Cyclops had furtively followed Solomon Teake through the black door, careful to bump no one near the door when he opened it. The crowd's roar was ringing in his ears, and he desperately hoped Wolverine wouldn't screw things up any worse. He just needed a little time, he had to reach Teake and…and do what?
"What's your plan Scott, what's your plan…." Scott whispered to himself. Within the door was a dark, iron stairwell, and he could hear Teake's voice descending beneath him.
"…mutant on mutant doesn't make a damned difference, Jackson. What do you fucking care, either way you're paid---" a door slammed below and what dim light was emitted from it immediately diminished. The stairwell was almost completely pitch dark. Scott could hear the thunder of the crowd through the wall and tried to ignore it.
"Talk to him. I could talk to him. Maybe he's heard of the X-Men. Maybe he'll think it's bad press…" Scott continued whispering to himself as he quietly hurried down the hard iron steps. He stopped at the door, which had failed to shut completely, allowing a sliver of sickly fluorescent light into the stairwell. Scott could hear conversation from behind the door and paused to listen.
"And I'm saying that if you want to keep your esteemed position at this organization you'll shut your fucking trap, you miserable sod! Or should we have a bonus round, with tonight's winner versus a very opinionated lawyer?"
"That tone is not necessary, Mr. Teake, I'm only expressing my concern for the future of this organization should you do something reckless to your champion mutant! Jeopardizing the establishment by pitting her against unknown--"
"MY CHAMPION MUTANT WILL BE WHOEVER WINS THE GODDAMN BLOODY MATCH, YOU UNDERSTAND!" Teake roared and Scott turned his face to see through the crack in the door.
Teake was standing in a narrow, nondescript chamber with a dimly lit corridor leading out its opposite side, in front of which a pair of guards stood rigidly, one holding chains. Teake himself was in the center, his two bodyguards standing stiffly behind him, and an annoyed-looking, groomed man in a rumpled suit was in front of him, clutching a leather binder and opening his mouth to protest.
"Not another word, Jackson, you son of a bitch, or I really will feed you to the mutants." Teake raised a finger threateningly, and Jackson shut his mouth. "If that goddamn pussycat out there is dumb enough to challenger her and actually win, then of course we'll be out ONE good pit fighter, but we'll have gained an even BETTER one! I want to keep using that 'undefeated, most dangerous mutant in the world' line, the crowd eats it up like sugarcake. I'm not planning on keeping that kid around much longer, you saw what she did to her wrists…I'm doing the little cunt a goddamned favor, letting her play it to the death like this. We want mutants we can CONTROL, and a suicidal dog is a bloody wild card."
"But---but the money we paid Weapon X—" Jackson gasped breathlessly. "The surgery and training---"
At that moment a wide door near the room's corner erupted open and two tall, skinny figures in black jumpsuits and masks entered, dragging the Pit Bull's limp figure. Her shirt was shredded and hung shapelessly from her twisted shoulders. Bloodspots dappled the floor and smudged beneath her dead weight. They dumped her on the floor in front of Teake, who stood straddling her head, grinning widely down at her face, which was swollen, bloody, and battered. Scott detected a gruesome, gurgling rasp as her chest heaved in a desperate attempt to catch her breath.
Shit, Scott's thoughts raced. Where's Logan? This can't mean---
"Well, well, well." Teake boomed at the girl. He raised an eyebrow but did not smile. "I see we've managed to survive another game. I must admit I am a bit surprised. Good for you, my dear. Murray, get her out of my sight. Clean her up."
The guard holding chains nodded tersely, and approached the mangled figure on the floor. He kneeled and attached manacles and the chains to the child's collar, and unceremoniously dragged the battered girl out of the room, leaving nothing but a tired blood smear on the floor. Horror flooded Scott's senses at the sight, and his hand moved instinctively to the door handle, but the girl was already gone, and Teake was headed towards the pit door.
"How's the other one?"
"Turned him into a right shish-kabob, sir," a masked figure grunted as three of them struggled to haul Logan's blood-soaked body into the room. Scott remembered that despite his toned physique, Wolverine weighed nearly three hundred pounds with his adamantium skeleton. Or used to weigh…?
"Damn, he might have made a decent addition. Come on boys," he instructed as his bodyguards lagged a few feet behind him. "It's almost one. Time to close up this circus."
Like anyone else, Logan never remembered anything that happened to him when he was unconscious. He didn't feel his adamantium claws retract when he blacked out. He didn't feel the blood gush from his neck, or his tissue rebuilding itself over the next ten minutes, regenerating, healing his otherwise lethal wounds.
He also didn't see the masked figures enter the ring, or feel them clutch his wrists and drag him through the door, out of the pit, to an empty cement room. He didn't see Teake step over him and enter the ring to address the throng above.
He didn't see the masked face lean inquisitively over him, examining him. But as his consciousness slowly resurfaced, Logan did hear him.
Scott wasn't sure whether he should feel disappointed or relieved when he saw the figures drag Logan's body into the room as Teake stepped out of it. His claws were not out, and he didn't look badly injured. No claws and no injuries could only mean one thing….
"Take a look at this one!" One of the masked figures exclaimed, leaning heavily over Logan. "I think he might still be breathing!"
Teake was outside in the center of the ring, bellowing "Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for your patronage tonight!…"
Teake's bodyguards, however, were stationed just inside the room at the door, watching Teake outside. They both turned to stare at the masked figure, who looked up from Logan.
"He is!" The figure squeaked excitedly. "He survived the Pit Bull! He's--" At that moment, three adamantium claws abruptly shot through him, ending his sentence.
