Wolverine and the X-Men, Season 2, Chapter 4
The next morning
Near Moscow, Russia
Piotr and Ilyana Rasputin sat on the worn down leather seat at the back of the bus, the latter wincing as the transport went over the odd speed bump along the road. Both wore thick winter coats, and on Ilyana it looked comically oversized on her small and thin body. In contrast, Piotr's coat barely seemed to cover him and he shuddered as a chill rushed through his body. He noted with a sense of mild depression that the heating for the bus had broken down, seeing most others thickly clad in old coats and hats that would have looked out of place anywhere else in the world.
He turned to Ilyana, trying to put an arm around her in comfort. However, the only response he got in turn was her shuddering even further. As much as she would have liked to give him some reassurance, she simply didn't have enough energy to try, and he felt her fall asleep on his shoulder. He sighed, envious that she could fall asleep at a time like this. Just as he thought of trying to do so himself, another chill came down from the front of the bus and forced his eyes back open.
The next hour of the bus journey was relatively uneventful, with the only real things of interest being a small group of soldiers marching, followed by a figure of authority of some form. Piotr didn't recognise them at first glance, having not seen a newspaper for a short while now, but later seemed to recognise them as a member of the Winter Guard. The name of the person still escaped him, but Piotr simply hoped the two would not end up needing to cross paths. A fight was the last thing he needed here, particularly if Ilyana could end up in harm's way. He simply held his breath and waited for the drill to pass by before he dared look back up.
The bus suddenly began slowing down before stopping altogether, causing a loud groan of dismay from the front as Ilyana's eyelids flew open. Listening closely, they both heard the bus driver mutter in a mixture of confusion and anger before the door opened and he climbed down to see what the problem was. Hearing a loud amount of shouting from both the driver and two other men, the words "Winter Guard" and "Rossovich" were unmistakably clear.
Piotr's eyes widened in terror as he looked out the side, seeing a man clad in a large and heavily-equipped suit of armour, an athletic warrior carrying a shield while dressed in red and white, a person resembling a Siberian tiger, and a woman dressed in a mostly dark costume who was hovering a few feet off the ground. Beside them, he saw dozens of Russian soldiers, many heavily armed. At the forefront was a giant bear, seeming to sniff the air in an attempt to track somebody. Despite the slightly comical appearance it may have had compared to the giant suit of armour, the others were wise enough to give it a wide berth.
Loud murmurs spread through the bus.
"Dear lord, it's the Winter Guard! But why are they here?"
The questions seemed to continue, before they were finally cut off by the sound of very heavy winter boots. When the noise stopped, two burly soldiers stood at the front of the bus, rifles to their sides.
"Alright, this is a search! Everybody off the bus!"
Ten hours ago
Arkady Rossovich cackled wildly as he heard the footsteps approaching his cell.
"Alright, you monster. We've got your escort ready. Now don't try anything, you know we have your inhibitor collar activated."
"I have no plans to do so, Althukov. Just unlock the door and I'll come quietly." His tone was sarcastic and mocking, showing that even if he wasn't going to hurt his warden physically, he would certainly enjoy harassing him verbally.
The cell door opened slowly, revealing ten armed guards alongside Althukov, who was carrying a pistol himself. Even with the collar on, the warden and his escort knew that he was trained in multiple forms of unarmed combat. If he broke free of his restraints, he could easily knock most of them unconscious -or worse if he felt so inclined- and then take the collar off if he survived the subsequent shooting. The weapons were mainly there for reassurance, and most of the guards were shuddering, their weapons held too unsteadily for proper combat. Althukov was scared himself, though unlike the others he made an effort to at least try and hide it.
"Come on, we're going now."
Rossovich stepped forwards, feeling a shock as his arms were paralysed by some large handcuffs. After this, the soldiers raised their weapons and forced him to march down the long and dark corridor. The empty wing of the prison echoed only with his heavy footsteps, and the slightly lighter ones of the guards, with the occasional clatter of their weapons sounding not far behind. He kept walking forward through the gates and finally into the prison van, which was surrounded by an armoured personnel carrier and three police cars, each containing at least three armed officers. He saw the faint light from the prison reflect onto the barrel of two sniper rifles just before he was forced into the back of the van.
The first hour or so of the journey was relatively unremarkable, an eerie silence filling the cold and bitter air that filled the van. Several times, the prisoner felt the van try to accelerate in a futile manner, and he could sense their desire to get rid of him and forget all the painful memories he had caused them. A smile flashed across his face as the memories returned to him, flashing by year by year.
There in front of him stood a young man, no older than twenty at the most. The man trembled in fear, his clothes covered in mud and sweat and a look of terror deep in his eyes. In contrast, the rest of his face had simply lost all expression, his mind numbing itself from shock and disbelief. His eyes widened subconsciously as the tentacle flew towards his head, then rolled twice and saw no more as the tentacle withdrew. A second man rushed up to him in blind panic, firing wildly and missing most of his shots. The ones that hit glanced off his carbonadium tentacles harmlessly. With no effort Omega Red turned around and sent the man into the air with an uppercut, followed by a thump.
The man lay prone near him, and gradually he started convulsing as Red began to suck his life force out his body. More bullets went his way and he rolled out the way before making a jump towards them, a bloodthirsty grin on his face.
Then the scene changed to an idle and cold city that he seemed to remember from some time ago, warmed only by the burning fire a few miles away from the centre. Not far away from it, he remembered tentacles flying indiscriminately around the area, hitting flesh, concrete or metal with no regards to the consequences. And then the men like him had advanced. One was clad in a gold suit of body armour, the next clad in a dark blue trench coat with feral hair at shoulder length. To the left of them was a slightly shorter but more agile man dressed in black. Two tentacles went towards him and he rolled underneath the first before he raised his arms.
The tentacle stopped abruptly with a sudden force, and Red noticed six metal-covered claws that were preventing him dealing a blow to his skull. The man moved away and another tentacle pounded the pavement where he had been standing milliseconds before. In the brief moments it was stuck, he realised he had forgotten the other combatants as an electric current flowed through his tentacles and into his body. The gold clad one was wielding a large stun weapon, and as Red recovered from the shock the largest of the three jumped forward and kicked him in the abdomen. The shock flowed through his body again and he growled in irritation, tentacle lashing out and knocking the stun weapon to the floor.
"Such weapons are surely below one such as yourself, aren't they?" he mockingly asked as a second blow slammed into his enemy.
"Yeah," the man grunted as he painfully got up. "But this isn't."
A powerful punch hit his solar plexus, and he roared in pain. It was as if the punch had been fuelled with the energy of an exploding star. Stumbling wildly, he felt the short one climb onto him and headbutt him repeatedly with extreme force. In between flashes of red and white and sharp feelings of pain, he saw the man's face. The hair was wild and animalistic, the facial features making no attempt to conceal the sheer fury in his face.
Two tentacles to the ribcage forced his attacker off, by which point the armoured one rushed forwards and struck his foot into the ground repeatedly. The tallest of the three slashed at his tentacles in an attempt to keep him distracted, and it finally seemed to work when another powerful kick struck his face. His vision blurred, coming into focus as the smaller one leaped into the air, claws bared and about to slash down.
The last thing he saw before he blacked out was an explosion and the three of his opponents being knocked backwards, though the small one now had his limited attention. The black hair, the furious face...
And with the end of that flashback, Arkady Rossovich snapped back to the present. He felt his fists attempt to tighten as his teeth bared, his heartbeat now galloping along with the memory. Then his mind spiralled downwards, submerged in anger and a primal desire for revenge. The desire grew so strong that he failed to notice one of his tentacles breaking free and denting the inside of the van. He was only snapped back to attention with the loud click of three rifles. His eyes drifted over to the dent in the side, and his mouth slowly spread into a nightmarish grin, made worse by his virtually lifeless face.
"What a shame. Your collar seems to be broken."
The instant he finished speaking, the tentacles spiralled out and slammed into his guards. The one that hadn't panicked found his rifle shots firing through the roof. Omega Red lunged forwards, pummelling the last remaining officer. To his credit, he barely screamed and tried to let off another shot in his direction before he was knocked unconscious. The driver was next as Red's tentacle slammed violently into his spine. The van swerved violently, but by this point the prisoner had jumped free, a savage and inhuman grin on his face with a looted sidearm now in a pocket of his trousers. As he landed on his feet, the van tumbled down the hill and stopped with a sudden crunch as it violently collided with a car.
By this point, the escort had realised what was wrong and the APC turned around, rotating its turret. Unflinching, Red simply smirked and ran forwards, rolling underneath the gunfire and climbing on the top. At this point it promptly reversed as fast as its engine would allow it, but their attacker had too firm a grip to be shaken, and the external armaments were promptly ripped off and discarded. Having dealt with one hazard he was finally shaken off, and he hit the ground. At this stage he rolled out of the way of the APC as it attempted to crush him with its tyres. As he did so his tentacles ripped out the wheel guards, and when he rose he was holding the weapon in his hands expertly, biding his time.
Stupidly, the vehicle went around for a second run and this time found itself with three tyres shot out. The vehicle skidded to a halt, and before the soldiers could jump out and take aim, the side doors were promptly smashed in. Several bullets came from the firing ports, but by this stage there was little that could be done to stop him.
With the APC and its troops incapacitated for the time being, Red ran for the police cars and slowed himself, taking a deep breath between each shot as he put a bullet into the wheels of the cars. As he stopped he saw the terrified and haggard features of Warden Althukov. Calmly strolling through the inaccurate small arms fire, he found himself staring the terrified official in the face.
"Tell me, Warden," Omega Red grinned, the Warden hanging limply in the grip of his tentacles. "Did your commanding officers ever forgive you for the incident in Afghanistan?"
A pause as Althukov weakly struggled against him, then he continued.
"Or has your mind numbed itself from the shame?"
"I don't... know... what you're talking about..."
The reply was devoid of any strength, and Red instantly saw through the lie. He smugly shook his tentacles, and Althukov weakly groaned.
"Then here's a memory refresher. In 1982 your brigade was instructed to hold a blockade against the resistance fighters until key members of the KGB were in place. For a while your brigade held the blockade and sent the enemy running thanks to the command of your officer. Then your ordnance misfired, destroying your heavy support and allowing demolition teams to get close. As things became more desperate your commanding officer shouted for no retreat or surrender, failing to realise that plans had changed and that officials were now in a safer area. As I recall your radio operator lay dead at the side of the road."
The warden was struggling to rationalise the story he was being told, trying so hard to think of a logical explanation, but none of it made sense. Rossovich couldn't have been there... could he?
"When you saw your friend run off as the barricade was hit by RPG fire, he forced a weapon close to your head and threatened him and you. Do you remember what happened next?"
Althukov grunted as he kicked out in anger and pain, just before the words finally began to flow, and he realised that Red would mention it if he didn't.
"At the tribunal, I was next to be dealt with, shortly after the officer was dragged away screaming. They accused me of murder, and penalised me for following orders when it would have made sense to disobey. After that, I was discharged dishonourably and left to rot in the gutter of a Siberian town."
Althukov spat in his face, but the gesture was casually ignored and he found himself staring at two red eyes, seemingly lifeless and empty of any positive emotion. His own eyes widened in horror as he realised that he'd done exactly what Rossovich had wanted.
He had well and truly been broken down into little more than a fragment of who he'd used to be. Now that his usefulness had been outlived, the Warden simply tried to force his eyes shut and block out the inevitable.
"Would Private Tretyak ever forgive you for what you did, if he had the chance?" The grin returned to his tormentor's face once more.
"Why don't you find out?"
And with that last line, a grin broke out on his face, and to Althukov it was many things, but most noticeably, it was happy in the most warped and depraved manner possible.
"You... ruined my life! As soon as I get back on my feet I swear to the heavens I am going to..."
With that, the warden's own scream cut him off as Omega Red began to drain the life from the helpless Warden. The kicking desperately increased as the man's adrenaline began flowing through his body in an attempt to get free, but it was all in vain as he slumped on the concrete. His heartbeat slowed as his breathing became more regular and desperate, and Red turned away to leave his victim to his fate.
Now walking with a slightly more upright stance, he leapt over the railing at the side of the road and began the long fall into the river, just as the soldiers finally got themselves free of the APC. Most of them managed to run across to the end and clamber up to a firing position, but the few shots that were fired his way missed and he winced as he slammed into the water.
Up above, the soldiers pulled away as they realised their target would soon be out of reach.
"Leave him! Rossovich won't have survived the fall!"
The officer attached to the unit scowled at the newest soldier to have joined them.
"I would have expected even a junior to be wiser than that, Ymerich. If he's survived what they rumoured during the Cold War, falling into a river will be like falling onto a carpeted floor for him. No, we radio our superiors and let them know that we have an escaped prisoner on the loose. After that we get medical support and gather up the wounded, then return to mobilise with the rest of our division."
At that moment, the squad stopped paying attention, their thoughts now on the tribunals they would all be sent to. The memories of the gulags all returned to the older ones, with the newer ones all cowering at the stories that had gradually been distorted with each retelling.
"Heaven help us all."
Back in the present
Taking advantage of the loud protests of the other passengers, Piotr kept his voice down and tried to cower behind the seat.
"Sinister lied to us! For all we know he leaked the documents early!"
"What difference does it make?" Ilyana hissed. "Even if he didn't, we have about four dozen men out there, with four or five superheroes all prepared to pound the first troublemaker they find!"
Any further discussion was once again silenced as one of the soldiers opened one of the bus windows. The passengers shuddered as a chill swept through them once again, and then almost jumped out of their seats when the soldier to the left carefully aimed his rifle through the window and fired a burst. This time, everybody stayed quiet.
"Everybody is to get off the bus immediately for an emergency search. These orders are from the Kremlin itself, and if you wish to complain, you may do so after an intense session of questioning! Now move!"
Slowly, and after the soldiers moved to let them aside, the passengers slowly and reluctantly shuffled out, giving some slight moans as they were forced back out into the cold. Piotr and Ilyana dragged themselves out with the crowd, keeping an eye open for any possible escape route they could.
The leader of the operation, an officer in a thick coat, walked forwards to address the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the Kremlin I apologise for any inconvenience this interruption to the bus ride has caused. However, under orders from them myself and the Winter Guard are under obligation to search for a mutant accomplice to Arkady Rossovich, better known to most of you as Omega Red."
Piotr's eyes suddenly widened with panic and confusion. He'd been under the impression that several members of the Winter Guard were themselves mutants, though that fact was likely kept secret from the public and blamed on lab accidents. At the same time, however, he had to worry about the fact that they were searching for mutants. If they found him and Ilyana out, the crowd and combined forces of the Winter Guard and Russian military were certainly enough to stop them both in their tracks.
"As we have said, the accomplice was a mutant going by an alias. We regrettably have to search you all with loaned equipment from the MRD. They claim to have perfected a machine with the capability of detecting the mutant gene, and we need to take DNA samples from everybody here."
More groaning came from the crowd.
"We have no desire to interrupt your daily affairs, but we have no patience for objections in the circumstances. The quicker you cooperate, the quicker you may all board the bus again."
Piotr grew increasingly uneasy, and he felt himself tremble, fighting the urge to run and risk getting the pair of them killed. But as the disgruntled passengers formed a line and began passing the detector before they were let back onto the bus, he knew that if they so much as went near the detector they were as good as dead anyway. He had no options left, and he wasn't going to risk Ilyana's life to try and get away, not when there was so little to gain.
With a sigh, he reached down for his sister's hand, and she in turn reached up for his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then an idea formed in his head, and he knew in all accounts it wasn't going to get Ilyana much further. Yet despite her weakened and starved state, he knew she had her capability for resourcefulness. Maybe this idea would work just enough to get her out of harm's way.
"Piotr, what's happening?"
He crouched down and whispered to her, making sure that nobody else could overhear.
"If we both go past at once, we'll both be arrested or worse. So instead of that happening, I'll go through first. There might be the possibility that there was just the one accomplice, so maybe if they just detect one, they'll stop and let everyone else go. For all I know they may be too prejudiced to search for every mutant. It's a long shot, but I can't shield you from all those soldiers and the Winter Guard."
She scowled at him, but mainly to hide the tears.
"Piotr, you can't. I've nobody to look out for me if you get arrested and taken away."
He sadly realised she was right and reached inside his pocket, producing a piece of paper and slipping it into her coat.
"Call that number from any phone you can reach. Give them the password written there and you'll get a line to the X-Men, they've reformed recently. If you give them a call they might be able to find you here. After that, I've no idea what will happen. But you'll be in safe hands."
Ilyana sadly nodded, the tears no longer hidden behind the scowl. Her arms went around her brother's big frame once again, and he returned the gesture, realising this could be the last time.
"Get a move on! You're holding up the line!"
Piotr reluctantly rose and steeled his heart. It was his role as the strong one to try and make sure she survived, at any cost necessary. It was time to march forwards and face his fate, regardless as to where it led.
Before he could, however, an explosion landed a short distance from the bus.
"Marauders, seize the Rasputins!"
With that, the scattered soldiers began stumbling, as several of them were overcome by a sudden sense of dizziness and nausea. That was when Blockbuster leaped forwards and gradually progressed forwards through the tide of Russian soldiers, a bloodthirsty blur on a stampede through a large horde of brittle army men. The soldiers attempted to fire while they wrestled with their sudden ailments, only to discover that their efforts to fight back were in vain against such a powerful foe.
Then with that stage conquered, the Marauders turned their attention to the last few soldiers who had somehow managed to overcome the nausea, as well as the members of the Winter Guard who were standing in their way. The attackers strolled forward with Vertigo leading them, as if walking down a red carpet in the middle of an awards ceremony. This fight was as good as theirs, and they wanted to make sure the Russian military knew it was outmatched despite the superior numbers and impressive uniforms. The civilians that hadn't yet keeled over from their sickness had their legs tripped up by the newest member, Riptide, or were brutally swatted aside by Blockbuster.
"That was your first and last warning, Winter Guard. Now hand over the pair of mutants we're after, or we're going to hand you all your heads on a platter." Vertigo was struggling to keep the pride out of her voice as she surveyed the area again. Behind her, Riptide was giggling incessantly, a long blade now in plain sight and barely held in its sheath. The soldiers raised their guns nervously and trained them on him.
"We took down your main force in a matter of minutes," the insane mutant cackled. "Think about what we could do in a whole hour."
At this, the bulkiest of the group turned around and shoved the sword-wielding lunatic into the snow.
"Shut up, Riptide. We've got business to finish here, not sport. That waits till we get stateside."
The bear, known locally as Ursa Major, stepped forwards with an angry growl.
"Are you amateurs finished? The Winter Guard has other pest control problems to deal with as well as you."
"Amateurs?" Blockbuster angrily growled. "We're the Marauders. We've kicked the X-Men around from Westchester to the middle of Nevada without batting an eyelid. Tell us why you're so special."
"We're the Winter Guard," interrupted the Crimson Dynamo. "We've kicked everyone around and lived to tell the tale. You're nothing but a bloodstain on the wall compared to us."
With that, the last soldiers reloaded their rifles, while Crimson Dynamo's final weapons finished their powering up and the Guard struck their usual pre-battle pose, designed to intimidate the enemy combatants. In turn, Blockbuster and Riptide let out their usual mix of pre-battle laughter and roaring, while Multiple Man began forming clones of himself and Vertigo steadied herself.
Well, there goes handling this diplomatically, James Madrox mentally muttered to himself.
The first to move into the fray was inevitably Riptide, his sword already out of his sheath by the time he closed the distance between himself and the Red Guardian. The more disciplined Red Guardian forced himself to time his move just right as he aimed his shield just below the charging mutant's kneecaps and took his legs out from underneath him. Riptide skidded for several painful metres in the cold snow as the Multiple Man clones were next to make their move, picking up a few stun batons that had fallen out of an overturned crate before they charged at the assembled last line of Russian soldiers. The Guard all turned to focus on the next targets, before Riptide jumped back up and spun round violently, drawing in the startled Darkstar and Red Guardian with the use of his power. At this, Blockbuster charged towards Major Ursa, leaving Arclight and Harpoon against the Crimson Dynamo.
"The Crimson Dynamo has fought bigger beings than you and left them crying on their knees,
weaklings..."
Arclight responded by hitting his hands together violently, very briefly disrupting the targeting system of the power armour. Harpoon followed this up by raising his metal staff and using it to send a powerful electric shock through the suit, resulting in a very satisfying grunt of pain.
"You shall pay for that!" growled Dynamo, raising his fist and swiping at both of them, missing by
During the start of the confrontation, Piotr and Ilyana realised there was little point remaining in the fight. The brawl was already heating up with frightening speed, and to stay around there would yield only fatal results. Both ran as fast as they were physically capable of doing so, but the younger of the two was starting to succumb to the cold and stumbled for a short while before her brother chose to carry her on his back. He realised now that their cover had been blown and that time was limited. Any contact they could establish with the X Men would have to be made soon, before Sinister used his seemingly endless resource pool to search for them. The longer they tried hiding, the sooner it would become the equivalent of shooting fish in a barrel.
The fighting still echoing through the now deserted streets, Piotr and Ilyana ducked through an alleyway and ran towards the nearest phone box they could find, praying they had found one that would actually work. Already both were desperately fumbling for change, hoping they had enough.
Both squeezed into the box as best as Piotr's giant form would allow them, and then waited as Ilyana frantically dialled the number.
"You have reached the line of the Xavier Project. Security programme alpha activated," droned the automated voice. "Voice recognition in progress."
"Please... pick up..." Ilyana heard the desperation in her brother's voice.
"Voice recognised as Piotr Rasputin, designation Colossus." There was a loud click, followed by a ping.
"Voice accepted. Transferring you to Westchester, New York."
Piotr sighed with relief and began speaking hurriedly.
"Piotr, as glad as I am to speak with you again, could you please hurry up and let us know your problem? We kind of have one of our own directly at our doorstep." The teenage voice and slightly flippant tone were easily identifiable, even on the poor quality phone and the battle noises still echoing through the streets.
"It is good to speak to you again, Bobby Drake!" For the first time in about three months, Ilyana saw a glimmer of happiness in her brother's eyes.
"I appreciate that, but -*bang*- can you please get to the point?"
"Sinister's been chasing us across Russia for the past couple of days. We've barely escaped his Marauders, and that's because they have the Winter Guard fighting them tooth and nail right now! We need a form of extraction and we need it soon!"
"We can't fly over and fetch you; the X-Jet's been out of action for the past week! Don't know how much fighting stateside gets shown on your news channels!"
Immediately, the glimmer of happiness started to disappear from her brother's eyes.
"There must be something you can do!"
"Sorry, didn't exactly have the time to call in Mr Engineering Genius! He's been too busy repairing his prosthetic leg and working on bringing Cerebro back to full capacity. That's a heck of a job, even for him. Wolverine may have a contact or two nearby, see if there's a way to alert-"
In the next three seconds, Ilyana realised that the sounds of intense battle had mostly faded out, with the exception of Crimson Dynamo's thrusters, presumably in pursuit of the Marauders withdrawing.
Another explosion noise from the other end of the line and whatever Bobby Drake was about to say was cut off, along with their connection.
"Considering Wolverine probably knows at least half of Russia that means there are at least seventy million possible contacts. We'd better get started if we want to do this before we die of old age."
The only answer Piotr got was a scream, followed by a pair of adamantium wings slowly starting to crush the booth they were both standing in. As much as both attempted to resist, their efforts were futile and the last things they saw were a pair of pale white eyes, completely devoid of emotion as he closed in for what seemed to be the kill.
Hello, hello, and hello again!
First off, I owe anyone who bothered to read this again a serious apology- this story has been appreciated for a whole nine months, meaning an appalling four chapters in a year. I'm not going to say much apart from getting sidetracked by exams and going into the sixth form, I just forgot I was on the website. That was after I got fed up of my old Mary Sue fanfics (TV Tropes will help you out if you don't know what Mary Sue means) before I cut and rewrote half the chapter plans, clearly showing a lack of planning. But I digress, it is time to move on and continue writing once again.
Not much else to say apart from hoping that 2011 was a good year for you and let's hope 2012 proves an awesome year in its own right! With Transformers Prime returning and the Dark Knight's last film on the horizon there is no reason for it not to be. Any suggestions, leave them in the review section and no promises but I will see what I can accomplish. On a serious note, I have run into a mild form of writers block, in that I have no idea what to do with Magneto (who is dangerously close to the moral point of no return following the end of the actual show). See you later!