Red America,

Part Six: One Hundred Bullets

Kitty Pryde sat down on an upturned packing crate, cracked her knuckles and extracted some dirt from underneath her fingernails with the point of a serrated combat knife, before picking up one of the handguns that Val Cooper had insisted she carry and popping off a few well-aimed rounds at the crude targets that had been set up at the other end of the chamber. She didn't like guns much, instead preferring to kill the enemy up close with her blades, but she knew that she'd probably need all the protection she could get when moving in on the Empire State Building. She knew war didn't exactly make allowances for personal preference, after all, so it was probably wiser to be prepared for anything – better to have a gun and not need it than to need a gun and not have one, she decided.

"Hey, little lady," came a richly-accented Southern voice suddenly. Kitty looked up to see a muscular blond man leaning against the wall closest to her. He had obviously been quite lanky in his youth, but that lankiness had given way to corded muscle and knotted scar tissue; the crude train-track marks that showed where he'd been stitched up after various battles were etched all over his forearms, and in the skin of his exposed neck. Kitty supposed there was more evidence underneath the flak jacket he wore, but she didn't want to find out right now. She wasn't exactly in the mood to be hit on... "Your name's Kitty, right? I'm Sam."

"That's right," Kitty said, turning back to her gun and aiming at a large, fearsome-looking cockroach crawling slowly across the wall in front of her. "Something I can do for you, friend?"

"I think there's something we can do for each other, don't you?" the man said, a shark's smile splitting his handsome features in half. He moved forwards and took a hold of Kitty's forearm. "You want my advice, honey? Don't make any noise."

Kitty grinned and drew one of her stiletto daggers from its sheath on her belt, the blade's razor edge glittering in the low light like the eye of a cat. "Sure. I'll try not to make you scream too hard, either."

"You like it rough, huh?" Sam chuckled, before he backhanded her across the face with a balled fist before she had a chance to bring her weapon to bear, and sent her sprawling into the filth that coated the floor of the sewer tunnel. Rats and cockroaches skittered noisily away from her as she fell flat on her face, black muck and filmy water preventing her from seeing anything for a few seconds. "That rough enough for you, bitch?"

Kitty blinked, trying to get the white stars to clear from her vision as she spat out rancid sewer filth, and dimly heard the click of a pistol being cocked and a hollow-point round being chambered. "Put it back in your pants, Guthrie," Madrox said, "or I'll make sure your brains take a permanent holiday from that thick hillbilly skull of yours." Kitty pushed herself to her feet just in time to see the blond man visibly weighing up his options and then deciding that it was a little too risky to try outwitting a bullet.

"All right, Madrox – you win," he said sourly, before he turned his uncomfortably intense gaze towards Kitty, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine as he did so. "But the next time I see you I'm taking what's mine, girl." He turned on one heel and loped off down the tunnel like a prowling wolf, and Kitty allowed herself a deep sigh of relief when he finally turned a corner and left her field of vision.

"Nice guy," she said after a few moments' pause. Madrox laughed and then nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, he's a real prince," Madrox agreed. "Guy's never been quite right in the head; at least, not since I've known him, anyway. Val says he had to watch his whole family get strung up by the Ivans – seeing something like that's got to do something to a guy's mind, you know? I'm still wondering why Val even let him into the underground with a history like that, but I guess if he's still able to pick up a gun, she doesn't have a problem with what he does outside of missions – within reason, anyway. I'll have to tell her about this little episode the first chance I get." He clicked the safety catch of his pistol back on again and slid it into the waistband of his fatigues, flexing his gloved hands and blowing on his fingertips to keep them warm. "Damn, it's cold down here," he said. "You want to go find some warmth?"

"Very much," Kitty agreed, and followed Madrox down the tunnel towards the larger communal area, where several large braziers were spewing out copious amounts of hot air. Madrox chose the nearest one and sat down next to a young Native American woman who was sitting cross-legged with an AK-47 laid across her knees, warming her hands against the brazier's fierce heat. Her raven-black hair was arranged in two long plaits that she had tied together, and her pretty face was spattered with grime and dust. Kitty hadn't seen the woman before and decided to wait for Madrox to make the introductions – after the events of a few moments ago she wasn't feeling particularly gregarious, and really didn't want to end up having to eat sewer crap again...

"This is Dani Moonstar," Madrox said, as if on cue. "Dani Moonstar, Kitty Pryde."

"Hello," the woman called Dani said, nodding quietly at Kitty as she rubbed her hands together. "Nice to meet you, Kitty."

"Nice to meet you too," Kitty replied, liking the huge contrast between her last introduction and this one. "So, uh… what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Dani raised an eyebrow. "Well, there's a line I've never heard before - but to answer your question, the Russkies took over my reservation a few years back, and we all had to scatter just to keep from being killed. I found my way here, and I've been fighting the Ivans ever since." She paused, then looked at Kitty curiously, a faint spark of recognition firing in her eyes. "I saw you earlier, when you were talking to Val, but I've never seen you in New York before. Where are you from?"

"Chicago," Kitty replied, spreading her hands so they caught the maximum amount of heat. "I got brought here by this jackass." She jerked a thumb at Madrox, who gave Dani a thumbs-up sign and grinned. "I was supposed to help Logan's group do some sabotage work, but the Russkies caught him – and the rest you know."

Dani nodded thoughtfully as she absorbed the information, chewing it over and digesting it before she spoke again. "So what do you think of New York?" she asked conversationally. "Liking it so far?"

"About as much as I like stabbing myself in the head," Kitty said, in a frank and honest tone. "This Southern guy just tried to force himself on me while I was doing some target practice."

"Oh. You've met Sam, then," Dani said, sounding almost apologetic. "He didn't – I mean, you're all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine – my knight in shining armour was there to save me." Kitty gestured again towards Madrox, who struck a heroic pose and grinned again, like a Cheshire cat. "Although that's not to say I couldn't have got out of that by myself, of course." She drew one of her knives and twirled it expertly around her fingers, the blade whirring as it sliced effortlessly through the air. "Let's just say I could have made that asshole sing a little bit higher if he'd pushed the point any more than he did."

Madrox's broad smile faded, and he tapped Kitty on the shoulder indignantly. "Okay, kid, two points: one, you were totally in need of my help back there, and two, never talk about cutting a guy's balls off while there's another guy standing right beside you." He shook his head and glanced towards the ceiling of the chamber. "Women…"

Elisabeth Braddock sat at the rear of the cell in which James Logan was imprisoned, waiting for Major Grey to finish her interrogation. The physical nature of the interrogation had surprised her – not only had Major Grey used her telepathic powers to extract information, but she had also used careful application of scalpels and other bladed instruments to lower Logan's resistance. The wounds were fleeting, thanks to Logan's flesh closing almost as quickly as Major Grey made the cuts, but their effect was no less noticeable – Elisabeth could feel, even from where she was sitting, that Logan's mind was fraying more and more, with delicate information beginning to flake off and become easy for Major Grey to snatch up and store.

"Now then, Logan…" Major Grey said, as her bare, delicate fingers poised the scalpel's lethal edge next to the rough skin of his cheek, "do you wish to tell me anything else about the location of your rebel weapons?"

"Fuck you," Logan muttered through bloodstained lips. Major Grey tutted disapprovingly, and shook her head.

"Wrong answer, Mr Logan," she said, and with an almost feather-light touch, she opened his cheek from ear to lip with a single stroke of her blade. "Never mind. It's just a matter of time before you crack." The wound closed even as blood spattered Major Grey's hand, but Elisabeth could feel that the wound had had its desired effect – Logan's resolve was wavering even further, and there were more juicy pieces of information waiting to be discovered than even she had found. Major Grey licked the scattered drops of blood from her fingers almost coyly, as if she were savouring the taste of her prisoner's lingering despair, and then turned slightly back towards where Elisabeth was sitting. "May I have a little privacy, please?"

Elisabeth could feel a scowl building inside her, based on her annoyance at this interloper's effortless success at interrogating the prisoner, but she suppressed it for the time being. "Certainly, Comrade Grey," she said, through gritted teeth. "I'll be in my office – I have plenty of work to be getting on with, as you know." She pushed herself up off her chair, walked out through the door of the cell and turned her full attention towards getting to the elevator at the end of the corridor. Walking past the two soldiers guarding the door to the cell block, she turned and saluted them. "Make sure the Major is well looked-after," she said. "I don't want either of you two being shipped off to Alaska, after all." She managed a thin smile so that the two helmeted men would feel a little more at ease, and then snapped off a quick salute. "Long live the Revolution."

The two guards bellowed a simultaneous echo of her words, and then Elisabeth turned on one heel and entered the elevator back to her penthouse office. Pushing the intercom button on the elevator's interior panel, she said "Comrade Drake, please report to my office immediately." Knowing that he would be able to hear her wherever he was in the complex, she stood back in the elevator and folded her arms across her chest, satisfied. What she had in mind was risky, that was a given, but she knew that if it succeeded, Major Grey wouldn't be able to argue against it. Success was very hard to deny, after all.

Lieutenant Drake was waiting for her when she stepped off the elevator. "You wanted to see me, Comrade-Colonel?" he asked her, after they had exchanged formal salutes.

"Yes, Comrade Drake, I did," Elisabeth replied briefly, as she marched across her office and took her seat behind her desk. "I want this rebellion over and done with tonight. Deploy as many troops as you can – and make sure we achieve total saturation of all the locations I took from Logan's mind earlier today. I want the rebels' operation crippled beyond repair, and I want their leaders' heads on pikes." A thin, cruel smile blossomed on her lips like a twisted black flower, dripping malice like poisonous sap. "I think such a… visceral demonstration of our authority will go a long way towards convincing the rebels they can't win this war, don't you?"

Lieutenant Drake nodded in silent agreement, but then Elisabeth felt a wave of doubt flooding his mind. "But… Comrade-Major Grey is still interrogating the prisoner," he said, in a faltering, uncertain voice. "Shouldn't we wait until she's finished with –"

"I'm in charge here, Comrade Drake, not that KGB bitch," Elisabeth snapped, angry that her authority was being questioned by somebody who, unlike Major Grey, had no right to do so. "We have sufficient intelligence to move on the rebels now, tonight, and I will not wait for that self-righteous cow to finish doing what I've already done." When he heard her describing Major Grey in those unflattering terms, Lieutenant Drake visibly blenched, his face turning fish-belly pale in the space of a few seconds.

"Is it… wise… to talk like that about Major Grey?" he asked, his normally confident and brash voice turning skittish and nervous. "They say the KGB can hear everything you say, everything you think –"

Elisabeth scowled, and toyed actively with the automatic pistol at her belt. For a moment, she seriously considered putting a bullet through the man's forehead for his childish stupidity, but she decided against it, for the simple reason that good adjutants were hard to come by, and Comrade Drake was one of the best. "Oh, do grow up, Comrade Drake," she snarled, her annoyance bleeding through into her words. "Walls certainly do not have ears, and I most certainly am not afraid of Comrade Grey's influences. Not any more, at any rate – when the rebels have been crushed and New York is finally secured, thanks to what we are going to do tonight, she won't be able to argue that her way of doing things was correct. And then, Comrade Drake, I think you'll find that we'll be able to talk about her as much as we like." She rubbed at her eyes then, feeling fatigue gnaw at her bones for a second or two. "How is Comrade Rasputin progressing with Omega Red's tentacles?"

"They… appear to have grafted well," Comrade Drake said uneasily, as if he were still afraid to talk freely, "and Comrade Rasputin has been keen to return to duty, even though his doctors advise that he should wait at least a week before doing anything strenuous, just to see if the grafts have really taken."

Elisabeth mulled over that information for a moment or two, weighing up her options. "They advise waiting a week?"

Lieutenant Drake nodded, still looking a little uncertain.

"But Comrade Rasputin feels he is capable of returning to duty now?"

Lieutenant Drake nodded again, seeing where this was headed and gaining a little more confidence because of it.

"Good," Elisabeth said. "Deploy him at the centre of our assault. I want him to show the rebel filth they can't escape the Red Army." She knew that deploying Comrade Rasputin against doctor's orders was a risky idea, but she knew that his power would come in extremely useful – and she had been known to place extravagant wagers on operations like this in the past. This was no different to South America or Mexico, and she had come out victorious there, too. New York was going to burn, and she was going to be there to see its last gasps of resistance die.

Kitty flicked on the safety catches on her pistols and shoved them into the holsters at her waist. Val Cooper had decided it was time to rescue Logan, and she was very glad about that – she didn't want this to be dragged out any further than it already had been, after all. Madrox sat across from her, arming himself in the same way that she was, and his face twisted into a wry smile. "Ready?" he asked, trying to sound as light-hearted as possible.

"No," Kitty replied flatly. "I'm nowhere near ready. Matter of fact, I'm fucking terrified. You?"

"Same," Madrox said, shrugging himself into a battered flak jacket and pulling his gloves on a little tighter. "You wanna make out before we go, or what?"

Kitty laughed despite herself. "I'd eat you alive, man. Don't tempt me."

"Aww, come on!" Madrox exclaimed, doing his best to look aggrieved. "I'm a great kisser! If I were you, I'd want to be ready to meet my maker after having sampled the best life had to offer. Once you've had Madrox, you never go back." He winked at her, and patted her on the back of the hand gently. "Been nice knowing you, kid. Here's hoping we both make it out of this without a scratch."

"Here's hoping," Kitty agreed, before she reached forward, grasped Madrox's collar and pulled his mouth onto hers, kissing him with a brief but fierce passion that left him gasping for air when she released him. While he was still trying to process what had just happened, Kitty winked at him and said "Told you I'd eat you alive."

Madrox was about to say something then, but before he could do so, there came the rattling crack of gunfire from the tunnel at the entrance to the chamber, sentries shouting and screaming as they were perforated by dozens of bullets. Kitty whirled, just in time to see Soviet soldiers swarming through into the base, their weapons spitting yellow tracer fire and mowing down unarmed rebels with every pull of the trigger. "Oh, fuck… oh, fuck," Kitty breathed, stunned. "They found us…"

Madrox grabbed her arm and dragged her into some cover behind some packing crates. It wasn't much, but it was better than being caught out in the open. Kitty watched, horrified, as half a dozen rebel soldiers were shredded by a fusillade of rifle fire. Hopelessly, she fired her pistols at anything wearing a red star, her bullets punching into thick body armour and occasionally flesh. Her shots were wild and ill-aimed, though, and rarely did anything other than cause grazing wounds. When her guns cycled dry, she put them away without bothering to reload and instead drew two of her knives, raising herself into a throwing position as she did so. Before she could hurl the knives at the targets she'd picked out, though, Madrox grabbed her arm and dragged her back behind the crate in a single urgent movement.

"Kid, we gotta get out of here – staying to fight these bastards now is suicide," he said, keeping his gaze locked with hers. Then, he glanced quickly over to the chamber's rear tunnel, and Kitty saw that many of the rebels had had the same idea and were fleeing down it as fast as they could. "See?" Madrox urged her. "We gotta move, now, or we're dead." He raised himself into a crouch and ran as fast as he could towards the stream of rebels, keeping Kitty's hand locked in his own as the two of them tried desperately to keep something between them and the Soviet troops. As he did so, however, a bullet hurtled into the plaster of the wall by his head, sending a chunk of it thumping down on him and filling his lungs with dust. "Oh, fuck this," he growled, coughing, and unhooked a grenade from his bandolier before slamming his fist into the wall. Another Madrox popped into existence beside him and grabbed Kitty's hand.

"What – what are you doing?" Kitty asked, even though she knew exactly what it was Madrox was doing, and was feeling sick to her stomach because of it.

"I'm giving you a chance to get out of here, that's what I'm doing," he stated flatly. Then he turned to the other Madrox and said "You take good care of her." Then he pulled the pin on the grenade with his teeth and dashed into the open, yelling "Fire in the hole!" He didn't get more than two or three paces before automatic weapons fire ripped him to pieces, but the grenade stayed intact, and with his last ounce of strength, Madrox hurled it at the invading Soviet forces. It exploded right in the centre of a squad of troopers, spraying hot, jagged metal in every direction and tearing flesh from bone as if it was nothing more than confetti.

Kitty didn't see that. She and the "new" Madrox had managed to make it to the mouth of the escape tunnel and were away from the bulk of the Soviet task force.

Suddenly, despite the fact that she wasn't alone, Kitty felt as if there was nobody else in the world who could help her. It wasn't until she saw Hank and Cecilia beckoning to her urgently that she realised she couldn't dwell on what had just happened, and she needed to run, or she'd end up just the same.

Just another victim, she thought bitterly.