(Four)
The Dognan soldiers came eventually and chained all the prisoners together. The X-men and Shayla were towards the rear of the cell so they were at the end of the line. Shayla was the slowest and was last. She had to hop quickly to keep up. She wasn't doing well, she fell a couple of times and was beaten by the guards. Henry tried to help her as best he could by holding her up with his hands as much as possible.
They shuffled outside of the building through a different door than they had come in and moved out onto a large paved area. It stretched out far in all directions and looked like a parking lot for a shopping mall or for ships that weren't here at the moment. It was twilight now and the sky was filling up with stars as the sun went down.
They were marched towards the fenced in area Frishnan had showed Logan before. The pen was massive, spreading out into the distance ahead of them with no end in sight. It was fully enclosed, fenced in on all sides with walls as tall as the skyscrapers within, including the top as if the inmates could fly out. Henry thought of Shayla and supposed some of them probably could. It seemed like they would march forever to get there and the walls just got higher as they approached. It was intimidating and disheartening.
Henry was startled out of his thoughts when the line of prisoners stopped abruptly. Gambit with his head down in a red fog of misery, stumbled into Logan who was ahead of him.
"Watch it, Cajun!" Logan growled, disgruntled. He turned to glare at the bean pole of a man behind him and didn't like what he saw there. Gambit's eyes were glazed and unfocused. Logan could smell the sickness wafting off of him and swallowed the unease it created inside of him.
"Je suis de'sole, homme," Gambit wheezed. "Hard t' see wit you bein' so shrimpy n' all," he joked feebly, justifying his excuse by speaking in the wrong direction. He was totally out of it.
"Best get frosty, Gumbo," Logan cautioned. "We don't know what's waitin' in there fer us."
"I'm on it, patron," Remy shook his head a little to try and clear it, but all it did was make him dizzy. He was unbelievably thirsty and swayed unsteadily on his feet. Henry caught him with a huge blue shoulder and steadied him. Gambit felt a little like a pinball being bounced recklessly back and forth. His stomach heaved, but he swallowed and the spell passed.
Logan got a good look at the fence as it glowed evilly in the gloom. It was cris crossed like chain link, but was really some kind of energy field. One of the guards unchained the first slave in line. The slave was dragged, screaming, and mercilessly tossed onto the fence. His body caught fire and was incinerated in seconds. What was left blew away in a cloud of ash. The guard said nothing; no further explanation was necessary. The soldiers spread out and started handing out small backpacks to the prisoners. There was a vibrating grinding noise as part of the fence opened in front of them like a rolling gate. The line of prisoners moved forward once again and before long, all were inside. One by one, the slaves were unchained by armed Dognan guards. Shayla and the alphas were approached and held at gunpoint while their restraints were removed. The guards retreated and the gate closed. The new arrivals were on their own.
At once, the white slaves that came in with the X-men scattered, trying to find places to hide. The area close to the fence had been cleared of buildings, making an open space for the guards to work, but there were other buildings close by. The slaves ran off into the alley ways and through the broken windows of the shattered buildings. Shayla and the X-men stood now alone in the wide open area not quite sure what do next.
"I'm t'inkin' mebbe dat's a bad sign," Gambit suggested wryly. He didn't have to be sharp to notice how swiftly they had been left behind.
Shayla cringed against Beast, her chosen protector. "I'm scared!"
"We'll look after you," he promised and gave her shoulder a squeeze.
"We'd best stick close together," Logan advised gruffly, taking charge. He rubbed his wrists, feeling the numbness dissipate with satisfaction. He was free now and back in control of himself. He surveyed the area, using all of his senses to try and get his bearings. The electric energy fence crackled above them and on all sides. A street opened out in front of them, beckoning. Tall ruins of sky scrapers stood on either side of them and burned out wrecks of cars lay all around them like discarded children's toys. They didn't look much different from Earth vehicles, making this all seem a little surreal. Garbage and debris was strewn about everywhere and the building s spoke only of long time neglect. There was the awful stink of death like this place was one huge graveyard, but no bodies could be seen.
"Let's find a place to hole up," Wolverine said finally, ready to get moving. "It'll be full dark soon and I don't think we should be on the street."
"Let's walk a bit first, shall we?" Beast added. "Maybe the buildings will be in better shape further in."
They started to head down the street, Henry giving support to a weak and shuffling Gambit. He was good as long as he was pointed in a straight line, but wasn't even looking around him. All he wanted was a place to fall down.
Shayla, now unrestrained, fared much better. She flew lightly over the ground, pulling her damaged leg up high to protect it. She was all spirit and grace, confidant now that she was back in her element. Henry couldn't help but marvel at her a little, she was beautiful up in the air and not so malformed as the pilots appeared to be at first glance and he hoped nothing bad would happen to her here.
Logan was too busy to wonder about their new friend. He could feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck and knew what it meant. They were being watched, but he couldn't see any one out in the open. He looked more closely at the buildings and saw what appeared to be small cameras mounted on the walls. The Dognan were tracking their progress. He hoped that was the source of his unease but knew they probably wouldn't be that lucky.
They hadn't gone far down the street when a small pack of white figures came out in front of them, a few yards away. They were white slaves like the ones they had come in with. Old timers of the pens, they were hard and confident in their territory. They were dressed in ragged, ripped up clothes and filthy. None of them had shoes. There were five of them in a star shaped pattern, blocking the X-men's path.
The leader, a huge white male, threw his head back and howled an inarticulate challenge.
Logan answered him by stepping forward and popping his claws. Gambit became aware of the trouble and felt that surge of adrenalin that always came before a fight. It revived him momentarily and he stooped down slowly and scooped up some rocks from the street. He charged them with energy from his body and they rested in his hand, glowing red and ready.
Logan walked forward and the leader of the pack came to meet him. The two recognized they were the authority and dominant ones of their respective groups. They circled each other warily, taking each other's measure. This white male was much larger than Logan with a longer reach, but not in as good physical condition. He was lean and scraggly, food was obviously scarce here. He lashed out suddenly, tossing out a knife he'd hidden along his forearm. It whistled through the air and landed with a thunk! in Wolverine's gut just above his pants.
Logan stepped back with a startled grunt. He took the handle of the dagger in one hand and slid the knife out with a mischievous smile. He cocked an eyebrow and said, "If that's all ya got, son, I feel sorry fer you already."
The cut immediately began to close, his healing factor kicking in and repairing the wound. The injury was still very painful, but Logan possessed a lifetime of dealing with extreme pain. This was nothing new for him. His attacker waited for him to start falling down and was perplexed when it didn't happen.
Logan flipped the knife skillfully in his hand and held it ready. "Want it back?"
The slave didn't answer him but barked a sharp command to the pack. They rushed forward and attacked the X-men. Gambit threw his charged rocks and they flew far and accurately, landing near the two smallest members of the pack. The rocks exploded loudly on impact, sending the men flying. The men shrieked in terror as they were tossed, surprised and frightened by the blast that had seemingly come out of nowhere. They whimpered and ran away, not wanting any more.
The leader and a friend were more bold. They jumped on Logan, biting and clawing at his eyes like the savages they were. He fought them with a strange smile of happiness. It felt good to unleash his frustration on someone and he was thankful for the exercise. He gave them no mercy and got none in return.
The remaining pack member took a shot at Beast, but Henry dodged him easily and tossed him into a wrecked car with enough force to stun him. The big man was quick and agile, no match for his scrawny malnourished opponent. Shayla cowered on the ground, unused to fighting and all but useless.
Wolverine snarled in irritation when one of his attackers grabbed at the knife he had discarded on the ground. He smacked it out of the guy's hand as soon as it was picked up and spun, hacking and slashing with his claws. He was a much better fighter than these pitiful scraps of men who had the stupidity to attack him and he was all done fooling around. He whirled with a roar, slitting the throat of the leader and ripping open the belly of the other. Blood gushed out everywhere, covering Logan and soaking him through.
Logan stood easy now, his sides heaving from his effort, and surveyed the damage. The man who had his belly opened lay groaning at his feet. "Kill me...before they eat me!" he gasped. Logan didn't quite get his meaning, but he complied just he same, slitting the poor unfortunate's throat without a word. It was a mercy, the man was going to die anyways.
"What 'e say?" Gambit asked in a daze. The rush had worn off and he was now more exhausted than ever. He blinked and swayed unsteadily, licking his dry and chapped lips. He wasn't going to be awake much longer, everything was all hazy now.
"Nuthin'," Wolverine replied gruffly to his question. They had no time for conversation, they had to get moving. He could see Gambit was going to fall down any moment now and they couldn't move quickly if he had to be carried.
Wolverine stripped off his T-shirt and tried to wipe off as much of the blood as he could. All he did was smear it and he knew he was going to stink like high heaven before long. He balled up the shirt in frustration and jammed as much of it he could into his back pocket. "Let's get outta here."
Before they even moved a few feet, there was a rustle of wings from overhead.
"What now?!" Henry complained.
Once more, the X-men assumed their defensive positions. They stood their ground as another pack, this time comprised solely of pilots, descended from the sky like angelic, human birds. The X-men were now surrounded by nine females, all tiny but powerful in their own right. Nine pairs of glowing blue hands put an end to all resistance. The leader, a confident sleek, well fed creature approached Logan. She raised her chin arrogantly and spoke clearly. "We come not for you, alphas. The pilot, she comes with us."
Shayla cringed behind Beast and he put an arm around her protectively.
Logan looked back at her. "She don't wanna go."
She ignored him and spoke to Shayla. "I am Carma, Leader of the Angels of the Fallen. You will come with us. The Clan will come for these alphas and you will be left alone. As a pilot, you are superior to all. You are one of us. We shall fly the skies and be free."
Wolverine stepped aside to let Shayla decide. He was not one to interfere in this kind of thing, not in a place like this. Folks had to make up their own minds. Shayla hopped forward feebly, then spread her wings and gracefully flew to his side. She looked into the eyes of Carma, seeing kinship there. "I will come."
Carma kissed her cheek and took her hand. They flew off, leaving the rest of the pack behind.
Logan turned to the rest, growling defensively. True to their leader's word, the tiny white females ignored the X-men, instead they stepped away towards the dead bodies of the previous pack that lay on the ground. They picked them up and carried them off without speaking.
"Why dey do dat?" Remy asked naively. Logan had a real good idea but didn't answer. Instead he took off, leading them on to safer ground.
They moved quickly, following Wolverine's lead. He was peering into windows checking out the insides of buildings. He led them down a side street into what he hoped was a more secluded area. He finally found a basement of one building that satisfied him and they crawled inside.
Gambit found a corner and collapsed with a groan. He shivered and passed out.
Henry went to him. "He's got a fever. I don't like the look of that head wound."
"Nuthin' to be done about it now. When it get's full dark I'll scout around. See what I can find."
There was a rusted out sink against the back wall of this basement. Logan turned the water on and sniffed it. It wasn't good enough to drink, but he could use it to clean up a little. His healing factor dispelled any fear of poisoning or infection from tainted water. He just wanted to get some of this blood off of himself. He didn't know if any of the slaves could track and wasn't going to chance them following his stink down here. He stripped down and rinsed out his clothes, using a tiny sliver of soap he found then hung his clothes up on some hanging wires to drip dry. That finished, he had one last job to do. He leaned over the basin and popped a claw. He began scraping his arm where the bar code had been burned in. He grunted in pain as he worked. The mark went quite deep, but he was damned if he was going to keep it.
Beast watched him quietly, always amazed at Logan's extreme tolerance for pain. As fast as Logan was cutting, his body was repairing and there was very little blood. At last he was satisfied. He put his arm under the faucet and cleaned the blood and skin away. His skin was smooth as though he'd done nothing more than scratch an itch.
Henry decided to check their supplies. He was disappointed to see what they had would not sustain them for long. Each backpack had a day's worth of food, a bottle of water and a small, thin blanket. He combined the blankets and covered Remy. He knew better than to pester Logan with small talk so he leaned against the wall and tried to get some rest.
Beast startled awake some time later when Gambit moaned and thrashed, knocking over a glass bottle. Henry had no idea how long he'd been asleep, but it was dark out. Logan was gone. His clothes still hung by the sink, he'd left them behind. Henry went to Gambit and tried to soothe him. He felt helpless without any medical supplies. Remy was burning up with fever and delirious. He wasn't going to last long like this. Henry gave him some water and he quieted. Henry hoped Wolverine could find something to help them out of this mess. Things weren't looking too good right now.
(break)
Wolverine moved quickly and silently in the inky blackness. This was his element, his world. He could see perfectly in the dark. He looked up at the dark moonless night. It was cloudy here and the only light came from the eerily glowing fence above him. It was nice to be outside and out of the spacecrafts, but he had no time to really enjoy his situation. He had to find out whatever he could about this new place. He stood still, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His nose and other senses told him everything he needed to know. This was not a highly populated place. What few people there were tended to gather in small packs, obeying the rule about safety in numbers. He moved on, avoiding those buildings where he could sense people inside. It wasn't that he couldn't handle himself, he just wanted to keep a low profile for now. As he moved about, he was unable to find any food or medicine anywhere and felt his earlier good spirits drain away.
He did find a small drinking fountain that was okay to use. He drank his fill, figuring to give the water in his pack to the others. He splashed the ice cold water over his face, washing up some more. It was warm here and he was sweaty and dirty from rummaging around. He'd never been known to be the cleanest person, being only one or two steps away from feral, but decided to make the best of this opportunity while he had the chance.
Logan wasn't one to express his feelings, but he was very concerned about Remy. He always considered himself to be the protector, the one who looked after everyone else because he was best equipped to do it. Now one of his people was down and it was up to him to fix it. He checked in every box, every cupboard, but there was nothing. Whatever had been around was picked clean long ago and was a distant memory. This place had been unused by civilians for a long time, for years probably. Logan saw where someone had tried eating wood and clothing and knew this was not a good sign for their chances. They had no real food and no way out that he could see. If he wanted anything, he might be forced to steal it from someone else.
He found the Dognan equivalent of a dumpster and crawled silently inside to rummage around. He froze, crouching, when he heard voices coming from somewhere outside.
"Of course, they're coming! There's alphas here, I saw them. The Clan always come when alphas are here." The speaker was a man. "All we have to do is figure out where the Clan will strike. When they come to free the alphas, they'll take us, too. You just follow me, Greth. I'll take care of you."
"I hope you're right, Milan. I don't know how much longer I can last. I can't feel my stomach any more!" His companion was female. She was speaking a little too loudly for her safety Logan guessed, and he was right. There was the sound of breaking glass and a shriek as the two of them were suddenly set upon by a pack that was hiding nearby. Logan heard a brief bloody fight of which the outcome was never really in question. He peeked out the lid of the dumpster.
Two people lay ripped and shredded on the ground, the ones Logan had overheard talking. They were surrounded by a good sized pack of white slaves with at least ten members. The pack was devouring them ravenously, gobbling them down before they were even fully dead. This pack was completely feral, snarling and growling amongst themselves and fighting over the best pieces.
Logan shuddered. He'd eaten his share of nasty things to stay alive before in his long life, but had never been forced to this extreme. He sat back in the dumpster and made himself as comfortable as possible. He would have to wait for the pack to finish eating and leave before he could come out. He was in no mood for another fight.
He thought about what the two victims had said before they were killed. It sounded like the Clan made a habit out of raiding the pens for alphas. He figured that their chances were better with the Clan than hanging out in here. All he had to do was try to figure out where the Clan would try to get them. It would be better if they were close to the fence he guessed, unless the Clan tunneled its way in.
He heard a familiar rustle of wings and another quick skirmish. Peeking out once more, he saw Carma's Angels of the Fallen fighting with the white slaves over the freshly killed meat. They used telekinesis to push the pack back and blue sparks of energy to drive them away.
Shayla was very close to Logan's dumpster, terrified. She hadn't participated in the fight, but didn't try to stop it. She looked on in horror as her new friends began to eat the dead. They were using small bursts of Ristle energy to cook the meat as fast as they could eat it. Logan knew that it was just a matter of time before starvation drove her to join them.
Shayla turned suddenly and their eyes met. He held a finger to his lips and she nodded, recognizing him. She would not betray his presence. He lowered himself back inside and waited. After a while he heard the pilots break up and take off. He decided to wait a bit first, then quietly snuck out. All that was left of the two people who had been slaughtered were two bloody smears and the big heavy bones that were too hard to break open.
He headed back to the others in a fast trot, concerned for their safety. He was relieved to find his two teammates safe and sound, even though Remy's condition was getting worse. Henry asked him what he had seen and Logan gave him a quick sketch, leaving out the part about the packs eating the dead. He didn't want Henry to worry. Logan was confident he could protect Beast and Gambit from the packs and he saw no need to add to their stress with such a horrific tale. He curled up in a corner, dressing for warmth and fell into an uneasy sleep, dreaming of pilots and raw meat.
(break)
Wolverine wasn't the only one dreaming. Remy was burning up with fever, his mind made numb by his sickness. He was asleep, but woke after a moment, lost in a deep dark fog. He didn't know where he was, only that this place had the stink of death all over it. His body was in agony, aching all over. He felt like he'd been chewed up by some horrible monster and spat back out again.
"Somebody get de name of dat truck...?" he joked feebly to himself.
He rose up on unsteady feet and tried to make out where he was. The lighting here was dim and it was hard for him to see all around him, but he could tell the walls were made of rough hewn rock. It seemed as though he was in some kind of cave. He could see a brighter light in the distance and shuffled drunkenly towards it.
"'Enry? Wolvie? You guys done leave Gambit on 'is own again?" he called out, but no one answered.
He kept moving. The closer he got to the light, the colder it was getting. He wrapped his arms around himself as he shivered. The cold should have been warning enough not to continue in this direction, but he had lost control of his body and it kept plodding dutifully forward. The opening was a hole in the rock wall. He had been in a cave after all. He fell through the hole and tumbled down outside into a deep drift of snow.
He looked up in shock and surprise to find Rogue hovering a few feet above him, using her mild telekinetic power to fly. She was one of his teammates and the girl who'd stolen his heart for all time. His heart ached at the sight of her, he loved her so much.
"Rogue! Oh, t'ank God! Ol' Gambit was worried dere for a moment!" he gasped, shivering. She would save him. She would take him out of here. Or so he hoped.
He was disappointed when she just hovered there without moving, an angry scowl on her face. She was young and pretty, more lovely than he remembered. She ran a hand through her brown hair, teasing the white streak that formed her bangs, and tossed her head in anger. "I saved ya from the buildin' fallin' down, Remy, that wasn't your fault. But out here it's up to you whether you live or die. Ah don't care anymore," she said in her heavy Southern accent, her voice chilling him more than the Antarctic snow around him.
Mon dieu, not dis again! Not Antarctica! Remy thought in horror, looking around him. The cave behind him was gone, replaced by an opening to a collapsed metal building. It had once been the hideout of Eric the Red, the bad guy of the Antarctica mission two years ago that had gone so horribly awry. Remy was confused as he sat drenched in snow and the sweat of his fever. Why was he back here again? This was the day he had been kicked off the team, when they had discovered his worst and most terrible secret. But this nightmare had played out in reality long ago. It was over. Done. Forgotten. He shouldn't be back here again.
He opened his mouth to say something, but the words that came out weren't the ones he'd wanted to say, they were the ones he'd blurted out so long ago in a useless attempt to save himself. "Rogue! I don't care if you leave me 'ere, chere, but you 'ave to understand -"
"You think Ah can understand you? You think wrong, mistah!" she snarled in her anger. She was from Mississippi and spoke with a Southern accent like he did. Her cheeks were flushed with fury and she never looked more beautiful.
Remy withered under her censure, the familiar guilt an old and trusted friend. It would never leave him, the horror of his crime. His voice shook as he spoke. "Fine, den. Gambit's earned your hatred. But at least get 'im somewhere dat'll give 'im a chance ta get back home!"
"Home? You ain't got no home, Sugah. Not with me...not with the X-men, you no good, Cajun piece of trash! Fend for yourself. You seem to have done a good job of that in the past," she snapped, her voice sharp with accusation.
"But...I love you!" Remy breathed in a trembling whisper, this betrayal to his heart more than he could stand without something breaking deep inside.
"You're supposed to be honest with people you love, Gambit. Without honesty you cain't have trust. Without trust...what you have isn't really love at all. G'bye, Remy." She rose quickly and flew off into the ice cold sky leaving him behind alone in the frozen waste.
"Rogue! Espe're! Rogue, wait!" he shouted, trying to follow her, but it was no use. He was trapped here. Forgotten, rejected, left behind. Never good enough. He had been a fool to think he could ever belong anywhere after what he'd done down in the darkness so long ago.
He fell down to his knees in the snow and sobbed as he gripped himself in a hopeless defense against the cold that burned into him with its freezing, unfriendly fire. He felt his lungs begin to freeze from the arctic air, the pain all too familiar. He couldn't breathe, he could only gasp out the same old useless apology. "I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..."
(break)
Henry hovered over Gambit's fevered body, worried more than he could say. They'd been hiding out in the pen now for two days, moving from place to place, trying to hide out from the packs. Remy's condition was worsening and he had no medicine to save him. The Cajun was lost in a fever and delirious. He was thrashing and crying out, no longer lucid. More ominous than that was the choked, asthmatic wheeze of Gambit's tortured breathing, it was as though the man couldn't get enough air. Henry wasn't sure if it was the fever that was causing that or some sort of panic reaction to their situation or perhaps both. All he knew for certain was his teammate was in serious trouble. Beast was stuck here, useless, unable to do more than watch his teammate fall deeper down into sickness. He had no doubt Gambit wouldn't last much longer, perhaps not even through the next night.
Remy curled up with a groan as he shivered uncontrollably. His words were breathless sobs. "Je suis de'sole', chere... I'm so sorry...so sorry."
Henry sighed, all too familiar with this particular nightmare of Remy's. He gently brushed Gambit's sweat soaked hair back and leaned in close to his ear. "It's all right, Remy. We've all forgiven you, it's over," he whispered softly.
"Non...ne jamais...never...Can't be undone...so cold...Gambit's so cold, chere...'e ain't never gonna be warm again..." Remy babbled, not even awake.
Henry looked up at Wolverine who leaned quietly against the back wall. Logan was watching Gambit's decline in his usual brooding silence. Henry knew that meant nothing. Logan had sealed off much of his emotion long ago in an attempt to control his own savage rages. Still, there was a look of pain in those steel grey eyes that his friend would never give voice to.
"He still worries over this," Henry complained.
"He shoulda known better than ta lie ta us, hidin' things," Logan replied without malice. "Can't say as I agree with what Rogue did that day, leavin' him out there ta die, but bein' on a team is about trust. If ya can't trust yer teammates, yer in a real bad place."
"What happened was a long time ago. He's proved himself to us time and time again since his return. Rogue has forgiven him. He should be done with this."
"Don't matter if the team forgives ya, if ya never forgive yerself."
Their conversation didn't get a chance to continue. Logan jerked when there was a loud explosion from close by. "Time ta go!" he growled as if he'd been expecting it. Actually he had been to a point. He'd taken the words of the two white slaves seriously and was hoping for this. He just prayed that this was the Clan and not some Dognan attempt to put them all out of their misery.
Henry was ready and tossed Remy over his shoulder. The man made no sound at all, he was finished with his fever dream, and that frightened Beast most of all. Remy was dying.
Logan led them through the streets towards the noise. He was correct in thinking the Clan would strike near the fence. He headed towards the smoke he saw rising from a hole in the ground on their side of the pen, the Clan had blasted a tunnel under the fence to break inside. A group of men climbed out of the smoking hole. He was relieved to see they were human, not cat people. They were all large men, dressed only in black leather pants and boots. Their bare chests and arms were covered with ornate, colorful tattoos and they carried large broadswords and bows. They were in excellent physical condition, warriors.
One spotted the X-men and he shouted to the man in front. "Kane! There!"
Kane turned to look at them. He was very tall and handsome, a warrior knight from all the paperback soap operas. He had long blond hair tied back in a pony tail and blue eyes that glittered with intelligence and courage. He had the most tattoos and the best sword, marking him as the leader.
He shouted to the X-men and waved them towards him as if he'd been expecting them all along. "Hurry! A pack comes!" he called out in a loud clear voice.
Henry moved towards Kane, but Logan turned to the pack to cover his teammates. He didn't have long to wait. The white slaves came out of nowhere, melting out of the debris of the buildings like they were made of it. They leapt for him, perhaps in retribution for their brothers he'd killed that first day here. Wolverine could have cared less about their motivations. He popped his claws and went to work. He was quickly joined by Kane and some of the others and they hacked and slashed through the pack until most of the slaves were dead. The rest retreated quickly, snarling curses in a language Logan didn't understand. He wasn't sorry to see them go.
"Someone will eat well this night!" Kane joked bitterly from beside him. "Let's go!"
Logan didn't need to be told twice.
As they turned to go, Kane was suddenly slammed from the air by one of Carma's Angels. She carried him aloft by his head and hair, cackling wildly with insane glee. He was kicking and screaming but couldn't get free, she held him too tightly. Two of his men shot her with arrows and she finally let him drop. She had taken an arrow to the throat and slowly sank down to the ground, choking. She stood on shaky legs and tore the arrow from her neck, spitting blood as she cursed them. The men came at her with swords. She growled at them defiantly, but was already dying. They advanced and hacked at her until she fell.
Kane survived his fall without mishap and stumbled over to her. He looked down at her sadly. "What a waste of a pilot!" he snarled, bitter. He touched her face briefly in a sort of tribute, a sign of respect for her kind, but then turned away. He walked over to Beast and looked at the bar code the Dognan had burned on his arm. "You're the alphas. We came to free you. Come with us. We will care for your friend."
They didn't argue.