all of you." Scott's gaze was fixed on the door. They hugged the shadows out of instinct, clinging to the gloom of the banister as he surveyed whether it was safe to go or not. "Okay, let's move."
"Shall I phase us through?" Kitty asked.
"And have the alarms wired into the door short out and go off?" Ray snorted. "Even I knew that."
Jean received a mental image of Kitty sticking out her tongue, but Kitty's actual face never flickered.
Silently, they descended, slipping across the foyer like moths, to where the security system blinked accusingly at them. Scott glanced around before flipping the switch to unlock the door, and they dashed through, Jean last of all so that she could use a strand of telekinesis to switch it back on again. If Sabertooth was about then they didn't want him getting into the Institute, although the irritating voice at the back of her mind wondered just how they expected a flimsy glass door to keep him out.
Outside was pure pandemonium. Rain came from the sky in sheets, sluicing down their faces and plastering down hair and clothing after only a few seconds. Jean flipped her head, wishing she'd had the forethought to tie her hair back. She couldn't see Logan anywhere, but the sounds of frenzied battle said he was close by. Kitty and Scott were both already on the driveway, with Ray not far behind them on the steps.
I don't see anything, Kitty 'said', obviously troubled but keeping her emotions commendably in check. Where is he? Jean, can you do a scan?
Jean tested her reserves. No, she was already concentrating so much on shielding them all that a mental scan would stretch all of about three feet. She made a split second decision, concluding that since they'd made it this far they were going to get found out anyway. Taking a deep breath, she let go of all three foreign minds, calling her distended powers back to her and giving them only a second to recuperate before throwing out a scan.
"Kitty! To your left!" It wasn't Logan – or Sabertooth, surprisingly – but a mental signature was heading straight for the younger girl. From the oddly jumbled surface-thoughts Jean gleaned only that it was frightened and desperate, and probably going to do harm to anybody or anything that got in the way of its headlong flight.
Kitty turned just as a dark shadow powered through the air towards her, on the way down from a great leap. She threw her arms up in front of her face, but made no move to run. It passed straight through her and skidded to a halt on the other side of her body.
Jean felt astonishment radiating from the new mind; a mixture of shock at seeing four people that most definitely hadn't been there before, and flat out stupefaction that one of them appeared to be incorporeal. It turned, staring at Kitty, but could do no more than that as Logan suddenly appeared like a spectre and tackled it to the gravel.
The stranger didn't make a sound, but Jean reeled back at the mental screech that accompanied its fury. Hot anger drowned out its fear for a moment.
Logan grunted as it writhed in his grasp, scratching and biting at all bits of available flesh until it could wriggle free. He was at the wrong angle to use his claws without stabbing his own neck, and it sped off into the murk with a parting hiss not unlike an incensed cat.
Kitty rushed to his side. "Mr. Logan! Mr. Logan, are you all right?"
He looked up at her, and even from this distance Jean could tell that there was something wrong with his left eye. There was a brief stab of shock from Kitty, then anger from Logan. "What the hell are you doin' out here?"
"We, uh..." Kitty hesitated, struck by the deep cuts and gouges lining his face and neck.
Jean wasn't exactly too enamoured of them herself, as she approached and saw the full extent of the damage. Logan was a quick healer, but not even he could dress up the multitude of painful abrasions, some of them still dripping blood. His suspect eye was squeezed closed, but Jean could see beneath the folds of swelling flesh that it was filmy and white, and strangely concave.
That... thing blinded him. The thought was ridiculous, but she couldn't argue with the evidence laid out before her. The mere idea that Logan could be hurt in such a way was disturbing enough in itself, but the fact that it wasn't his arch-nemesis who had done it just took the cake.
Suddenly Jean didn't feel quite so sure of herself. She glanced around, sending out another scan to check where the intruder was. It was an unknown entity, and she didn't want it taking them by surprise.
"We came to help," Kitty said.
"Get your asses back inside right now," Logan snapped, so forcefully that even Scott looked shocked.
Jean saw his questioning look, but she was too concerned with combing the immediate area as fast as possible without missing anything.
Had it left completely? It wasn't a particularly unwelcome thought, but somehow she doubted it. Their luck with this sort of thing didn't like simple outcomes.
She swept wide, caught a speck, and homed in on it. The mind she brushed was a tangle of incoherent thought and feeling, and for a second she was shocked at how unordered it was. Even the most basic minds had a fundamental order, but this one shifted beneath her like seismic plates, never allowing her probe to find an opening that wouldn't trap her in the odd psychic webbing.
Still, she could tell where it was. It was close.
Far too close.
"Scott! Look out!" The cry ripped from her lips. How had she missed it? Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Scott turned towards the direction the intruder had taken. Both Jean and Logan yelled, as a dark shape detached itself from the gloom behind him and speared into his exposed back instead. He went down hard, hitting the concrete with a meaty thud. Rain thundered down all around them, dulling the sound, but Jean heard the whoosh of air leaving his lungs very, very clearly.
She also felt the slice of fear as his glasses smashed. And the pain as something dug into his shoulder blade.
The creature was sat atop him for no more than three seconds before Jean unleashed her telekinesis, a wall of raw energy slamming against it and sending it flying. The new strength at Jean's command swatted it like a fly. It smashed face first into the wall, before tumbling limply into the bushes.
Except Jean wasn't looking when that part happened. As soon as she delivered the blow, her feet were already moving, and when the sickening crunch sounded she had reached Scott's side and was kneeling beside him.
"Scott," she said again, hearing the wet slaps of the others' approach.
"Remind me never to get hit by one of those," Kitty muttered.
"Scott?" There were dark stains on his back. His eyes were closed, and for a second Jean feared the worst. Her hair billowed vengefully around her shoulders, but resettled itself into a sodden mess when Scott groaned and pushed himself up.
"Scott?" said Kitty, crouching on his other side and helping him to turn over and sit. She picked up the frames of his glasses, and Jean saw that they were bent out of shape so much that repairing them was a dubious prospect.
"Well, that went well," Scott said glumly. "Did we get him?"
"And how!" Kitty couldn't quite keep the note of awe from her voice. Jean flushed with embarrassment. "Jean, like, totally squished him like a bug! You should've seen it – oops." She touched her lips, conscious of her faux pas. "I mean, you shouldn't have... no, what I mean to say is... actually she... maybe I'll just be quiet now."
Logan had moved past them and was poking around the bushes. Jean looked up, noting that his claws were still unsheathed.
"Is it dead?" Kitty asked, and Jean was suddenly struck by the possibility. She'd never used that amount of power on a person before – well, at least never to anyone she wasn't sure could take it, like Blob. The effect on a normal body would most probably be devastating. Her guts felt like they were rearranging themselves for the second time in as many minutes.
Could she – had she actually... killed someone with her powers?
The rain seemed that little bit sharper, the air colder, and the sky so much darker.
Logan leaned in toward the point of impact. Jean strained her eyes, but she couldn't see the wall and any blood that might be left on it. Of course, the rain would've washed it away, but the sense of not knowing was intimidating. She bit her lip as she waited for their teacher's response.
He never gave one, however – both because there was no need, and because at that moment a snarling mass of coiled fury exploded into his face. The onslaught was so fierce that he was forced to take a step back before ramming his claws at it, which, for Logan was the equivalent of running screaming in terror.
The creature vaulted over his head, avoiding the adamantium with a hairsbreadth to spare. Jean heard Logan growl as he spun on his heel, but the rain obfuscated everything to the point where all she could see was a dark object running towards the mansion front steps.
"Red! Stop it!" Any qualms he'd had about their help seemed to evaporate, and he bellowed the order out like a drill sergeant.
Jean hesitated, conscious of how much power she was using this time and willing to use only as little as she could for fear of any injuries the intruder had already incurred. She stretched out her arm and plucked it carefully into the air, letting it hover six inches off the ground and dragging it backwards, away from the steps. It hissed, struggling, but she'd held onto a Quicksilver-induced twister before, so this was easy by comparison.
Then, quite suddenly it stopped moving. Jean wondered why a second before a keening wail started up inside her head. It was so woeful, so intensely frustrated, and so very loud that she gasped from the sheer intensity. Her entire skull felt like it was shattering from the inside out, and somewhere she heard a voice call her name as what felt like concrete rushed up to greet her.
Hold on, Logan ordered.
I can't!
Hold on. It wasn't advice, it was a command.
Yet even though she tried to do as he said, Jean's grip slipped. The wail raised pitch, flinging raw emotion at her like bullets. Fear, pain panic, anger, pain, pain – all of them speared into her head, searing through her thoughts like fiery brands. The need to get away, to find safety, and to spill blood coursed through her veins. Her vision became cloudy red as images both actual and imaginary streaked through her mind.
The wail stopped as soon as the creature's feet touched the ground, and Jean fell back into her own consciousness. Somebody was holding her up. She blinked blearily at Ray, trying to reorganise herself. He said something, but it was muffled. All she could do was blink, as the horrifying visions faded away and left her feeling oddly hollow inside.
Ray jerked his head up. She turned, a thousand needles ploughing into her skull with the movement, just in time to see the creature facing off against Logan. He'd positioned himself in front of the doors and was looking at it with a stance that clearly said 'bring it on' in that unsubtle way that only he could. The intruder had its back to them, but even through the rain she could tell that it was considerably smaller than him.
Swimming back to rational thought, Jean struggled to sit upright, the more self-conscious part of her brain forcing her to make sure her nightdress hadn't ridden up. She was surprised when Ray's fingers suddenly tightened in her shoulders, and then again when he didn't let go. She tried to shake him off.
"Ray?"
Logan roared, lunging at the intruder, and her head snapped around. Ow! She was going to have one killer of a migraine when this was over.
The two fighters merged into a single shadow as they grappled. The intruder was as intent on getting into the Institute as Logan was on keeping it out, and they parried back and forth, taking their skirmish several feet in each direction as they slashed, bit, growled and hissed their way across the tarmac.
Once, Logan scored a hit, and they all heard the intruder squeal, loud and long. Ray's fingers tightened again, and Jean squirmed.
"Ow! Ray, you're hurting me."
He wasn't listening, and Jean felt a splash of raw incredulity that could only be his.
The intruder backed away from Logan, holding its side. It hissed, and he beckoned at it with his claws. "Come on, let's dance some more. I'm just gettin' warmed up."
It surveyed him for a moment, then turned tail and sped towards the cluster of kids instead. Logan shouted, pursuing it, but it had a head start. It leapt into the air as it neared them – although whether it was jumping them or trying to jump over them wasn't clear.
Someone else grabbed Jean's shoulder, and she felt the strange emptiness that always accompanied Kitty's power. It was disconcerting when the creature passed straight through them – not trying to jump over, then – and even more so when Kitty quickly released them all and leaped to her feet.
Intangible as she'd been before, Kitty's foot was now very, very solid. It connected with the bemused creature's head in a roundhouse kick that showed just how much she'd been paying attention in the DR. Likewise when the heel of her hand caught under its jaw, snapping its head back like a released spring.
It stumbled backwards, off balance. Kitty tried to press her advantage the way she'd been taught, dropping into a crouch and swinging her leg around to knock its feet out from under it. She looked surprised when, instead of trying to regain its feet, the creature went with it and flipped into a back handspring that would've made even Kurt proud. It was a practised move, trained and polished, and much more inclined towards a human fighting style than any of the other wild attacks it had made thus far.
Curiouser and curiouser.
Kitty yelped, as it then head-butted her chest and flung her against the ground. Her skull hit the concrete, bounced, and Jean felt the burst of stars that signalled her an abrupt plunge into unconsciousness. Kitty didn't get up again.
A moment later Logan re-entered the fray, exuding outrage and moral fury, as well as just plain old fury. He collided with the creature while it was still preoccupied with Kitty, and the two of them rolled over and over, a snarling, spitting mass of teeth, claws and tufts of wet hair ripped out at the roots.
Instinctively, Jean moved to the fallen girl's side. Kitty was breathing, and a quick check revealed she'd done little more than pass out, although when she came around they'd have to watch for concussion. Though not the most ideal situation, it was better than the alternative.
Scott was still sitting not three feet to her left. She laid a hand on his arm, assuaging the rising alarm she could feel in him. Scott felt useless without his glasses or visor, unable to help, or even so much as open his eyes without potentially hurting a teammate. From past times when it had happened she knew that simply letting him know that someone was nearby was the best option. The assortment of (to him) unexplained noises had put him on edge, and he grabbed for her hand when she touched him.
"Who's that? What's going on?"
"It's me," she said, not using their mental link since her brain chose that moment to remind her how much it still hurt.
"Jean? What happened?"
"Kitty's out cold. Tried to take it hand-to-hand. Logan's still fighting the good fight - "
"How's he doing?" The question was worried, as evidenced by the fact he cut her off before she could finish.
"I can't tell. The rain..."
A bolt of lightning lit up the scene. Jean blinked in the sudden glow.
Logan and the intruder were still locked together in an exceptionally angular shadow, but he seemed to have the upper hand. She watched as he twisted to one side, snagged his foot around its legs and sent it crashing to the ground. One of the simplest self-defence moves on the planet, but still incredibly effective.
The lightning died, but she didn't need it to see the adamantium claws glint as they rose above his head. Sudden panic infused her as she realised what he was about to do, but for the life of her she just couldn't seem to move fast enough. Her telekinesis seemed sluggish, her telepathy non-existent, and though she tried to call out, her voice seemed intent on gurgling before it formed any kind of coherent words.
He couldn't! He mustn't!
The pressure on her hand increased. "Jean, what's - "
A sudden burst of bluish-green energy re-lit the area brighter than any lightning bolt could, crackling as it turned raindrops to mist while they were still falling. Logan flew backwards, as it arrowed into his chest, encountering a tree branch that splintered and made the rest of the airborne journey at his side. He skidded, rolled, and grunted to a halt a full twenty feet from where he'd been.
Anybody else wouldn't have been able to survive such a concussive blast, but after a few tense seconds, Logan twitched and moved. When he stood up his front was smoking and his face, though half-hidden by the rain, was murderous.
Jean stared. It was all she could do. It took her a moment to realise that there was a new shadow standing between Logan and the figure he'd been about to slice to bits.
"Back. Off." Ray's voice was flinty, devoid of any emotion. Even his trademark rage was nowhere to be seen.
Logan growled, advancing with a menacing step. The intruder hadn't moved from where he'd felled it, but Jean saw that its chest was still moving, rapid and breathless.
"You'd better have a damn good explanation for that, cowboy."
Ray said nothing, but slivers of electricity curled around his raised fists in an unmistakable warning. It was a miracle he hadn't fried himself with the first discharge.
Jean got the feeling he wasn't so much stopping Logan from doing something he shouldn't as protecting the creature. The feeling magnified, as Ray turned and dropped to his knees by its side. It flailed its claws at him, trying to rake his face, but was obviously a lot weaker than it had been before. He pinned one hand at the wrist, and Jean felt a stab of surprise from the foreign mind.
"Hothead?"
She blinked, astonished. The lack of vocalizations during the skirmish had made her assume that the creature couldn't speak at all, which she realised now was foolish, narrow-minded guesswork. The voice she could hear was harsh and rasping, though, and seemed unsuited to human speech. It was almost like a hacking growl, tweaked to form words, but arguing with the process every step of the way. It didn't echo so much as reverberate around them, like a cough in a cave.
"My God," she heard Ray say, disbelief nearly palpable even to the most casual of listeners. "Fuck – I wasn't sure... I didn't think it was you... I – oh my God."
Logan approached them, but seemed unsure what to do next. Ray obviously knew this intruder, which threw a whole different light on things. He paced redundantly in the background. His wilder instincts demanded blood, and his concern over Kitty wanted vengeance, but he could do nothing without having to go through Ray first. Uncertainty swirled around him like mist.
"Why're you here?" Ray went on, oblivious to everything and everyone else. "Are the others... Feral, what's going on? How did you find me? Why aren't you in the tunnels."
"Not safe," the voice said, phrasing strangely disjointed.
"What's not safe? The tunnels?" He looked around, peering into the gloom like he could part it with his gaze alone. "Why?"
"Death."
Jean felt nauseous at the wave of dread that swept across her. She gagged involuntarily. Scott's arm wrapped around her shoulders as she sagged, and she closed her eyes, forcing her stomach back down.
"What do you mean?"
"Death chase. Hunters, killie-killie. Come down, all gone. Nothing left. Gotta go, gotta leave 'fore they get. But nobody left to take. Gone." None of it made any sense. It was like snippets of other sentences cut up and sewn back together with punctuation in all the wrong places. Jean found the response difficult to follow and impossible to understand.
Yet it had a startling effect on Ray, demonstrating that it meant something. Something important.
"Come down? Upworlders?"
"Fighty-fight, then death. Blood, water – gone. Washed away. Leave, get out. Upworld only place left, but not safe either. Peoples everywhere. Nasty peoples. But can't go back. Only death-smell down there. All gone. Get away before bad things happen more."
"Oh God," said Ray, and this time he didn't say it with incredulity, but with raw, unpalatable horror. "Oh shit. All gone? Everything? Everyone?"
No answer. The pregnant pause gave birth to puppies that ran off whimpering.
"Feral?"
The voice was weak, like its owner was swimming in and out of the waking world – not an impossibility considering the punishment it had taken. "All gone..." it said haltingly. "Nothing left... only... only..."
"Only what?" Ray sounded unexpectedly distressed, a far cry from the eager anticipation he'd fairly glowed with earlier. "What?"
"Only... death..." It trailed off, caught on the last sound. Jean felt a twang as it joined Kitty in oblivion.
Logan folded his arms, suddenly standing over the pair. "Kid, what in blue blazes is going on here?"
Ray looked up at him, more soulful than anyone would've ever guessed he could be. "They're all dead. She wouldn't leave the tunnels alone – not without her sister... they... I never thought it'd happen, I – oh shit."
Logan grunted, looking between the slumped, bleeding figure and the Institute, where lights were flicking on all over the place.
Finally, he looked across at the trio who'd come to his rescue and ended up having to be rescued themselves. Jean couldn't see his eyes to meet them, but she sensed him looking directly at her.
"Y'got that right, bub."
To Be Continued...
Reviewer Responses
Ivan Alias - Busted regularly blare on my younger sister's speakers, and we share a wall, so I've learned to live with them. Your review was just full of coincidences. You mention Douglas Adams when I've got an SFX article about the new Hitchiker film spread across my lap. You talk about Radiohead when I've just been clearing out a chest of drawers and found the stub to a ticket from an old concert of theirs I went to back in '98. And you quote from We Gotta Get Out of This Place the day I finally track down Space's album Spiders and spend the afternoon listening to their version of that song. Creepy...
Angel of the Fallen Stars - Thanks for the review, and I hope your computer clears up and stops spazzing on you.
Amelia Glitter - Yup, I think that's the word that best describes Ray: an enigma. He never shows all of himself, even to those he trusts (who are few and far between). His motives are nebulous and maybe not quite pure, but he values those relationships he does have and is fiercely protective of them. You just can't predict his reaction to anything. Well, apart from the cussing. So, yes, an enigma.
Red in Dead - I appreciate the review. What prompted your psyeudonym, by the way? It intrigues me.