Author's Note: Well faithful readers I just wanted to let you know we made it through the first book! Yay! This chapter marks the beginning of our journey through Marc Cerasini's second book Wolverine: Violent Tendencies. After that, we'll venture into no man's land in between for a while before entering the realm of X-Men Origins, the movie. I'm glad that everyone's stuck with me so far. Like the first book I will change things around to suit my story, and again this is very much AU. Don't worry, the actual X-Men will be a part of this story but that will come later.
Edited: 02/07/16
Chapter 7 – Obsolete
"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, art…It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival" – C.S. Lewis
"Sir, satellite KS-2 is now in position," the mechanical Voice interrupted the Director's thoughts. It took over three hours for the incident to be reported, and the Director was already reviewing protocol. Had the weapons broken loose on their own, that three hours was an unacceptable amount of time to remain uninformed. This exercise revealed a number of troubling things that need to be addressed. He thought, studying the image of tree thick mountains, deep shadowed valleys, and a meandering half frozen stream tinged green from the night vision feed that appeared on the screen.
"Center on the target, magnify fifty times and switch to spectrometer," the Director said as he steepled his fingers and studied the refined image. Silvery bones glittered out of the x-ray bathed image while the man climbed up a steep snow slick trail carved into the side of the mountain. The figure paused, a smaller shape, its bones a dull gray in comparison, stumbled. With surprising speed, the larger reached out and pulled the smaller onto its back. The pace of the traveling pair increased before the image broke up and went black.
"The satellite is out of range, sir. We will be able to pick them up again in forty-three minutes, once KS-5 is re-positioned over the Rocky Mountains. I will calculate where Weapon X should be, based on its current trajectory."
"That's them," satisfaction colored his words, matching the smug smile that pulled at age wrinkled lips.
"Yes, Director. That was real time surveillance of Weapons IX and X, loose in the Canadian Wilderness. The evidence is irrefutable," the disembodied Voice confirmed.
"Activate the crisis center and notify all personnel of Department K that until further notice, all other projects are to be put on hold. All of the Department's resources will be utilized to monitor, record, and analyze the movements and activities of Weapon X," the Director commanded.
"Only to observe, Sir? Shouldn't we be attempting to capture it? What of Weapon IX?"
"IX is not important at the moment, Weapon X is our primary concern." And I know what IX can do, but the military doesn't need to know of its existence, all they need to see is what X can do, he added silently. He would give the military their little toy once he learned everything the weapon had to offer, but IX was a pet project that he had no intention of handing over to the military.
"How efficient is our surveillance of that area?" The Director asked, reviewing the first field reports of what the pair had done in the Hive. A thin smile curved his lips at the report. His weapons had performed beautifully, and the structural damage was minimal. Once the mess was cleared away, the facility wouldn't be difficult to repair. Far less destructive than any bomb, or platoon of gun toting soldiers.
"Using all six surveillance satellites controlled by Department K, we will be able to monitor the subject's movements seventy percent of the time. The loss of the weapons will have a major impact on our funding, sir. Our resources will be strained to the limit recapturing them," the Voice offered. Weapon X had cost the department nearly ninety-billion U.S dollars to forge, and those dollars had come directly from the military. Having lost control of the weapon was going cost them dearly.
The Director stroked his chin, looking for all the world like a man deep in thought. "The Department will have to cut expenses to meet the demand. Where is the largest drain on the Department's budget?" The Director questioned, a sly smirk on his lips.
"It appears that the Ubermensch Project is nearly three hundred percent over budget. Professor Philips and Doctor Wylie have been conducting experiments in regards to recreating the Super-Soldier Serum based on notes left by-"
"I'm not interested in ongoing research expenses," the Director said, waving his hand impatiently. "What area has the largest operational expense?"
"It would appear that CCRC Unit at Shroud Lake Ontario is the largest drain on our resources at the moment, sir," the Voice declared, "formerly known as the Weapon Null program."
"Hmm, yes. I thought as much." the Director replied, pulling pulled up a file on the discontinued Null program. Grotesque images appeared on the screen, and he scrolled through them, giving each a jaundiced look. The lengths some will go in the name of continuing a pitiful existence, foolish, but they will have one last use. "Weapon Null is now reinstated. Notify the Matron that her team is to be on site and within striking distance of Weapon X within twenty-four hours."
"But, Sir-"
"Enough, assign Dr. Vigil as our liaison to the Matron. That woman can be rather difficult to handle, and I suspect that the Doctor's unique handicap will appeal to her. After all, the Matron does have a fondness for freaks. I will be coordinating the specifics with the Canadian Air Force," the Director announced, running his fingers though ash white hair. His blue eyes were distant, considering all the possibilities.
"I will inform Dr. Vigil immediately, but I'm still not certain that such an expensive and hasty deployment is the proper move at this point in time," the Voice stated.
"Oh but there is a point, my friend. The Matron's collection of ill fated freaks will face off against Weapon X one at a time, following my rules of engagement. This will be the field test of Weapon X's true capabilities, and we will monitor and record the battles for further evaluation." Another predatory smirk curled his thin lips.
"But, Sir! Surly you realize that the outdated weapons of the Null Program stand no chance against a creation as advanced as Weapon X?" The Voice questioned.
"Precisely," the Director said, his icy blue eyes glittered with malice. "I am certain that Weapon X will eliminate those prior test subjects, which will cut the Department's operating costs in half."
"That…sir with all do respect, wouldn't…wouldn't that be the same as murder?"
The Director's eye brow quirked as he suppressed another smirk. "I see it as an efficient use of resources, wouldn't you agree?"
IX rested his head on X's broad shoulder while he clung to the larger man's back like a young monkey. This was the first time he'd been outside of the underground facility, and none of the testing prepared the Weapons for what it would be like to transverse rough terrain together. The biggest difficult was the most obvious and also the most impossible to correct. X's legs were far longer than IX, and for every step the larger Weapon took, IX had to take three.
It didn't help that X had fallen into the easy ground eating trot favored by soldiers and hunting wolves. The lope was one that could be kept up for hours, and though the memories of long years of service in too many armies to count had been lost, his body remembered the energy saving stride as easily as it recalled breathing.
That was just one of many things that scientists, no matter how clever they thought they were, hadn't added to the programming, because they'd never been forced to endure days of marching. Miles passed as IX jogged to keep up. His wiry muscles burned while he forced them to keep pace with X, never complaining or demanding to go slower. He would endure like he'd been trained to.
X could hear his little mate panting at his side, and a low rumble rose in his chest as the sweet scent of IX's sweat slicked body teased him with every shift of the wind. The path began to climb, and when IX stumbled for the third time, X ignored the breathy monotone "I'm fine," and quick as a striking serpent, he reached out and pulled IX off his feet and tossed him over his shoulders. As if they'd done it a thousand times, IX's arms slithered around his thick neck, and the slight weight settled against his back.
"Just for a while." IX murmured, suppressing a comfortable sigh when heat began soaking into him from the broad back. X's pace increased now that he wasn't limited to IX's shorter stride, and the rhythmic steps lulled the short weapon into a light sleep.
Night had not yet faded into morning when X slowed. The trails had become heavy with the stink of humanity, and X realized that the path led directly to a settlement. Steep mountains made leaving the trail treacherous, and the slightly heavier weight of his sleeping mate kept his feet on the path. Darkness hid his stalking form when a collection of rough wooden cabins came into view. The tiny settlement was nestled in a small valley, cut off from the rest of civilization. Wood smoke hung wrath like in the air from simple fireplaces, and the lingering stench of outhouses caused his nose to wrinkle.
IX stirred against him when his pace shifted out of the lope and into a silent predatory glide. The smaller weapon's sense of smell was only as keen as an average human's, but even he was alerted by the out of place odors. Emerald eyes blinked open and his slender body tensed at the unexpected sight of the small settlement. This isn't supposed to be here. His gaze narrowed when they passed the shabby hand built cabins. Silent as the wind, X ghosted through the center of the establishment.
Most of the inhabitants of the hermit camp known only as Second Chance were a collection of miscreants, out casts, and drifters who for one reason or another had cast off the shackles of modern society found themselves here, far from the stress and convenience of the so called real world. The small hovels were dark, their fires banked, and doors barred. The residents slept on, unaware of the threat that stalked past their make shift homes.
Sleep proved elusive for one resident. Thomas Swimming Horse snarled inarticulately before he hurtled a mason jar full of moonshine at the wall. The jar shattered with explosive force as the tall Native American lurched to his feet. With exaggerated care, he laid the book, Decline of the West by Oswald Spengler on the table. As much as it pained him not to shred the cursed thing into a million pieces, he knew that the Librarian would cut him off for good if he destroyed another book. You would think I kicked a puppy when I told him that I'd thrown The Collected Works of Jean-Paul Sartre into the fire.
It wasn't that Thomas hated books; it was the opposite. He had read countless books in the five years since he'd left the army and become a drifter before ending up here, in this strange little town of misfits. Most of the books he'd read were by the so called great minds of both Eastern and Western philosophy and varied from heartbreakingly optimistic to soul crushing pessimism. But none of them seemed to match the world he lived in. That was the reason he'd left the reservation to begin with, even though he was the son of the chief and in line to take over the tribe. He simply wasn't inspired by the traditions and rituals of his people, they left him feeling empty.
In an effort to find something, anything to fill that ache, that need for a purpose, Thomas left the small world of the tribe when he'd come of age and ventured out into the wider world to see if what he sought could be found there. At first, Thomas had meandered through the country. He'd stopped for a short time in a commune in the Northwest, traveled down to the sunny state of California and lived on the beach for a time before he signing up for the military. There he'd been a good soldier and had signed up willingly for combat duty. It wasn't patriotism that motivated him, no it was the adrenalin rush. Thomas had no patriotism to speak of, and after one too many drinks he would admit he found modern America just as baffling and meaningless as his own culture. He knew it wasn't the cultures fault. His lack of belief had more to do with his own problems than the world outside of himself.
A headache thrummed behind his eyes, and he swayed on his feet. The stink of burnt wood and alcohol seemed to choke him, and the walls tried to close in on him. With a low grunt, he shoved open the door and stumbled out into the ice-laced night air. The first blast of cold helped clear the haze caused by the moonshine from his mind. Movement caught his blurred gaze, and he reached behind him for the riffle that always leaned against the wall beside the door. He pointed the weapon, peering into the darkness for whatever caught his eye. It was probably some animal, a wolf, or a raccoon, perhaps a wolverine.
He stumbled back when the shadow shifted again, revealing something that wasn't a mere animal. Some large hulking shape that walked on two legs and moved to easily to be a bear. The manlike shape froze and turned as if returning his stare before it moved on, vanishing into the darker shadows of the night like a restless spirit.
Thomas gave the forest beyond his small cabin a hard look but the shape had gone. Shaking himself like a disgruntled dog after a bath he turned and slammed the door shut, but this time he barred the heavy wood behind him.
X froze when the sound of shattering glass pierced the night, followed by the harsh stench of alcohol. They'd just passed the last cabin of the establishment when the door opened, catching them in the edge of the fire light. For an instant weapons and civilian froze as they locked eyes. IX shifted, his hand reaching for one of the small throwing blades to neutralize the threat when X turned and fell again into the easy lope, sparing the civilian and leaving the small town behind.
"Why?" IX questioned, but received expected silence in reply. That was one of the greatest challenges working with X, the lack of communication. The bond they'd developed in training was mostly intuitive, with IX giving orders and X obeying them. But, now and again there would be times like this, where X inexplicably took charge. In those moments IX relinquished power and followed instead of led. It was something none of the soldiers could understand, how one could just give up command to a supposed subordinate without damaging the balance of power.
It was for the best, an unexplained body could rile up the locals and I doubt they are part of the field test. IX decided while X began to scale the steep mountain. The trail they'd been following narrowed until it was little more than a goat track, but X's feet never faltered. They were three kilometers from the settlement when the storm began. Heavy snow, and driving wind tried to peel them off the mountainside, and IX clung with stoic determination to X's back even when his own tiny frame began to shake from the bitter cold. He may have been designed for killing, but he hadn't been built to survive such harsh conditions without the proper gear.
X could feel the bone deep trembling against his back and knew that even though the weather was no difficulty for him, IX was not as able to handle the freezing conditions. Through the swirling snow, his predatory gaze caught on a darker patch among the shattered rocks of the summit. The opening was small, almost invisible, nestled as it was between two large boulders, but the faint scent of large cat guided him into the cave. It was perhaps as large as a small hut, but most importantly, it was out of the fierce weather.
The lingering scent of mountain lion was old enough to ensure the creature had abandoned the den and once X was satisfied the area was safe he pulled IX's trembling form off his back and sat. With gentle hands, he curling the smaller male up in his lap, offering himself up as a blanket.
IX didn't struggle against the grip that folded him into a defenseless ball. The heat radiating off of X's bare skin, the weapon still only wore a ragged pair of jeans, was incentive enough to remain where he was. "Guard." IX murmured before he allowing himself melt into the offered warmth. He knew X would remain awake and alert until IX released him from the command. With the much larger male watching, he let exhausted sleep pull him under.
Dr. Vigil's eyes slid shut, hiding the blank red lenses. The deep drone of the helicopters fed the headache that thudded in time with the churning blades. It was impossible to sleep, but closing her eyes gave her a chance to rest from one pain at least and review the initial meeting with the Matron and her…team. She suppressed a shutter, recalling her arrival at the CCRC and meeting Lieutenant Frank Benteen, or at least what was left of the man.
The brain, encased in a glass container about the size of an elevator compartment attached to monorail system high above the actual loading docks, had floated in a bubbling pale pink fluid. Long tendrils of what she later learned were nerve endings flowed branch like from the nerve cluster that had once been housed in a spinal column, each connected to a circuit. This permitted the brain, she couldn't bring herself to think of that thing as a man, to control its housing unit, speak, see, and in a limited way interact with its surroundings. Lieutenant Benteen was the head of operations and security for the facility, and Dr. Vigil was glad that it wouldn't be accompanying them on their journey.
The Matron had shown a great deal of interest in her artificial eyes. The digital optics system was able to interface using electronics to connect with her retina, optic nerve, thalamus, and cortex. The optics returned her sight after it had been lost in a meaningless bombing; part of a political stunt by a bunch of radicals protesting the army. When the Director came to her offering her the gift of sight, Megan jumped at the offer. She was only twenty-three, and the thought of living the rest of her life in the dark terrified the college student. But, the amount of pain she'd suffered, the many surgeries and the drugs she still had to take to keep her body from rejecting the optics destroyed her health. The once active young woman was now waif thin, and while there were areas where her new eyes were superior to her old ones, there were limitations as well. For example, they couldn't view computer screens, or any electronic screen for that matter. When she looked at them, all she saw were blurs of rainbow color.
I am not like the Matron's freaks, she thought, recalling the brain with a clarity she hoped would soon fade. The information she'd been provided on the other members of the team promised to provide fodder for future nightmares. People who sacrificed their humanity in a mad bid for survival. People whose flesh was melded with their weaponry to create super soldiers, to create monsters. I'm nothing like they are.
"Have you finished reviewing the personnel files, Dr. Vigil?" the Matron's voice brought her out of her thoughts, and she opened her eyes to see the woman taking a seat uninvited next to her. The large double bladed Chinook's interior was reduced by the long cylinders containing the cryogenically frozen members of Team Null.
"Must they be transported like that? We could be using this time to strategize about the upcoming mission." Dr. Vigil said, her gaze turned away from the long shapes that looked too much like caskets for comfort.
"My team doesn't require such briefing, Doctor. When the time is right, they will know what to do." A smile lit the older woman's face, taking years off her appearance. "In fact, I'm pleased that we've been given this opportunity to demonstrate the usefulness of the team. The Null Program has been disregarded for far too long. When my team brings in the rouge weapon, the Director will see which is superior."
"If the team means so much to you, than why all of this?" She gestured to the containers. "Why not permit them to move about freely?"
"Doctor, when thinking of the Null team, you mustn't think of them as just any other unit of soldiers. They are more like high precision interments of war, similar to nuclear submarines, and fighter jets. These instruments require many hours of man power and maintenance for every single hour of active combat. The same is true of my unit," the Matron sighed, reaching out to stroke one of the units. "You see Doctor, maintaining my people is not without cost. The drugs alone are millions of dollars, by consenting to deactivation while not in combat, my department has managed to cut costs considerably. I'm sure the Director appreciates our efforts, and the team understands the necessity of it," she finished.
Megan's eyes returned to the files on her lap. From what she'd read, she imagined how the…the creatures would look. Human flesh twisted and fused with technology, weapons grafted into bodies like some sort of macabre Hieronymus Bosch painting. Nothing more than a ghastly caricature of science fiction horror creations.
"I see. But, some of these…modifications appear to be rather extreme, I mean the aesthetic impact alone is-"
"You're saying their ugly. Don't judge them too harshly. After all, military technology has never been designed to please the eye, simply to be effective. But, theirs is a fearful symmetry, and if you're able to look beyond the grotesque technology and the brutal reshaping of their bodies you might also recognize their splendor."
Thomas knelt, examining the slight dip in the newly fallen snow. The storm obliterated almost all traces of the stranger he'd seen the night before, but old lessons taught in his boyhood and honed in the military served him well. The few traces that remained did not escape his keen eye. He stopped and looked up the steep trail cut along the side of the mountain. A weathered glance at the sun told him he'd need to turn back soon. Even his mountain warfare training wouldn't be enough to save him if another storm blew up at this point.
Just a bit farther, he decided. Even though he'd been chasing after the stranger all afternoon, the promise of fresh meat also factored into his quest. Curiosity led him into the forest that morning, but he'd also kept an eye out for deer, something more than a stringy rabbit. It had been a while since he had a good bit of venison.
When he'd returned the books to the Librarian that morning, he'd told the old man about the half naked stranger he'd seen last night. The story wasn't believed, after all, the temperature had been in the negatives. Surviving those temperatures without the proper gear was impossible. He grumbled under his breath at the memory before spitting on the ground. Thomas knew what he saw, he hadn't been mistaken or delusional. Their scorn spurned his curiosity all the more, which guided him out into the wilderness.
Thomas cursed when the trail doubled back yet again. Whoever the stranger was, he was wise to the ways of trackers. Throughout the day, he'd noticed how the trail would leave the path, lay false trails, double back on his own tracks and even transverse stretches of bare cliff in an effort to avoid leaving a clear path in the snow. His quarry was good, but Thomas wasn't about to be defeated. No, this Brave wouldn't lose a trail, even if the stranger always seemed to take the most difficult path.
Now doesn't that sound familiar? Thomas thought, remembering his grandfather's age roughened words. A sly horse runs, and a smiling fish swims, this is why our grandmothers named us the Swimming Horse people Thomas, because we always choose the most difficult path in life.
After stealing another glance at the sun, Thomas debated the merits of continuing the chase, or return home, where a nice bland can of pork and beans and a hot fire waited for him. Decision made, Thomas turned to head back. The abrupt move startled a young fawn hiding among the rocks. The clatter of hooves up the trail, the same direction the stranger had been traveling, caused him to turn and continue up the rough track. It's fate, the deer took the same path as the man.
As he stalked up the trail, Thomas slid the rifle off his shoulder and loaded it. An hour passed while he labored up the steep path. Each time the temptation to turn back grew with the lengthening shadows, the fawn would reappear, but never close enough for a clear shot. The temptation of fresh meat proven stronger than the need to return.
The deer had no choice but to stay on the trail. The steep path was the only safe way to transverse this stretch of mountain. From previous hikes, Thomas knew the path deadened into a ravine. Last winter, a cougar took up residence in a cave not far from there, and Thomas hoped it had moved on. He sped up, if the big cat was still around, he didn't want his prize to be snatched before he could catch it.
He came upon one of the many blind corners in the trail and the deep thrum of hooves on hard stone caused him to freeze. The deer bolted around the corner and jerked to a stop at the sight of the man. Thomas and the deer stood frozen, it's soft white tail flicked nervously and Thomas brought the rifle up. It must have scented the cat and bolted right into the arms of the hunter, he thought as he took the shot. The bullet hit the deer square between the eyes, knocking the animal off its feet. It kicked feebly once before falling still.
Sunlight filtered into the cave, waking IX. A low rumble and the light touch stroking down his spine assured him X was still awake. Stretching, IX climbed out of the comfortable nest of the older male's lap and took stock of their surroundings. The cave was small, but they didn't need much in the way of space. The tight space would hold warmth better.
"We have shelter, we will need to find a reliable source of water, and we need food." IX said, considering what they would require to survive in the wilderness for as long as the testing took. He read between the lines of his orders with practiced ease. While he wasn't permitted to aid X during the tests, he could help him between testing. Even through he hadn't been explicitly ordered to do so, IX knew he was responsible for protecting and tending to X between opponents.
This shelter would serve well in that regard. They wouldn't have much time before the field tests began and IX wanted everything in place before then. But first, "rest," IX commanded. He would guard X's sleep just as the older male guarded his. We will not be taken unaware.
Instead of lying down to sleep, X stood. Sleep could wait, even from here he could hear the rumble of his mate's stomach, and now that IX was no longer cuddled up to his heat, the smaller weapon had begun trembling again as the cold attacked him. When it came to battle, IX was more than able to take care of himself, but in this landscape of ice capped mountains, there was little doubt which of the two was superior. He had to protect IX, and to do that he had to provide for him.
Something in his subconscious stirred sluggishly at the beast's desperate need to see to his mate's welfare. Not quite waking, but a light nudging, a gift of ability that no animal would readily possess. Just like that strange sense told the animal how to move up the trail, directing him to place his feet so, to turn thus and to not step in the snow, it guided him now.
"X?" The word was a mingling of question and demand. Effortlessly, X reached out and snagged IX. Black material was jerked to the side, and X bit down on the silvery scars of his mark, deepening them further. IX gave a low hiss but didn't try to fight the larger weapon. Instead he waited until the teeth released him. The hard edge was replaced by the hot stroke of X's tongue as he bathed the new wound and shuddered at the delicious taste.
X let go after the blood ceased flowing and gave a stern growl to his little mate. Words were unneeded, the message to stay was not difficult to grasp when X turned to leave. IX took a single step to follow, but a second snarl stopped him. He could have retaken control, but this was not his area of expertise. X was tested often in the wilderness around the compound, whereas all of IX's testing had been in the underground labs. It was difficult to yield control, but IX did so out of necessity.
When X stalked out of the cave, IX sat back down. The hard stone floor was insolated by a thick layer of sand, but IX still hugged himself in a vain attempt to ward off the chill. It didn't take long for X to return, his large arms heaped full of wood. The small tree hadn't stood a chance against his claws, and the raw ends of the wood were brilliant white from each precise cut. X let the wood fall in a heap near the back of the cave. IX watched X place smaller sticks in a pile. The soft wind passing through the cave provided natural ventilation, and before IX could spark a bit of magic to light the kindling, X's claws shot out and screeched along the stone wall of the cave. A rain of sparks landed in the small pile, and after a few minutes of huffing and puffing, a merry little fire was heating their small home.
Again, IX was grabbed, but this time he was pushed gently in front of the fire. He gave his own low growl, which only resulted in an amused huff from the large predator, and another light almost teasing nip to the back of his neck. IX was unaccustomed to this side of X. Before they'd only interacted on the killing field as equals during testing. Aside from that, they were kept in their separate cells while they waited for the next round of scientific experimentation.
Twice more, X returned with loads of wood, until there was a respectable pile in the back of the cave before he vanished again.
It was difficult to hold on to the subtle nudging when he prowled the woods. Animal instinct demanded he hunt, feed, and simply exist. But the lingering taste of magic rich blood in his mouth helped him hold on to older instincts that spoke of more than just survival. Instincts that insisted his mate needed more than he did, that it wasn't just his survival that mattered.
Fire was important, fire and…fresh water that strange sense whispered. Growling he moved, falling effortlessly into the ground eating lope with his nostrils flaring to catch the sweet scent of fresh water. It took nearly an hour to find a small stream, and when he bent to drink, he was forced to stop and close his eyes when he was confronted with a new problem. The water was too far for his mate to reach in the cold. Again he was forced to think beyond what he was created to be, and after struggling against his new nature, he managed to carve a rough bucket out of an old log.
Bucket full to the brim with cold mountain water, X returned to the cave. Satisfaction hummed in his chest when he saw IX seated in front of the fire. While he'd been gone, IX had gathered stones from around the cave to create a proper pit for the fire to rest in. In the two hours that X was gone, the fire had consumed the kindling. Now one of the small logs fed the dancing flames. Another rumble of pleasure escaped him when IX drank the offered water, quenching the thirst that had built in the time the larger male was gone.
Hunger had yet to be tended to, but when he attempted to leave again, IX slender hand reached out and caught his wrist. "No, rest now," he demanded. A small growl, more of a whine, escaped him but the hard look in those polished green orbs showed he wouldn't be dissuaded a second time. With a grunt, he stretched out in front of the fire and plopped his head into IX's lap. Jaded eyes stared down at him for a time before a small hand tangled in his hair. A satisfied sigh escaped him, and he allowed his eyes to shut, content in the knowledge that his mate would guard his sleep.
When he woke, the day had melted into dusk. Tt would be difficult to find something to eat before darkness fell. It didn't matter, he would hunt all night if needed. Even though IX hadn't spoken up, the soft rumbling of his mate's stomach told its own tale. X gave low growled command to stay before he exited the cave in search of food.
He'd only made it a few feet down the trail when a fawn caught sight of him and bolted. X broke into a fleet footed run after the deer. The loud crack of gun fire sounded just before he rounded the corner. A person knelt over the fallen carcass, and when X appeared, the man looked up. His eyes grew huge at the sight of X stalking forward. With a muffled curse, Thomas stood and tried to back pedal, but his foot caught on a loose rock and he fell.
The yelp of pained surprise when he landed on his tailbone was lost in the loud crack of the rifle. The impact caused his trigger finger to squeeze. The weapon's recoil pulled it out of his startled grasp, sending it skidding down the trail out of reach. Thomas's brown eyes widened in shock when the stranger's head jerked backward in a shower of hot blood. The ruby liquid rained down on his upturned face when the large man fell to one knee, his hands covering the wound.
Thomas held his breath, and waited for the man to collapse. That had to be a fatal wound, but the beast of a man straightened instead. The large beefy hands fell, revealing the gruesome wound in his scalp. Instead of splintered white bone, and grey brain tissue, silvery metal glimmered in the last dying rays of sunlight. He watched in dumb amazement when the flow of blood became a mere trickle before ceasing all together. Before his unbelieving eyes, the wound healed and the glazed look in the stranger's eyes vanished.
Instead, those terrible inhuman eyes locked on him, and with a roar the beast threw his arms wide. The shink of all six claws being unsheathed almost made the Indian wet himself in terror. "Holy shit!" he croaked before he stumbled backwards over the dead deer. "I'm sorry, I won't hurt you…please!" he cried, holding his empty hands up to show he was unarmed. The beast took another step forward, and in desperation, he kicked the carcass forward. "Here, you want meat it's yours, take it," he yelled when his back hit the wall of the ravine. Shaking, he curled up in a ball and waited for the end.
Instead of continuing the pursuit X stilled, his predatory gaze locked on the helpless man before he bent and grabbed one of the deer's hind legs, with a savage twist the limb was torn free. Thomas wanted to give a small sigh of relief, but remained dead still, not trusting the creature.
Sunlight glinted off metal, catching his frightened gaze. Thomas gaped when he recognized the glimmer of a blade flying through the air. His frantic mind screamed two separate yet equally desperate orders, MOVE, FREEZE! Death either way, from the creature or the knife. His eyes clinched shut, and he waited for the end.
I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, alerted and added this story to their favorites. I'm so glad that everyone likes it so far!