(Two)
Hank stood as he was, humming softly to himself as he worked. He had just finished setting poor Warren's broken arm. The guy was still unconscious, making the task all the easier. It had been a bad break, whomever had injured him had clearly been very skilled at what he had done. Fallen didn't have the space for an x-ray machine here on board, but she did have an ultrasound device that was just as helpful in this. At least the setting of the bones had been less of a delicate task than digging the bullets out of Gryphon's back. Hank had also set enough broken bones in his time that he could practically do it in his sleep. Knowing that a surgery might be required once they got back home, Hank used an air cast to hold the shattered bones in place rather than plaster.
That done, Hank moved on to his next task. Along with the evidence collected from the white truck at the train station he had also been given what had been collected from Logan's cabin.
Logan's field reports had been disturbing to read, that much was certain. It had always rankled Hank some that it seemed like Logan was often misused when something a little more dirty was required to solve a particular sticky situation. With such a dire loss of life, part of Hank could understand why it was that such an extreme sanction had been called for in the case of removing the source of the Flush contagion. It was just a shame that it had turned out to be a child being exploited. Nothing burned Hank more than the mistreatment of mutant children. Bullies, the world seemed to be filled with an endless supply of those.
Hank was interested in more than Logan's profanity filled reports. He was now taking a nice long look at the odd medical patches Logan had removed from Marcus. While they were labeled for medical use, Hank didn't recognize the company logo. He had a feeling it was bogus anyways, it wasn't the first time he had run into something like that. Some of the patches had been used, others were still sealed and new. Hank was familiar with this kind of medical patch of course, having prescribed them himself from time to time for diabetes and the like. These new ones were not so obviously marked for their use but guessing by Logan's reports, Hank could surmise their purpose. Even though the Flush wasn't generally fatal to mutants, long term exposure could be a potential hazard and Marcus had had a good number of these patches both on his skin and spares in his pockets. If they had been intended for a more common medical use, they would have been marked as for such with legitimate factory labels.
Hank lamented the fact that while the Lucky Dragon was well stocked, it didn't have as comprehensive a medical lab as he had back home. If indeed these patches could offer some resistance or relief to the Flush, he would very much like to try them on Warren, the man's fever was much too high and not dropping. Hank had resorted to placing several gel ice packs along Gryphon's body to keep it from climbing too high. Hydration and keeping him cool were the most important things, Hank knew. The Flush besides, there was always a danger of infection with the gunshot wounds so he had given the man an anti-biotic as well. But, as tempting as it was, to try something like these patches without being certain of their use was just too risky.
As if taunting Hank, red patches had already begun to form on Warren's pale skin, the sign that this was indeed a Flush infection. Should he dare? Suddenly inspired, he used a syringe to extract some of the material from one of the patches and after placing it on a glass slide, looked at it using a small high powered microscope Fallen was blessed to have here on board. His time spent assisting the CDC with the Flush virus paid off quickly. He recognized what he was looking at was in fact some kind of anti-body. It was too much of a coincidence for it be for anything other than the Flush, Marcus had been so directly exposed to its true source. But was that enough for him to dare using it on Gryfon? What if Marcus was sick with something else? If he was so bold, he would at least have to save one to copy, to possibly reverse engineer for the general public. The world was going to need it if there were more of those dirty bullets out there. It was best to save all the patches, most mutants survived a Flush infection and Gryfon was certainly a mutant. It was the humans Hank was worried about.
The good news was that so far Hank and the others were symptom free. He couldn't impress upon the others enough to report any or all signs that any of them might be getting sick and so far no one had claimed to be feeling off. It hadn't been that long though, Hank knew, and reactions to exposure could vary from mutant to mutant. Some people came down with the disease quickly, others took more time. The team might not even catch it at all, Hank postulated, not if these dirty bullets were localized infecting agents that only struck down the intended victim and not others he came in contact with.
The Lucky Dragon had returned to the train station, wanting to keep an eye on the white truck. Hank could hear Scott issuing orders to someone back home over the line. Scott was trying to get someone local to come and pick up the truck. Hank doubted that there was much risk in anyone following them to the truck becoming infected, the virus wasn't that strong when left exposed on hard surfaces. The extreme cold was also in their favor. The X-men had small branches of helpers around, both mutant and human, for situations like these. Scott wanted the truck for further processing. Someone was answering back that they were only a couple of hours away. Jean could try and telepathically hide the truck from any snooping eyes as best she could, making sure it wasn't towed away in the meantime.
Hank could hear the others getting restless. Bobby's limited attention span was showing itself as he complained, "So what are we doing next? Is this it? Is this all we've got?
"Until we get more info, then, yeah," Scott replied, just as disappointed. It was driving him crazy not having something to do that can move them forward. They had teammates out there who needed their help and his hands were tied.
"I've hacked into the train station's database, but it's really complicated," Seth was lamenting. "These trains go very fast and in more than one direction. We have no idea where they went. I can see on record some classified trains that could signify SHIELD transports but we have no way of knowing if those are the ones we want or not. I mean I can hack into the records, but it will take time. Time we don't have."
"Why would SHIELD want Logan?" Bobby questioned.
"Well, it's not like he and Fury are the best of friends," Scott mused. "But you'd think that if it was Fury who wanted him that badly for something that we'd at least get a call first."
"SHIELD's been wanting a look at our Dragons for a long time now," Seth added carefully, "..but you're right that when it comes to Logan Fury usually at least knocks first before kicking the door in."
"What if someone used one of their trains without knowing it, or hijacked the tag numbers?" Fallen suggested, reaching for anything. "Maybe this isn't even them at all."
"That wouldn't be an easy task," Scott replied, frowning as he rubbed his chin.
"Yes, but who knows? If Seth can hack them, so could someone else."
"True..."
Hank had nothing to add so he went back to work. Once he was sure the Flush was involved, he had sent out an electronic request to Seth for all files the X-men had on the disease. Seth had replied promptly and once Hank had what he needed, he began comparing the samples he had from Gryfon to the ones on record. There were some large pictures of the virus in its various stages in the files and they got Hank to thinking. They now knew that the recent outbreak of the Flush came from Marcus, a member of Jael's old terrorist organization. Jael had once infected the X-men as a warning years ago. Looking at some pictures of slides for comparison, he couldn't help but notice similarities.
Logan's report indicated that the child he had executed had been a ten year old girl. That would make her too young to have been a mutant that had gained her ability at puberty. If Hank's guess was right, she likely had been born with this condition and once he had discovered her, Jael had taken advantage of it. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she was an infant back then, growing stronger as she had aged, and Jael or Marcus had used that to their advantage. The real question was, how long had Jael been in possession of this child? How and when had Marcus come by her? How many of Jael's bases of operation still remained out there that others might be using? It really was a shame Marcus had been taken out, Hank had just too many questions that needed answers. Ones that wouldn't be coming now. Now they would have to find a way to shut this down.
Fallen broke the momentary silence by asking, "Who else besides SHIELD could want Logan picked up?"
Hank couldn't help but rise to that by joking, "Shall I compile a list for you?"
Fallen laughed, "Point taken, but then who could grab both Logan and carry off the Dragon without anyone noticing? Not just anyone can take that ship. Too many safety features were built into it, they'd have to haul it. Only a powerful teleporter or a heavy duty telekine like that Hans Bergman fellow could lift or move that kind of weight. Not to mention the Stark tech bullets Hank found. These guys have to be government or someone with equally deep pockets."
"Sounds more like SHIELD again," Rogue chimed in. "Nobody's got deeper pockets than them."
"That we know about," Hank corrected. "But SHIELD wouldn't dare use someone like Hans Bergman from the Blue Sheets anyhow. Not while they are presumably actively trying to lock him up instead. Not that they are unopposed to borrowing from the criminal element now and again, but he's a whole new kind of freak that they wouldn't touch. If anyone ever found out there could be a huge scandal. This is more likely to be a whole new player."
Hank was distracted when a soft chime alerted him that the first of his blood tests had come in. The blood they had taken from the truck door came back X-gene positive. It could mean that the blood belonged to Gryfon, he of the poor broken nose, but it might also mean that whomever had nabbed their friends might be known mutant terrorists.
Hans Bergman. The fact that they knew of his involvement in this bothered Hank greatly. The truth was that Hans was more likely to work with his own kind rather than normal humans. If he was from the Blue Sheets, the others might be as well. This moved Hank to prepare the samples to be fully DNA tested. He couldn't do it here but once back home he could cross match the sample with the master database he was compiling back home, just as Seth had done with the fingerprints. It wouldn't be quick, DNA seldom was, but it could provide information for later.
Hank, moved by his leader's concern about who might be involved in this, decided to check Warren's poor tattered jacket for more blood. He might get a match from that to those mysterious prints they had collected. They simply had to learn more about who had taken Remy and his crew before it was too late. There was no knowing just what kind of danger they were in.
(break)
Kyle woke with a snort, the shredded remains of a foggy nightmare wisping away from his awareness like a traitorous ghost. He had hardly opened his eyes when the pain slammed him like a sucker punch from an unseen opponent. Unlike Logan who had awakened to find himself given the limited benefit of a metal chair, Kyle had no such pleasure. Instead he had been set on his knees on a cold cement floor, his arms held out tightly to either side by strong metal chains with cuffs around his wrists. Those chains were connected to cinderblock frames on either side of him just for that purpose. This odd position not only held him mostly upright, but also removed from him the option of changing position to relieve his stiff, aching muscles. His body had been stripped down naked and the cold cement floor dug into his bare skin. He wasn't normally so sensitive to temperatures, but the pain was making it hard to ignore the full gamut of misery he was currently suffering. This situation had been designed for maximum cruelty and he was feeling every bit of it. His shoulders, lower back, and knees were one huge ugly ache.
It was startling this pain, it had been a while since he had been abused by anyone on this scale. Pain had been a constant friend along the long winding path of his life, but the better living conditions at the Complex had allowed him to grow soft, he was thinking now. He should have known that the good times weren't going to last.
The pain made his stomach clench and he retched, instigating a trembling in his limbs that rattled the chains that held him. It had been hours since his meager breakfast and he had little to come up now except foul tasting bile and spit. Whatever chemicals his captors had been giving him to weaken him were still present and keeping him ill, though he could sense they were fading as his body was trying its dutiful best to deal with them. His face and hair were still matted and crusted with blood from his earlier fight in the woods. They had stripped him down, but hadn't done much to clean him up. This was not shaping up to be one of his better days.
The room he was in was rank with multiple layers of fear and old blood that had nothing to do with what was still fouling his face. He wasn't the only one to suffer here and likely wouldn't be the last. It seemed like the bad guys never got what they deserved, at least not the ones that Kyle had had the displeasure of meeting. Justice was as fleeting as kindness in this world.
In the past, Kyle's first response to trouble like this would be to try and fight against his bonds to see if he could break free. He knew there was no point in doing this now and so he closed his eyes and tried to relax, to quiet his troubled mind and simply endure. Remy had taught him the value of remaining calm in tense situations and he was doing his best to remember those lessons. If he was patient an opportunity for escape might present itself to him. He even allowed himself to possess a feeble hope that this might not even be as bad as his rather vivid imagination might first think. When he had initially been taken years ago by the terrorist Jael, it had been like this at the start with the restraints and pain, but then once Jael had found a proper use for him – the cannabilistic consumption of his enemies — it actually hadn't been all that bad. Plenty of food then for poor Kyle, oh yes. Captivity can have its perks, if you can look at things from a certain perspective.
Kyle could adapt to most situations, he was if anything, a survivor. He could have no real expectation that the others from his team would even bother to come and look for him. Judging by how most of them regarded him he figured they were likely saying "good riddance to bad trash". Time now to simply wait and see what fate had in store for him this time and hopefully find a way to just roll with it until he could discover some means of escape. Round ten of the same old shit. He closed his eyes and relaxed, steadying his breathing, and actually felt the worst of the pain partially subside.
A few moments later he was startled out of his revere when the door to his cell abruptly opened. He jerked in surprise and the motion caused a new explosion of new pain to rip through his already agonized body. Sparkling bits of shivery pain raced riot over his neck and shoulders and creeped down his back like an unwanted lover. He couldn't stop from choking on a traitorous cry of misery. Damn his pathetic weakness!
With his head down now and his eyes filling with blurry tears of agony and frustration, Kyle could just make out the legs of two men approaching him. He had visitors. He might not be able to see so well at the moment but his sense of smell was working just fine. Daken's scent was familiar from the fight in the forest and not much of a surprise but the other person was a stranger. Not that there wasn't something familiar about him. Kyle didn't think that this was someone that he had actually met before, but it was likely that this guy was related to someone he already knew. Sometimes a smell could come that way, associations and connections by blood. These two men not only smelled similar to each other, they smelled like Logan and well, a little like Sabretooth, too. This wasn't good. That little family gave 'dysfunctional' a whole new meaning.
"At last," Romulus said in greeting. "We finally meet in person. And I've heard so much about you."
The contempt and derision was obvious in the man's voice. Just like Sabretooth. So very arrogant, the dominance taken for granted. Kyle had been around enough to know that some men just have that sound. These were in charge guys and not just simple guards or middlemen.
Even so, Kyle could care less about these men and their cruelty. They would get no respect from him, that would have to be earned. Kyle didn't speak his reply but dared to show a bit of fang as he gave them a low hiss of his own displeasure. He wasn't stupid, he would not outright provoke, but he could show he wasn't going to just roll over for them and show his belly, restraints or not. The fact that he was being held like this left little doubt that he was likely to die here anyhow and in a most unpleasant way. It would make no difference if he didn't exactly comply or cower.
"How sweet," Daken teased, smiling at Romulus with real amusement. "He has little fear, the poor thing. But we know better, don't we?"
Romulus just grunted in response, he was still looking Kyle over with real interest as he continued to address his prisoner. "Yes, we know quite a lot about you, you see. This is not the first time you and I have crossed paths though I doubt you would remember it. I once oversaw many of the experiments that you took part in years ago in the Weapon X program and I've read your files then and since. You were never born a mutant were you? And what a very interesting DNA profile you now have, a gift from your betters. We'll be giving that a test to see just how Lupine you really are."
"But first things first," Daken interrupted. "I have a promise to keep."
Romulus nodded his consent and Daken came forward and stooped down near to Kyle so that he could begin to set up what looked like a microphone on a stand. It didn't ease Kyle's anxiety any - an audience, seen or unseen, always made things worse. The nearness of the man's meaty shoulder, though, was a temptation too juicy to ignore and he lunged at Daken with a sharp snap of his teeth. He grabbed only empty air however, Daken was much too clever to be taken by surprise like that.
"You never give up," Daken teased now from just out of reach. Kyle really hadn't had a chance and Daken knew it. Still, he praised, "I love that about you," just before slamming his elbow into poor Kyle's face in retaliation, breaking his nose.
Kyle shouted a string of rough curses as renewed agony exploded over his entire body. It wasn't just the blow to his face, it was the fact that his joints had been given no mercy in his restraints. The cascade effect of the movement of his body was like shattering a figure made of glass. He felt broken everywhere.
"That is a fine song you sing," Romulus commented. "Something I can't wait for your friends to hear."
"And heard it they did," Daken replied, having clicked on the mike before Kyle's short tirade had begun to fade.
Romulus grinned at that, pleased. He announced loudly, making sure the microphone caught his words, "I understand there was some trouble on the train ride in. Such things cannot go unpunished. Hear now, my dear friends, what your disobedience has wrought."
(break)
A short distance away Remy was also on his knees, albeit his arms mercifully free of chains, his head down as he took a breather, trying to think. He was exhausted now, tired from dealing with his complicated pair of Siskans and it had made his mind momentarily wander. Like he had trained the kids, he had taken a second to collect himself and focus on what was most important. He had to get back home, back home to Molly. His mind had flashed on just how wonderful she had felt in his arms and how sweet was her kiss just that morning. He could visualize her shine, how sparkly and bright it was.
Bright, yes.
Had it been brighter than when he saw her last? Yes, he thought it was so and it made him smile, all of his current worries vanishing for just a second or two as he was overcome with momentary bliss. He had seen it that way before, so he had. Last year when they had first discovered she was pregnant. They had recently been trying again – they were both on the same page about having a large family – and now it seemed their latest attempt had been successful. It had taken her so long to get pregnant the first time, now it seemed she was capable of doing that with little difficulty. He had to get back home. His dream on the train had been no coincidence, he knew that now. His subconscious mind had discerned what the change in her shine had meant even if his waking mind had been a little slow on the uptake. Being drugged and kidnapped will do that to a guy.
Well, if he as gong to pull off that minor miracle, it was time to get this moving.
Remy snapped his fingers at Dewy. "You bring Jones wit you?"
Jones was Dewy's pet rat and the pair were inseparable. Since Dewy's mutation allowed him to possess the minds of animals the rat itself could be of some advantage. Jones could go where big clumsy humans could not. Dewy most often carried Jones in his Away Pack, a pack that was now missing. All of the team's packs had been confiscated and stored who knows where in this building.
Dewy squinted, concentrating as he used his powers to reach out to any animal in the vicinity, and then frowned. His voice was soft and purposeful as he answered, "I brought him but he's not in here in the cell with us. He's close though, with the Two of Spades I think."
Remy nodded, pleased that Dewy had remembered to speak in code. His words had meant that Jones was with Tink and since both were not here, they might be their ace in the hole. The pair were easy to overlook, the rat and the tiny girl, even easier to underestimate. All good for a Thief always willing to gamble.
"Give 'em a look, neh?"
"You know my range isn't that far, maybe only forty feet. I can't See farther than that."
"Try."
Dewy squinted and concentrated but at that moment, there came a crackling from overhead. Loudspeakers had come on, followed by the sounds only pure agony could provide. At first Remy feared that even their quick coded conversation had been overheard and understood, but then he realized that what they were about to hear was no warning to behave, but something much worse. He recognized the shout as Kyle's.
"Merde..!" Remy hissed in spite of himself, involuntarily gripping Julien that much closer. There was no mistaking the opening salvo of a torture session that was sure to horrify.
"Who was that?" Trigger asked, his eyes darting everywhere as if he could locate the source of the sound, or even better, find a way out of this place.
"Zat wasz Kyle," Aiden answered for them all, his eyes as low as his voice.
(break)
Romulus looked down on poor Kyle like he was some kind of insect or at best, a very interesting science project. The boy had stopped cursing and was now panting heavily, his body already slick with sweat and they had hardly begun yet.
"Mrr! They...won't care... what you do to me. Mrr! Never gave one shit.. about me!" Kyle grumbled, believing every word. He might be a member of the makeshift Red Team that Remy had assembled, but because of his terrible past he would always be last in line. He wanted so much more than that but was all too familiar with his real status in the world. Last in line, last in rank, last in all things. It was all he would ever be. At least with Remy he had been treated with real respect in spite of his being on the outside. The Thief had never laid a hand on him in punishment, not even when he needed correction, and it was what kept him trying. In spite of what he knew the others thought of him, he would die for them if he thought it would make a difference, he had gained that much honor in these past weeks. Sadly though, it didn't look like he was going to get that chance.
Romulus nodded, hearing the honesty in the tone of Kyle's voice. Still he said, "We'll just see about that. Sometimes just because you think a thing doesn't make it true. They certainly wouldn't have taken you along if they had thought your being here had no merit."
Kyle grinned without humor, showing bloodied teeth as he changed tack. "Mrr! Heh, nothing you can do me.. Mrr! ..hasn't already... been done before."
"Now, that is probably true," Romulus agreed in an eerily creepy fatherly tone, something tinged with what sounded like true regret. He proved it false as he added, "But it will still hurt nonetheless."
Romulus moved to a small table against the wall and lay down a black cloth roll he had brought in with him. It opened with the clink of metal implements and pain, objects that Romulus revealed to his captive with unconcealed delight. Most of them were sharp, ceramic knives of various sizes and made of the highest quality. While they looked well cared for, they also looked a little too well used for Kyle's liking. What was worse than all that of course was a large, commercial sized can of Lysol disinfectant air freshener spray and an expensive metal cigarette lighter that had been included in this toolkit for the playfully sadistic. Kyle somehow doubted the can was there to brighten the smell of the room – with its high alcohol content, the spray was highly flammable and the one thing that most healers struggled to recover from easily was burns. They hurt worse than anything and took the longest to heal. There comes a moment in a person's life when they know they are good and well severely fucked. Kyle's came when he saw what Romulus had laid out for him. He couldn't stop his heart rate from jumping. This was going to be bad. Well, wasn't it always? Same shit, different day. Whatever.
Kyle closed his eyes, just wanting this over with. As before on the train, he once again used Remy's advice on how to survive capture and torture and thought of the one good thing he'd had in his life. Her, her lovely face. The one he now loved. Real or not, the thought of her lovely golden eyes brought him peace.
Romulus grunted in amusement as he watched this, hearing both the sudden uptick in the boy's heart rate at the sight of his tools and then his attempt to calm it. He had been told this boy was hopelessly violent and that he would be more likely to try and fight his way out of this, not just take it like a trooper. It didn't thwart Romulus' plans any, he was much too wise. The calm wouldn't last - it never did, not when he got to work anyhow.
Romulus' fingers playfully brushed over the can of Lysol spray and the lighter, flirty with anticipation of playtime. His voice was conversational and light even as he discussed the cruelties to come, his idea of foreplay. "You'd be surprised what people think when they see others in pain, especially those they may have mistreated or misjudged in the past. It brings out all their guilt. At least in those capable of feeling it."
Kyle ignored the man, uninterested in what he had to say. He had received too little sympathy to believe any of it. He knew the words had been spoken not for him but to the ones listening, all the better to teach the desired lesson and intimidate. He kept his eyes closed and focused on his dream. His peace, however, wasn't going to last.
"Let's take a look now," Romulus said, beginning this, and Daken complied.
Daken moved behind Kyle where those nice sharp teeth could not reach and crouched down, his front to Kyle's back. He brought his arms up around Kyle's shoulders and clasped his hands behind Kyle's neck, taking him in an upper body lock. Daken might have been slight of build, but he was quite powerful and had full control. This position allowed Romulus to safely crouch before the boy and spread his lips back just like you would a dog, getting a nice long peek at Kyle's teeth.
Daken thought he might have to force Kyle's compliance in this through the use of his pheromones, much like he had done to poor Warren in order to kill his urge to fight, but oddly Kyle simply calmed himself and waited. The heat of Kyle's body betrayed his anxiety, but he wasn't fighting this, not yet. The boy had been tortured before, this Daken knew, so the calm wasn't from a lack of knowledge of what was to come, only from a state of readiness. Readiness that could fail at any time. He didn't trust Kyle not to do something wild once his Master got down to business, he wasn't so stupid as to let his guard down.
Kyle so didn't want to do this, it was sure to be awful. He desperately desired to try and to throw Daken off but with all the restraints - metal, brick and human flesh – knew it would be of no use. He steadied himself instead, fighting to keep his focus – her beautiful eyes, so extraordinary. Her sweet smell. He had never smelt anyone so wonderful. She was vanilla, peaches and cream, favorites from a shampoo she frequently used once she realized how much he liked it. With her in his mind he could do this well, go out with some semblance of dignity. It was helpful that even though Daken was positioning him for the great and terrible whatever, the man's touch was oddly gentle. No matter what Romulus might promise, Kyle had no doubt this session would end in his severe mutilation if not his own death.
Kyle offered no resistance to Romulus' violation of his personhood, his eyes glassy now and uncaring. It was a most perplexing response and the surprise of it came out in Romulus' voice even as he proclaimed with some admiration, "You have a very nice set of canines there, quite elongated and lovely. You pass stage one."
"He has claws on both his hands and feet," Daken added, releasing Kyle once his master had finished looking at his mouth and moved back. He fully expected Kyle to lunge for him again, but instead the boy merely shook himself a bit, as if to get the taste of Daken off of his skin, but not to escape in any way. Daken, as perplexed as his Master, continued to be helpful in the exam by adding, "I can personally vouch for his healing factor, I shot him twice in the face at point blank range. Later he took two Flush rounds and yet here he sits, still with us."
"Hmm..." Romulus mused as he returned to his tools. He couldn't stop looking at Kyle, at the boy's maddening calm. "That makes him stage five at least. Of course, only a decent burn test will tell us for certain."
He was speaking back to Kyle now as he said, "I've wanted this look at you for a long time. I've wanted to see what those mad scientists had wrought out of simple human clay. The Weapon X scientists in their astonishing hubris were always trying to recreate our perfection. See now, they took a pathetic human street whore and advanced you much further along the food chain. Gave you privilege and power. Of course, their more recent attempts to replicate us have been more promising than your outdated, pitiful result. Still, you could possibly be included amongst our ranks."
Kyle heard little of it, everything had gone a little fuzzy and glowy. He remembered little of the original experimentation that had been done on him all those years ago and that was fine with him. What he did recall was dark, ugly and filled with unspeakable horrors. He had a good excuse not to want to wander too far down memory lane, all this moving around had caused enough constant and searing pain in his back and arms that he was shaking now, his body slipping into shock. He knew this sensation well and welcomed the numbness that was sure to come when these guys really got down to business. The dream of his love was still holding, though, no amount of pain was going to shake her from his mind. Of that he vowed.
"Tell me," Romulus inquired in a voice that said he pretty much knew the answer to his question anyway. "Your file says that you were chemically altered using a serum made of the blended DNA from both Mr. Logan and Mr. Creed. That would in fact, make you something of their son. I'd love to know, do they ever treat you as such?"
Kyle declined to answer. Truth was that while Sabretooth never so much as acknowledged that bloody familial connection, Logan had once not all that long ago. They had called a truce then and no longer warred against each other, though the trust had never been fully restored. Kyle was still much too wild to be let off the short leash.
"Of course something here doesn't quite match your current file," Romulus continued, not really caring that Kyle had kept his silence. "Your legs are no longer straight like a man's. Your face has a more pronounced snout than before as well. It seems that what we've been told was true. Something was done to you even after Weapon X released you."
Kyle didn't dignify that with a response, he simply kept his silence, not giving them anything.
"Tell me, boy," Romulus demanded, addressing his captive, "Who is Skye? I think the rumors about him must be true. "
The unexpected question shocked Kyle from his dream state and he growled, "Mrr! Fuck you!" before he could stop himself. Physical pain he could deal with, he had endured it his whole stupid and useless life, but this? This was too unfair. Regretful of his outburst, he choked down any more words that might follow and turned his head away, feebly grasping once more for her face, her scent. But here there was just too much raw emotion that he had never fully dealt with. Too much unresolved pain.
Romulus just smiled his toothy, malevolent grin. He had finally elicited a response from the kid, one he could use. How nice. "Well, now we have your full attention, don't we? So, we can do this easy or we can do this the hard way, something Daken here would enjoy far too much. Again, who is Skye?"
(break)
"Merde!" Remy hissed low at the question, upset more by the fact that Romulus knew about Skye than the question itself. Just how much did this Romulus asshole know about the goings on at the Complex? Who had infiltrated them? It had to be a spy who was working there, there was no other way, right? This was bad on more levels than the poor Thief could count.
"Who the hell is Skye?"
Remy blinked and looked impatiently at Herc who had cautiously whispered the question. Hercules had seen the look of shock and concern on Remy's face at the name and it had frightened him. It wasn't like their leader to give so much away.
Hercules wasn't the only one concerned about what was going on. The other boys had started to wake and were distressed by the horrible noise that had been broadcasted so carelessly. Dewy was retching as usual and Trigger wasn't looking so good. Trueblood though, had already heard more than he cared to and had turned his head away. Hercules however, was still impatiently waiting for whatever wisdom Remy might pass along to help make any of this make sense.
Gambit wasn't sure if he should answer the boy or not seeing as how not only was anything he said likely to be overheard by spies, but that this was also a very sensitive matter. There were things the kids were not allowed to know about each other, private things locked away in confidential files. Not everything was laid out on the table for just anyone to read and this was one of them.
Who was Skye? That was a complicated question if ever there was one. Skye, a renegade Siskan with some very serious mental issues, had indeed healed Kyle in much the same manner that Hank's Star could heal others. The healing had been effective, but it was the manner in which it was done that was the real issue with Remy's concern for privacy. Unlike Star who was passive and kind, Skye had taken Kyle as his slave and pretty much sexually demeaned the boy even as he helped him to recover his feral powers. The return of the healing had come with unexpected complications – the healing had triggered a secondary mutation and Kyle's body had changed, altering the shape of his legs and face, making him appear to be even more of an animal than he had been before. It hadn't been done out of love or kindness, Skye had simply found someone he could exploit and use and had done so. It hadn't been a healthy relationship. So cruel it was that this was being dug up again now for all to hear. Gambit didn't know what he could possibly say to explain any of it.
That was okay. Before Remy could compose his thoughts enough for a decent reply, the question was answered for them all by someone else.