Hi! I'M BACK! I've been taking a short break and shuffling around all the new stories. Found a few goodies…posted a few reviews…Now, to business!

Blix Howlett: Hey, I'm glad you liked it! Oh I know the feeling, I wuv Wolvie too! (smiles idiotically as well) What did he do? Pumped him full of molten adamantium, that's what! Like in X2, with the random chick Wolvie fights with at the end with long fingernails! But there's only enough to hurt like hell AND do something else (note: read chapter) If you're still confused, it brings on the fit of angriness ok?

Blood-Fangs: (cleans teeth with suspicious looking bone and burps) Hmm, I think I took the 'bite him hard' thing a bit too hard. I ate him! (Taluliaka laughs evilly and flings bone behind her)Ok I'm updating!

Wolflver: Hiya! Erm, I think Logan does something he might regret in this chapter... (coughs nervously) OH WELL! Thanks for the complimenteyyes! Much appreciated!

RhiannonUK: Oh hey! I feel so happy! An amazing author has reviewed my humble story! By the way, love your story. I sent you a review too! So glad you reviewed. You raised my spirits! Wow, I'm still ataken aback! Oh just muttering sideways to you, My English teacher doesn't know I write! (She's too dumb) She just reckons I'm just one other not-listening, bored kid…he hee!

Dragonandthewerewolf: Hey cool name! Yes sir! (salutes) I am updating as commanded sir! Yay! Hope you enjoy the chappie! And now, on with…

Silver Eyed

Disclaimer: (Taluliaka pauses, caught in the act of opening the sacred box which holds the ownership papers for X-Men very subtly and quietly armed with a sledgehammer and smiles, hiding it behind her back) Hi there! Nothing suss happening here! I don't own it!

Oh, the italics in the story is Logan thinking, or talking inside himself, or whatever. Ok? On we go...

Chapter 2: Animal

The next time Logan awoke, it was to a strange rumbling vibrating through his body. Feigning sleep, he lay still, his finely attuned senses orientating themselves. He was in the air, in a plane? A military helicopter? There was a soft bed beneath him, the low murmur of voices throughout the enclosed space…but he could feel secure bonds around his hands and arms. What had happened? He remembered Scott… and Kurt... but everything else was lost.

There was a dull ache to the back of his neck, where a syringe had recently pierced. He had known that sensation long enough to recognize it. There was a similar ache in his bones but it was weak and could easily be pushed aside, easily ignored, unlike the crushing pain of molten adamantium when the syringe was first pressed in. However, he knew, the worst was yet to come. But the bonds…then someone was approaching, their soft footsteps ringing like death-knells. Before his mind could react, he'd flipped himself off the soft bed into a half-crouch, ready to deal with any enemies, his eyes darting about. He was on the X-Jet, with Dr. Hank McCoy, a man he vaguely remembered as the replacement of Jean before… capture.

Hank had stopped arms slightly out in front of him in a calming gesture. He was speaking, meaningless words whose translations were lost in Logan's whirling thoughts.

Hank tried to touch him and he shied away, eyes momentarily darkening as he watched Hank distrustfully. 'Why am I tied up?' The suspicious tone made Scott sigh from the front, where he was piloting the jet. He called back, 'Well, how were we supposed to know what you would do when you woke up? Stryker could've screwed with your brain or something. They screwed with your eyes, that's for sure.' The feral's eyes had now drifted to Scott's back but he didn't respond to Scott's challenging tones. The rest of the team were still advancing on him, their intent sending a shiver through him. With one fluid motion, Logan's claws snapped out and he drew them swiftly to the sides, cutting the bonds with one stroke. The release of the claws helped clear Logan's head. Unfortunately, it also cleared something else.

Even as Logan stiffened, awaiting what he knew would happen, such a burst of white-hot agony burst through him he was sent to the floor, cluctching his head with clenched hands, willing the fit away. Even as he sheathed the claws, they burst out again, the wounds gaping forth again with such vigour it sent a shiver of pleasure and horror

combined down his spine. His hazel eyes lightened to the same glaring silver as before, releasing the same wrath and passion that he released only in his worst hours, whether alone in the woods or, more recently, in that godamned cell, surrounded by smirking guards ready to drag him back to the lab of horrors he couldn't escape from even in his dreams.

The same fury that nearly made him lose control when Stryker had attacked the school and he had killed that first guard, stirring such an unnatural urge inside him to stab the man again and again until his claws were hilt-deep in the flowing blood that he began trembling uncontrollably with longing. That same berserker bloodlust they had somehow captured and bent to their will, planning to control him and use the silver flush in his eyes to warn them when he had lost control, the same he felt now… They were still there, standing around, the human groans and gargles pouring from their mouths, almost muffled by the pounding of their hot, crimson blood, the same blood he would release in floods onto the steel floor, until it became a skating-rink for the bloodthirsty…No! They were his friends, the ones who had rescued him. Oh God, how was he supposed to tell them?

One of them stopped closer and his fevered eyes snapped upwards, fixing onto the throat, the jugular vein. He began to shake again, his body contracting like a cat for the leap from the polished floor onto her but... no! This was 'Ro, one of the team, who had never done him any injury! Stop staring at her throat, you animal! Get rid of the claws! Sheathe them, idiot, sheathe them! The urge for blood was growing so powerful the feral staggered sideways as he got up, neatly turning in a circle and using the combination of muscle and metal in his leg to send her spinning into the wall. Then he was there, right next to her face, the claws resting ever so lightly on her golden throat, crazed orbs glaring into hers. She was speaking again, the fear rolling off her in waves, her black eyes dilated with mute horror as she stared into two equally hollow silver pits. He bared his teeth into a savage grin, relishing the moment, drinking in her heat, her screams.

Even as Logan smashed her into the wall, his claws grazing her throat, Ororo tried to call his name, tried to bring some sense of reason, some hint of hazel, back into those dead eyes. She desperately didn't want to resort to shocking him, with the metal coating his bones and so soon after they had rescued him from the army. By then, Scott, hand on his visor, had placed the jet onto autopilot and was advancing on the pair. Hank and Kurt seemed reluctant to hurt their friend but had unconsciously drawn closer, eyes wide at the severity of the situation. 'Ororo, shock him.' Scott's tone was grim. Ororo was frozen, staring like a hunted deer into the eyes of a predator. 'Ro, look at me. Look at me.'

Tearing her gaze away, Ororo stared at Scott in mute obedience. 'You have to hit him with a lightening bolt now. Okay? Do you understand? I'm going to come over and hit him too. Hopefully, that'll take him out long enough to..' Scott didn't bother finishing the sentence, merely started advancing slowly down the corridor, trying not to draw attention from Logan. A low snarl snaked its way across the feral's chest. Although he still stared at his captive, he had lost her eye contact and she was no longer as frightened as she had been. The waves of fear had died, replaced by a grim determination and this unsettled the feral. He should kill her now before she tried something. Suddenly he was aware, with a flick of the eyes, that another was approaching. Logan's eyes flared brighter as he reached out with heightened senses. Waiting, he suddenly twisted, keeping his claws aimed at the female's throat and kicked out with the same force as before. Scott flew backwards, smashing a wall and promptly sliding down it with a groan.

Turning his attention back to his victim, he drew forward, ready to punch his blades straight through her throat. They swept forward…No! I won't do it! I won't be beaten by an animal! No! With a terrible cry, Logan forced his claws away. His entire body shrieked in disgust at the loss of his prey and the metal in his body shrilled in agreement. His bloodlust would not be unfulfilled. Gasping with the effort, he shut his senses to the bodies pumping with blood, fresh blood and slumped to his knees again, twisting his body away from Ororo desperately. With all his senses turned inwards, the sharp thump of his heart in his own ears, Logan hung on to the last scrap of sanity he had and indulged the roar in his being for carnage, for death.

The claws twisted, gouging deep into his own chest, completing his being in an icy rush of pain and satisfaction that drove his strength away. The silver hue that disfigured his eyes dropped like a shroud, bringing a new level to the pain as the numb sensation of his fit died away. Finally, Logan summoned his last reserves of strength and yanked the slick weapons from his heart with a jerk, painted red to his knuckles . They slid slowly back into the prison of his hands, sated in their lust for blood and he bent slowly to the floor, cold and smooth against his burning forehead even as his life-blood drained from him onto it. He sighed with sincere relief, stretching his senses and finding no bodies, no stench of blood besides his own.

It was over.

WEEEE! (Taluliaka swings in on a jungle vine that's mysteriously appeared out of nowhere) Okay review people! NEED…FEEDBACK…

Signing out, from Taluliaka!