Greetings, all you people out there. I have started a new fanfic ( gathp) OMG! Um, yes, I like Wolverine…He will feature a lot in my fic…yeah. But I don't like Jean! As far as I'm concerned she's dead, she died and that's flat. Again, no-brainer writer. Absolutely no idea where I'm going with this. This chapter has been hanging around for ages with absolutely no further inspiration so I decided to post it. Soo, welcome to …
Silver Eyed
Disclaimer: What are you talking about? I OWN X-Men! Bring on thy court cases. MOOHAHAHAHAHAAAA! (Ahem, if anyone took that previous sentence seriously, please take into account I am psychotic and have strange turns sometimes into believing I own major, money-making ideas. Ok? Rightio…moving on)
Chapter 1: Rescue
The dark army truck skidded slightly on the thin crust of ice that covered the roads crisscrossing the Canadian highlands. Soldiers, holding their guns in nerveless hands, sat along one wall, their hooded eyes never leaving the dark shape slumped at the other side of the vehicle. Occasionally, patches of sunlight would flash through the small windows and cast dappled shadows across their uniforms of black leather and wave gently across the floor to the captive. The mutant hadn't moved through the long three hour journey on the highway from Alkali Lake. Their destination was a bigger, more heavily guarded institute in New York, where the procedure would be completed and, hopefully, the weapon finished.
Although the mutant was only a dark shape, huddled against the wall where he had been chained when the journey began, his hooded eyes flashed at the line of grim, silent soldiers who guarded him. The ragged clothes he had been caught in still hung across his rugged frame and his feet were bare. The mutant's harsh features were hard to distinguish from the shadows, so to physically check whether the drugs that restrained the mutant had worn off, or the chains that held him had weakened, one would have to approach the mutant in his dark corner. And as the journey progressed, and the sunlight shone through more faintly, the dark vehicle became an area of terror and half-imagined specters for the uncomfortable men. They had not dealt a lot with mutants and, although the mutant's powers had been explained, an aura of mystery and fear hung about the truck. And still the highway rolled on.
The leader of the soldiers, John Westworth, had become more uncomfortable as the night rolled in and, when an unexpected shuffle came from their charge, he jumped and silently cursed himself for his paranoia. With an angrily muttered retort, he reached up and switched on the bright lights, which bathed the interior in a matter of seconds with a light eerily reminiscent of an operating theatre. Their captive jerked slightly as the light washed over him and his dark eyes darted to the ceiling, before running over the soldiers. The thick chains that bound him were attached to the wall and coldly gripped his ankles, legs, wrapped around his chest, snaked down his arms and ended with a thick manacle on each wrist. Across both hands was a curious piece of metal like a medieval gauntlet, which wrapped thickly across the mutant's knuckles and the top of his hands. Unattached to these bonds was a thick band of metal across his throat, a mocking parody of a dog's collar, with a lighter but stronger chain wrapped tightly around the pole that ran just above the mutant's watchful eyes.
Seeing why the lights had been switched on, the mutant smiled quietly, amusedly at the nervous leader. Seeing this, Westworth, in a fit of false bravado for the sake of his men, strode across and, looping the neck chain about his hand, gave it a fierce tug, bending the mutant's neck up and painfully twisting it to one side. This was a useful and effective way of disabling the captive, for, with his neck stretched at an odd angle, and the rest of his body chained to the ground, it put him at a disadvantage to defend himself from injections or punishment.
'That's enough of that,' Westworth snarled. 'Don't give us any trouble, you hear? Or I will personally strangle you with this chain until you beg for your life!' This act of courage seemed to calm the troops but the captive's eyes flamed.
Having reassured the troops and disliking the way the mutant was staring at him, the soldier gave the chain a last savage tug and retied it firmly, and on a shorter lead so the mutants' neck was slightly stretched. Returning to his place among the men, he had only just sat down when the truck swerved off the road with a screech of tyres. For a second, the vehicle spun out but straightened. As a storm thundered alarmingly close overhead, the vehicle spun off again but this time off the road into space, smashing down the side of the high path they were on.
For a second, all hell broke loose inside the back of the truck, men yelling as they flew around inside, seeking something to hang onto, the truck rolling down the hill and a grinding clang as it stopped, poised, halfway down the slope. The truck was on its side and Westworth was flat on his back. Hanging above him from his chains was the mutant. His face was contorted into a mask of pain, gasping as he hung painfully in the air, unable to breathe from the collar choking him as it tightened its hold on his neck. Then the truck was upright again and somehow traveling backwards up the hill, back to solid ground. An almost inaudible groan sounded from the mutant, still enmeshed in his chains and bent almost double, struggling to breathe against the collar which had been smashed tightly about his neck. His fingers scrabbled uselessly against its cruel tightness. There were yells, screams coming from outside the van and Westworth stumbled to the door, grabbing a gun from the ground. Cautiously, he opened one of the heavy metal doors on the back of the truck and peered out.
Dark figures moved swiftly amongst the confused and rapidly firing soldiers that were scattered about outside. A storm flickered about one of them, lightening waving in her hair and her eyes gleaming white. 'Mutants!' he gasped. Another one was blasting holes in people with a red light which seemed to be coming out of a pair of goggles he was wearing. But it was the mutant that materialized right in front of him that actually drove a cry of fear from him. It was a demon, a blue furry demon, with a furry tail clutching a gun and glowing yellow eyes! Westworth stumbled backwards, further into the truck. The mutant approached, than disappeared, leaving a blue smoky vapour in the air. The next, a solid foot to the jaw laid Westworth low.
Kurt stepped into the truck, over the unconscious soldier, keen eyes searching through the shadows before alighting on the gleam of silver chains and a silent figure. Fluidly, Kurt slid closer and was rewarded by the sight of Logan. The man looked pale and exhausted but alive. Then he stepped closer. Logan's chest wasn't moving. He wasn't breathing! With a murmur of disgust at the cruel bonds that held the man still, he slipped his fingers onto Logan's neck, searching for a pulse. What happened next made him jerk with surprise. Logan's eyes opened wide. They were bright silver.
Kurt leaped back, his own eyes wide with astonishment, then stepped closer and waved a hand uncertainly in front of Logan's bright orbs. He didn't react. It was just a reflex. Then Logan blinked and, with weak hands, he touched the cold metal around his neck again. Whispering soothing words in German, Kurt reached slowly over and examined the smashed collar. It was cutting off Logan's breathing. 'It's all right, mein freund. I'll help you.' Kurt reassured Logan as the feral's eyes drifted shut again. Then he was gone, reappearing right next to Scott, who whirled and then relaxed visibly when he saw it was just Kurt. 'What's up, Kurt?' Scott yelled over the general noise. 'I've found Logan! But I need your help. He can't breathe.'
When the two mutants re-entered the truck, Logan was dangerously still again. His breathing was no longer audible until his entire body shuddered and he took a slight breath. Scott stepped forward, shaking his head slightly, no expression on his face and then aimed carefully, firing with his laser. The collar broke and Logan slumped quietly against the wall, his shaky breathing slowly becoming louder and deeper. He opened his eyes again and the bright silver made Scott swear in surprise. Slowly the silver dulled back to the light hazel colour they had normally been and they turned to Kurt and Scott. 'Are you all right?'
Logan opened his mouth to answer when he gasped and his eyes jerked rapidly to silver again in the instant before he collapsed forward and they closed. Westworth rose slowly, staring in triumph at the syringe now hilt-deep in Logan's neck, smirking as Logan gasped in agony, his bones reacting to the molten adamantium now pumping through his system. He curled into a fetal position. Logan's eyes shuddered closed, the sound of his chains clinking slightly the last thing he heard.
ooo REVIEW PLEASE! I will try to update soon but I shall need reviews ( and chocolate) to do so. So pleae, citizens, help a poor author make a living off the streets ( ooh I can just feel the sympathy at that 'off the streets' line)
Signing out, from Taluliaka