September 4, 1974
"This is the way we came," Scott said, "They should be at the end of the tunnel here, if he's taken her to his lab."
The smoke had cleared and the group peered down the tunnel. Alex had made sure that the soldiers were restrained: now it was just a matter of making sure that it was alright to proceed. Sean had already sent a scream down it, making sure that there weren't any traps. So far it was clear.
"Would he just go and stay there though?" Lorna asked.
Alex sighed and nodded.
"He would if he thought that he could get better data that way," he said, "He's all about data. I think that gives him a bizarre disconnect from reality."
"Okay," Sean said.
He looked over at Alex, who nodded.
"We're going in," Sean said, "Keep close, and keep those masks on. He might not have infected the kids upstairs to kill them, but that doesn't make us safe."
"Let's get moving," Alex said.
Lorna gave a sharp nod and gestured to the rest of her group. Alex watched her as they moved down the tunnel. There was something different about her. He remembered seeing her shouting at Lance, her body rigid and her eyes glowing green. He'd only seen her eyes glow once before when she was facing down Black Tom. Alex wondered if she knew that she did that when she was angry.
He'd thought that she would reject the information about his capture and torture. He had great faith in her brains and her abilities, but he also knew that she was fiercely loyal to her family. Alex could understand that, even if that family consisted of terrorirsts. He'd thought that he would have to fight with her to get her to believe, although he hadn't even wanted to tell her in the first place. No one was suppsoed to know.
That hadn't happened though. She hadn't even really called him a liar. Lorna had just sought for something to alleviate the blow, and believed him when it was shot down. It meant that she valued his word as much as he valued hers. It couldn't be a good thing, the two of them trusting each other as much as they did. There was another element to it though, one that was just on the brink of his consciousness.
He certainly valued the fact that she had thrown herself into helping them. Sinister was a tricky opponent and they needed as much back-up as they could get. It didn't matter that that back-up consisted of Brotherhood members. No one liked Sinister so, once again, they had a common enemy.
There were other problems though, ones he wasn't sure could be solved by the increased manpower. They didn't know where Charles was, and he would have been a great asset. Sean had hurriedly explained that he had said he was going to go into Sinister's lab if he could find it. It meant that they had a chance of running into him before they found Sinister, but they hadn't been very lucky lately.
At the same time Sinister held Moira. Alex knew that she was going to try to escape, she had been the one to teach him how to get out of handcuffs after all, but with only one hostage Sinister would be paying close attention to her. She didn't have much of a chance. Charles had been acting slightly erratic since she had been taken, and Alex knew that this wasn't going to help things if he found Sinister and Moira before they did.
Sinister had brought an army with him. Alex was confident that they had taken care of most of it, otherwise they would have encountered some in the tunnels. He couldn't be sure though. There was too much that he couldn't be sure about, most of it just because it was Sinister, and Sinister was far too unpredictable. For someone who put such stock in logic and science he certainly didn't seem to make any sense.
The fact that he even had soldiers working for him left Alex at a loss. His army at the Savage Land hadn't been anywhere as well trained or numerous as the one that he currently had. Had the mercenary market just improved in recent years?
Sinister had already successfully set up elaborate traps in most of the building. It had successfully sliced up their party and separated them from each other. They had been lost and confused, and the effects of his traps were still hindering them in some form or another. It was likely that he was saving his best trap for last.
"Professor Xavier," Sinister said, his voice mild, "What a surprise."
Charles gripped the armrests of his wheelchair. Moira's forehead was bleeding and her feet weren't quite touching the ground. From the cuts and broken glass embedded in Sinister's face he knew that she had put up quite a fight. Charles hadn't expected any less of her.
He wanted to go into her mind to soothe her, but he needed to keep his attention on Sinister.
"Let her go," he said.
"Or what?" Sinister asked.
One of his hands locked around Moira's neck, his spare hand reaching into his pocket. Charles reached for Sinister's mind, but to his surprise he found it slippery, like a muddy mountain where he couldn't quite find purchase.
"Oh, don't worry," Sinister laughed, "I've taken precautions against your meddling. That lovely material Magneto's helmet is made out of? I have a few plates of it in my head. I thought it might come in handy. I'd have to say that it's proven to be one of my more useful augmentations."
He pulled out a syringe from his pocket, filled with a thick, black material.
"This, Professor, is the Legacy virus in its purest form," he said, "I didn't put in any cancellations for this, nothing to stop it before it reaches its final stage. I believe that it would be quite fast acting."
"I don't care about your science projects Sinister," Charles said.
His words were short and sharp. He kept looking at Moira, his mind trying to bludgeon itself against Sinister's defenses. He could see a few cracks in it, but nothing he could fully exploit. Not yet.
"I think you should care," Sinister said.
He tilted it so that the needle was placed just above Moira's collarbone. Moira jerked her head, but he turned her face so that it was held in place. Charles could feel his anger building behind his eyes, pushing him to batter Sinister's defenses even harder.
"Since I'm now holding it to your wife's neck," Sinister said.
He smiled.
"Originally I designed the virus for mutants," he said, "But I think, in a direct form, it'll be able to affect humans too. I'm not sure."
His eyes lit up.
"Would you care to find out Professor?" he asked.
"Let her go," Charles said.
Sinister moved back, dragging Moira with him. Moira kept her eyes glued on Charles. She was trusting him to have a way out of their predicament. He wished he could give her some sort of sign, some reassurance that everything was going to be alright.
"I'm not sure that I should," Sinister said.
Charles drew himself up.
"We both know that those plates aren't seamless," Charles said, "I'm going to find a way in there soon. What I do when I get there is up to you."
"Such anger," Sinister said, "Aren't you supposed to be the patient, peaceful one?"
"Not right now," Charles said.
Sinister laughed, his expression frank. The needle hovered a centimeter above Moira's skin, wavering threateningly.
"I think that I rather like this side of you, desperate," he said, "You were very cool when we were in South America, although we only talked through the communications system. This would be our first face-to-face, wouldn't it?"
Charles didn't answer. He remembered the time, Sinister calling him out, curious as to who had invaded his labs. It wasn't an important memory though. Charles could see the cracks, see where he could apply a little pressure and widen them to get inside.
"It's very curious, all of this," Sinister said, "But it appears that, as of now, we find ourselves at an impasse. I have what you want, and I can't give it up without losing my only bargaining chip."
"Let's be reasonable," Charles said, focusing his mental energy to widen the crack, "You don't really have a bargaining chip. There is no escape for you. Even if you do make it upstairs, then you'll be stopped by the police that surround the center."
"Yes. I'm actually rather interested as to why they've chosen to ignore what's happening here, or at least not come in," Sinister said, "Very peculiar behavior indeed Professor."
"It would appear so," Charles said.
Sinister nodded, the needle still poised over Moira's collarbone. He could see that her breathing was shallow, her eyes still on him.
"I'm going to leave the room right now," Sinister said, "And then I'm going to leave the building."
"You're not. You won't make it," Charles said.
"Well, if I won't make it, then neither will your wife," Sinister said, "Do you have any ideas what to do about that?"
The crack was almost wide enough for Charles to open. He could feel sweat trickling down his neck, the stress of the situation pressing down on him and the mental exertion digging into him.
"I'm asking you one last time," Charles said, "Let her go."
Sinister smirked. Charles looked back at Moira and saw that her eyes had drifted away from him. He blinked, confused, as Moira's face tightened.
"Behind you!" she screamed.
Charles looked back. A soldier was standing there, his gun in position. Charles slipped quickly into his mind, sending him to the ground. He turned back to Moira and Sinister, trying to find his foothold in Sinister's mind.
As he did he watched Sinister turn his eyes to Moira, full of anger. Moira jerked to the left and Sinister brought the needle closer to her skin. Charles watched as he pried into Sinister's mind, every second slow and strange, unable to move in time.
The needle plunged into Moira's skin just as Charles ripped into Sinister's mind. It was a jumble, but part of him fought the thoughts there as Moira slumped to the ground. Charles raced through Sinister's mind, hoping against hope for something he could use against the virus, to reverese what he knew had been done.
He found nothing. Sinister had designed the virus from the strains of Scott's DNA, but he hadn't designed a cure. He hadn't thought that it would be useful or important. Charles howled inside of Sinister's mind, ripping and tearing frantically for something he could do.
Nothing, Sinister's thoughts whispered, There's nothing you can do.
Charles lashed out, screaming inside his own head, desperate to do any damage that he could. In his mind's eye he saw Sinister on the ground, writhing from the pain. He saw Moira crawling away, her face contorted in pain.
Charles abandoned Sinister's mind, pushing him into unconciousness. He didn't matter, not anymore. Exhausted he pushed himself forward, feeling frantic. There was a chance, his virus might not have worked on her. This couldn't be happening: not to Moira.
When he was close enough he pushed himself out of the chair and onto the floor. Using his arms he dragged himself towards her. He pushed himself up against a wall, pulling her into his arms, as close to him as possible.
"Please, no," Charles said.
Moira didn't answer, just took continuous, shallow breaths. He could see gray veins already webbing out from her eyes.