AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanx to Koneko Tenshi and Thanx4reading for the kind
words. Just so you know, anything between these symbols: ~words~ is
telepathy.
241 timeline 05-13-2021 Washington, District of Colombia, United States
Rachel lay upside down upon a huge, iron board, with two extensions for her arms. 3-inch nails pierced her wrists and ankles. In addition, a long chord of barbed wire was wrapped around her legs, torso, arms, and neck, pinning her even more tightly to the cross. Blood was flowing over her entire body, and what was left in her veins was quickly losing its last remnants of oxygen, as it overflowed her brain. A machine to her right said that she had 45 more seconds before she would embrace death.
But Ahab wouldn't allow her such peace. He pushed a button upon the control panel, causing the barbed wire to pull itself back into three holes upon the cross. As it dragged along her entire body, its thorns ripped at her skin and muscles and slit her throat. The four nails were pulled all the way through her ankles and wrists, severing major arteries. Rachel fell to the floor in a naked heap, more blood surging from her body.
She coughed and gagged with pain, and held her neck to stop the blood flow. Roderick Campbell knelt beside her, replacing her inhibitor collar around her neck, which severed the neuron that connected her brain to the X-Gene, so that she couldn't use her powers. He stood up and put his hands on his hips satisfactorily.
"Are you ready to cooperate yet?" he taunted her. Rachel half-wanted to spit in the man's face, but, after 9 years of physical, sexual, and psychological abuse, she no longer cared about right or wrong. She would do whatever he wanted, so long as it stopped the torture, even if that meant killing her own kind.
Ahab kicked Rachel in the stomach with his steel-toe boots, and her limp body slumped over. She didn't even wince, "Answer me!" Rachel groaned out an attempt at a "yes", but he still couldn't hear her. He crouched beside her.
"What did you say?"
She turned over to face him and whispered, "Yes." A grin spread across the man's face, and grabbed her by the jaw.
"Good bitch. I'm giving you 4 months to heal, and then you can prove yourself with your first kill. Would you like to see who it is?"
Rachel didn't reply, but Campbell waved over his best telepath anyway. Black Tom Cassidy, who had always had a huge lust for the girl, came forward, and took an image from his master's mind and showed it to Rachel telepathically.
She saw a familiar man with wild, black hair and piercing, midnight blue eyes. Tears of self-loathing poured from her eyes, and she turned away, but didn't refuse her assignment.
* * *
241 timeline 09-13-2021 Wilderness of Alberta, Canada
Logan was speeding along the deserted road, transferring his weight from hip to hip to ease through each bend upon the '73 Harley-Davidson FLH that he had stolen 2 weeks ago. He had been pressing every government official he knew for information of the whereabouts of Rachel Summers for the past 4 months. Everyone he threatened insisted she had died when the X-Mansion was leveled by the US military, but he had visited the mass grave in Westchester, New York, and couldn't detect her scent among the others.
In the distance, he noticed a beaten up motel, and decided to camp there for the night. He was tired, hungry, dirty, and sore, and a hot shower would do him good. He pulled into the dirt parking lot at 43 mph and came to a sharp halt, throwing dust all over the 5 cars and trucks outside.
As he went into the shabby lobby to pay for a room, he passed a man in a black trench coat, which was pulled up so that the only visible part of his head were two beady eyes and a shaggy head of hair. He had a sharp-looking Doberman pincher on a leash.
"That was rude," the stranger hissed toward him.
"So's this," Logan retorted, flipping the man off over his shoulder without stopping. Rachel would have laughed at her godfather's typical behavior any other time, but now it strained her already-guilt laden heart.
Her walker, the man in the trench coat, took off her leash, and she dropped her telepathic disguise as a dog. She looked down at herself in disgust. Three telekinetic tattoos, each a foot long, extended from around her eyes like barcodes, marking her as a hound. She was forced to wear a blood-red cat-suit, with spikes that coursed around her neck, down her front, around her waist, and along her legs from the hips to the outsides of her ankles. Her head was shaved. In this way, Ahab made sure there was no mistake as to who his hounds belonged to.
She rose and walked into the lobby, making herself invisible to her mentor. Inside, Logan was standing with his hands crossed, while a teenager across the counter doodled lazily upon a pad of paper.
"Would you like our customary room service meals, served hot at 7:00 AM, 12:00 PM, and 6:00 PM?" The kid spoke in a drawled voice.
"Yeah," answered Logan gruffly. "But you'll serve dinner at 9:00 tonight, and breakfast at 5:00 tomorrow morning."
"Sorry, *sir*," the guy said with a sneer, "but dinnertime has passed, and we serve breakfast at 7:00 sharp." Logan put his hands on the dirty counter, leaning forward, and growled low. "But, for you, 9 and 5 is great."
Wolverine sniffed in the air, and snapped around to face her. ~Shit!~ Rachel thought. She had forgotten to sever his connection to his enhanced senses. The man knew her scent well, and could pinpoint her from a mile away with its help.
"Uh, sir, are you okay?"
Logan continued to inspect the doorway where she stood, though he could see nothing. "Yeah," he finally replied. "You got a key for me or not?" He was handed a small, brass key, and stepped through the doors cautiously. Rachel immediately entered his mind and disconnected his olfactory sense, but just as she had done so, he walked backwards into the room. She released her hold, and he stepped back outside. She took away his sense again, and he walked back into the room, just to be sure. Once again, she allowed him to smell her, and, now satisfied, he went outside.
Rachel blocked out his hearing altogether so that he couldn't hear her open the door and follow him, and made sure to cover her scent while she was at it. He opened room 7, and she squeezed in behind him. He spun around, feeling her presence upon the back of his neck, and sighed when he saw nothing there.
"Get a grip, old man," he told himself. "You're becoming paranoid." He threw his leather jacket upon the floor, lifted a thin shirt over his head, and began unfastening his belt. Rachel covered her eyes, and waited until she heard the water running before she took in the shabby room.
Twin-sized bed with worn sheets. Thick, brown carpet that was developing mildew. A wobbly nightstand with a lamp. Sofa that smelled like cigarettes. Water damaged ceiling. This was to be her precious Logan's resting place? She crouched in the corner of the room. She knew he was taking a cold shower, as always, so she wouldn't have to wait long.
And she was right. After only 4 minutes, Logan came out of the tiny bathroom in his jeans and lied upon his back on the hard mattress. Rachel wanted to make her first kill quick and painless. However, as the infamous Wolverine couldn't die, due to an incredible healing power, she would have to kill him in his mind rather than dispose of his body, a process that couldn't include mercy.
As she enclosed his consciousness in an airtight cage, Logan's body jolted in surprise. She pressed the walls together, tighter, tighter, tighter, trying to ignore the painful screams ringing through her ears.
When she had first been placed in Ahab's care, she had a fire of hope that those loyal to the X-Men would come to save her. Eventually, Logan became her only remaining ember of chance for the life she had once lived. She was now extinguishing that weak ember, and she knew she would never truly be Rachel Summers again. From this point on, she wasn't the beloved mascot of the X-Mansion, nor the miracle child of Cyclops and Phoenix. She was the Hound, trained executioner of her own kind.
241 timeline 05-13-2021 Washington, District of Colombia, United States
Rachel lay upside down upon a huge, iron board, with two extensions for her arms. 3-inch nails pierced her wrists and ankles. In addition, a long chord of barbed wire was wrapped around her legs, torso, arms, and neck, pinning her even more tightly to the cross. Blood was flowing over her entire body, and what was left in her veins was quickly losing its last remnants of oxygen, as it overflowed her brain. A machine to her right said that she had 45 more seconds before she would embrace death.
But Ahab wouldn't allow her such peace. He pushed a button upon the control panel, causing the barbed wire to pull itself back into three holes upon the cross. As it dragged along her entire body, its thorns ripped at her skin and muscles and slit her throat. The four nails were pulled all the way through her ankles and wrists, severing major arteries. Rachel fell to the floor in a naked heap, more blood surging from her body.
She coughed and gagged with pain, and held her neck to stop the blood flow. Roderick Campbell knelt beside her, replacing her inhibitor collar around her neck, which severed the neuron that connected her brain to the X-Gene, so that she couldn't use her powers. He stood up and put his hands on his hips satisfactorily.
"Are you ready to cooperate yet?" he taunted her. Rachel half-wanted to spit in the man's face, but, after 9 years of physical, sexual, and psychological abuse, she no longer cared about right or wrong. She would do whatever he wanted, so long as it stopped the torture, even if that meant killing her own kind.
Ahab kicked Rachel in the stomach with his steel-toe boots, and her limp body slumped over. She didn't even wince, "Answer me!" Rachel groaned out an attempt at a "yes", but he still couldn't hear her. He crouched beside her.
"What did you say?"
She turned over to face him and whispered, "Yes." A grin spread across the man's face, and grabbed her by the jaw.
"Good bitch. I'm giving you 4 months to heal, and then you can prove yourself with your first kill. Would you like to see who it is?"
Rachel didn't reply, but Campbell waved over his best telepath anyway. Black Tom Cassidy, who had always had a huge lust for the girl, came forward, and took an image from his master's mind and showed it to Rachel telepathically.
She saw a familiar man with wild, black hair and piercing, midnight blue eyes. Tears of self-loathing poured from her eyes, and she turned away, but didn't refuse her assignment.
* * *
241 timeline 09-13-2021 Wilderness of Alberta, Canada
Logan was speeding along the deserted road, transferring his weight from hip to hip to ease through each bend upon the '73 Harley-Davidson FLH that he had stolen 2 weeks ago. He had been pressing every government official he knew for information of the whereabouts of Rachel Summers for the past 4 months. Everyone he threatened insisted she had died when the X-Mansion was leveled by the US military, but he had visited the mass grave in Westchester, New York, and couldn't detect her scent among the others.
In the distance, he noticed a beaten up motel, and decided to camp there for the night. He was tired, hungry, dirty, and sore, and a hot shower would do him good. He pulled into the dirt parking lot at 43 mph and came to a sharp halt, throwing dust all over the 5 cars and trucks outside.
As he went into the shabby lobby to pay for a room, he passed a man in a black trench coat, which was pulled up so that the only visible part of his head were two beady eyes and a shaggy head of hair. He had a sharp-looking Doberman pincher on a leash.
"That was rude," the stranger hissed toward him.
"So's this," Logan retorted, flipping the man off over his shoulder without stopping. Rachel would have laughed at her godfather's typical behavior any other time, but now it strained her already-guilt laden heart.
Her walker, the man in the trench coat, took off her leash, and she dropped her telepathic disguise as a dog. She looked down at herself in disgust. Three telekinetic tattoos, each a foot long, extended from around her eyes like barcodes, marking her as a hound. She was forced to wear a blood-red cat-suit, with spikes that coursed around her neck, down her front, around her waist, and along her legs from the hips to the outsides of her ankles. Her head was shaved. In this way, Ahab made sure there was no mistake as to who his hounds belonged to.
She rose and walked into the lobby, making herself invisible to her mentor. Inside, Logan was standing with his hands crossed, while a teenager across the counter doodled lazily upon a pad of paper.
"Would you like our customary room service meals, served hot at 7:00 AM, 12:00 PM, and 6:00 PM?" The kid spoke in a drawled voice.
"Yeah," answered Logan gruffly. "But you'll serve dinner at 9:00 tonight, and breakfast at 5:00 tomorrow morning."
"Sorry, *sir*," the guy said with a sneer, "but dinnertime has passed, and we serve breakfast at 7:00 sharp." Logan put his hands on the dirty counter, leaning forward, and growled low. "But, for you, 9 and 5 is great."
Wolverine sniffed in the air, and snapped around to face her. ~Shit!~ Rachel thought. She had forgotten to sever his connection to his enhanced senses. The man knew her scent well, and could pinpoint her from a mile away with its help.
"Uh, sir, are you okay?"
Logan continued to inspect the doorway where she stood, though he could see nothing. "Yeah," he finally replied. "You got a key for me or not?" He was handed a small, brass key, and stepped through the doors cautiously. Rachel immediately entered his mind and disconnected his olfactory sense, but just as she had done so, he walked backwards into the room. She released her hold, and he stepped back outside. She took away his sense again, and he walked back into the room, just to be sure. Once again, she allowed him to smell her, and, now satisfied, he went outside.
Rachel blocked out his hearing altogether so that he couldn't hear her open the door and follow him, and made sure to cover her scent while she was at it. He opened room 7, and she squeezed in behind him. He spun around, feeling her presence upon the back of his neck, and sighed when he saw nothing there.
"Get a grip, old man," he told himself. "You're becoming paranoid." He threw his leather jacket upon the floor, lifted a thin shirt over his head, and began unfastening his belt. Rachel covered her eyes, and waited until she heard the water running before she took in the shabby room.
Twin-sized bed with worn sheets. Thick, brown carpet that was developing mildew. A wobbly nightstand with a lamp. Sofa that smelled like cigarettes. Water damaged ceiling. This was to be her precious Logan's resting place? She crouched in the corner of the room. She knew he was taking a cold shower, as always, so she wouldn't have to wait long.
And she was right. After only 4 minutes, Logan came out of the tiny bathroom in his jeans and lied upon his back on the hard mattress. Rachel wanted to make her first kill quick and painless. However, as the infamous Wolverine couldn't die, due to an incredible healing power, she would have to kill him in his mind rather than dispose of his body, a process that couldn't include mercy.
As she enclosed his consciousness in an airtight cage, Logan's body jolted in surprise. She pressed the walls together, tighter, tighter, tighter, trying to ignore the painful screams ringing through her ears.
When she had first been placed in Ahab's care, she had a fire of hope that those loyal to the X-Men would come to save her. Eventually, Logan became her only remaining ember of chance for the life she had once lived. She was now extinguishing that weak ember, and she knew she would never truly be Rachel Summers again. From this point on, she wasn't the beloved mascot of the X-Mansion, nor the miracle child of Cyclops and Phoenix. She was the Hound, trained executioner of her own kind.