Hello again people! It's 2006 (obviously) and I have decided that, since I haven't posted a chappie all year, today would a good day to!

RhiannonUK: Yeah, well I never actually got your review on this one, but I'm sure it was full of glowing compliments and hero worship! Heh heh YOU'D BETTER UPDATE SOON!

Elwndrya: Save Wolverine? Don't you mean save those poor mutie haters in the bar? They're the ones who are going to get sliced open and stuff!

ShalBrenFan: Well I'm glad you're enjoying the story! It's always good to get good comments that are good. Good…I'm having great fun writing this story and I hope you stay for the ride!

hottietom: Oh yes Clark was beaten up by his foster dad! Ralph or Jeff or whatever his name was…When he was all evil, with the red S on his chest, his dad threw him into barn walls and stuff. I personally like Lex Luthor...so evil! SO BALD…I don't know why I made you wait this long for an update…perverse pleasure? A diabolical plan?

glennscm: I'm glad you like it! I like it too!

Thanks to everyone that reviewed!

Silver Eyed

Disclaimer: Do you think if I owned X-Men I would be filling this out? No, I'd get someone else to do it for me!

Chapter 7: Blizzard

One minute the crowd was surging forward, brandishing weapons in the arrogance connected with large numbers…and the next there was nothing.

The lights flickered then went out, plunging the room into pitch black. The crowd faltered, milled.

There was the harsh shriek of metal on metal, as six deadly claws severed the bars of the cage. Sparks shattered in all directions and flared out just as quickly. A chorus of terrified screams began, now separated from their enemy by the most depended upon and beloved human sense: sight. Several fights broke out in the muddle, which evolved into an all-out brawl. By the time the barkeeper had grabbed a torch and located the light switch, the mutant they had all been so intent on killing had disappeared. The cage lay destroyed on the ground.

The prostitute that had fled the bar had returned and was sitting demurely on a stool. Nobody noticed her calm, contrasting strangely with the hysteria of before. She bent her head as her eyes flashed yellow, igniting with interest for a brief moment, before she left the bar for the second time that night, stepping with a lithe confidence unusual in downtrodden street whores, leaving the humans in uproar.

Logan eyed his motorbike as it filled with petrol, noting the long scrapes along its side. When he had first bought it from a questionable area of some small town from some extremely questionable people, he hadn't really looked it over more thoroughly than making sure it had all the basic components of a bike. Like two wheels and an engine.

But now, under the harsh lights of the service station, it looked like shit.

Turning away from the bike, he looked back down the highway. He couldn't see any police cars in pursuit of him, or any angry mobs with bloodhounds. Actually since he had walked out of the chaos in the bar and gotten the hell out of there, he hadn't seen anyone.

He still didn't know who had flipped the switches in the bar and allowed him to run without killing everyone. Certainly not any of the humans there. For a moment, he had caught the scent of another mutant, someone who was vaguely familiar, but he had brushed it aside.

He heard the clicking of heels as another customer walked nearby and lowered his face slightly, draping it in shadow. He wasn't quite sure whether his eyes had returned to normal yet and women had the tendency to blast his sensitive hearing with their screams. But the heels kept approaching. Brow furrowing, Logan stepped slightly further back into the dark.

Suddenly somebody pressed him against the wall, their lips locked with his, their perfumed scent hanging richly around him. The slut from the bar smiled at him as he pushed her away into the light, her arms still looped around his neck. 'What are you doing?' he asked, breathing in her scent again and feeling lightheaded. That was some strong perfume. One of her hands brushed his cheek before he pushed it firmly away.

'I couldn't help noticin' your curious eyes…'

He was getting her real scent, familiar, foreboding…

'Sorry. Not interested. I'm racist, see?'

She eyed him in confusion and something flickered in the depths of her baby blues that set Logan's teeth on edge.

'Got this thing against blue women.'

Her smile was nothing short of predatory as blue scales rippled over her body, her eyes turning a tawny yellow as her hair slicked back against her skull. Mystique drew away from him.

'I have a proposition for you.'

Something clenched deep in Logan's gut. If Magneto was down to making 'propositions', with him of all people, he must be getting desperate to kick off this mutant/human war.

'Join us for this war and Eric will give you what Xavier never can.'

The sentence sent a thrill up his metal spine.

'What?'

She leaned closer, caressing the air with the single word she dangled so tantalizingly in front of him.

'Revenge.'

Logan clenched his hands into fists and lowered his head again, lest Mystique should see the glint in his eyes. He had lived for revenge….in there. The same hate he had felt eyeing the drunken crowd in the bar, hate and revulsion. They dared judge him just because he was different. It was true, Xavier couldn't handle a heap of deaths on his conscience, even if they had been the ones who had torn him apart a second time. Even if they deserved it.

She was still talking, her voice a poison edging into his skin…

'How long did they leave you there? The X-Men? They could have rescued you the day you were taken…but they left you there for weeks, being tortured…..'

The feral part of his mind stirred, drawing strength and looming like a thundercloud.

'…fight with us and we can track them down, wherever they've run to, and they can pay…we can give you revenge!'

Something in him snapped.

'NO! No, I can't….no….'

He stepped away from her, withdrawing into himself from the temptation. Focused on calming himself enough to unclench his fists, he didn't notice the look that twisted Mystique's features for a brief moment, a trail of regret and annoyance.

'Fine.'

Her voice and a new scent hit him at the same time. Logan's eyes blazed silver as he realised it was Sabertooth, miraculously resurrected from Liberty Island, and judging by the ominous growls, very pissed off. He whirled as a flash of dull metal soared across his field of vision and smashed him across the skull. Logan stumbled and fell, red lights rippling across his eyes, feeling the pole brush his hair as it sped past again. Unfortunately, this luck was short-lived and the next blow struck home. Agony roared sickly through his head.

As he tried to gather his thoughts, something lumbered into his blurred vision and he slashed at it blindly. He felt Sabertooth scream through the vibration in his claws and for a moment his senses seemed to clear. Staggering to his knees, he tried to stand before being knocked flat with a vicious blow to the back of his head, losing consciousness instantly.

Sabertooth made a harsh sound of amusement, stepping forward with his bloodstained weapon to deliver more of the same treatment. Mystique stopped him. 'Stop it and get moving,' she hissed angrily, batting the pole aside. The thunderous growl didn't intimidate the mutant as she stepped lightly away to contact Eric.

Pyro sighed to himself, drawing a random picture on the snow-encrusted ground with a pointy stick. The wind was venomously cold and he shuffled to keep warm, stamping his feet. The flinty clicks of his lighter was snatched up by the wind and whirled away amongst the swaying trees. How long had they been standing there? Two hours? Three?

He glanced sideways. Mystique and Sabertooth stood in exactly the same positions, eyeing the black-and-white landscape for any hint of movement. How the hell could Mystique stand there in the middle of a blizzard naked?

His scrutiny made Mystique turn towards him, her yellow eyes burning unusually bright. He had endured this stare before and knew what it meant. He hastily turned his eyes back to the swirling snow eddies.

I'm watchin'… I'm watchin'…I am "on guard"…

Suddenly something caught his eye. Pyro squinted, raising his lighter in readiness. It was about time…

A dead stick fell to the ground with a soft thump from a snow-covered tree.

'Oh, for Christ's sake!' He threw down his drawing stick in disgust.

'What the hell are we waiting for? They're not coming! He's as good as dead! Can we GO now? I'm freezing!'

Now both Brotherhood members were staring at him. Immediately Pyro felt like a child. To cover his embarrassment, he flicked the stick back up into his hand with a foot and strode over to the large tree they were standing around. 'See?' Keeping a cautious distance just in case he happened to be wrong, Pyro gingerly prodded the body. There was no reaction.

It was hard to associate this impaled corpse with the man he had once known as the Wolverine. He had once inspired terror and awe in the students with his feral rage and the promise of violence that had always lurked in his eyes, but this thing…He prodded it again. Nothing but a shell, covered in dried and fresh blood.

The actual impalement had not nauseated Pyro as much as the gleeful expression on Sabertooth's face as he had shoved the splintered tree trunk through Logan's stomach. With his hands tied behind the tree, the most Wolverine could do was spasm and writhe as his gaping wound closed and re-opened. He reminded Pyro of a wolf he had once seen die, caught in a wolf trap. It had gone completely insane, clawing itself and snarling, with mad, staring eyes that the light faded from as its blood darkened the ground.

Morbidly fascinated with the way Logan's body healed and ripped apart again around the tree, Pyro had drawn too close and had gotten a fierce slash down his arm. The cuts were stinging again and Pyro rolled his shoulder, eyeing the motionless mutant with resentment.

Mystique's quiet remark cut through Pyro's thoughts as she walked past him, not even glancing at Wolverine's body. 'I actually thought they would come.' Her amused smirk twisted and blurred with the flakes of snow. 'Why did Magneto want him dead so badly?' Sabertooth pushed Pyro away from the body, not bothering to answer the question.

Logan had no recollection of when the Brotherhood left him to die, when their presence no longer lingered fuzzily on the edge of his senses. All he knew was that blood was still flowing from his stomach, turning the snow at his feet a vivid red. Of course the flow was much slower now, but it was there, reminding him of each painful second he continued to breathe. He raised his head from his chest, the smell of blood finally overwhelming him and he rested it against the trunk, staring out at the snow that blew by. Vertigo gripped him, mixed with waking nightmares. Scintillating images tore his mind with angered claws, blurring reality until there was nothing but a grey buzz.

Eternity slipped by and there was no end to the pain. Harsher gusts of winds swept the Canadian night and his eyes began to stare sightlessly, reflecting the snow and the darkness that seemed to snuff out the very spark of life.

CLIFFIE! Oh how I love them!

Next update: I shall stop torturing Logan. For a while…He needs a break, I reckon.

I'm so sad! Five reviews from my last chapter! Only five people! Are you guys losing interest in my story? Please contact me and tell me what's up! Or just drop a review…whichever you prefer.

Taluliaka