Moving On - Chapter 15

By Gimpy


Chaos channeled every corridor of the expansive complex, every lab tech, scientist and soldier silently understanding both the loss of power and the ability to communicate were not coincidental. The once impenetrable facility had been breached, the culprits unknown but the consequences weighed heavily on every face that scrambled to bring life back to the dying facility. The fight was useless, they had been compromised. The work they'd all devoted decades to now completely shattered.

Reports slowly trickled in, a group of mutants, five in total, were taking the building section by section. Tensions rose, once loyal employees now desperate to defect, to abandon everything they'd accomplished so they could survive.

The dream Kemelman had built, the ideals he'd created were slipping away. He could feel it dwindling. Two decades had spanned never once baring any fruit for his efforts. Then the harlot had come along with a power so magnificent it had given purpose to every action he'd taken to create his vision of the perfect tool. That day when he'd learned the nature of her mutation he'd finally found what he'd been searching for. He'd gloated, boasting to all that had refused to believe in the benefits of his work. She was supposed to be his grand prolific instrument that would bring an end to the abominations, restore the natural order.

Her loss had nearly destroyed the precious empire he'd so diligently created. Investors backed out, unwilling to stand behind a man who couldn't even control a nine-year-old child. The dissidence had cost him dearly and the quest to recapture her swiftly became personal, a vendetta that he craved to settle. Kemelman had dreamt of the day when he would break her, force her to submit to him, cower before him.

Doing so had been too easy, in turn lacking a certain satisfaction. The woman's will had been crushed long before she'd graced the halls of his treasured complex, teetering on the edge for days. Taking her to the precipice and beyond had come down to one single moment. A moment he had been preparing for since the insolent child had escaped him. Over a decade spent tormenting, twisting, bending and mutilating the woman whom had become the mother, until she was but a vessel, completely gutted and then filled with gruesome intent perpetuated by Kemelman.

As the men and women raced around him, desperate to remedy the disorder unleashed by the intruders Kemelman leered venomously at a snowy computer screen. It had once displayed his sadistic plan as it had unfolded - the mother pleading to the daughter, the daughter refusing, the mother forcing the daughter's hand and then the glorious moment of realization. The end of torment denied…

The lecherous mutants had chosen that moment to disrupt the power and Kemelman never got to see if the murderous look on the mother's face had taken embodiment.

The hectic uncertainty surrounding him suddenly eased as dozens of eyes looked to him for answers - do they run or do they stand their ground against the impossible? Kemelman's castle was crumbling too fast to pick up the pieces and they all knew it, he could see it in their eyes, mocking him for having failed. Any and all control he had vanished as he spun around, seething at the scrupulous imbeciles.

"Why are you just standing there!" he cried, the angered words accentuated by a thunderous crash, Kemelman's wiry hands dislodging an uncooperative computer from its perch. The plastic casing shattered, glass cracking and sparks flying as the technology crumbled.

Chest heaving, eyes crazed and searing, he violently shouted, "Destroy it all! Nothing remains intact!" Turning his back to the frightened faces, he leered at the incessant amber emergency light as it flickered. "I'll be damned if they get the satisfaction of destroying me…"

The technicians scrambled, voraciously tearing the command center apart before they spread out along the winding corridors. Those left in the smoldering room stood in silence, soldiers still utterly loyal to the distraught man before them. Their captain eased towards Kemelman, coming to a pensive stand behind him. Calmly the malicious man waited for his orders.

Running a callused hand along his decrepit and worn features, Kemelman uttered, "You know what you're men have to do, don't you…"

Standing tall, arms folding behind his back, the captain answered, "Destroy the mutant experiments."

Kemelman nodded, leaning heavily against the counter before him. "You've had passed experience with the one called Rogue."

The man sneered at the comment, images of the subordinate woman returning to him. "I have."

Kemelman paused, his dour face twisting and contorting as thoughts came and went. Stiffening, he faced the soldier, vengeance and fury devouring his haggard features. "She was going to be my greatest achievement… Take care of her personally and I'll see to it that your next proficiency hearing goes very, very well."

The soldier's thin lips curled maniacally, his beady eyes narrowing. "It'd be my pleasure."

"I'm sure," Kemelman patronizingly retorted, waving the vile man away.


Vibrant strands of light spiked and curled down the long narrow corridor, colors arching gloriously before descending with absolute cruelty. The intended victims could only gaze in fascination as the beautiful melody of color cascaded towards them. A trembling Jubilee viewed with horrific pride as the electrical streams sent the men spiraling to the ground. The ebbing relief she felt was suddenly dismembered when the piercing sound of gunfire deafened her. Erratic blazing roared from the desperate hand of a still crumbling soldier. For a terrifying moment the young woman froze, her hazel eyes watching the stream of unending bullets careen along the floor, digging and pummeling the hard concrete into a callused path.

As the deadly force edged rapidly towards her inert form a feral grunt echoed. Casting her attention sideways she caught a glimmer of glorious muscle flying at her. Before the ramifications of the image found time to register, she felt the hardened body collide with hers. Two burly arms grabbed and twisted her, creating a barrier for the oncoming pellets. Through instinct alone she clung to the man, her face contorting as she braced for gravity to compromise their flight. The man above her wheezed painfully, the hold tightening as a stray bullet lodged into his back, deflating his lung as it pierced the penetrable organ.

The harsh reality of solid rock stifled them both, the man's demobilizing weight crushing her petit torso, her chest tightening as precious oxygen was denied entry. The barrage from the fading soldier ended, Jubilee's ears continuing to ring violently long after. A second passed as her mind digested the event. Wide-eyed she stared at the mass of dark brown straggly hair resting on her collarbone.

"Oh god," she gasped through the immense weight, her weak arms trying relentlessly to move the broad and powerful man but to no avail. "Logan?" she muttered, her voice strained and quivering. When the man grunted but didn't budge, Jubilee persisted, gasping out, "Logan, please… I can't breath!"

The grunt turned into a long and drawn out groan as the lucid man rolled effortlessly onto his back. Twisting her neck, Jubilee peered at the man who'd saved her life, pensively grimacing at the jagged hitch that came with every rise and fall of his muscled chest.

"Are ya alright?" she timidly questioned, peeling her bruised back from the concrete and moving to his side. A hand found his chest, searching blindly for an exit wound and finding none.

The light running of the Asian's hand forced Logan to staunch a chuckle, his stomach clenching at the humorous tickle she caused. Smirking that cocky grin of his, he reached out and ruffled the girl's hair.

"I'm fine, kid," he bemused then cringed as his skin began the arduous process of reattached itself.

Despite the jumbled mess her nerves had become, Jubilee found his smile infectious, returning its sentiments. It swiftly fell and she suckled her bottom lip in agitation. Guilt and disappointment shadowed her, head listlessly falling onto her chest.

"I'm sorry about that…" she breathed, "I don't what came over me. I knew it coming but I couldn't move."

Logan shrugged off the explanation, coming to a half sit and gazing at her intently. "It's your first time in the field, mistakes are bound ta happen, kid."

"I don't think getting a teammate shot can be categorized as a mistake… a grievous error in judgment on the professor's part or a criminal offence, maybe. Cyclops was right, I shouldn't be here."

"Well, it's a little late to take ya back," Logan reasoned, becoming irritated with the huddled girl.

"Ya coulda been killed!" A furrowed brow arched at the comment and Jubilee quickly realized why. "Or not… but if you had been one of the others!"

"The important part of that sentence bein' 'if'," he patronized.

"Still-"

"Ah!" Logan belted, shooting the young woman a hardened glare. "Let it go or suck it up, don't much care which ya pick but pick one cause there are far more important things goin' on then your insecurities!"

Jubilee floundered at the harshness, suddenly realizing how completely selfish she was being.

Logan's attention diverted, his sensitive ears catching a soft hum as it echoed along the thick concrete. Recognizing the sound as the footfalls of Hank, Scott and Bobby, he swallowed his jumbled nerves and anger. Resting, he concentrated fully on pushing out the metallic fragment lodged between his spine and shoulder blade.

"You guys alright?" Scott's commanding voice questioned as he drew near.

Jubilee jolted nervously before quickly bowing away from her commanding officer, shadowing her guilt behind a wall of glimmering black hair. Unnerved by the shame littering Jubilee's youthful face, Scott turned to Logan hoping for some kind of explanation. None came, the pained look on Logan's features shifting to fear and apprehension. The metal laden man jolted, darting a narrowed glare towards the now fallen soldiers. His nostrils flared allowing stale air to penetrate the sensitive palette. Twisting his upper half he brought an ear to the cool concrete, a hand silencing Scott before his lips had fully parted. The leader tensed as he watched a darkness descend upon Logan.

Without warning the wolfish man swiveled and pounced on Jubilee, shoving her back into the ground. Draping his body across hers, he barked out, "Get down!"

Deadly thunder immediately followed the bellow, drowning out Jubilee's coarse, shrill scream. Hank, acting on pure instinct, grabbed the collar of Bobby and Scott's uniforms and jerked hard, the brute force of the tug sending both men careening back.

Utilizing the momentum he'd created, the large burly mutant pushed off the ground, tucking into a blue furry ball. When the merciless ground and his folded body met he rolled, making certain he'd made it around the corner before unleashing his legs, losing the controlled roll and tumbling onto his back viciously.

Plastered heavily against the wall, Scott waited for the shock of pain to wear off. His reddened vision fluctuated, accented by the undulating amber that heaved on and off from the small boxes that littered the halls. When his head refused to clear he made the mistake of attempting to move. Muffling a tightlipped cry behind clenched teeth, his leather clad hand reached for his shoulder. The pain intensified as he grasped the pulsing limb. Feeling a slick liquid against the cow skin of his glove he pulled it back. Whether it was blood his vision couldn't decipher but the fire racing down his arm was evidence enough for the logical leader.

"I'm hit," he garbled out, the sound overwhelmed by the continuing stream of metallic hail.

Through his dazed, unclear vision, Scott watch as Bobby overcame the dumbfounded stupor that had claimed him. The boy took stock of his surroundings, bypassing the wounded man, his heart and stomach decidedly switching places at the sight of the Asian beauty under fire. A child like uncertainty engulfed the boy, his fear trampling what little training he'd received.

Craning his neck, Scott stiffly attempted to assess the situation himself. His mind refused to work, glazing over, all thought lost to the deafening discomfort.

Seconds seemed to drag as Bobby watched stray bullets narrowly miss the pair cowered in the middle of the upheaval. Looking to Scott for answers he soon realized the infamous leader would not be able to help. Chancing one last glance at the pair as they lingered on the precipice of death, the boy darted across the narrow hall. Scott watched uncertainly as Bobby plastered himself to the cement and gingerly crept to the corner's edge.

Steadying his rampaging heart, the boy slid his hand along the ruff surface pausing where the wall ended. He gave himself half a second to brace for the immense energy he was about to exert then his hand rounded the corner, his fingers spreading apart. Pressing forcibly and closing his eyes he concentrated on the lingering humidity in the air, forcing it to solidify and mound together. The strain streaked along his boyish face as a thin layer of ice flowed from white tinted fingertips.

The frozen line brazenly scurried from the draining boy. Every iota of strength he harbored was channeled into the act, the solidifying humidity slowly becoming a thick wall of ice. The miniscule bullets tore at the edges forcing the boy to counteract, accelerating the rate of the formation. The constant flow started to take its toll, a sharpened ache burrowing into Bobby's forehead and neck. The power he contained was starting to ebb and he became frantic, his determination pushing him beyond his limits.

The moment the wall closed the boy collapsed, his quaking knees giving out under his weight. The thunder didn't cease but its sound became muffled mingling with the distinct echo of breaking ice.

"That's not going to hold!" Bobby forced out between labored breaths, hoping someone was lucid enough to have heard him.

"It'll do," Scott croaked from his side. "Are you okay?"

Swallowing stiffly, he managed a clumsy nod. Leaning heavily on the concrete he managed to take in his commanding officer through the corner of his eye. All he could make out in the dimly lit hall was a furrowed pain etching along Scott's brow and jaw along with a faint glimmer of ooze painted to the man's shoulder.

"Dr. McCoy!" the boy cried out, his languished body protesting as he reached to add pressure to the gaping hole. Scott squirmed, moaning coarsely when Bobby's touch grazed the tender flesh. Gritting passed the utter need to run from the gruesome sight, Bobby intensified his hold.

The doctor shifted quickly from his awkward position on the floor. When he saw the panic ridden boy hovering over a withering Scott, he scrambled to his feet and was by the boy's side instantly. A tense curse spouted through his clenched fangs at what he found. Herding the boy aside, Hank gingerly clasped the zipper of Scott's uniform between his large fingers. The thin metal threatened to slip his grasp, forcing Hank to move quickly, cursing the lack of agility that came with oversized paws. As he pulled back the thick material it resisted, Scott instantly surging from the wall, crying out as skin attempted to follow the uniform.

"Whoa," Hank hissed, pushing him back.

"Sorry," he wheezed painfully, collecting his resolve.

Bracing Scott's good arm against his shoulder and adjusting his hold on the thick leather, Hank questioned, "You ready?"

Filling his lungs with one final breath, Scott nodded, gritting his teeth. No warning came before Hank tugged on the fabric, tearing it away as fast as he could. The breath rushed from Scott's lungs, swirling around a gritty, prolonged whimper. Catching the man as he toppled forward, Hank's broad palm replaced the uniform, stemming the increased flow of crimson.

"That wasn't so bad," Scott strained, his face flushed and contorted.

"You've definitely had worse, o' fearless one," Hank returned, smiling softly while motioning Bobby over. The boy hesitated, unnerved by the flippant nature of the two men. Tentatively, Hank beckoned him again. "I need your undershirt."

"Uh, sure…" Bobby quickly busied himself with removing the garment, handing it over to the doctor.

"Thank you," Hank murmured, taking the cotton shirt and tearing it into long narrow strips. Ridding Scott's arm of the uniform all together, Hank began wrapping the shoulder with the makeshift tourniquets, tightly binding each one, apologizing when the man moaned softly. Once satisfied that he'd completely quelled the bleeding, Hank used the remainder of the cloth to sling the arm.

"This can't be permanent," he explained, knotting the cloth at the apex of the man's tensed neck. "There's no exit wound, meaning the bullets still in there and if left could cause led poisoning."

"I don't think we'll be here long enough for that," Scott reasoned, testing the limits of his mobility, wincing when he surpassed it.

"I suppose not."

"He-help… help!" Jubilee's frantic voice sounded. The petit girl was pinned once again beneath the behemoth sized man but she didn't bother trying to move his massive form, too engrossed in the sickening image of slick blood rapidly starting to pool around her.

Hank became torn between the man before him and the girl pinned beneath metal.

"Go," Scott ordered, tenderly bringing his arm to his chest, cradling the appendage. "I'll be fine."

Hank didn't need a second invitation, moving to the girl's side and relieving the mass of weight atop her. Hurriedly, he examined the damage. Dozens of holes littered Logan's back, rivers of blood tainting the cool cement beneath him. To his utter relief the man's pulse was chaotic but present and the wounds were already healing. Arching back on his heals he heaved a sigh, glancing at the shaken girl.

"Come here, lets have a look," Hank calmly ordered.

Jubilee drew near, visibly disjointed but ultimately unharmed, the blood coating her black uniform all Logan's.

Bobby relaxed considerably when Hank announced that she was fine. Turning to the man slouched at his side, he offered a sturdy hand. Scott took it gratefully, cringing violently at the onslaught of pain as he stood. Bobby generously took the man's weight onto his shoulders, frowning at the pale complexion he now dawned. The boy began leading the man towards the others but stopped when Scott pressured him back. Confused, he patiently stared up at his commanding officer.

Offering a terse grin through his mask of pain, Scott softly mumbled, "You did well." Obviously not expecting the praise, it took Bobby a moment to react. A broad yet burden heavy grin appeared after the hesitation. Shrugging indifferently, he gave more of his shoulder to the man and proceeded to guide him to the others.

Logan sluggishly eased off the blood soaked floor with the aid of Hank. The searing fire along his shoulders and back lessened and he groaned, habitually cracking his neck to ease the discomfort. Piqued by the muffled gunshots he glanced down the hall. The ice, riddled with webs of thick cracks, had managed to hold. Impressed he offered the boy a curt nod of approval.

Standing in the center of three diverting paths, Logan surveyed their options. The first path was the way they'd come and with the second now cut off by ice and the enemy; the third seemed the more logical option. The same conclusion seemed to grace Scott and the two men gravitated towards each other.

"You're bleeding," Logan stated calmly.

"So were you two seconds ago," Scott returned.

Connecting gazes intently, Logan murmured softly, "Her sent was leading me down there." He motioned to the barrier. "We go straight and I loose it."

"We turn left and we all get bullets in our heads. Unlike you we can't all recover from that," Scott quipped gently. "We go straight you might stumble upon it again. I doubt this is the only hallway she's been in."

Logan wasn't a believer in chance or fate, so the idea of hope, the hope that he would find Rogue's perfume again, did not sit well. In the end the decision was not his and he recognized that. "You're the boss," he relented, standing aside.

Shock reigned as the brutish man showed actual respect for Scott's leadership. Accepting Bobby's offered shoulder, Scott led them forward, hoping to put as much distance possible between them and the cracking ice.

TBC


Author's Note: Once again I allowed far too much time to pass between updates. This year was my last year of High School! This of course meant final exams and Graduation ceremonies – i.e. no time for me! But I'm done now and have been forced to take this next year off in preparation for another knee surgery mid year. All of this means I'll have more time to write which I'm extremely excited about. Much love goes out to RogueChere who is still sticking by my side and kudos go out to Ashnan and Mechelle-VanPatten for their reviews. Just for the record I promise there is more to come after this, I already have chapters 16, 17, and most of 18 done, there may even be a 19 we'll see.

Gimpy

p.s. if you want to add your two cents about whether Logan or Scott should get the girl feel free – I've been making pro/con lists to no avail.