Wolverine opened his eyes and saw the carnage around him, his first response to rage and pace was swiftly snuffed by his own hard-won self-control reestablishing itself. He was barely recovered from his animalistic reversion when Magneto tore the adamantium from his body. His return to humanity was being threatened by this overwhelming sense of powerlessness in the face of loss.
However, looking around, his anger was quelled by confusion. Multiple bodies of the same person, in various stages of decay littered the grounds, as well as the air. He smelled overlying layers of the same scents, and another, something that smelled eerily familiar, and impossible.
The rest of the X-Men were stirring, checking on one another, and Logan set out to find Betsy and ascertain her state of wellness. A psychic link had yet to be established, which meant Psylocke was still down. Logan hurried where he saw his teammate struggling to pull herself out from underneath a Blockbuster that he hadn't killed, the one he fought to submission lay dead behind the hill he had trekked around to get here. Sinister, he said angrily to himself. Clones…gonna kill him… That must've been why he smelled Madelyne Pryor.
Indeed, near the dead twin bodies of a cloned Vertigo was a half-decomposed body of what he and the rest of the X-Men had come to know as Madelyne Pryor, the once and gone Goblyn Queen. Sinister had deployed it, and in its death throes it knocked them all out; a psychic wail of pain that killed these apparently poor copies of the Marauders. As he helped Psylocke stand, she was groggy from all the psychic pain, and she began to reestablish their connections to one another. The reactions ranged widely as everyone forced themselves to upright states.
Clones? Disposable ones?
A Madelyne? This from Storm as she made her way to Wolverine and Betsy. Where is Sabretooth?
Psylocke shook her head. Gone, with Rogue. Neither are registered here.
All this waste…Storm thought as they loaded back into the Blackbird, the vehicle quickly making ready to lift off. I am loathe to leave.
It's necessary, Ororo. Scott thought as they began their return to the mansion. It didn't take long with their alien technology.
When they did, they found that Gambit had already left the mansion. With the core components of Cerebro.
Gambit had to plan carefully. Despite the fact the X-Men couldn't easily penetrate his mind, it didn't mean they weren't potentially trying. He was fortunate that he was able to access part of Sinister's powers. It was what kept the barrier between him and the other mutants.
He rose from his bed, having been released from the infirmary, and stole his way through the mansion, an alley cat's shadow. Sadly, the mansion was better equipped to keep their enemies out, not their allies. This may have been the simultaneously easy and most difficult job he had ever taken on.
The guilt wracked him. He hated doing this, this betrayal. This was a group that had accepted him, even without his purloined psychic powers. They didn't deserve this, and he had enjoyed this job so far. Being the reconnaissance for Sinister on this group's altruistic comings and goings. Ever since the beginning, it was his entire job. Witness and report, while Essex remained in hiding and convalesced from the events of the inferno that nearly engulfed the world.
But if he didn't…and he tried to run…
[You know exactly what will happen, my boy.] Sinister's thoughts echoed in his brain, Essex's own way of keeping tabs on the thief. [Creed's returned from his errand, and he brought the girl in. Get back quickly, so someone can keep him occupied, I have other business to attend to.]
Remy felt a spike of panic. Having had his powers spiraling out of control, he had entered this fool's bargain with Sinister. Part of his brain was removed, and in a sick twist, the vile doctor had added a portion of his own mind. Now Sinister had a permanent view of the X-Men through Remy's own eyes, and instant communication with his mole.
At least until a few days ago. And that was how Gambit found himself here, in the bottom of the mansion, removing the mainframe datacores within, and stowing them away in the secondary Blackbird. He had to be quick; and power the jet up as fast as possible while programming overrides, but Sinister had more than enough time at this point to understand the ins and outs of the piloting system. Using Cyclops' own series of mandated trainings had thrilled Essex and appeased his sense of dramatic irony to no end, Gambit ruminated on as the Blackbird came to life and he left yet another home didn't want to leave.
On some level, Remy knew this was the point of no return, but denial kicked in. He could turn this around, somehow. And after all, he knew this was the only way things could go, the only way it would. He'd find a way out of this and turn this bad draw into a winning hand.