So yeah. I'm back. Yay! Really sorry it took so long. I've been writing as much as I can but being back in school and all, I've had hardly any time. It doesn't help that I have really important exams at the end of the year either. So, keeping that in mind, I'm going to have to write in the small pockets of time I get between studying and school.
I want to thank everyone who reviewed and sent me private messages. I really appreciate them and they really gave me the motivation to write this chapter. Speaking of which, this chapter is on the short side. I was going to write one big long chapter, but then I decided to split it into two slightly smaller ones. This way, at least, you won't all think I've given up on the story. :)
Well I think I've spoken enough, so enjoy the chapter!
The sound of the chopper's rotors whipping through the cold, high altitude air hazed Logan in and out of his half-conscious slumber. The dull thump, thump, thump of the revolving metal propellers sounded like a bird's wing beating the air beside his eardrums. Yet the gentle humming of the flying machine's engine reminded him of how inorganic and unnatural the sound actually was. It reminded him once more of the farce of human flight that he had yet again been forced to endure.
Logan was suffering from a very pointless, time-consuming struggle within himself. He was unwilling to crack open his eyes and finally rid himself of the enslaving fatigue that held his consciousness captive behind his eyelids. Yet he no longer wanted to be so shrouded in such a controlling element, and he disliked the vulnerability attached to it.
Finally, Logan rolled his eyes beneath their lids and opened them to look around. He brought his hands up and rubbed the burning sensation away from his retinas. Studying his surroundings, the mutant noticed—without much surprise—that he was still in the helicopter, on his way with the rest of the group to some secret mission. The powerful Colonel Stryker had recruited him and Victor about five months previously. At the time, the possibility of getting out of that damn rat infested prison had been a sweet deal. Moreover, the prospect of doing something worthwhile with their abilities, made Victor's heart practically stop with irrational eagerness. Back then, Logan had been unsure how to react to such a proposition; it seemed too good to be true. And Logan knew that if something seemed that way, it probably was. He had known and experienced enough incidents to back up his theory time after time.
But even though he was suspicious, Logan knew the only way of them ever getting out of their personal death row, was to go willingly with the mysterious Stryker. And if the man's intentions were less than patriotic, then surely they'd get out of that situation as well.
Thankfully, they didn't have to worry about knocking Stryker over the head and legging it down the road. Instead they arrived safe and sound in their new living quarters. There were problems—minor ones—like the problem of having to be in constant close contact with five other mutants…but Logan could learn to deal with that. Victor had a slightly harder time, especially when their new acquaintance Wade Wilson would sing in the shower every morning at dawn from the next room. But, as Logan had to remind his brother, at least they weren't sharing the same room with the man who didn't seem to value his life—or at least vocal cords.
Logan had to admit though, in his darker hours, Wade was not always the easiest person to get on with. He would talk about anything, everything, nothing and then something else. If he ran out of things to say, he resorted to discussing personal flaws with each of the others in the team. John Wraith dealt with this annoying habit the easiest, always nodding and allowing Wade to continue until he went too far. At that point, Wraith would just teleport over to the swordsman and sock him one in the stomach before returning happily to his seat. But that was a rare occurrence. Rare, and beautiful, according to Victor.
Despite that, and other small bumps in the road, all in all, the two brothers had settled quite happily into their new role as members of a team. Logan was glad, he supposed, but he couldn't help but wonder how long they would be staying. He knew there wasn't much point in making best buddies with anyone, since they'd be going soon, but he'd found himself enjoying the easy company of John Wraith. The quiet mutant wasn't all that aggressive, he didn't take any particular joy in killing things, and he wasn't always threatening to rip out Wade Wilson's throat out. They didn't talk all that much, but there was a certain ease between them. Which in Logan's mind was just as good as the camaraderie Stryker always said they should all feel, being members of the same team. Logan was sure not to mess that relationship up, and he forcibly commanded Victor to stay away from him if he couldn't treat Wraith with—at the very least—polite indifference. Upon being asked why Logan was so definite about this, he refused to answer his brother. But the reason was simple; if there was at least one person that could tolerate, or maybe, God forbid, even like him then maybe if things ever went bad, they might make it out. Well, of course they'd make it out, but he wasn't sure he wanted to spend his time in some mutant-poof cell while they figured out how to kill him. No. Wraith would be his trump card, if he ever needed one.
Logan's thoughts were interrupted by Styker's commanding voice as his figure appeared from the cockpit where his little dog Nord was flying the machine.
"We're getting ready to descend. Look sharp. Once you step foot on those grounds you are on in a war zone. D'you hear?"
"Right boss," Wade said quickly with a rapid succession of nods, "Of course, war zone, I get it, fierce-like. Bodies, explosions, decapitation. Got it." He saluted quickly with a charming grin.
Stryker ignored it and merely addressed his words. "Not quite, Wilson, it's a war zone, but we're not in it. Officially, no American will set foot on this soil during the current…conflict. This is strictly a stealth mission. We go in. Get what we need. Then go out, got it?"
Wade Wilson nodded furiously, sheathing his swords as he did.
The colonel wasn't convinced. He scowled. "I'm serious Wilson, if we're found to be here we'll have more than just angry locals to worry about. You'll all be put into the darkest, most obscure prison where they'll poke and prod you until you die in some lab test."
Wade blinked. "Aw, sir, I didn't know you cared; I'm touched."
"Shut. Up. Wilson." Victor growled under his breath in barely contained frustration. Logan gave him a warning look which, when the helicopter shuddered in the sky, turned into one of well-hidden panic and fear.
"Victor, leave 'im, it ain't worth it." Logan said in a weak voice as he shook his head and took a deep breath.
"Yeah Victor, you heard him, good boy." Wilson said with a delighted smirk.
Victor sneered, his nails lengthened involuntary. He leaned forward, looking as if he was going to pummel the swordsman. But after a length, the tension in his muscles eased and he sat back, his nails retreating back into his cuticles. He shrugged.
"Yer nothin' I can't handle, Wilson." Victor told him, and then stopped. "But I ain't gonna be goaded into anythin'."
"That's enough you two, we're descending now, so keep your heads about you."
After that there were no more words as the helicopter lost altitude and hovered just above the ground. Team X was seen for a split second, jumping out of the chopper before disappearing into the thick, endless Peruvian rainforest.
Victor and Logan ran off in one direction, while the others went the way they were supposed to. In their ears, the voice of Colonel Styker told them that they were to head up the mountains, to the lost city of Machu Pichu. From there, they would receive further instruction.
Behind them, they could just about hear the thump of the helicopter's rotors as it glided away from the drop-off point.
"Just like old times, eh Jimmy?" Victor said beside him as they ran, dodging branches and rocks easily.
Logan nodded his head and grunted. "Just like old times." He agreed.
They covered distance at an impressive rate, but slowed down once the earpieces connected to their radios fizzled and cracked with white noise before the voice of John Wraith was suddenly clear.
"They've got guerrillas all over this place. It's gonna but impossible for me to get by here any time soon, even with my teleporting. I'll have to go slow."
"Same here, boss. I think the whole population of Peru is around here. I'm stuck." Wade said in a quiet murmur, proving the validity of his statement.
"Okay then, teams two and four, it's up to you."
"There's a few problems on our front, too, colonel." The voice of Dukes announced, accompanied with Bradley's quiet murmur.
Stryker sighed with frustration. "Fine." He ground out, "That leaves you, Victor, Logan. Get to that damn city before it's ransacked by guerrillas."
"Copy that." Victor said before turning off the radio and looking over to Logan. "Looks like it's just you an' me, little brother."
Logan grunted and nodded his head. "Looks like it." He agreed.
Victor licked his fangs in thought for a brief moment. His lips lifted to a slight smirk and he looked sideways to his brother with a mischievous air.
"I'll race ya'"
Logan raised a brow high. "What's the prize?"
"Loser buys the drinks for a whole night." He told Logan, as if there had ever been any other prize.
Victor's little brother sighed and shook his head. "Why do we always gotta race?" He asked with exasperation.
Victor scratched the back of his head, looking to Logan with a confused frown. He searched for the words. "Why? 'cause it… well…" Victor looked back in the direction that they had come from. He heard a sudden sound coming from where he had just looked away. He snapped his head back to where Logan was—only to find that his baby brother was missing. From the corner of his eye, he saw Logan's wife beater vest and arms pumping away from him. The sharp glint of light indicated that he had his claws out and was ready for a fight.
Victor grinned. "Oh little brother; yer gonna regret that." He laughed as he lengthened his own weapons and went to catch up with the retreating form of the mutant in front.
---
They broke out of the confines of the rainforest as they finally scrambled to the top of the mountain where the lost city, Machu Pichu lay in ruins. Simultaneously, the two mutants declared themselves the winner as they reached the city neck in neck. With their reintroduction to the world, to the sky and the memory of civilisation, Logan looked to the sky, not caring if he hadn't won. Not caring if Victor would say that he lost the bet and that he'd have to buy the drinks. He breathed deeply, his dark eyes enjoying the scene of the thousands of glistening constellations while his lungs were thankful for absence of humidity.
"You listenin' to me or not?" Victor asked with a scowl, ripping Logan's peaceful moment right through the middle.
Logan looked at him. "Nah." He said with a shrug, moving away from Victor and further into the site.
Victor watched him wordlessly, wondering how his baby brother's head worked sometimes.
The city wasn't all that large, though it was very impressive for something made thousands of years ago. Logan wandered through it; he couldn't imagine what he was supposed to be doing here. As soon as Victor stopped staring at his back, he'd turn his radio on and get in contact with Stryker. From there, the colonel would give further details to them, outlining what the real reason for their being here was. In the meantime, Logan would continue to wander.
He heard Victor's voice in the background, as he grunted and drew his nails across a large, prehistoric brick.
"Sure thing. Over." Victor said into his radio. "Yo, Jimmy, you see any secret entrances? There's supposed to be some sort of temple under the city or somethin'."
"I don't see anythin' but it wouldn't be secret if it wasn't hidden." He replied.
Victor grunted and started searching.
It took a few minutes before Logan stumbled upon anything out of the ordinary. He hadn't been looking to the ground while walking around and had failed to see the well-covered hole in the earth. The soil beneath his foot was suddenly non-existent and he fell, managing to fall backwards and landing on the edge of the man-made hole. The coverings fell away with the disruption and Logan took a moment to get off his butt before looking down into it.
"Oh Jesus…" He muttered through an involuntary swallow. "Aw, hell…"
He wanted to step back, to look away—hell he wanted to not have seen that at all. But it was too late. He'd be dreaming about this tonight.
"What's this?" Victor asked, coming up behind the frozen figure of his brother. "Eww, gross." He said as if he hadn't felt a slightly uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Logan could only nod his head slightly—dumbly—without looking away. "It seems the guerrillas were already here." He said quietly.
Down in the hole, the deep, wide, recently dug, hole was one of the most stomach clenching sights he had ever seen. There were some men, but the majority of the bodies were women and children. Corpses, bodies, people. Once. They were dead now. God, they weren't just dead. Slaughtered, brutally, with rusty blades and blunt bullets. The innocence of women and children cruelly blown away like a semtex bomb under a car. Arms and legs were either intertwined with others, or were missing their bodies. Clothes were there only by luck, or rather by chance, because nothing could be seen as lucky in this case. A little girl, whose long hair haloed her face, was staring up towards the skies, not seeing the constellations Logan had admired just minutes ago. Stars meant nothing to glassy eyes. To the little girl who had lived, who had meant something to someone. Or the boy who stared at her, but didn't know he was, that he would continue to do so until the native birds would come down and pluck out his eyes. And the woman who died—shot in the head—with the body of a baby in her arms? She would stay stuck in the parody of protection until the wild beasts ventured up this far and tore the kid from her arms, as the guerrillas could not.
"Shit." Logan gasped as he turned and violently retched on the ground. Whether it was from shock, disgust or the final straw to his sensitive stomach from the flight, he wasn't sure. But it seemed so trivial to even bother considering it. Yet he couldn't help it, his mind grasped for something to cling onto—to distract it.
"It's war Jimmy." Victor said, as if it explained and exonerated everything.
Logan couldn't answer as he retched again, leaving nothing in his stomach. He looked up from his misery, seeing a raven with sleek feathers regarding him with interested eyes.
He knew what it had come for.
The thought made him queasy. His mind's eye ran rampant. He could see the decay, the flesh being ripped from that little girls cheeks by birds, the clothes slowly disintegrating until all that was left were bones and threads, then dust. Then nothing. Until all traces of these people were gone. The music they had loved, the joys they had shared. Vanished, nothing. Only the silence of the eternal Peruvian rainforest, the thoughtful gaze of the ravens, and the memory of a feast.
The raven in front of him twitched its head arbitrarily before hopping towards the newly discovered massacre. Logan snarled in rage. Without realising it, he released his claws and swiped at the bird, getting ready to kill it—to destroy it. Luckily for the bird, with a flap of its wings it withdrew back just enough before Logan could gut it. The bird gave an angry, insulted caw and retreated into the night skies. Logan watched it flee, turning its head back to see if it was being followed before it disappeared in a current of air and glided to find a less troublesome meal. For now.
"It's war, Jimmy." Victor repeated.
Logan was too distracted with his now dry heaves to notice the sorrow in his brother's voice. Even if he had, he would have assumed it was for the people in their mass grave. Had he made that assumption, he would have been wrong.
Victor was by no means happy with what had happened here, but he knew people died every day—this was nothing new. So it was not the people he mourned for, but for Logan, for the little bit of peace that his brother would no longer have. Sometimes Victor wished that Logan had a poor memory, or amnesia or something. Sometimes, he felt like praying for it. But then, what god would answer? Victor sighed. It was getting late; they had to hurry up. Stryker told him that they were looking for some weird hunk of metal. Something called adamantium. It was, apparently, very rare and very important. Victor didn't know what the hell they were doing in Peru. Surely Stryker could have hired one of the locals to look for it but when he had suggested that, the colonel had said it wasn't an option. It pissed Victor off that he was being made into a good little messenger boy, bringing post to and from people. Victor glanced around the ruins. There was no temple here. Stryker had just wasted their time. Not to mention he had given Logan more nightmares.
Victor rubbed his face with sudden fatigue. "Ah, screw it." He said into the air, meaning for his brother to hear, but knowing he wouldn't respond. "There ain't nothin' here. Just creepy birds. C'mon Jimmy, let's get back. I'll tell Stryker we didn't find nothin'. Far as I'm concerned, it was a false lead."
Logan's body had finished its heaving and he was now gaining his breath back. Victor stood protectively over him as he did. He was still his brother, he had still promised to protect him. In that moment, the only things that could get past Victor's impenetrable barrier were Logan's own demons. The one thing Victor was utterly powerless against.
Eventually the younger mutant nodded and got to his feet. He grimaced at the sudden change in his blood pressure and swayed slightly before steadying himself. Victor gave him a pat on the back and steered him away from the pit.
"I could really do with a strong drink right now." Victor said as they left the lost city and began to descend back down.
"You an' me both." Logan agreed.
"When we get back, I'm findin' the first bar and gettin' plastered off my face."
Logan looked sideways; his eyes were bloodshot from getting sick so much. They'd be fine soon, but for now they made him look awful. "I ain't buyin'." He joked weakly in an attempt to keep the conversation going, eliminating the horror of his own thoughts.
"This time it's on me." Victor said after a moment of careful consideration.
It was perhaps the only good news Logan had heard since they first got on that damn chopper. He looked at his older brother with a sincere expression of gratitude. Victor didn't say anything, but he was glad none the less.
When they got to the pick-up area, the others had already arrived. Stryker hadn't been happy when Victor had told him the unfortunate news, but he wasn't too devastated, mumbling something about another possible site in Africa. The flight back was long and awkward. Even Wade had realised something had happened and managed to have enough survival instincts to know that so much as a passing comment to either brother would kill him. In the dull hum of the chopper's engine, Logan was lulled into an exhausted half-slumber. He let out a long, weary sigh—something he hadn't realised he did. He rested his head back on the wall of his metal container and scrunched his eyes shut, trying to ignore the slideshow that was waiting for him behind his lids. Softly, quietly, Logan heard something which could have been in his mind, had he not felt Victor lean in closer to him or feel his brother's breath on his ear.
"It's war, Jimmy."
He knew that. Of course he did.
Logan hated war.
--
Logan was sitting down at the small table in the kitchen of the log cabin when Victor came in that morning. The breakfast that he had decided to prepare was burning and the older mutant had to rush to salvage the remains. Logan barely noticed, spaced out at the table, his eyes glazed with that weepy look that Victor hadn't seen in so many years. It was the look Logan would have when he was kept awake by nightmares of the horrors passed.
"You sleep well?" Victor asked the other mutant, grabbing two plates and putting the charred food onto them. He turned around and held it out to Logan.
Logan's eyes regained their brightness, being released from his thoughts by Victor. He shook his head after a moment, answering the question as if he had only just heard it. "Not really." He admitted, "A lot of stuff was on my mind." He took the plate and looked down at the unappetising food on the plate. "Sorry." He muttered gruffly.
Victor shrugged and didn't say anything about the food. He'd eat pretty much everything. Instead, he addressed something that had been bothering him all night.
"I thought you left." He tried to sound nonchalant, uncaring. Maybe it had worked, but whether it did or not, his little brother's face gave away nothing.
"I did for a while. I needed to think, to get somethin' straight." Logan left out the fact that he had howled at the moon, mourning Kayla Silverfox. He didn't think to add, either, that there was now a rock face in the mountains that was dented as if attacked by thousands of year's worth of erosion. Nor did he mention the frenzy-like scraping he had inflicted upon himself to remove the last of the bullet from his skull. By the time he had come home, all traces of his anguish had been locked away and contained neatly within himself.
Victor shook his head. That hadn't been what he'd meant. "I thought you'd left." He repeated. He felt guilty, thinking of all the scenarios he had imagined with his brother's return to the X-men. All the feelings of anger and hatred and jealousy that rose from a place he didn't often listen to.
"Nah. Why would I?" Logan failed to mention that in his pain, the only thought he'd had was to get away. To leave, screaming, yelling, shouting, cursing. To retreat back to the life of ignorance, of dull twinges of pain as opposed to soul decimating agony. He would never mention that to Victor. He'd play the good brother. He'd be the good brother.
Victor shrugged, keeping his fears of abandonment low and hidden. Logan wouldn't leave him. He had been the one to come here, not the other way around. Why would he leave? It was stupid. He changed the subject. "What were you thinkin' of, just now." He asked. Picking up a piece of unidentifiable meat with his claws and studying it under a critical gaze. Logan might not leave, but Victor would sure as hell kick him out if he didn't learn to cook better.
"Peru." Logan answered, as if it was all the information Victor would need. It was. Victor remembered Peru very well. There was an awkward quiet in the room after that. Lost in their thoughts, Logan relieved what he had just experienced for a second time a few minutes ago; the horror, the sickness, the sheer revulsion. Victor relieved what he had not thought about for a very long time; the frustration, the anger, the grief. All directed towards the little brother who he could never protect.
"I went back there, a few years ago." Victor said mildly, "They caught the guys who did that. Punished them. They're all dead now."
Logan nodded, but then asked suspiciously. "What were you doin' in Peru?" The thought that Victor would go anywhere for sightseeing was a laughable idea, it was therefore, much more likely that his actions were less than innocent.
Victor hesitated. "I…" He stopped for a second, he didn't want to lie to his brother but he wasn't sure how he'd take the truth. "I was doin' some work. Thought I'd check it out while I was there. Just out of interest, ya know?"
Logan scowled. What kind of work could Victor have been doing in South America? It screamed of military. "You still working for the government?" Logan growled accusingly.
Victor quickly shook his head and held up his hands to prove his innocence.
"No. After Stryker, I swore I'd never work for those dogs again."
Logan glared at him, as if a mean look would intimidate the truth out of the other mutant. It might have worked on one of his students at the late Xavier manor, but not here. Victor met his gaze evenly, with ease. He knew Logan better than he knew himself. You didn't look after some one for over a hundred years and not know when they were serious and when they were bluffing. Logan was bluffing. He wouldn't hurt Victor; hell he wouldn't even attack him. Whatever usually got Logan so worked up wasn't here now—or at least wasn't affecting him now. Actually, at a more thorough look at his little brother, Victor saw that he looked tired. No wonder there wasn't any fight in him. He wondered how much stress Logan's brain injuries put on his body in its attempt to heal them?
"I think you'd better tell me what you've been doing for these last twenty years." Logan said eventually. Victor nodded in response. It was high time he answered some of his brother's questions.
"I'll tell you outside; it smells like crap in here."
Victor stood up and walked outside. Logan heard the door bang before he got up himself and followed his brother outside. His scorched breakfast was left on the table, untouched.
---
Well I hope you enjoyed this. I'm not altogether sure if I made some of Team X (ie. Wade) a tad OOC, it's been so long since I saw the movie that I can't quite remember. Oh well, review and tell me what you think. I won't be updating the next chapter for a while. I'll try to post again in about three weeks, but it might be a bit longer than that. Then again, it could be shorter, who knows?
