Underground

Twenty hours.

That's how long it had been since Lance awoke and Spyke put him to work. He was more exhausted, physically and mentally than he had been since he had left Magneto. But even if it had not been for Evan's threats to his life, Lance would not have stopped working. Not while the people down here still needed him. Not while they were still suffering because of him. Not while he could still do something to relieve that suffering.

He had done all he could for the people in the room where he had awoken. Now he had been supplied with a shovel, and he had been working to clear some of the main tunnels for ten hours. He was not working alone, far from it in fact, there were several Morlocks working alongside him. And almost every one of them was either pointedly avoiding looking at him, or glaring at him with hatred as they worked. Lance had removed his shirt a few hours after he started working, and sweat was pouring down his chest. He had lost all feeling in his arms a few hours ago, which, considering the pain they had been in at the time, was a relief. He moved another rock, and saw a hand. The hand moved weakly.

"There's somebody under there!" He shouted, "Somebody alive." The Morlocks immediately left off what they were doing and began moving the rubble off of the body. Somebody lifted her up and deposited her in Lance's arms. Without consciously thinking about, Lance carried her to the room where the wounded were being tended. He laid her down on the bed, made sure that she wasn't losing any blood, and no bones were broken, made sure that her pulse was steady, and then left her and returned to the tunnel where he once again went to work clearing rubble away.

There was something wrong besides his exhaustion though. It felt like his blood was burning. Yearning for something. Lance shoved the thought out of his head and continued working.

"Came across another dead end," said Logan, returning, "Couldn't risk cutting through it. By the looks of things, the rubble was the only thing keeping the whole tunnel from caving in."

"Find any Morlocks?" Asked Scott, checking off the tunnel Logan had investigated on a map of the sewers.

"Nothing. And no sign of Lance, besides the rubble," replied Logan. He took the pen from Scott and marked where the blockage had been.

"I'm gonna head back down," said Logan. "How's 'Ro doing?"

"She's calmed down now," replied Scott, "It's just that the cave in…"

"Trapped her. She did well though. Stayed calm enough to let Jeannie now where she was. Otherwise…"

Logan didn't need to finish. Scott was perfectly aware that if Storm hadn't alerted Jean to her predicament, she probably would have suffocated before she had been found.

Twenty-two hours.

Lance had donated his pants, so the fabric could be used to help make into a crude blanket for one of the Morlocks with a bad fever. His shirt had met the same fate. His shoes he had parted with a long time ago, to a barefooted Morlock moving through tunnels full of broken glass. So now he was in sock feet and his boxers, a state which several female Morlocks had remarked there appreciation of. Spyke, seeing this, had threatened to do grievous harm to certain parts of Lance's body if he even thought about taking advantage of it. Funny thing was, he had sounded almost exactly like Logan threatening Remy. Lance laughed silently as me moved a large chunk of rubble.

The numbness had spread to his shoulder muscles now, for which he was very grateful. Now, if only his back would stop aching so badly…

Twenty-three hours.

The thirst in his blood had grown worse, and he had begun to shake violently. There was something, just out of conscious reach, that he was sure would explain it. But his mind was completely absorbed with keeping him on his feet, and moving the rubble in front of him.

Logan returned again.

"Ran into another dead end," he growled, "This time though, I picked up Lance's scent, on the other side of the rubble." He marked the blockage on Scott's map. "I'm running out of tunnels."

"The odd thing is this, there's a large area we haven't explored," said Scott, "So far every tunnel that leads there has been blocked."

"Every tunnel on that map," corrected Arcade, walking in with a transparent sheet of paper. "But I've been doing some digging in the city's digital archives, and there's a whole network of fallout shelters and supply tunnels that was never put on the normal maps."

"Why not?" Asked Scott.

"Well, they were built early during the Cold War, and only the top town officials knew about them, so as to keep vital information from falling into Soviet hands. After the Cold War ended, they weren't seen to have any practical use, so they were just forgotten about. Except…" He laid the transparency on top of Scott's map, "For the original blueprints, which were kept in the city archives until a couple of years ago, at which point they were transferred online."

"According to this," said Scott, "There's an entrance right under City Hall, which leads directly to the area that's otherwise sealed off."

"Which would explain how Lance got down there," said Logan, "I'll take the half-pint just in case that's blocked too." He walked out of the room.

"You should get some sleep you know," Arcade told Scott, "Not all of us have healing factors that can take this much punishment. I'll take over your shift."

Scott nodded gratefully, and limped over to a large armchair, where he collapsed, asleep before he hit the chair.

Twenty-four hours.

Lance felt like he was going to collapse, not through physical fatigue, but from the thirst in his blood. His hands had begun to shake so badly that he was unable to hold the shovel, and had begun digging by hand. He was grateful, now more then ever, that his hands were numb. He hardly noticed anymore when the Morlock shifts changed. It wasn't like it was a reprieve for him.

The tunnel wasn't blocked, Logan discovered, and he told Kitty to wait at the entrance.

"If Lance is down there," she had replied, "There is like, no way that I'm staying."

"If Lance is down there," reasoned Logan, "and they don't want to give him up, I'll need an ace in the hole."

Unable to argue with that logic, Kitty had reluctantly agreed to wait.

Twenty-five hours.

Lance discovered that his arms didn't work below the elbow anymore. Gamely, he had begun to push the rubble filled cart, keeping his arms stiff. He emptied the stone and metal in an area where several Morlocks were building supports for a tunnel, and was on his way back to the tunnel he was clearing when somebody said his name.

Lance turned, expecting nothing beyond somebody with a different task for him to fulfill, or perhaps Spyke, checking on him to make sure he wasn't slacking. However, as he turned his legs gave way beneath him and he collapsed onto the stone floor, mercifully losing consciousness before he hit.

Lance awoke in a small chamber where Callisto and Spyke were talking with Logan.

"I'm not going to let you 'rescue' him," said Spyke firmly.

"You think you can stop me Porcupine?" Asked Wolverine, extending his claws.

"Enough," interrupted Callisto. She turned to Spyke, "We're in no condition for a fight with both the X-men and Misfits, especially with Orpheus missing," she turned to Wolverine, "If you want him so badly, take him."

"No," said Lance, climbing to his feet. "I'm not done here yet."

"You sure about this?" Asked Logan.

Lance nodded, and then smiled weakly, "Tell Scott I'm finally cleaning up after myself."

Logan strode back up the tunnel.

"Was he, like, there?" Asked Kitty.

"He was there," replied Logan, "And he decided to stay there."

"What? Like, be a Morlock?" Asked Kitty in disbelief.

"No, more like help clean up the mess his quakes made of the sewers."

"But…"

"His choice," said Logan, "And to be honest, I think more of him now than I did before he made that choice.

"He said that?" Asked Scott after he had awoken, and Lance's decision been explained to him. "Unbelievable."

"That he said that, or that it's true?" Asked Althea.

Scott looked at her, "Both."

Thirty-one hours.

After his refusal to leave, Lance had been granted grudging respect by Spyke. More importantly to him, he had been given five hours to rest, as well as an MRE. He was working again now, this time helping to build braces for the tunnels. Since he didn't have the super-strength necessary to shape the braces, he was mostly helping hold the braces up while they were fastened to the ceiling.

The thirst in his blood had subsided with sleep, but it was beginning to grow steadily stronger again.

"Bad news," said Lina, "The mayor's no longer sedated, and as predicted, he's calling for Lance's head on a platter. He's requested assistance from the National Guard in a war on the Morlocks."

"Are your communications back up?" Hawk asked Scott. Scott shook his head.

"Then I need to go to Washington."

"Why?" Asked Althea.

"Because at this point, the only people with enough political clout to stop this situation from getting any worse are the Jugglers." Replied Hawk, "And because I'm the only one in this room that the Jugglers will actually hear out," he turned back to Scott. "I assume your hangar facility is still operational?" Scott nodded and Hawk walked out of the room, followed by a Joe known as Wild Bill. At the door, Wild Bill turned to Scott and said, "We'll need to borrow an aircraft."

Scott tossed Wild Bill an electronic key, saying, "That will allow you to use any aircraft in the hangar. Just point it at the control panel."

Thirty-one-and-one-half hours.

Spyke walked into the tunnel where Lance was working, "We just got news that the mayor's trying to get the National Guard to come after us. I need you all to start carting rubble to the open tunnels and build a barricade. Leave enough room that one man could fit through, but just for now. I'll be sending out foraging parties, in case they decide to lay siege to us."

As they started to leave, Spyke put his hand on Lance's shoulder.

"Not you. You'll be foraging, solo. Best way to cover ground. You find a lot of food, clothes, or batteries, especially batteries, they're hard to come by, come back and tell me. I'll send out a bigger party to bring it all down."

Lance nodded mutely. He understood what Spyke was doing. He was testing him. If Lance didn't run now, he could be trusted. If he did, well, Lance was willing to bet that he wouldn't be completely solo, no matter what Spyke had told him.

Lance climbed over what had been built of the barricade, and began sorting through the rubble, hoping against hope not to run into any of the X-men. He found a couple cans of soup, a box of matches, and a trenchcoat. The soup and matches went into his bag, and he donned the trenchcoat.

I feel like a flasher, he thought, not without amusement. He went to another pile of rubble, and began sorting through. This time he found several pairs of pants, a shirt, and a breadbox, which was, to his surprise, intact. He opened it up, and took out several loaves of bread. They also went into his bag, except for a few slices which he used to satisfy his growling stomach.

The next five piles yielded a case of bottled water, a few batteries, and a can of beans. Then Lance turned to what had once been a grocery store. He filled up his sack with various canned goods, and then returned to the tunnel. He climbed over the barricade, which, in a tribute to the Morlocks determination and cooperation, was considerably higher than it had been when he had left. He deposited his bag in a pile, and told Spyke about the food store. Spyke looked at the trenchcoat and raised an eyebrow.

"You look like a flasher," he said, amused.

"You know," said Lance, "I had exactly the same thought, but I figured it had to be less conspicuous than wandering around in my boxers."

"Only slightly," replied Spyke.

"And you're depriving us of a great view," said Thornn, mock indignant, as she deposited another rock on top of the barricade. Lance grinned and climbed back over the barricade.

Hawk was pleading his case before a group of Jugglers, who were sitting in the shadows, using voice disruptors.

"The events that took place in Bayville in the last few days can be seen as a direct result of the conflict between Bayville City officials and the Morlocks," he said.

"Perhaps," said one of the Jugglers, "But then, were not Cobra and AIM also both involved?"

"You know as well as I do that our intelligence says they had planned their assault to take advantage of that conflict," snapped another.

"Be that as it may," said a third, "would not rooting out the Morlocks eliminate any chance there might be of them instigating a future conflict?"

"To begin with," said Hawk, "This won't be settled with a simple skirmish. The Morlocks in Bayville alone would pull up a hell of a fight. And attacking them would be likely to provoke Morlocks in other cities to begin openly attacking government representatives. In short, by showing military support of the mayor of Bayville, you might well provoke a war that would be waged in major cities across America."

"A war which terrorist organizations such as Cobra would be sure to take advantage of," said a new Juggler, "And I think all the members of this council know that at this particular time, we can't afford to give Cobra any openings."

There were murmurs of agreement.

"Very well," said the first Juggler, "No federal organization will interfere in the situation in Bayville. You are dismissed."

Thirty-four hours.

Lance was on his fourth trip when he ran into Kitty. Literally. She walked through a wall and solidified right in front of him before he could stop. As he stood up, then offered her a hand, she looked at the trenchcoat quizzically. As she opened her mouth, Lance held up his hands.

"I know, I know, I look like a flasher. But it was either wear this or walk around in my boxers, and it's starting to get chilly out."

"What happened to your clothes?" She asked.

He shrugged, "Figured it was the least I could do after what I did to the sewers. What I'm doing now is another part of my penance, if you want to call it that." He knelt down and picked up a can of beans. Into his sack it went.

"Theft?"

"Well, first of all, I doubt anyone would have laid claim to this stuff anyways," Lance said, "Second, I only take stuff from places rich enough to have insurance. And finally, you'd do the same thing if you'd spent ten hours looking at kids thin enough that you can see their ribs through their shirts."

"Well, they're like not watching you right now, right?" Asked Kitty, "Come one, you can get back to the Institute."

"I could have gone back when Logan came to get me," replied Lance, "I did a lot of damage, and now I'm working to make it right," he stooped to pick up a bag of apples in relatively good condition, then handed her a vial, "This is what AIM injected me with. Have Beast analyze it." He put the apples in the bag, then said, "Look my bag's full, I gotta go." He kissed Kitty, long and hard, and then broke away.

"Don't worry about me," he said, "I'll take care of myself. And I'll be back. I promise. Knowing me, probably when you least expect it." He turned and left.

Kitty stared after him a moment, and then walked back towards the Institute, a tear in her eye.

Next, Toad makes a new friend, and learns more about the mysterious Daredevil.

Meals Ready to Eat, essentially military rations.