For close to twenty minutes, they'd been moving through the base, managing to avoid the few soldiers in the halls. Jean held her hand up and their little group stopped, wondering if she'd felt soldiers near again. The redhead surmised their initial thoughts and gave a silent negative by shaking her head. This was something else entirely. She'd been getting a stronger feeling, a hit on her internal catalogue of familiar minds that had led them in this direction.

"Scott," she murmured, "Logan's nearby. He's very close." Her powers were nowhere near the professor's level, but she could still feel the strong current of pain and rage that flooded his thoughts, such as they were, so strong that she had to immediately shut off the tenuous connection or be pulled down into the maelstrom. Scott cocked his head, and Jean realized she must be showing how shaken she felt. "I don't know what's happening to him, but he's angry and hurting. I can't even hold onto his mind to let him know we're here. It's a bit … erratic." Kitty blanched visibly, unable to help wondering if they'd arrived too late. Scott huffed a sigh, wondering the same thing.

"Which way, Jean?" She pointed to the left, and they were on the move again, coming to an intersection. She stopped them again, urgently, so that they stayed a couple of feet away from it, just as a door opened out of sight. There were two voices, men, moving away, apparently down the unseen hall.

"He's getting to be no fun. Think we're close to breaking him?"

"Maybe. Hope he lasts a little longer, I wanna try that new idea tomorrow." There was a low snicker.

"I'm sure you'll get your chance. Hey, did you see how he dropped when I clubbed him? He's definitely weakening fast. We might just have a week more, tops, so think of all th…"

Their voices tapered off into distance, and Scott only then realized he had his hand on his visor, muscles tensed to step out and take a blast at those jerks. He forced himself to calm down, reasoning they didn't need an alert going out now when they were so close. Jean put a hand on his arm, and he knew she'd probably caught a glimpse of his thoughts and sympathized with them. They approached the door, expecting to have to break in or use Kitty's power, only to find it wasn't locked. Storm and Scott shared a startled glance. Was security that lax? Or was there a valid reason to not worry about someone getting out? Cyclops steeled himself and opened the door, the four of them stepping inside quickly, although at the same time they were almost reluctant to enter. As soon as they were inside and had shut the heavy metal barrier behind them, Kitty let out a gasp and recoiled. Only two feet away was someone on the floor, laying on his side and facing toward them. His hands were bound somehow behind his back, but they couldn't see his face, as it was covered by a rough canvas bag with drawstrings tightened around the neck. Jean knew it was Logan, but he wasn't responding to their presence. Had he lost consciousness right before they came in? What had those soldiers done to him? The tiny cell smelled unpleasant, she then noticed, like unwashed body, blood, and a urinal mixed together, and it wasn't hard to imagine why after seeing the state of him. His jeans were filthy, probably from boot soles kicking at him and from being on the floor, and every inch of bare skin showing was grimy and blood-flecked as well. There were open wounds on his torso and several on his legs, showing through bloodied rips and tears of denim, and they weren't closing up at all. How much had his healing factor gone through? Parts of his torso had a scorched look, the flesh still slightly reddened, body bearing a multitude of reminders of how cruel mankind could be. Jean's thoughts were derailed as Logan suddenly lunged upright in a single motion, swaying on one knee while a menacing rumble filled the air. He'd come to a sudden stop and Storm gasped as she saw why, the leather collar around his neck stiff with dried sweat and blood, connected to a short chain that attached to the back wall. She could almost feel the festering anger exuding from the bound mutant, and it made the hairs on her neck stiffen with sorrow and fright.

"Logan? Logan, we're here. You're going to be okay." Jean's soft voice echoed slightly in the tiny room, and the feral's body stiffened, the growl ceasing. "I'm… I'm going to get that bag off, okay?" The redhead was hesitant, not quite sure if he was in a state of mind to understand her, but hating to see that thing covering him. She moved forward and loosened the ties, getting a good look at the rough material for the first time. It was covered in splotches of rusty brown, mostly on the front where his face was, making her stomach roil just a bit with disgust. Slowly, not wanting to startle the fragile man in front of her, Jean pulled off the bag, tossing it away as soon as it cleared his head. It was hard not to gape at him stupidly though, as she took in his features. Gaunt was the only word to describe him. He'd always been amazingly muscled, and his body reflected that even now, but it was more obvious when looking at his face that something was wrong. Logan's eyes seemed sunken in and dull, cheeks hollowed, and she only then realized that every dip and curve of muscle stood out in stark relief, in a very unhealthy way. The man was… dehydrated. And severely so. His wild hair was mussed and longer than usual, as were his muttonchops, with some beard covering his chin and neck. Kitty stared briefly at that before gaining the presence of mind to look away. So he did have to shave! She'd always wondered about that. Logan shuddered slightly, rocking forward a little as if to stand, but aborted the movement halfway with a choked gasp. He stared up at Scott, gaze intense.

"Ca…" Tongue touched lips but did nothing of use, his mouth as dry as cotton, wincing as the motion pulled at the injury of a split lip that was still bloodied. "Camera." The normally smooth baritone voice was rough and hoarse, barely intelligible after weeks of not using it and no real moisture in his body to aid his vocal chords and mouth in forming words. Hazel eyes stared groggily up behind them, focused over the door, and Cyclops whirled. He then noticed the small round lens embedded in the wall. Oh crap…

"Kitty?" He looked to their youngest rescuer, who nodded in understanding.

"Got it Mr. Summers. Give me a boost." The visored mutant lowered his stance slightly and cupped his hands, allowing the girl to put her foot in the cradle of his palms and get a lift up. One of her hands swiped through the wall and into the little device and there was a soft crackling sound, of wiring shorting out.

"It may not be long before they notice that camera feed is gone. Kitty, get those cuffs and the collar off for him please. Logan, can you walk?" Scott was in leader mode, trying to ignore any emotional response in favor of thinking with precision and logic. Wolverine held still as Kitty walked behind him, taking hold of the heavy adamantium cuffs and pulling them straight away from clenched hands before letting them fall heavily to the bloody floor. The leather restraint around his neck was quickly turned to a nonentity and flung down as well, as if Kitty couldn't stand to touch it any longer than she had to. Logan groaned as he uncurled his fingers, the muscles and joints aching from being in the same position for weeks.

"I think so." The feral's voice was still just barely there, Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to swallow. Storm got a hand under his elbow, helping steady the shaky movement upward. Logan hadn't stood upright since his captivity began, and the shift in position made his head swim. Leg muscles trembled at supporting his augmented weight, burning calories he didn't have to spare. The energy he'd mustered when he thought soldiers were coming back in to torture him was spent. He was exhausted, drained from blood loss, and felt strangely empty, like all emotion had been siphoned out of his body. He almost didn't care that he was being rescued, too done with it all to do more than merely react. Jean glanced over worriedly at the feral, but didn't say anything. Now wasn't the time to probe or psychoanalyze, now was the time to get out and get to safety. Then they could pick up the pieces and get him some medical help.

"Good. Kitty, we need an all clear first." The girl stepped forward and poked her head through the door before withdrawing.

"We're good right now." Scott was relieved.

"Okay, we'll phase through the door to save time, and follow the route back to where we came in. Jean, keep a mental eye out, and Storm, if we do run into trouble, feel free to create some cover." The weather goddess gave a nod as they moved out. The hallways were clear, thankfully, but Scott didn't believe that would last for long. Where there was one camera, there were bound to be more. God only knew what luck had kept them from being detected in the first place when they broke in, but please let that luck hold out. If he'd consulted with Logan, the other mutant could have told him that his own damn luck certainly didn't work that way, and the worst part was that it pulled others down with him. But at that point it was all Logan could do to follow along with Storm and Kitty behind him, and Scott and Jean taking point. His bare feet were noiseless on the cold floor as he moved with no real sense of purpose but to just keep going and make it out of the damnable base. They'd only gone about twenty feet when his ears picked up distant noise, and a lot of it, causing a low growl to rumble from his body. Kitty gasped as she almost ran into his broad back and the others stopped short as well.

"What is it? What do you hear?" Scott looked back at him, awaiting the answer to his question and noticing the new, tense posture Logan had adopted. The feral's head was down slightly, knees bent, all tiredness seemingly forgotten in the moment of something only his ears could detect. The response he got was less than promising.

"Trouble."