Chapter Twenty-Three:
10 hours later...
William Stryker tapped his fingers audibly against his desk as the three uninjured members of the elite mercenary force known as the Carnivores marched into his office. His expression did not reflect his anger at their failure, mostly because of the condition of their leader. The improving condition of their leader, to be precise...
Creed, Marko and Fisk stood at attention and waited for Stryker to speak. All three had changed from civilian disguises to something more appropriate for their military ranks. None of them seemed anxious about confronting their commander. Each met and held Stryker's scrutinizing gaze in turn. The rhythmic tapping of his fingertips was the only noise in the room.
After another few moments, Stryker sighed audibly and leaned forward onto his elbows. A single manila folder lay open in front of him, containing one brief typed report and a series of photographs taken only a few hours before by the Illinois State Police. The pictures were all very dramatic, some with crumbled electrical towers and cables, others showing firefighters tending to smoking patches of trees.
The police report indicated that the source of the fire was undetermined; no trace of explosives or flammable liquids had been found at the scene. An electrical malfunction was the suspected culprit, pending further investigation.
Stryker sighed again and leaned back in his chair. He removed his wire-rimmed glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose with his fingertips.
"Well..." he said finally to his waiting audience, "I've got to say... Miss McGee excels at giving our P.R. people something to do, eh?"
The three soldiers did not visibly react to Stryker's words, though each would have admitted they did not expect him to sound so amused. When their commander replaced his glasses, he had a strange grin on his face.
Creed frowned deeply. He had been prepared for a reprimand, some furious verbal assault about liability, civic duty or carelessness. After all his time in the military, lectures by his 'superiors' (like the shorter man behind the desk) became nothing more than quacking in his ears. They could shout whatever they wanted. Creed knew he was one of the best.
But, Stryker was different. Always had been different from other men in command. And his sudden bout of humor was almost enough to make Creed (and the others) nervous.
"Tell me what happened," Stryker said firmly, looking at Marko first.
"After leaving Chicago, we headed north on Interstate 94," Marko began evenly, "We assumed she would continued to head to the Canadian border. A few miles outside the city, we spotted a suspicious fire at an exit ramp..."
"She was leaving us signs," Fisk chimed in without invitation, a wide grin broadening his mouth.
Stryker did not correct the interruption and Marko continued.
"...We followed the trail until we found the field. She was waiting for us. Alone... and unarmed..."
"Not unarmed," Creed corrected in his deep voice, "...and not alone..."
"What information have you gathered about her rescuer?" Stryker asked, steepling his hands curiously.
"He hasn't been identified yet," Marko said, "We have surveillance video from the train station. His photo is being analyzed and compared to known Systems Operations employees. However, considering what Logan's said..."
"...the boy's a complete anomaly," Stryker concluded and then fell silent.
The minutes ticked by slowly. While the others seemed to be pondering on the situation, Fisk shifted uncomfortably on his feet. He did not like these brooding stretches of thoughtful consideration. After seeing what McGee could do, he really did not want anything to do with this mission anymore. The power that had come from the girl made him feel weak, helpless and seriously consider a change in occupation. He would never have enough discipline to make general or even colonel. Fisk was a young man, in respective comparison to his teammates, and he wanted to live a long, and rich, life. He had no interest in being barbequed before he made his first million.
"He couldn't have just come from nowhere," Fisk said, no longer smiling, "McGee must have made some allies during her years of running. I mean, that kid just carried her out of there, right? Isn't that was Logan said? The kid just picked her up and walked away. He must've known something about her we didn't. I mean... you saw what the bitch did to Logan..."
Stryker nodded, "Yes. I have seen him. And that is indeed how he recounted McGee's escape. You should all be pleased to know that both Mr. Logan and Mr. Dolarhyde are expected to make a full recovery. There will be another debriefing tomorrow with reconnaissance. They are ensuring that the authorities and the media have the correct information about today's events. I expect Mr. Logan to be in attendance..."
"You've gotta be kidding," Fisk remarked as Marko and Creed exchanged knowing glances, "That guy didn't have much skin left when we found him..."
"Nevertheless," Stryker continued, "This situation will be investigated further, but I don't expect we'll be making any direct encounters anytime soon. She knows how to run. And now she has help. Once she is located, additional action may be authorized. Though it is apparent that we will need more than your expertise in this matter."
Creed and Marko remained stone-faced at Stryker's criticism, but Fisk was obviously relieved. Fisk had no intention of being anywhere near this team for the next encounter with McGee. He had more profitable, and less lethal, pursuits waiting for him back in New York City.
"Gentlemen," Stryker said as he stood from his desk, "You are dismissed."
Creed threw the commander a dark glare as he left. Stryker smiled in return, his thoughts lingering on Logan and his team. Fisk had not been exaggerating about Logan's condition. No man should have survived those burns. Yet, he was alive, conscious and healing very quickly.
Stryker paced around his office and considered soldiers like Logan, Creed and maybe even Cain Marko. He thought about Charlene McGee. He thought about the Lot project boys. He thought about the recently discovered 'mutant' genome and its possible connections to the pituitary gland, the same gland activated by the amino acids in Lot 23.
For the first time, William Stryker began to consider running his own little experiments...
London, England
Charles Xavier gasped as the proto-type Cerebro powered down around him. He glanced around, watching the lights of the metallic sphere fade. He felt a sudden twinge of disappointment as his session ended and his mind returned to the confines of his body.
A pleased smiled settled over his face. It had worked. Cerebro had worked. Erik's new modifications were better than Xavier had expected.
A door hissed nearby as Charles removed the makeshift helmet from his head. He turned his chair around to face Erik Lensherr, who strode into the room with quick, confident steps.
"So?" Erik asked simply, a smug grin on his face.
"It's closer," Charles replied, indulging his friend's pride, "But... by God... is it ever..."
Erik nodded, "Good. Were you able to find them?"
"I think so," Charles said, rubbing his temples with a faint frown, "I'm afraid I won't know for certain unless I get a chance to read Miss McGee's mind face to face... however... Mr. Malloy's signature is... unmistakable."
"Indeed," Erik said, "He's found her then? I'm not surprised. Let's not tell Quintin. I'd hate to see the boy expelled simply for doing the right thing. Do you know where they are now?"
"No," Charles admitted, "But I know where they're going..."
Heading west...
Jeremiah Malloy rubbed his eyes wearily as the final light of dusk disappeared over the horizon. He had no idea how long he had been driving. He had stopped once to refuel (somewhere in Iowa, he though) and had not left the road since.
He had no idea whether or not the assassins were following them. He did not want to risk using his gift while the protective shell was still in place over his passenger. If the magik faltered, Jay would need all his concentration to reactivate the spell.
Charlie was still unconscious in the seat next to Jay. He had leaned the chair back and strapped her in, hoping that if he hit any tollbooths (or got pulled over), he would be able to pass her off as simply being asleep. Though, Jay doubted any state trooper would buy that, considering the large, ugly bruise on Charlie's face or the tattered state of her clothing.
Can't say I'm not a kidnapper, Jay thought unhappily, I mean, I didn't exactly have permission to pick her up, daring rescue or not. Still... better lil'ole me than the big pack of scarys...
Jay shivered slightly as the last images of the lead assassin played in his head. Charlie had burned the guy to hell and back, but it did not seem to slow him down for long.
And he was healing... Jay's mind insisted, Healing! Don't bullshit yourself about that, Malloy. The guy looked worse than a marshmallow under a flamethrower and the son of a bitch started healing right before your cursed eyes...
Jay realized he had been holding his breath and then exhaled noisily. Those assassins must have been involved with something in the dark world, especially if one of them had a power like that. People were not just born with some miraculous ability to heal, were they?
He glanced over at Charlie and wondered. Were her gifts artificial? Is that why the Council did not want to get involved with her situation? Was Charlie some kind of demon?
Don't be an idiot, Malloy, Jay chided himself, You saw her... SAW her. In all her lights, did you see any kind of demon-ness in there?
"No," Jay muttered aloud and his thoughts continued.
Right. So what else could it be? Something to do with that blind kid in your vision. Obviously he had some kind of power to get a message to you like that. What was going on in River Mead? If the Council isn't worried about Charlie being a demon, then what? What made her different than the other people recognized and protected by the Council? What made her so different than him...?
Jay muttered a few frustrated obscenities and then sighed. He was way too tired to think about this right now. He was way too tired to be doing a lot of things right now, including driving, but he had no plans to stop until he crossed the border into Nebraska...
To be continued...
Author's note: Okay, I've decided the next part of the story will need to be in ... well, a new story. Expect more crossovers and references from the universes I have mixed up in this little fic. I think once all is complete, it'll turn out to be a trilogy, since the events I have planned can be separated into two distinct pieces.
Thanks again, X-Over, for the review. Expect cameos by folks from the Buffy and X-men-universes. Somewhere back in one of the chpts I wrote that Jay won't be seeing the Council again for some time...but that doesn't mean they won't be coming to find him. :)
The next fic will still predate BTVS or the X-Men movies (and the X-Book series posted here) by about 25 years. I love all this prequel and origin stuff! Look for the Stephen King references too cause that's where Charlie's from!
Thanks again to everybody who reviewed this fic! I hope everything is still making sense. Stay tuned for part two... which doesn't have a name yet... but I'm working on it :)
