A/N: Thanks for your patience. This time I do actually have a legitimate excuse; we've moved house, and my laptop, which has most of my writing files, had fallen victim to a Trojan plus god knows what else, therefore I had to sort it out. Enjoy!

"How long have I been unconscious?"

Multiple Man made no effort to reply; instead gazing at Piotr Rasputin's chained form.

"Multiple Man, please. I know you're one of the more reasonable people here. I need to know how long I've been unconscious. I need to know what they've been doing to my sister."

With these words, Multiple Man split into two versions of himself, with one going outside and watching the door. A few moments passed, and then the copy re-entered the room he was confined in, nodding before merging back with the original, which had just finished checking the room, presumably sweeping it for bugs.

"You and your sister have been unconscious for the past day. I don't know entirely what they've been doing to you, Sinister insisted that we be kept in the dark on that, but I know that they're planning something big. That's all I can tell you. Don't make me talk more; you'll just get me in trouble."

"Thank you," Piotr sighed. It wasn't what he'd hoped for, but doubtlessly Multiple Man was limiting the damage that could be done in terms of information leaking and his boss finding out.

Multiple Man did not acknowledge his gratitude, instead going back to guarding the prisoner.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Mister Sinister found himself listening to their conversation through a bug that Jamie Madrox hadn't discovered. During the time that Piotr had been out cold, he had planted a hidden camera in the most unusual of places- in Piotr's IV drip. A hidden microphone was also embedded inside the inhibitor collar around his neck; this was something that he chanced Multiple Man would not dare to tamper with, as the risk was too high that the wrong move would break it and allow their reluctant guest to make a break for freedom.

He wasn't going to penalise Multiple Man for this minor degree of mutiny- the information he had given was harmless, and in any case his minion was in the dark as much as his captive. He'd made a specific note to wipe Archangel's memory of the experiments done to Colossus, so that he and he alone was the only one in the facility to know of what had happened. The fewer loose ends in the operation, the better, he reasoned to himself- and the fewer you created in the first place, the better.

His research had been progressing at reasonable rates, although he had been reluctant to attempt some of it at first owing to the risks involved. Part of the research had involved the older Rasputin's powers, and in order to test them he had been forced to remove the inhibitor collar. Even with enough horse tranquiliser to keep a healthy stallion sedated for several hours, he had insisted on Archangel standing guard, as he was the only one with the strength and stamina to keep up with him in a long brawl. With luck, the research he had done would hopefully change that in the days to come, but he was taking no further chances.

The Marauders, on the whole, had become something of a disappointment to him in recent weeks, in no small part due to the fact that he'd had to free all of them except Archangel. While in combat they were an excellent asset in terms of pure strength, each had their flaws. Blockbuster was far too stupid and loved a good brawl too much to direct his strength precisely and efficiently, Riptide's cruelty was occasionally not in the team's interests, Vertigo was extremely arrogant, Arclight's ambition made him a liability in spite of his intelligence, Harpoon was too easily distracted and Multiple Man was... unpredictable, owing to a presumable side effect from his duplication process. Archangel was the only Marauder that he truly trusted to get the job done, and he was the only one under mind control. Good mind control, but mind control nevertheless.

If you had to pick a word to describe the affection he held for his star project, words such as twisted would normally suffice, although less commonly used ones such as perplexing also worked in this case. The interaction between the two resembled the affection displayed for a pet, such as a dog, although in this case the dog had basically been tortured and abused into loving its master. Nevertheless, whatever positive emotions, however bizarre and disturbed, were genuine, although Sinister would loathe admitting it to anybody.

As for Archangel, he had no words to say to his master unless directed. While Warren Worthington had essentially been brainwashed into another being entirely, it did no good to have spineless yes-men, or strong ones. He may have been obedient, but he had still been brainwashed to analyse, criticise and provide honest counsel, on the occasions he needed it.

It was the closest that Nathaniel Essex had to a real friend.

Yet as his thoughts became too sentimental, he noticed that Ilyana Rasputin had awoken.

"Good evening, dear Ilyana. I trust you slept well?"

The girl only shuddered, not that such a reaction was unusual.

"My apologies, it is easy to lose track of time in this line of work. You have been here for quite some time, after all. Shall we begin the tests?"

Juggernaut awoke, finding that his helmet had been removed yet again, and finding that a now healed Wolverine stood over him, with Iceman and Storm by his side.

"Why didn't you just finish me?" The question was rather nonchalant, particularly for a man with such a notable temper.

"You just got your butt kicked by one of the most telepaths on the planet, Cain. The X-Men felt that enough humiliation had been viewed by all."

The only response Wolverine got was a growl.

"Stop taunting me, Wolverine. I might be stuck in the mud, buried in ice and havin' my face tickled by the wind thanks to you cowards, but I'm not exactly helpless stuck down here."

"Perhaps not, but I suppose we just need to get that telepath out again and you'll get flung right back home again."

There was a pause and brief silence that hung in the air, with neither side daring to break it.

"Why'd you kidnap me? Did Chuck order you to torment me?"

Iceman raised his eyebrows. Cain Marko may have been the strongest of his family, but in the brains department he was sorely lacking, second only to his father- his brother's stepfather- in terms of stupidity. In his mind, if the X-Men were involved in any capacity, then Charles Xavier had explicitly given his blessing to whatever was going on, be it deliberately provoking the MRD for the fun of it or going AWOL owing to emotional problems.

"I don't think that Professor Xavier would dare to order us to torment and kidnap you, particularly if that meant keeping you in our own base. Even if he did want to, he's not really in a position to do so right now."

"Granted that first part is true, how come Chuck ain't in a position to do so right now? The only thing he can't do is climb a flight of stairs. Or do cross-country. Or go cycling on a normal bike. The list goes on..."

The three X-Men chose to ignore his cheap jab at the Professor's expense.

"That's not important, Cain," Storm said, doing her best to keep her voice neutral. "All you need to know is that the Professor has not been heading our operations for several months, and we had no reason to kidnap you."

"Why not? You've kidnapped before."

Storm opened her mouth, but the words never got a chance to leave her mouth.

"Don't deny it. You've done it before, in exceptional circumstances or whatever. Why's this any different?"

Wolverine snorted in disbelief.

"Because we don't have the whole team around to stop you, our equipment's largely been damaged or destroyed, and Charles Xavier has been in a coma for months."

At this, Cain Marko's eyes opened wide.

"What... but how?"

"A lovely telepath by the name of Emma Frost attacked him telepathically on the orders of the Inner Circle, and we haven't been able to revive him since. Whatever she did to him, it's more than anyone here's been able to deal with," Bobby Drake shot back, rather angrily at that.

"So if you guys didn't kidnap me, who did?"

The man in the heavy winter coat stood outside the old warehouse turned science facility, having just followed the tracks from the truck. His body was hidden from the sentry's line of sight, having hidden behind the large vehicle. As he glanced out towards the sentry again, a large rock slammed into him, knocking him unconscious and out of sight. Three more then crushed a reinforced security camera that angled towards the noise.

He stood upright, marching towards the cameras and gesturing wildly in an effort to grab their attention. This was all part of the plan. He'd read the dossiers of the Marauders. Their second-in-command was far too ambitious for their own good, and his plan rode on exploiting that.

Within moments, Arclight and Blockbuster had rushed out to deal with him, the clone of Multiple Man getting back up from being hit by a rock. He fought back, of course, but not too much. He needed to save his energy. The subsequent beating that they gave him was brutal, with several extremely strong punches to his face and kicks to the stomach, and a roundhouse kick to the chest that winded him. He was grateful that his time in Weapon X had given him the ability to cope with such pain, for this kind of punishment would probably have crippled a normal man. Nevertheless, it hurt.

Before long, Blockbuster had picked him up like a sack of potatoes, dragging him into the facility while carrying him over the shoulder, Arclight taking point as they entered the warm corridors. As they went along, they passed old offices now devoid of paperwork, rooms where the paint was peeling off the walls, but the further in they got, the better the condition, with near-pristine floors and shining walls. Evidently, this was the vital section of the safehouse, where scientific research was conducted.

"Master, we've captured an intruder outside! He tried taking out our security cameras and our sentries."

If the lieutenant of the Marauders had expected gratitude or praise for his course of action, he was sorely mistaken.

"And you thought it was wise to bring an intruder into the complex, during such a vital operation? Do you have any idea as to how much you've just put at risk?"

Arclight stuttered.

"But m-master, I was under the impression that you needed new test subjects for-"

The worst part about Sinister was that he almost never seemed to raise his voice, yet it still cut through the background noise of machinery and screaming. Whatever was going on needed to be stopped, the sooner the better. He'd heard enough of it to know what was wrong.

"Have I ever expected you to seize test subjects without my explicit permission? Are you considering going rogue, Arclight?" There was a pause. "No? Good. Take this one back outside and finish him off. I have enough research from Riptide's experiments, as well as my own. This man is better off dead."

They started to drag the mystery man away.

"You know something, Arclight?"

The purple-haired Marauder turned his head towards their recent attacker.

"What is it, dead man?"

"You really are too stupid for your own good."

And with that, Christopher Nord, once known by his Weapon X alias of Maverick, broke free of the flimsy grasp of Blockbuster, choosing that moment to release all the stored-up kinetic energy in his body with a well-aimed punch to the large mutant's solar plexus. He crumpled almost immediately.

"My daughter and I have a debt to repay to the X-Men. And I'm not going to let a group of dumb mutants stop me from seeing it repaid."

With that, several rocks broke through the wall, striking Arclight dead in his chest and knocking him out cold. Through the hole in the wall climbed another figure, a woman, young and beautiful with blonde hair, also clad in winter gear.

"Okay out in the cold, Christy?"

Christy Nord smiled.

"Not too bad, Dad. Now, we have friends to save."

The two of them broke into a run down the corridor, the girl reaching into her backpack and producing something, which made a loud whirring sound as it clicked to life. Alarms started triggering, but the sound of an intruder breaking in had already given them away. They had no hope in a straight-up fight, so their best way forward would simply be to get in and out again, with their cargo in tow. The longer they lingered, the lower the chances that Piotr and Ilyana Rasputin would survive.

Sinister stared at one of the monitors, annoyed but unsurprised that the intruder in question had turned out to be hostile. When this whole fiasco was dealt with, he felt that it was time that he appointed a new lieutenant. Arclight's ambition had led him to try and win his master's approval, and he had promised that he would be harsher towards those who failed.

Mentally putting his annoyance to one side, he rose from his chair and rotated his head to face Archangel, his creation showing no hint of emotion.

"Archangel, there are two lost souls that have mistakenly entered my domain. Hunt them down and destroy them."

"Destroy?" Again, no hint of surprise, just double-checking if the order was sensible.

"Yes; the two present a significant threat to our investment, and must not be allowed to proceed. Our plans have worked well so far, but it is time that we fold and retreat with our winnings. I will see to it that our research is not lost, but for that I need time. When I am done, I will terminate the Rasputins personally. Now go."

He spared a glance at the display, to find that Arclight was back on his feet, followed by an injured Blockbuster, but at this rate neither of them would be in a position to stop their assailants. Riptide and Vertigo were closer than the other two, but he doubted that either of them would be fine fighting against their attackers.

"Understood." Archangel strode around the corner towards his designated enemies, disappearing to join the fray. As he did so, Sinister marched towards his laboratory, reaching for his comm link.

"Harpoon, meet me at the research terminal. Move quickly."

It was crucial that he saved his research and did not fail himself now. The original plan might not perhaps be salvageable, but a new one could easily be put in place.

Charles Xavier looked down at his legs the next morning, suddenly feeling something different about them. The night's sleep had not been a comfortable one, nor had it been easy, but eventually he had fallen asleep in spite of the disturbing dreams. Each had ended with his newest team being disintegrated by Master Mold, with some of his team from the past, both living and deceased, occasionally taking their place.

So what had changed during however long it had been since he was asleep?

Pulling up a trouser leg with a mild degree of difficulty, his eyes opened slightly in surprise, noting small electrodes touching the skin near his exposed ankle and calf. Slowly, carefully, he thought for a moment... and raised his leg, noting the small LED lights flickering red as he moved.

As pleased as he was by this sudden development, the fact was that he was still trapped in a cell, with no sunlight, window or even a door, and if they were able to fit on something like this to him, they had probably done worse while he'd been unconscious.

A voice suddenly rang out in the confines of his cell, the tone crisp and formal. It was almost certainly a pre-recorded message, designed for everyone. The voice sounded familiar, but who was it?

"Prisoner- stand on the platform."

Charles looked around, confused. There wasn't a platform here... there was barely enough room to relieve himself, let alone get to sleep. How on earth was there a platform?

The voice rang again.

"Prisoner- stand on the platform," it went, followed by another voice that said, "First warning".

Whatever "first warning" meant, it probably wasn't worth finding out what would happen if he disobeyed. With a little effort, he pulled himself to his feet and awkwardly shuffled towards the platform that he finally noticed levitating slightly above the floor, climbing onto it. It lowered slightly, like a pressure plate, and a series of blue and green lights lit up around its edges.

A soldier phased through the wall, clad in the same blue and grey armour that the other guards had been in earlier, right fist glowing hot to show that he was armed and not to be taken lightly. Evidently, the platform was linked to the wall in some manner, allowing one of the guards to enter through the wall. For a moment, he considered running, but doubted he would make it far if he was reliant on something that his enemy had provided. Instead, he concentrated, holding the tips of his fingers against his forehead.

Can you hear me? The question was telepathic, but no answer came back to him, mentally or verbally. Instead, the soldier threw a nutrition bar on the floor in front of his feet. Xavier desperately called out to the man in front of him.

"Wait, please. I'd like to know where I am. Why am I a prisoner?"

The soldier ignored him once again, phasing back through the wall. Xavier stretched an arm out as if, somehow, it would stop the other man from leaving, but still nothing happened. His calling suddenly became frantic.

"No, NO- WAIT!"

He felt himself rushing to the wall, pounding at it with his fists for several moments, but nobody returned to answer his calls. Why should they? He was likely far from the only person in this miserable prison.

As the day went on, he found himself pushing at sections of the wall in an effort to find a weak spot, but nothing seemed to give, and eventually his strength was exhausted. It was all he could do to eat the nutrition bar, drink what little water there was to sustain him, and stare at where the guard had come from, until eventually he fell asleep again.

"Prisoner, step onto the platform."

That same message woke him again, and this time he was determined for answers, standing up and getting onto the platform almost instantly. The same soldier phased through the wall, as he had done the previous day, throwing another nutrition bar at his feet to replace the previously eaten one, raising his right hand and aiming at him once again.

At this moment, Charles stepped off the platform, hands raised above his shoulders to show that he was being passive.

"Please, I would just like to know who has imprisoned me."

SHHHRRRAAAK. The soldier let loose a stream of plasma fire in his direction, from his fist, and the burst hit the professor square in the chest. He let loose a scream of pain and fell back, a loud crash echoing through the cell as he slammed into the cistern, a few bricks being cracked from the impact. The weapon was then angled down, and the new nutrition bar was shredded for good measure.

"Second warning."

The last thing Charles Xavier saw was the soldier turning around and departing once again, the burning pain in his chest overtaking him. Then darkness overtook him and his nightmares returned.

One thing I just want to note before the rest of the end note; I meant to write the relationship between Sinister and Archangel like a mad scientist's affection for his favourite, horribly mutated dog, not as a form of shipping. If you want to see it that way, fine by me, but you'll only see things in a more disturbing light, I suppose.

Well, this chapter goes into the weirder end of things, but the action is picking up again! The arc of A Deal Near the Red Dawn, after the better part of three years, is finally drawing to a close, with the next chapter (and final one for this arc) hopefully up at some point in the next two weeks; another one will start at some point shortly afterwards. I've been waiting for so long to re-introduce

This chapter actually got uploaded much earlier than I expected; it turns out the move was painless in the tech department, and the internet was up about two days after we moved, which I wasn't expecting at all. Take care, and I'll see you at some point in the next couple of weeks!