Silence
Chapter 30: Motley Crew
The Xavier School of Higher Learning
Beach Head shifted impatiently while he waited for a response. None came. The ranger nearly bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from barking at his fellow Joe. Losing his temper at the moment wouldn't speed things up. While he waited, Short Fuze sat crossed legged nearby on top of his bed. The blonde had his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. Finally, Wayne Sneeden couldn't take it anymore.
"Still nothing?" he drawled.
"This isn't exactly science, Beach," Short Fuze replied testily. "I have no control over my powers. It's not like I even knew I had them."
The ranger let out a frustrated sigh and began to pace around the confines of Short Fuze's room again. Hours had passed since both men had agreed upon their little "project". However, finding Zartan's location with Short Fuze's clairvoyant abilities was proving to be exceedingly difficult. Such was his frustration at the moment that his irritation had temporarily trumped the claustrophobia he would otherwise be feeling at being inside a small, closed room.
Wayne walked over to the window and stared out across the X-Men's west lawn. Zartan was still out there somewhere, still alive. The fact that the Dreadnok had escaped and Hawk was lying with a chest wound up in the SHIELD Helicarrier filled him with intense frustration and fury. It was all he could do not to break something.
The Joes did know the location of two Dreadnok hideouts, but judging from Intel, they weren't Zartan's main headquarters. The main one was suspected to be located somewhere in the Florida Everglades. Beach Head also had no idea if Deadpool had taken Zartan to one of the Dreadnok hideouts or to a Cobra base for medical treatment.
He gave another huff of frustration.
"Beach…"
"Ah know it ain't yer fault," the ranger said. Wayne knew Short Fuze was feeling as frustrated as he was, perhaps even more so, since his powers were the only ones that could find Zartan. The ranger rubbed his temples briefly to soothe away the beginnings of a migraine. It was already late in the day.
A knock at the door drew his attention and he stopped pacing. Since Wayne hadn't sensed the person's presence, that meant it was either one of the telepaths (unlikely, as they would have contacted Wayne telepathically), Storm, or…
"Hey!" Remy LeBeau said, opening the door before he received permission. The Cajun stuck his head inside and looked at them curiously. "Ya'll coming for dinner or what? Usually yer the first one there, Beach."
"LeBeau!" Wayne barked. "You don't just walk as you please into someone's room without their danged permission!"
"What? Remy knocked, what more you want?" Gambit asked. His eyes narrowed a moment later with a look of suspicion. "What're you guys up to?" Wayne cursed inwardly at the man's perceptiveness. He and Short Fuze were simply sitting around. What made the idiot Cajun think they were up to something?
"Nothing," the two Joes replied, though Beach Head pushed the issue further. "Ain't you supposed to be with Cyclop's team at Muir Island?"
The Cajun shrugged his shoulders before giving an excuse. Apparently he'd been in downtown Manhattan when the X-Men's Blue team had hurriedly assembled to fly over to Scotland. Cyclops had taken one of the Gold team members instead.
"Anyway," Gambit continued. "Storm sent me to make sure you guys get some dinner…considerin' all dat's happened. She's a bit in 'mama bear mode' at the moment, just to warn you."
"Mama bear mode?" Wayne asked warily. He and Short Fuze followed the Cajun towards the dining area. "She's got a danged 'mama bear mode'?" Ororo Munroe was already an imposing enough figure. Beach Head shuddered slightly when he tried to imagine the graceful X-Man in a raging fury.
"Her and Jean," Gambit smirked. He gave the two Joes a cheeky grin. "Don't worry though, she ain't upset. She just figures she's got to mother all the Joes around here for a bit seeing as…"
The Cajun trailed off. They walked in silence for several long moments before Remy LeBeau finally spoke again.
"Sorry to hear about yer general," Gambit said quietly. "Remy ain't really talked to him, but ya'll respect him like we do Storm or de professor and he's fine wit' mutants. Dat's enough for me."
"Thanks," Short Fuze responded quietly. Beach Head bit his lip a moment before also acknowledging the X-Man. Gambit was an annoying pain in the ass most of the time. However, Wayne had since learned that the man also had a decent side.
His stomach rumbled when his nose caught a heavenly scent of roast chicken. Beach Head hadn't realized how hungry he actually was until now. Many of the X-Men who hadn't gone to Muir Island were seated around the dining room table, as were some visiting Joes. Wayne was a bit disappointed when he remembered that Cover Girl wouldn't be joining them, seeing as she'd been ordered to Utah to help with the new Pit.
"Thank you for fetching them, Remy," Storm said when they walked in. The weather goddess waited until they were seated before beginning the meal. Wayne was a bit surprised, and a little touched, when Kurt Wagner led the group in a nondenominational prayer for Hawk's health before they began eating.
As Wayne discovered, both Ororo Munroe and Jean Grey were in "mother mode." Any other time, Wayne would have been irked or have headed to the hills in a hurry. However, Storm had the ability to instill calmness in those around her. Beach Head wasn't sure how she did it. There was an odd sense of "normalcy" as the serving platters were passed around the table. Which, to be fair, was hardly "normal" for Beach Head. Even so, he found himself relaxing slightly even before he was aware of it.
"Here Wayne, have some more," Jean Grey said, adding more mashed potatoes to his plate. The ranger didn't protest. While Storm was simply concerned that none of the Joes skip a meal, Grey appeared to be the type who continually pushed food onto people's plates until they were near bursting. Besides, as upset as Beach Head was with the current state of things, he could never pass up good home cooking.
And damn, if Jean couldn't cook.
The rest of dinner was a somber affair, despite the relaxed atmosphere. However, the group's spirits were lifted slightly midway through when they heard news of Cobra's defeat at Muir Island. A couple of Joes, plus Nightcrawler, chuckled when they learned that Storm Shadow had managed to force some Avengers into flying him over to Scotland.
Beach Head then had to sit through idle chit chat. He and Short Fuze both made a valiant attempt not to bolt from the table or make too much eye contact. The only other Joes present for dinner were Roadblock, Tunnel Rat, Cross Country, Outback, and Airtight. Finally, however, the two mutants were able to escape when everyone finally dispersed.
They were again back to square one.
"Maybe…" Short Fuze pondered when they were alone in his room again. "I can find something in a dream. Professor Xavier told me to keep a dream log and I've had two so far that's foretold minor things, even if just the fact that it was going to rain yesterday or us having chicken today for dinner."
Beach Head sighed. He'd been hoping to use the Muir Island incident as cover to borrow one of the X-Men's smaller jets. However…he rubbed his temples again. His migraine was getting worse and Wayne reluctantly admitted that he was mentally exhausted at the moment.
"Alright," he finally agreed. From what he'd heard, Nick Fury had fucked up Zartan pretty badly. The Dreadnok wasn't likely to be moving anytime soon. Getting a full night's sleep, or trying anyway, would probably do the two them more good in the long run.
"If you find anything…come wake me up," Wayne ordered the other man. "Ah don't care what time of night it is. Ed's staying overnight at SHIELD anyway, so it's not like we'll make him suspicious."
"What about your morning jog with Gambit?" Short Fuze asked. "Won't he get suspicious if for some reason you skip it?" Beach Head thought that over for a moment before realizing that he had a point. The ranger changed his mind about being woken up in the middle of the night if Short Fuze found anything. He might as well get all the sleep he could while he could.
"Good point," Wayne said. "If we leave, it'll have to be after I drag LeBeau's sorry ass out." He stretched his neck and fought back a sudden yawn. The ranger knew he wouldn't have any problems falling asleep. However, he was a bit worried that Short Fuze would have trouble with his current state of mind. A quick mental search, however, showed him that the man had some sleeping aids in his shoulder bag.
"Alright, Ah'm going to bed," the ranger said. Short Fuze nodded his head and bent down to rummage through his bag. Beach Head wished the man good luck and left. While he showered quickly and prepared for bed, the other Joe had already taken a sleeping pill and was trying vainly to fall asleep.
Short Fuze tossed and turned before sleep finally overtook him. Self-doubt hovered around him like a dark cloud before the sleeping aid finally worked and forced his eyes shut. The usual nonsensical dreams floated sporadically through his mind and drifted off, to be forgotten when he eventually awoke.
Finally, however, the visions came.
His father sat alone in the family room. An open book lay across his lap while the former top sergeant studied a picture of his recently deceased wife. The sleeping Short Fuze unconsciously reached a hand out towards his grieving parent, feeling his own heart ache at the scene.
The scene shifted. An unconscious man lay comatose on an infirmary bed. Short Fuze instantly recognized the general's familiar features. The image suddenly jolted the sleeping mortar soldier and reminded him of his mission. Short Fuze realized that he was dreaming. He had only lucid dreamed once before. Realizing he had to take advantage of his good luck, the Joe studied the comatose Hawk for a moment before stepping back away from the bed.
Short Fuze looked around. Zartan. He wanted Zartan.
For the briefest of moments, the image of Hawk was replaced by an equally unconscious Zartan, who was lying on a different bed. The mutant attempted to grab onto the image, but it slipped away like a morning fog.
"SURRENDER, MUTANTS."
"Aw fucking hell, not again," someone swore. Short Fuze tore his eyes away from the sentinel looming over him. To his right, an unmasked Beach Head stared up at the mutant hunter. The ranger's face had paled several shades and the back of his neck glistened with sweat. Short Fuze felt a chill settle in his chest. Never in his entire time in GI Joe had he ever detected a note of fear from the prickly sergeant major.
The mortar soldier swallowed a lump in his suddenly dry throat and looked back up at the sentinel.
"Zartan," he muttered to himself. The Joe concentrated as hard as he could and tried to ignore how the earth shook when the huge robot took a step. "I'm looking for Zartan. Zartan. I want ZARTAN."
The earth rumbled again. Short Fuze cursed his inability to focus. He grunted in shock when a heavy body tackled him and shoved him to the ground. Something exploded behind him. The blonde soldier turned his head and stared as the ground erupted in a fiery inferno.
"Easy there, soldier," his rescuer told him. "That almost had you." Short Fuze blinked in confusion when Captain America was suddenly kneeling over him. The Avenger offered him a hand and helped pull him to his feet. The twang of a bow strings drew Short Fuze's eyes to his left. He blinked again. Zartan, Hawkeye, and Storm Shadow were standing back to back with their bows drawn. The three archers let loose a continual spray of arrows.
"FOOLS!" a female voice thundered. Short Fuze's eyes looked up into the black sky. Psionic energy crackled around a raven haired woman, whose face looked somewhat familiar. The sky suddenly lit up like the Fourth of July on D-Day as Jean Grey and Storm attacked the woman.
"Get ready," Captain America told him. "She's already taken out some of the X-Men and most of the Avengers."
"What…"
Short Fuze's question was cut off and the scene shifted yet again. General Hawk was back, this time fully conscious and sitting in a chair. Captain America sat on the edge of the table, while Duke and a heavily armed man, whom Short Fuze didn't know, both paced around a conference room.
"Bucky and I have worked with Namor before," Captain America said. "I know you don't trust him, but…"
"…the enemy of my enemy is my friend?" the unfamiliar man quipped. He leaned against a wall and crossed his arms. Duke raised an eyebrow.
"Namor isn't an enemy, Bucky," Captain America reprimanded. "You know that."
"Oh, I know, but the quote still works…" the young man, "Bucky" replied. "Namor's got an ax to grind with Cobra, so…"
"So we should work with him," Duke finished. The top sergeant came to a stop next to Hawk. He looked down at the general, who still looked a bit displeased. "Sir…"
Another shift. Short Fuze gritted his teeth in frustration. As interesting as some of this was, he wasn't any closer to his objective. Stupid mutant powers. He wanted Zartan. Why was a simple location proving to be so elusive a target?
"Your visit surprises me," Cobra Commander hissed. Short Fuze felt his body stiffen when he heard the familiar hiss of the man's voice. He may not have found Zartan, but this could be just as informative. The soldier stepped closer with his dream body and studied his surroundings. The hooded terrorist leader appeared to be in deep conversation with a tall, slim man. The man was dressed in a smart business suit, while his long, raven hair was tied back in a low pony tail. Green eyes flashed mischievously from his face.
"Oh, come now," the green eyed man replied. "Why shouldn't I drop in on my associates from time to time? It's so amusing." Cobra Commander made a 'hmph' sound, but didn't appear to be the least bit irritated. Rather, the Cobra leader motioned for his companion to follow him.
However, the mysterious visitor paused. A deep chill froze Short Fuze from the inside out when the man's green eyes were suddenly focused on him. The man's lips twitched up in a smirk. He held up a slim hand to Cobra Commander.
"Shh," the man said. Amusement laced his voice. "Someone's listening. Oooo…what a naughty boy." Completely shocked now, Short Fuze turned and fled. His heart thumped in his chest. The mortar soldier had no idea if it was his real heart or his dream heart. Perhaps it was both.
How? How? In his visions so far, either he hadn't been noticed or the people he had interacted with had simply acted like nothing was out of the ordinary. But this…Short Fuze faintly heard the sound of mocking laughter in his mind. Who the hell was that?
Zartan. He just wanted to know where Zartan was. After that, Short Fuze simply wanted a restful, dreamless sleep. Zartan. Where the HELL was Zartan?
Desperation clutched his heart now. With sudden sharp focus, the mutant concentrated with all his might. Finally…
"Will he be alright?" The Dreadnok, Ripper, hovered anxiously near the sleeping Zartan's bed. "I ain't never seen the boss like…"
"He'll be fine," Zarana replied sharply. She pushed Ripper and several other Dreadnoks out of the small room. Deadpool loitered near the door and whistled cheerfully while the female Dreadnok ordered the rest of the biker gang to let Zartan sleep in peace for a while.
Short Fuze looked around. Where? He needed to know WHERE he was. Seeing an unconscious Zartan didn't get him and Beach Head any closer to their objective. They needed a location. The Joe walked past the oblivious Deadpool and Zarana and found himself in a large compound. Short Fuze gave a hiss of frustration. He didn't know how long he could keep himself here. He needed to find out the location now, while he still could. Maybe…
The Joe concentrated hard. His surroundings shifted slightly and he was now standing outside of the compound. Hot, humid air clung to his skin while the distinct smell of swampland assaulted his nose. Short Fuze looked around at the luscious greenery. Cicadas chirped noisily in the dark swamp, while the stars twinkled brightly above him. Okay…they had suspected that the Dreadnoks had a hideout in the Florida Everglades. He guessed that he was in the Everglades, anyway. That somewhat narrowed it down.
He still needed a specific location, though. If he could at least discover what the nearest town was…
Short Fuze tried to kick an empty soda can in frustration, but his foot passed through it. He stared down at it. That was unexpected. Of course he couldn't kick something if he wasn't physically present. Still…
It was so unexpected that it woke him up.
The army corporal cursed and rubbed at his eyes. He reached over for the notebook that he now kept by his bed. Short Fuze quickly jotted down everything he'd seen before they began to fade away. The mocking laughter of the green eyed man still haunted him slightly. The soldier shook it off. He'd deal with that particular vision later.
Short Fuze sighed as he stared down at the notebook. He didn't feel the least bit rested, even after he'd realized that he'd been asleep for at least three hours already. The soldier groaned and lay back in his bed. What should he do now? Beach Head was depending on him.
An idea nudged at him, but his tired brain refused to latch on to it. Short Fuze forced himself into a simple meditation that Snake Eyes had recently taught him. His fatigue drained away just enough for him to understand what it was.
Look at a map, his inner voice seemed to be telling him. Look at a map.
Short Fuze jumped out of bed and looked around his room. He knew he didn't have any maps on him. The Joe quietly creaked open his bedroom door and padded softly down the mansion's hallways. When he arrived at the library, he flicked on a few of the lights. He found an atlas and flipped quickly through the pages until he found a map of Florida.
He stared at it for a long time, trying to figure out what he was looking for. His eyes hovered over the green blob marking the Everglades. Short Fuze pushed down his frustration and once again forced himself to meditate. Emptying his mind didn't come easily, as he was naturally an impatient person anyway, plus he was exhausted. However, the motors in his mind slowly began to come to a halt until his thoughts finally drifted lazily away.
An inner urge made him pick up a finger and place it on the map. Short Fuze looked down at where his finger landed. It was almost in the dead center of the Everglades. A feeling of rightness assured him that this was indeed the place.
He smiled.
The next morning.
Beach Head cast his eyes over the BDUs laid out on his bed. With a sigh, he rolled them up and put them back in his field bag. Neither he nor Short Fuze could wear their usual uniforms for this mission. Hunting down and killing Zartan wasn't exactly authorized by GI Joe. Not wanting to link the Joes to this, especially if things went badly, he and Short Fuze had decided to ditch their usual garments for this operation.
Unfortunately, that didn't leave him with much of a choice. Wayne Sneeden rifled through his clothing before finally finding a pair of nondescript jogging sweats and an olive green, long sleeved shirt. This and some of his Kevlar would have to do. It still looked too similar to his GI Joe uniform, which made him frown when he looked in the mirror.
"You ready yet?"
Wayne tilted his head towards his left. Short Fuze was waiting in his bedroom two doors down. The ranger had barely heard the mental question. Beach Head sent back a short, empathic burst of acknowledgement.
He hoisted a bag over his right shoulder, which contained many of his weapons. The ranger wouldn't clip them on until after they were en route to Florida.
It was seven o'clock in the morning. Beach Head would have preferred to have slipped out earlier, but he didn't want anyone to be suspicious if he didn't do his morning run. He especially didn't want Gambit to be suspicious.
The ranger opened his door. When Wayne approached Short Fuze's door, he telepathically alerted the man. The other Joe stepped out of his room and joined the sergeant major. The two men walked quietly, and quickly, down towards the X-Men's hangar.
Beach Head was distinctly displeased when they discovered a certain Cajun loitering in front of the hangar's entrance. Remy LeBeau nonchalantly took a sip of his coffee and grinned at the two dumbstruck Joes.
"Goin' somewhere?" Gambit asked casually. The Cajun mutant rolled a dice in his other hand while he eyed the two men in front of him. Beach Head found his voice first.
"What're you doing here?" The ranger growled. He purposefully kept his voice level down…or tried to anyway. Short Fuze shot him a warning look. Beach Head gritted his teeth when he realized that his voice had still carried.
"Depends, grumpy bear," Gambit replied. "If Gambit gets to come or not." He pocketed the dice and took another sip of coffee. Red pupils glinted at them.
"What?" Short Fuze asked. "This isn't your…" Beach Head shushed him with a glare. The X-Man tilted his head and rubbed his chin in a show of mock consideration.
"Not Remy's what?" the Cajun asked. Wayne growled and shoved Gambit away from the entrance. The other man responded by whipping out a card and holding it in front of the ranger's nose. Beach Head stared down at it. The Cajun hadn't charged it yet, but he still could. He glared dangerously down at the shorter man.
"Gambit figured you were up to somethin'," the Cajun drawled. "Now, he ain't gonna stop you or nothin, but ya'll might want to work on yer poker faces. Ya'll about as subtle as a hooker prayin at an Ash Wednesday mass!" Gambit slipped his card up his sleeve and stepped into the hangar. The Cajun crossed his arms and glared at the two other mutants. The two other men glared back.
"What do you want?" Short Fuze asked irately. Beach Head said nothing. There was a serious expression on the Cajun's face, which led him to believe that the man wasn't playing one of his usual "annoy the ranger" games. Lord help him, but he'd been around LeBeau enough now the last few weeks to know not to immediately dismiss him.
"Are you guys goin' after Zartan?" Gambit asked honestly. "It's what Gambit would do." He played with an Ace of Spades between his fingers while he continued. "If dat were Storm lyin' close to death, Ah'd have been after Zartan in a heartbeat."
"Why?" Beach Head finally asked. "This ain't yer fight, LeBeau." He and Gambit locked eyes for a moment. There was a definite hint of defiance in the Cajun's face. Remy didn't look like he was going to back down anytime soon.
"Yer…" Gambit suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable. "Kind of like a teammate now…it's not like we're friends or anything," the Cajun quickly denied. "But Gambit can't just sit around while you and Short Fuze get yerselves tangled in something. Ya'll are kind of X-Men now, even if just part time. We look out for each other."
Beach Head let out the breath he'd been holding. He studied the stubborn Cajun before motioning towards the hangar with a tilt of his head.
"Fine," the ranger drawled. "Now let's get moving." Gambit grinned in response. The Cajun mutant cast his eyes over the Joes' clothing a moment before raising a disbelieving eyebrow.
"Yer gonna dress like that for a fight?" he asked. "Where're your uniforms?"
"This isn't a GI Joe mission," Beach Head explained. "We don't want to tie the Joes to this."
"Yeah, but…sweats?" the Cajun asked. "No, no, Remy will hook you guys up with somethin' better."
Short Fuze grumbled and nearly bitched out the Cajun for holding them up. Beach Head nearly did as well, but he bit down on his tongue. Gambit was a potentially useful addition to their crew. If they were going to borrow (steal) one of the X-Men's aircraft and sneak into Dreadnok territory, who better to take along than a former thief?
Besides, Wayne wasn't very keen on wearing his current garments. If Cajun had something better…
Beach Head suspiciously eyed the blue and yellow garments in Gambit's arms when he came trotting back a few minutes later.
"Oh hell no," the ranger groaned. Gambit had a confused expression on his face when he looked down at the X-Men uniforms in his hands. Then again, the man wore pink body armor. Of course he didn't see anything wrong with wearing bright spandex.
"What's wrong with these?" Remy asked. "The uniforms are made out of unstable molecules, which means they'll conform to yer bodies and can withstand yer powers." Beach Head opened his mouth to argue and shut it again. Lifeline's X-Man uniform had been ripped up slightly during the sentinel fight, but the clothing material had mysteriously mended itself later. From what he knew of the uniforms, the material also offered some protection for the wearer.
Still…
"Ah ain't wearing spandex!" Beach Head grumbled, his voice rising to a near roar. Gambit pressed a finger to his lips and shushed the irate ranger. Wayne continued to grumble and swear, but he finally took one of the uniforms and glared down at it.
"We're trying not to involve the Joes," Short Fuze pointed out. "If we wear these, we involve the X-Men." Beach Head nodded his head in the agreement. See, the blonde knew logic when he saw it. Gambit, on the other hand, rolled his eyes.
"If Gambit guesses right, yer gonna steal one of de planes," he said. "And he's involved now too. The X-Men are already tied to dis, whether you like it or not. If ya'll aren't gonna wear your Joe uniforms, you need something."
Beach Head cursed loudly to vocally share his extreme displeasure. However, the ranger finally stripped off his sweats and pulled on the X-Man uniform. The material clung oddly to his skin, which didn't help his mood. Short Fuze cursed as well, but followed the sergeant major's example. The ranger looked down at himself when he was fully clothed in the uniform. He felt exposed. No wonder Lifeline hated wearing it.
"Fanfuckingtastic," the ranger grumbled. "How the gawd damned hell do you people wear this? It's riding mah ass."
"Dat's why Remy wears dis," the Cajun replied, pointing to his body armor and trench coat. Beach Head sighed. At least he could put his Kevlar vest over the suit. He just wished he had something else. Figuring that there was nothing to be done about it, Wayne strapped on his armor and guns before shoving his clothing into the now empty bag.
While he and Short Fuze finished getting ready, Gambit was already prepping one of the smaller planes. Beach Head stared down at himself once more before muttering darkly. No way…no fucking way.
Leaving a surprised Short Fuze behind, the ranger strode quickly back to his bedroom. Wasting no time, the ranger ripped a brown, leather jacket he rarely wore out of his closet and put it on. Better.
Wayne's mood suddenly darkened even more when he was en route back to the hangar. Short Fuze was angry and the source of it seemed to be coming not from having to wear an X-Man uniform, but from a new presence in the hangar.
Bishop.
Fanfuckingstastic. He was going to have all the X-Men down on them soon if they didn't get the hell out of there. Beach Head picked up the pace and was soon walking into the hangar.
"You guys expect me to believe you're going on a 'training mission'?" Bishop asked, his voice drifting across the hangar. Training mission, huh? That must have been Short Fuze's excuse for why he was in an X-Man uniform and why Gambit was in the cockpit of a plane.
"Yeah right…" Bishop replied when Short Fuze and Gambit continued to claim innocence. "Like I believe…"
Wayne made a split second decision. He hoped he wouldn't regret it.
"Bishop!" He barked. "Get yer ass in the plane. Yer comin' with us!"
Three pairs of eyes stared in disbelief at him. Beach Head ignored them and instead fixed a glare on Bishop. The soon to be missing plane would alert the X-Men that something was amiss, but if Wayne could delay that for at least another hour, he would. Besides, Bishop was another pair of fighting hands and the man seemed to have had some kind of military training in his future.
Beach Head had also since discovered that he could get Bishop to follow his orders, even if the man belly ached about it.
"Into the plane," Beach Head ordered, staring down Bishop. "Ah ain't wastin' any more time." Dammit, he shouldn't have gone back for his jacket. His rare act of vanity and self-consciousness had just landed him more trouble.
"If you need to arm yourself, get armed," the ranger added. "We're leaving in five minutes. I'll fill you in on the plane. You tell anyone what we're doing and Ah'll kick yer ass so hard that yer grandma will feel it."
Bishop twitched slightly and Wayne cringed when he saw a mental image of the man's grandmother. Storm? Pushing away his shock, as Wayne had neither the time nor the inclination to ponder the fact that he'd indirectly threatened Storm, the ranger shot Bishop another glare. The heavier man immediately jumped into action.
When the plane finally took off from the mansion five minutes later, Wayne belatedly remembered that he had an afternoon appointment with Psyche Out.
Fuck. Oh well.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier
"I ain't exactly the sentimental type Clay, but…"
Lifeline pretended not to overhear the one sided conversation taking place next to General Clayton Abernathy's bed. The medic busied himself in another corner of the SHIELD infirmary. The medical staff were by now accustomed to the GI Joe in their midst.
"You've been a good friend," he heard Nick Fury continue. "There're a helluva lot of good people waiting for you to wake up." Lifeline sighed. He really wasn't trying to eavesdrop. It was one of the drawbacks to having above average hearing. The medic glanced over at Nick Fury. The SHIELD director was sitting next to Hawk's bed with a glass of hard liquor in his hands. It had been just over a day since the shooting. Clayton Abernathy hadn't yet woken up.
Fury didn't say anything else for a while. Lifeline sat and stared at his laptop. Strings of data looked back at him. Helping Hank McCoy with the Legacy Virus had become a new side project. However, neither man had yet discovered exactly how the virus worked or how to cure it, despite years of research from both Beast and Moira MacTaggert. In all honesty, Ed didn't know how he could contribute anything. Hank was the genius, as well as one of the world's premier geneticists. Ed was a combat medic who had seen his share of oddities over the years and had the benefit of a superfast brain. However, Dr. Henry McCoy he wasn't.
"In breaking news, the long debated Mutant Registration Act has passed despite heavy opposition. In recent days, Senator Larkin led a filibuster as a desperate tactic to delay the vote. However, that came to an end early this morning. Protesters are demanding that the new law be taken to the Supreme Court…"
Ed tried to ignore the television broadcast that was murmuring quietly from a nearby office. Perhaps it was murmuring. To his ears, it was a loud and unwanted intrusion.
Fury was talking to Hawk again. The medic rubbed his temples. It was way too loud here. Too much was going on. Lifeline cast a glance over at the comatose general. He felt torn between his duty as a medic to stay near the general and his need for peace and quiet. Ed knew he was still technically on leave, but he couldn't bring himself to leave Hawk. Besides, no one had ordered him back to the mansion yet.
"You wake up soon," he heard Nick Fury say. "Until then, I've got your back."
Ed heard movement as the SHIELD director finally stood up. There was a clink as he set down his empty glass on the small table next to Hawk. Fury's footsteps paused on his way out and Lifeline had an uneasy feeling that the man was looking at him.
"You're on leave, son," Fury told him. "My staff is perfectly capable of looking after him."
"But…" Lifeline finally turned his head to look at the taller man. Despite Nick Fury's gruff exterior, there was a hint of sympathy in his good eye.
"Get your ass back to Xavier's," Fury told him. "At least…for the rest of the day, anyway. We'll alert you if there's any change."
So much for no one ordering him to leave. Finally caught, Edwin simply nodded. Lifeline closed his laptop and followed Fury out of the infirmary. A few minutes later, the medic was standing in front of the X-Men's school once more. Not really knowing what to do with himself, Ed flopped down in the grass and stared up at the sky.
His mind wouldn't stop working. Hawk was in a coma. Mutant Registration had been passed. GI Joe was currently operating out of SHIELD until a new Pit was built. Storm Shadow and Cobra Commander's son were over at the Avengers at the moment. The ninja was apparently going to join the Joes. Ed supposed the last parts were the one bit of good news out of everything.
The medic sighed and wondered where Wayne was. He hadn't seen much of the ranger since Hawk had been shot.
There was a soft crunch of grass as footsteps approached him.
"You look cozy."
Ed tilted his head to look up at Psyche Out. The shrink sat down in the grass next to him. A few moments later, the blonde was cloud watching with him as well.
"What are you doing here?" Lifeline asked.
"I'm supposed to meet with Beach after lunch," Kenneth answered. "And, of course, he's making himself scarce. I've got an appointment with Storm Shadow after him."
"Good luck," Ed told him. Neither man spoke for a while. The psychiatrist finally asked him how Hawk was doing. Lifeline gave him a detailed status report. Psyche Out listened quietly for several minutes before popping a new question.
"And how are you doing?" he asked. Lifeline gave the man a questioning look. He wasn't the one lying unconscious in an infirmary. Psyche Out didn't acknowledge the unspoken question. He continued to stare up at the sky, as if he'd only remarked on the weather.
"I'm fine," Ed replied finally.
"Really."
Psyche Out's deadpanned response made it clear that he didn't believe the medic. Ed was starting to wonder if he was the man's scheduled "patient" before Beach Head. He rather hoped not. Then again, the medic couldn't blame the man for trying to do his job or even just trying to be good friend.
"Hawk was shot and Mutant Registration passed," Lifeline responded after a moment. "How do you think I feel?"
"Frustrated, alone, angry….all things that are perfectly normal to feel," the other man answered. "Pacifist or not."
Kenneth always could read him like a book. Still, Ed wasn't sure if his friend really understood the extent of his feelings. Psyche Out wasn't the one who was going to have to carry around a little card, like he was some criminal. He wasn't the one that was a walking powerhouse with abilities that he didn't want.
"Ed?"
Lifeline suddenly realized that he'd been lost in his own thoughts. The medic sighed and continued to stare stubbornly up at the sky. Usually he was far more cooperative with the man, understanding how frustrating it was to deal with uncooperative patients. At the moment, however, he didn't feel like discussing any of the inner turmoil he felt.
His father ought to be damn happy about the new Registration law. Ed felt his ire spike. He blinked his eyes a moment later and pushed down the bitterness he still felt towards his estranged father. Why had that of all things come up?
"Nothing," Ed replied.
"That's the second time you've lied to me," Psyche Out pointed out carefully. "That's not like you."
Lifeline gave a frustrated sigh and sat up. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, suddenly realizing that he hadn't slept much in the last couple of days. Ed strongly considered flying away and finding another place that was quiet. However, that would be running away and he didn't want to rudely brush off Psyche Out. The man was just trying to help.
"What am I supposed to say?" Ed asked tiredly. "There's not exactly anything I can do about any of it right now."
"Ed…" the other man said after a moment, "You don't really want to be a mutant, do you?"
"That's not…." Lifeline sputtered. He was fine with being a mutant. It was just…"It's…it's my powers. You think I like having the ability to crush pretty much anything in our arsenal? I'm a medic, I heal. And…"
"And everyone thinks you should use your powers offensively," Psyche Out finished. "Ed, I don't pretend to understand what it's like to have your abilities. I can't understand. I can tell you though that it doesn't make you any less of a medic just because you could probably go toe to toe with Miss Marvel or Thor if you wanted."
"Not really," Ed replied dryly. "I've been forced to train with Thor a couple of times. He handed my ass to me both times."
"He's a trained warrior with centuries of experience, of course he did," the other Joe chuckled. "And it's not like you like fighting anyway."
"No…I don't," Ed sighed. "I don't get why people can't accept that."
"People like who?" Psyche Out probed. "I'm guessing not any of the Joes, they already know you won't even if they want you to fight." Ed sighed again, slightly irked that the blonde soldier was trying to draw him out. He was right, of course. Some of the Joes continued to bitch about him not having used his abilities in the past or now to fight. However, since Ed had proven willing to use his mutant powers in nonviolent ways, the complaints weren't as harsh as they'd been.
"Some of the X-Men and Avengers don't….understand," Lifeline finally answered.
Not that he knew most of the Avengers that well, of course, but Tony Stark, James Rhodes, and Hank Pym at least seemed to understand and didn't push him too much. Peter Parker, however, was having trouble accepting Lifeline's pacifism. Spiderman kept insisting that with "great power comes great responsibility." Even though the two men generally got along, they differed as to what "great responsibility" meant. Peter thought he should be more proactive with his abilities while Ed firmly believed that restraint was the answer.
Besides, Ed also had a bit of a problem with superhero vigilante justice. While he would easily admit that there were certain things that only superpowers could handle, Lifeline felt that the police and military were in place for a reason.
"Let me guess," Psyche Out said dryly. "You and Spiderman had another philosophical debate that ended in an argument." Lifeline sighed in reply. He honestly liked Parker and wanted to be friends with him. He just wished Peter would stop trying to push him into the superhero business.
"Ed," his friend said after a moment. "You've had a month's leave. Have you gone home even once?"
Lifeline didn't reply, as he knew Psyche Out probably already knew the answer. Ed didn't exactly have a good relationship with his father, but he still tried to maintain one with his sister and "foster mother." He'd been lucky that the mother of a friend had taken him into her home after his father had kicked him out. Ed still felt guilty that he'd left his little sister to be raised by their father. Then again, their father had always harbored a dislike for his eldest child for some reason, even before he'd discovered that he was a mutant. While Stephanie had gotten the occasional verbal abuse, for the most part, the eldest Steen had been relatively caring towards her. Ed had never understood why.
"You should go visit your sister," Psyche Out suggested. "Who knows when you may get another opportunity?"
He was right, again, damn him. Between his military obligations and the recent government crackdown on mutants, Ed knew that he might not see his sister and her family for a while. He should probably pay his foster mother a visit as well.
"You're right," Ed admitted. "I'll call her in a bit and head over there." He had a few days left of his leave. He should probably at least spent two of them back home in Seattle.
"Good," Psyche Out told him. "You want to grab some lunch first? I'll need the calories to deal with my next appointment."
"I knew it," Ed accused mildly. "I was on your list today."
Psyche Out grinned at him and made a 'tsk tsk' sound. The medic rolled his eyes and accepted it with a sigh. Kenneth was just doing his job, infuriating as it sometimes was.
"Never mind," Lifeline sighed. "Hank and Jubilee introduced me to a good Thai place. You want to go there?"
"Lead the way."
Utah.
Charlie Iron Knife quietly studied him out of the corner of his eyes. On the far side of the large, metal workshop, a stoic man sat surrounded by machines. The mutant known as Forge had barely spoken with any of the Joes since their arrival, other than to give them some instructions from time to time. Clutch had muttered during lunch that he could probably get more conversation out of Low Light.
Spirit went back to helping Dial Tone with some wiring. The tracker honestly didn't know why he'd been ordered to Utah to help with construction work. If it was simple grunt work, he could understand, but since Zartan had broken his left arm, Spirit was physically less able to do much work. Seeing as he wasn't a specialist in mechanics or computers, Charlie didn't see why his presence had any significance. However, he was a soldier and that meant you didn't argue with orders.
It wouldn't be until the end of the day that he finally had an inkling of why he'd been assigned to Utah. Spirit had been suspecting that it had something to do with Forge, but he'd been hoping he'd been wrong. If they'd assigned him just because Forge was also a Native American, Charlie was going to be angry. The Joes were better than that and never once had anyone made assumptions based on his ancestry. Well, okay, a few times, but Spirit had deliberately instigated those times as a way to amuse himself.
They were just finishing up dinner with Forge suddenly appeared to Charlie's right. The mutant looked at him once before indicating the door.
"Walk with me."
Spirit abandoned his tray to be cleaned up later. The mutant's tone had been empty of any emotion or hint of what he wanted. Charlie followed after the man, not knowing if he should be irritated or curious. Deciding simply to hear what the man wanted first before deciding whether it was anything to be irked over, Spirit said nothing.
When they were about two hundred yards from the small encampment, Forge came to a halt. The mutant crossed his arms and regarded Spirit with a feigned look of disinterest. Charlie politely waited for the man to say something. Finally, after a long moment, Forge shrugged and held out his hand.
"Give me your hand," he ordered bluntly. Charlie pushed down a twinge of annoyance. Forge had absolutely no tact at all. He was beginning to wonder if the man had any social skills.
"Why?" Spirit asked suspiciously. He wasn't doing anything until he knew why. Trust only went so far. Forge raised an eyebrow before muttering under his breath.
"Let me guess, no one told you," Forge asked. Not understanding what the man meant, Spirit shook his head no. The mutant now looked distinctly grumpy and even went so far as to cast a glare back at the building. He sighed a moment later.
"You're a shaman, right?" Forge asked. Spirit nodded, wondering what this was all about.
"Can you do magic?" the man asked a moment later. Charlie stared at him. Magic? What the hell was he talking about?
"I'll take that as a no," Forge said dryly. The man smacked his head and muttered a curse. "I swear, you're a shaman but you've had no magic training? I was forced to learn some when I was a kid."
"What's this all about? Are you a shaman too?" Spirit asked. He was feeling rather out of the loop and he didn't like it. Charlie was a rather patient and understanding person, but he planned to have words with Duke later about this.
Forge muttered under his breath before explaining that he'd been trained as a shaman as a teenager, but had left all that behind him. The mutant apparently no longer practiced any magic or shamanism, at least when he could avoid it.
"Magic runs in most shamanic lines," the mutant inventor began to explain reluctantly. "Fury thought that you might have some latent magic running around inside of you. He and Hawk wanted me to find out if that's true." He paused a moment before continuing. "You're lucky that Fury owes me a favor. I don't want anything to do with magic. I'll test you for it, but that's it."
Spirit felt his heart beat slightly faster. Magic? He'd seen many strange things in his life. He'd had visions that came true, even. But magic? While Charlie believed in things like spirits and was respectful of his people's traditional folklore, magic was stretching even his limits of believability. Of course, he did live in a world where superpowers existed, so maybe magic did exist.
"Put your hand out," Forge ordered again. He seemed very impatient, so Spirit finally complied.
"You could say 'please,' you know," Charlie mildly chided him. He didn't know if it was Forge's personality or his past experience as a sergeant, but the man seemed to like giving orders. Forge, however, blinked a moment before comprehension sunk in.
"Oh," was all he said. "….Please?"
Aaand maybe it was just Forge's apparent lack of people skills. Having worked for years alongside people like Deep Six, Low Light, and Beach Head, Spirit knew not to push the issue and to just accept it. Some people were just naturally dense when it came to social conventions.
And seeing that Forge probably spent more time around machines than people, Spirit could forgive him for his bluntness.
Charlie watched as the other man's hand hovered over his outstretched hand. A warm feeling began to spread over his hand and up his arm. Long experience with unexpected situations prevented him from jumping when a crackle of light began to spark between their hands.
"Is that…" Spirit's question went unasked as he continued to stare their hands. The light grew brighter and began to pulse like a heart. It shimmered blue and then violet before it finally disappeared with a 'poof.'
"That was you," Forge told him. "All I did was nudge and then control it, but that was your magic. You've got a latent ability, all right." Spirit held up his good hand and stared at it. His fingers still tingled from the warm energy that had floated above them. A twinge of excitement shot through him.
Spirit eagerly looked at the other man. He suddenly wanted to learn everything. The soldier had no idea what he was a capable of, but it was certainly things he'd never imagined himself being able to do. Forge, however, gave him a negative shake of his head.
"I'm only a novice when it comes to magic," the other man told him. "And I'm not keen about learning more. If you wish to learn, then I advise seeking instruction from either Shaman of Alpha Flight or Dr. Strange."
"But…" Spirit struggled to not push the issue, especially since the other man seemed adamantly opposed to teaching him. His struggle failed a moment later.
"Can't you at least teach me the basics?" Charlie asked politely. Surely there was no problem with that? Now that he knew magic was real and that he could potentially control it, Spirit didn't want to waste any time.
"I said no," Forge responded sharply. "I promised I'd test you. That's all."
The Cheyenne mutant stalked off back towards the metal building that was currently serving as the Pit. Spirit sighed heavily and followed after the man. He'd only asked a simple question, but yet he'd managed to piss the mutant off. Charlie wondered why magic was such a prickly subject for the other man.
Whatever the reason, Spirit realized that he would have to step lightly around the issue. He was going to be working alongside Forge for the time being. Perhaps after he figured the obstinate man out, perhaps even befriended him, Forge might be willing to teach him something.
Besides, Charlie had no idea who Shaman or Doctor Strange were. Even if he did, it was unlikely that he would be able to take time off from his duties to go train with either of them.
When he arrived back inside, Forge was irritably working away at a machine in the far corner of the building. Spirit wisely ignored the man while he cleaned up his mess tray. He went back outside to help Dusty map out the bits of ground they would begin tunneling into tomorrow.
"Pleasant guy, isn't he?" Dusty asked him, handing him a measuring tape. "What'd he want with you?" Spirit hesitated a moment before explaining everything. Since Duke hadn't seen fit to forewarn him or order him to keep quiet about it, Charlie saw no reason to not tell his teammate. Dusty paused in his work long enough to stare at him.
"Magic?" the desert trooper asked. "So…you're a sorcerer or something?"
"I suppose," Spirit shrugged. "At least I could be. Forge refuses to teach me though."
"His loss," Dusty shrugged. "I think you'd make a great student." He bent down in the sand and pointed towards the northeast. "Here, I'll hold this end. I need you to walk that way with it. We need to mark out the entrance points with tiny flags. We'll replace them with small lights afterwards."
"Why lights?" Spirit asked. His teammate explained that flags would be visible from the air if anyone was spying on them. Tiny lights at least would mark the locations and could be turned off and covered up when not in use. Forge was apparently building a holographic projector to hide their work, but it wouldn't be ready until tomorrow.
Charlie stepped back with the tape measure and helped Dusty to mark out the digging site. It took them nearly two hours, even with Forge's blueprints to guide them, by which time the sun was starting to set in the distance.
"What's he like?" Dusty asked when they were done. He wiped sweat off his brow. "Forge, I mean."
"Somewhere in the Low Light vicinity of communicational ability and the Beach Head level of social ineptness, though not as bad as either of them," Spirit answered dryly. "It's only been a day so far, though. He may surprise us yet."
"Well….the X-Men and Avengers vouch for him," Dusty shrugged. "Hawk wouldn't have hired him if he wasn't a decent guy at heart. It'll probably take time for Forge to warm up to us."
"You're probably right," Spirit admitted. Now finished with the day's work, he and his fellow teammate drank some water and admired the brilliant desert sunset together. Whatever the future held for either of them and the rest of the Joes, they'd already survived up to this point. They could survive whatever else life threw at them.
"Nice sunset, huh?" Dusty asked.
"Yeah."
Elsewhere
"Is this it?" Mr. Sinister looked down at the cryotube. He was currently standing with Dr. Mindbender in one of the latter man's secret storage facilities. Cobra Commander had no idea what was stored here, or even that the two men were here at all.
"Yes," Dr. Mindbender replied. The Cobra scientist bent over and wiped away some of the fog on the glass to reveal the contents inside. Sinister bent his head slightly to examine the genetically engineered corpse of Serpentor. His fingers itched to dissect the body and examine the DNA.
"Good," Sinister replied. "Load up the specimens and all your data. We have much work to do."
Mindbender jumped to obey. The man made a good underling and research assistant. Sinister smiled while the scientist and a few specially chosen Cobra agents prepared the contents of Mindbender's hidden lab for transport. An hour later, he was happily engaged in what he did best. Research.
Dr. Mindbender threw a little fit at first when Sinister began to cut open the corpse. A nudge of the man's mind put him back in his place. The Cobra scientist began to help him with the process without a shred of complaint. Soon, Mindbender was just as eager as he was.
Sinister would spend the next few days examining the results. Nathaniel Essex began to search for a way to incorporate Serpentor's genetic material into his own projects.
Ah…progress.
Author's note: Sorry for the slow updates. My 'real life' has been hectic for the last few months, but it's finally slowing down. Also, Short Fuze's visions contain foreshadowing for both this story and a sequel I hope to do.