Logan didn't realize how long had passed until he gasped awake once more. He was somehow back in his cell cot, the uncomfortable makeshift mattress underneath him sinking from his adamantium weight. Last thing he remembered, he was sprawled on the floor with Stryker's goons poking and prodding him like a show horse. How did he end up in his bed? Oh, great, someone must've come put him there. He growled at the thought of Colonel Stryker's stooges touching and moving him, and he added that to his list of payback.
A low groan echoed through the dank cell. Wolverine froze, unaware that he had company in the dim light of his enclosure.
"Scott?" he whispered roughly, trying to discern his surroundings, "Scott, you there?"
"Oh, God," he heard an aching moan, "Logan, is that you?"
"Oh, jeez, Scott," Wolverine stood up shakily and sunk back down. His head spun and his limbs were still tingling with electric charge, "when did you get here?"
"Damn it, Logan, I don't know," slowly his eyes were adjusting to the light, and Logan could see another cot across the room fuzzily. Scott was lying in it, body strapped down and eyes bandaged tightly with gauze from a cast.
Logan tried to move forward again, angling his body weight to throw himself up without falling back down like before. He had to blink rapidly a few times to get the blurriness out of his vision, but he remembered their urgent situation and how they needed to get out of here quickly before any other Stryker experiments occurred.
His chest already tightened at the fact of what Cyclops might've went through, and he didn't have the heart to ask. By Scott's sluggish movements and slurred speech, Logan could tell that the drugs were still wearing off and Scott was still probably piecing together the past events.
Logan tried to move forward, but tripped as his left leg pulled back. Disorientated and confused, he looked back to see a chain wrapped around his ankle tied to a crooked steel rod sprouting from the floor.
"Damn it," he cursed to himself, "Scott," he spoke louder, "hey!" he clapped his hands to get the attention from the groggy X-Man, "Wake up."
Scott's curly brown head lifted for a few seconds, and his face turned in Logan's direction. His eyes were covered by that thick cloth, but red-stained towels poked from beneath the coverings. Logan's eyes widened, as Scott's pallor and his clammy complexion made worry spark through him. Cyclops looked around wearily for a few seconds, before his head slammed back down on the mattress and he was still once again.
Great. That wasn't going to do much good.
His powers were suppressed, but that didn't mean they were completely gone. There had to be at least some of that incredible adamantium strength that came with his enhanced mutation, some of that rigid bone structure coursing through him. Logan concentrated hard, his anger pouring into the steel bracelet clasped around his ankle. Both fists gripping on the chain, Logan took a few deep breaths before pouring all of his strength in breaking the iron clasps. His knuckles turned white, the veins bursting through his skin, his biceps quivered, and his face turned red as he grunted with effort in breaking the chain. For a few seconds, he felt no change, until that familiar feeling of bending metal started to form under his fingertips. Encouraged, Logan pulled harder, his back arching as his muscles overworked themselves. The chain collapsed from underneath his hands, the iron clamps clattering to the floor uselessly as Logan laughed with victory.
Motivated, Wolverine searched the cell again with a light rest and some confidence. Time to find a way out.
"Did you see that Colonel Stryker?" one of his agents looked to him in awe, "That was-that was.."
"Incredible," he finished the sentence, eyes unblinking, "I have to agree."
The agent turned back to the monitor, the camera feed closing in on Wolverine's movements.
"Extract that footage and place it under the Weapon X file," Stryker ordered drily, "bring in the mutant experts, tell them to analyze his movements, behavior pattern, suppressant resistibility, and effectiveness. He'll be in later for testing."
"But, sir," the agent looked at him in confusion, "the Weapon X file has been unopened for years, the study was terminated."
"Not any longer," Stryker smiled evilly. The air became cooler, a suspicious chill causing shivers to crawl down peoples' spines
"Colonel Stryker," the agent's young eyes scanned the broken cuff and Wolverine pacing the room through the monitor.
Why was he going to reopen the Weapon X file? That was a complete disaster from what the stories said. A dangerous, vicious, animalistic mutant who had been caged for years while being tested, poked, prodded, and injected with everything was Stryker's experiment. The mutant escaped one day, leaving a bloodbath and a trail of bodies to show for the results of his imprisonment. But why reopen the Weapon X case? If that thing ever stepped foot back into this lab…
The agent's eyes widened, "Sir, are-are you telling me that…that's…"
The agent couldn't even finish the sentence.
"Weapon X has returned," Stryker's eyes were alive with mischief as he turned tail and walked confidently down the hall.
"Scott, Scott!" Logan roughly shook his friend's shoulder who woke up with a start in his exhausted condition.
"Logan-?" his brows scrunched behind his bloody eye gauze, "just leave me alone."
"Scott?" he persisted, "I think I found a way outta here, come on, get up."
Cyclops just shook his head and turned on his side, "Logan, just go, I'm tired. Leave me alone, I said."
"Scott," Logan furrowed his brows in apprehension, "what's the matter with you?"
He reached down and roughly shook Scott's shoulder again. This time, he reacted and jumped up angrily, "Get out of here, Logan! I told you to go!"
Something was wrong, something had to be. Sure, he and Scott had their differences, but this was no time to joke around. They had a common enemy here, and that was Colonel Stryker.
"Scott," his jaw clenched, "I don't know what the hell's gotten into you, but you're coming with me. Jean will fix you up, and then we could go back to hating each other, but right now we're leaving."
Logan made a move to go forward, but Scott stepped back defensively. His fists were clenched by his side, and his lip was slightly curled. He was ready to fight Logan. But with his mutation subdued, this might be an uneven match. Scott said his powers were uncontrollable, possibly enhanced, he couldn't take that on with his healing abilities not at full capacity. He'd have to egg Scott on another way. Right now, his advantage was Scott's blindness, he could use that as a method of attack.
"All right, Scott," he rocked back on his heels, "you wanna fight? Go ahead. Remember, those training sessions at the school, I kicked your ass-every time."
Scott growled, his anger building up.
"Show me what you got, come on-"
His adversary charged forward, and Logan was caught off guard. Scott rammed into him like a bull and tackled him down. His skull cracked against the concrete, and a sharp pain engulfed his body and racked his head. His vision went blurry and a steady wetness started to seep through his hair. His temper spiked too-that old, reliable Wolverine temper. He kicked back with his legs and Scott went flying through the air, his back connected with the concrete pillar on the other side of the room and he dropped to the floor coughing. Wolverine smirked, ready to accept the defeat of his fellow X-man, but Scott was relentless. He stood back up, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand.
"You," even blind, he could sense a deep hurt in Scott's voice, "You took Jean away from me."
"What? Scott, why the hell are you talking about that now? Jean is yours, she loves you. Besides, that's not our priority, we got to get out, before Stryker-"
"Stryker?" he sneered, "You throw that name around, you wallow in self-pity because of your past. Haven't you ever stopped to think that you're not the only one that's had it tough? Huh?"
Logan growled, his anger reaching new levels that have been untouched for years-suppressed under his own dark memories. He knew Scott was…not himself, but that was a low blow. Right now, his thoughts involved either crushing his skull into the pavement, or throwing him off the empire state building-something along those lines. But, despite those comforting thoughts, Scott needed him. Jean needed him, and he'd do anything for Jean.
"Sorry, Scott," he snarled, "you're not going to like this."
Cyclops stood chillingly still, not moving and face void of emotion. Logan charged forward again, Scott ready to intercept him. His slightly mutated senses made up for the lack of sight, and he was still able to fight like any formidable adversary. He looked frightening with that bloody gauze over his eyes, his angry expression, and broad stance.
Logan ran forward in a charge, ready to take Scott on, when they heard a noise.
Both of the mutants stopped in their tracks, realizing that the high-pitched, eerie, metallic creak of the cell door opening was far more terrifying than anything else at the moment.
"Boys, boys, boys," even Scott in his weird, catatonic state registered the pain and fear that accompanied the low, melodic tone of Colonel Stryker's sickly, sweet voice.
"Scott, snap out of it!" Logan yelled, as the cell door opened completely and the military scientist stood silhouetted by the dim light.
"Leave him be, Wolverine," Stryker's evil smile angered him, "your friend Cyclops was very…compliant."
On his tablet, he approached Logan and swiped through photos of their battles. It was Wolverine, Storm, Jean, and Cyclops all suited for battle and fighting their enemies. There were snapshots zoomed in on Scott, his red ray beams sprouting from his eyes, his clever wit, his leadership capabilities, and his technological skills. It was like Stryker was looking through a catalog of exotic, expensive meats.
"What is that, Stryker?"
"Wolverine, you can't seriously believe that my interest in mutation was specifically exclusive to your capabilities?"Stryker chuckled as he slowly closed in on Scott, "no, no, of course not. Your friend here is equally as exquisite as you. An accident in his youth, triggered an obstacle in his mutation, but the gene still persisted. A mutation that is uncontrollable, especially one with this level of damage. Imagine, if the accident somehow subdued some effects of his mutation, perhaps my experimentation could open his horizons."
"How did you know about the accident?" Logan snarled. Scott barely shared about his past, never mentioned his dead brother or accident with the plane crash. It was because of some gossip from Hank McCoy, that Logan picked up on some of the news.
"New methods of persuasion," Stryker smiled sinisterly as he stopped dead short in front of Scott. Cyclops was shaking slightly, his fists clenched in anger. Logan could see the white in his knuckles.
"The hell you do to him, Stryker?" Logan advanced forward, but the gunmen at the door pointed their cattle prods at him. He endured that once before, not again.
"I merely widened his perspective," he glared at Logan with a side eye, "opened some old wounds, blurred the aspects of reality now and took his mind back to..a more primitive time."
"Primitive?" Logan scoffed, "Stop talking like a scholar, you bastard, look at him! Change him back!"
"Not now, Logan," Stryker gave him a crooked smile, "when we have so much to…catch up on."
"What?" a darkness dawned on him.
"Surely, Wolverine, you knew where this would lead."
"Never again, Stryker," Logan roared, "never again!"
The Colonel whipped a blade from his belt fast as lightning. He jumped behind Cyclops' back, his hand resting underneath Scott's chin. The razor sharp edge was pointed towards his throat, the vulnerable flesh underneath exposed.
"Rethink that response, Wolverine, or should I say, Weapon X."
Memories flooded back to Logan, dark times and tortures flashing before his eyes like a horror film of his life.
"Put it down, Stryker."
Scott was still, his body still quivering with whatever he endured from Stryker's treatments, and he was motionless.
"Scott, wake up! Take off the gauze!"
"Now, Wolverine! Make a decision!"
He couldn't leave his friend like that, at the mercy of Stryker's experimentation. Wolverine had endured it for years, he was accustomed to the torturous treatments, and he had a higher immunity to it because of his experience and adamantium skeleton. Scott, only gone for a few hours, was already 51/50. Jean would never forgive him if he let Scott go through this.
"Alright, Stryker, okay! You forced my hand, I'll do it. Just let Scott go."
Stryker smiled with content, the gears in his mind whirring rapidly at the satisfaction of having his old Weapon X back where he belonged. He motioned for one of his guards to bring him his tablet, and with a few swipes he held up an image of a brain scan and a few buttons. The name read: Summers, Scott.
He pressed a few command keys, and Scott stopped shaking. He was rigid in his place, his fists turning white with the effort of his resistance against Stryker's influence. Stryker glared at Wolverine, then pressed a button. Scott dropped like a stone to the floor, his unconscious body collapsing to the pavement.
"Now, Wolverine, let's begin, shall we?"
Logan slowly felt his eyes open. He was strapped down to a metal table, all too familiar with the feeling. Last thing he remembered, Stryker was purring at him like a devilish cat and something knocked him upside the head.
"Logan!" he heard an urgent whisper echo through the wide room he was trapped in, "Hey, Logan!"
"Scott?" he turned his head groggily.
Cyclops was shackled to the wall, rusty chains restricting his movements as he blindly shook his head from side to side trying to get free.
"Logan, what the heck happened? Where are we?"
"You don't remember?" he struggled and growled as Wolverine pulled against those unbreakable straps holding him down, "Doesn't matter now, I'll kick your ass later, where the hell is Stryker?"
"You don't have to wait for long, Wolverine," the voice recording of Strkyer was just as sinister when it was played over a loudspeaker, "we're ready to begin."
"Begin?" Scott shouted, "Begin what?"
"Scott, be quiet, don't move. He won't touch you."
"Touch me-? Logan, what're you talking about?"
"Mr. Summers, for the X-Men leader, you are rather naive," Stryker commented, "watch-or rather, listen-and you will understand."
"Logan?" he asked apprehensively as his sharp hearing picked up the sound of whirring machines, "What're they doing?"
"Cover your ears, Scott," Wolverine sighed deeply, his eyes closed in silent fear, "you don't want to hear this."
"Test subject ready, blood pressure normal, heart rate a little high," the voice of a lab scientist echoed over the loudspeaker. He was speaking to Stryker.
"Get on with it," his voice was dripping excitement, "log: Weapon X continued."
"Weapon X?" Scott whispered to himself, that name was familiar. He thought he caught glimpses of the title when he heard the Professor and Logan talking together.
"Logan, in a series of tests, we will be monitoring the durability of your adamantium skeleton. It's been a long time, mutations can evolve. However, with my new mutation suppressing agent, it might be a bit…difficult to scrape the pavement, if you can understand."
"Just do it, Stryker, just do it!" This anxiety was eating him alive. At least when the treatment started, he wouldn't be able to think about Stryker's devilish grin as he tortured him just by waiting.
"Give the mutant what he wants," the voice accepted, and the pain began.
Scott immediately cringed when the metal whir of torture instruments sounded nearby. Shackled the wall, he couldn't get to his friend, and he couldn't very well see either. As the whirring tools became more adamant, and Stryker's sarcastic banter had finished, the real pain began.
All at once, he could hear the metal tools digging into something hard-something like metal. Then he realized, that was Logan's adamantium skeleton. Horror flooded through him, as he couldn't imagine what Wolverine was enduring. Stryker himself was enough to set him over the edge, but this was the tip of the iceberg.
"Logan!" he shouted, but his friend's screams of agony were louder, "Stryker, enough! Stop this!"
"Too late, my dear Cyclops, but you'll have your chance soon enough!" he cackled over the intercom.
A new feeling of dread filled him, this torture would be relentless. Stryker intended for a cruel cycle between both mutants. Logan and Cyclops switching between test subjects, until they were either dead or Stryker's curiosity was satisfied. Judging by the sounds of his gleeful laughs, that wasn't anytime soon. He wasn't worried about himself and torture, he would endure whatever he could to save his friends, but Logan couldn't stay here any longer. He was a veteran of Stryker's previous experimentation efforts, and he saw the damage it caused him. Never again could he let that happen.
Use your senses, Scott, stop this! He tried to calm himself down and get working. Gears in his mind turned, but he flinched ever so often as he heard Wolverine's painful cries. His super hearing couldn't miss that. It sounded like Logan's bones were being broke one by one, then those pieces were being crushed too. He couldn't bear that sound, he couldn't endure it. No, no, no! He was the leader, he had to protect his team, how could he let this happen!? Logan's cries were relentless, like a broken record on repeat-a never ending cycle of his torture.
"You hear that, Mr. Summers?" Stryker broke his concentration, he didn't realize that behind that bloody gauze his eyes were tightly shut. His body was hunched against the wall, his head resting on his knees. "You see, I didn't want Weapon X to have all the fun," he laughed, "I've been in your mind, Cyclops, I know your thoughts. Listening to it would be just as much of a torture for you!"
He was right. With his super hearing, these torturous sounds would be engraved into his mind for years. Those nightmares that Logan had from time to time, was something that he might start to understand.
When Logan opened his eyes, and he saw those fluorescent bulbs blaring down at him like stadium lights, he knew what it meant. Immediately, his body refueled with a dread he hadn't experienced in a long time. Those lights, the cold metal table on his bare back, the leather straps rubbing against his skin, and the frozen metal tools above him just waiting to descend on its prey. Stryker's voice blared over the loudspeaker as it used to, the white tiled room like a gory operating room. The tools above him included razor blades, saws, and scalpels. If Stryker was in a particularly good mood, they'd stick to those scraping and cutting him for a few hours, but if he was in a bad mood, then more dangerous habits surfaced. If there were complications with Stryker's mutant son, Jason, they'd bring out the flamethrowers, acids and chemicals, spiked clubs, and medieval tools to test his limits.
After Stryker gave his little spiel, he heard the deep engines of the metal tools come to life. It slowly closed the distance between them, starting off with the razor blades slicing into him. Pain immediately erupted in his right left shoulder as a fire engulfed him. He could barely hear Scott's distant screams and protests, as his own drowned out all sound. His thoughts were muddled with a demanding white hot pain, but his sensible mind was trying to focus on killing Stryker when he got the chance. His only hope was passing out before the torture got really bad.
"Scott!" he shouted, "Argh! Do something!"
"Logan!" he could hear the fervent clattering of the shackles as Scott tried to get free, "Hold on, I-I'm trying! I can't get out!"
"You hear that, Logan?" Stryker cackled, "Even your own leader can't protect you! Mr. Summers, how does it feel to see your friend like this, and you powerless to stop me!"
"Enough, you're killing him!"
Even Stryker was cut off as a powerful shudder passed through Logan's body and his back arched off the table as a powerful scream of agony ripped through him.
"The beautiful thing about Weapon X, is that he can never die!" Stryker continued, "My adamantium creation has ensured a permanent test subject! He is the quintessence of experimentation-a test subject that can be reused!"
"Logan, hang on!" Scott tried to urge his friend.
"There is no use, Cyclops," the military scientist purred, "take notes, you're next!"
"NO!" they were both shocked to hear Logan's protest.
"What's this? An act of valor, Wolverine?"
"Logan, what the hell are you talking about?!" Scott demanded.
"Stryker-agh!" he cried, "Let Scott go, whatever you have to do-!" he strained while speaking, "Do it to me!"
"No!" Scott shouted, "Stryker, no!"
There was a moment of trepidation by Stryker. He was analyzing Logan's intervention and Scott's response. This was interesting. He wanted to inflict the most damage he could. For Logan, that was physical pain, because a man who could heal by genetic design could feel an infinite amount of pain. But, for Scott, the best torture would be to see his leadership fail and the ones he cared about destroyed under his command. A psychological torture.
"Very well, Wolverine!" he laughed gleefully, "Your wish is my command."
"NO!" Scott lunged again, this time a fierce anger boiled from within. He could feel his body heat with fury, his blood rushing to his head. He didn't realize he was actually heating up, until the metal shackles at his wrist glowed red-orange. An adamant pain built behind his eyes, a growing force demanding attention. Scott tried to hold it back, Stryker's mutation enhancer making his abilities unprecedented. The gauze shielding his eyes starts to smolder, smoke rising from the charred fabric.
"That's it, Cyclops, let it out! Unleash your mutation!"
He had to help Logan, he had to do something.
No! You don't know what damage you can cause! Your mutation is untamed, you don't have control! Logan could be killed!
He shouted with effort as the pain in his body was building to a climax. He literally felt that if he didn't unleash his power, he would explode. Stryker's words egged him on as he was encouraging Scott to unveil the power of his mutation, and one more bout of Logan's screams sent him over the edge.
Logan would rather be killed than endure this for a second longer.
Screw it.
He opened his eyes. His body arched, his spine going rigid as the laser beams from his eyes seared the gauze to minuscule ashes. The red beams were powerful, hotter, and fiercer than ever before with the thought of Logan's predicament.
He aimed and fired at the metal torture tools, the cursed machinery splintering and bubbling under his blast.
Logan's vision swam in and out, but as his shouts drowned out noise, a red blast engulfed his blurry surroundings. His eyelids slid closed, and he heard shouts and commands from loudspeaker and from Scott, surprisingly.
The next thing he felt was his hands and legs being released from the metal straps, blood staining his skin as his limbs cut into the metal trying to rip free.
"Logan, Logan!" he heard a distant voice, one familiar, "I'm gonna get us out, just hang on!"
He closed his eyes, and his world went black.
Wolverine woke with a start. His heart was racing at a thousand miles a minute as his mind echoed with a string of torturous nightmares.
"Wha-?" his back went rigid as he sailed into a sitting position.
He looked around, baffled. Where the hell was he? He remembered the feeling of razor blades digging into his flesh, the unbearable pain a tidal wave that washed through him with devastating effects. Every waking moment, he imagined Stryker's cruel, callous laugh, envisioned the bars that trapped him in a cage as Weapon X, the screeching whir of metal tools preparing to slice into him like meat. Nightmares plagued him, his personality was refined to a sharp cut, not willing to let anyone near in fear of possible consequences.
Right now, his thoughts were muddled. His mutation suppressed, the healing didn't occur quite as fast as it usually could. Logan looked down at his mangled body, the cuts on his arms not as ghastly, but still deep, throbbing wounds that trickled with blood. The rest of his body fared the same, but his limbs were sore and his back protested in a persistent ache.
As he looked around, Logan was propped up against the wall of what looked like a boiler room. Two big, rusty tanks were stationed side by side, shielding him. He rested his head back, relieved at the momentary sanctuary. How did he get here?
It pained him, but he had to try and remember the circumstances of his escape. He obviously didn't manage it, no logical thought ran through his head at the moment except thoughts of murdering Stryker. But before he lost consciousness, he saw two powerful red beams of light, similar to Scott's mutation, but these looked more powerful, and more potent.
His sharp eyes caught the sight of torn fabric behind one of the tanks. Immediately, Logan stiffened and growled. He wasn't in any condition to take on an assailant at the moment, but anger bubbled through him like acid. Then, he realized that he had a partner in this captivity.
"Scott?" he growled, still angry and on high alert.
No movement.
Logan groaned as he hoisted his body up against the wall to a tentative standing position. His legs weren't sturdy, his gait crooked and aim wonky. Pain broiled in his skull, a pressure building behind his eyes adamantly.
When he rounded the corner, a piece of sharp metal in his hand to substitute for his claws, he looked down at the body lying there.
It was Scott Summers. He was sprawled on his stomach, his hands bleeding, his face on its side. The jumpsuit Stryker fitted him in was torn and thready in some places, but dirty and grimy and bloody.
"Scott?" he nudged the body with his boot, his head reeling like he was concussed. The effort of moving his stitching muscles reopened some wounds and he hissed as the mending tissue bled once more. It dripped to the floor, drop by drop, "Get up. We need to get out."
The X-Man was spent. His breathing was deep and labored, like he was still out of breath even in his rest. Around his eyes, the skin was tired and bruised. Almost black. It must've been that mutation enhancer that Stryker had injected into Cyclops. After trying so hard to hold it back, he finally let it loose. It did some serious damage, not so much to surroundings, but to Scott himself. His hands had a blackened tint to them too, the veins looking darker as they ran up his arm.
If only Logan didn't have the mutation inhibitor, if he could've helped Scott, he would've. This was new power that Scott freshly lifted the lid on, who knew the effects it had on his body and mind. Jean would have to take a look at him, but when he would see her again, he didn't know. He had to get them out, if Scott got them this far then Wolverine could try to finish the race. Stryker's men no doubt were looking for him in the entire facility. The good news was, it was a big facility, the bad news is that he was injured, tired, alone, and had to carry his teammate out with him in a high guarded, sanctioned facility.
Logan bent to a knee, hoisting Scott's arm around his neck, the X-Man forced into a dragging/standing position. His legs trailed behind him as Wolverine grunted with effort in attempting to move them. He took a few steps, before his shaking muscles flared with a sharp pain and he dropped Scott. He was unconscious, he wouldn't know. But his body slammed to the floor like a sack of potatoes, and Logan realized how out of it he really was. How long would this last? Sure, he realized he needed some rest, but they had to get out of here, and fast.
He perked up, voices trailed down the hall and wafted eerily through the boiler room. They were coming.
"Come on, Scott," he groaned as he bent to a knee and attempted to carry him again. This wasn't going to work, he had to carry him in a more efficient manner. Logan grabbed the heavy Cyclops and draped his body around his neck. Scott's arms rested on his shoulder as his legs rested against the other. This could do, but Logan huffed and puffed as he pulled up to both legs. Scott's head bobbed against his shoulder, his ruffled hair matted with grime and dirt.
"Hang in there, bud," he patted his leg, "I'm gonna get us out."
Wolverine stumbled at first, resting on a tanker with Cyclops around his neck like a rag doll. The voices drifted closer, it was now or never.
He ducked out of the room and sprinted down the corridor.
Chapter 3 coming soon!