Author's Note: I'm going to push back events from the second movie. The X-kids are still going to go to the museum, but the attack on the president won't happen until later.
Edited: 3/4/16
Chapter 19 – Fox Hunt
"So we're hours awake and our only mistake is we bleed
And the hunger for the living helps them hunt it with the greatest of ease."
– Cky Escape from Hellview
"Jean?" Scott's voice cut through the jabbering fear infecting her mind.
"Here," her voice was a choked whisper. "We have to get out of here before he comes back."
Scott frowned, fighting the instinctual urge to open his eyes and look at her. In all the years they'd known each other, he'd never heard her sound so frightened.
Limbs trembling from fear and the strain of her weight against the metal bands digging into her chest, Jean's eyes darted frantically around the room. Then they stopped, a wild, relieved smile touched her lips as she focused.
The visor lifted off the ground like a strange technological humming bird. "Storm, move your head as far to the left as you can." Inch by inch, the visor shifted until it was positioned exactly where it needed to be. On the side, a small nob began to twist, creating the thinnest beam possible. If she wasn't careful, they'd end up decapitating Storm instead of freeing her.
"Scott, open your eyes, just a little." Without looking at him she knew he was frowning, wanting to reject her demand out of hand, but he didn't. Instead, a thick beam of red struck the visor, thinning to razor wire before it struck the opposite wall. White hair fell like snow before the metal gave way. "Close them." The light died. Taking a deep breath, Jean shifted the visor again, targeting the next band. "Open." They both heard Storm's pained gasp, but knew they couldn't stop.
The second band broke. Two agonizing minutes and three shifts later, Storm fell to the ground clutching her burned left breast. While the pain was excruciating, it had to be ignored. Biting her lip, she forced herself to her feet and skirted around the two corpses to get to the other side of the room.
"Sorry," Jean whispered, giving the scorch mark a guiltily look.
"Be sorry later. You can pay for our next trip to the spa," Storm replied, offering a halting smile as she began pulling at the bands holding Jean in place.
Closing her eyes, Jean focused and threw all her power into the bands. Blood roared in her ears, but it only fueled her desperation. We have to escape, get away before he comes back, we have to escape. Metal groaned, creaked, and finally bent enough for her to wiggle free. Together, they fought the bands to free Scott.
"Come on, let's get out of here."
Once his visor was back in place, Scott gave Jean a hard look. "We can't leave now, we have to stop Magneto."
Heat filled Jean's face. Somehow, she'd managed to forget there was an evil mastermind bent on world domination above their heads. Instead, her thoughts remained locked on the tiny assassin whose mind promised swift and unquestionable death. It took more strength than was pretty for her to turn and follow Scott up the path the green-eyed boy had taken.
Her mouth dropped open when they saw what was left of Magneto's machine. "Rogue!" Storm cried, shoving her way past them and onto the platform. "What are you waiting for? Help me," she snapped back over her shoulder. Scott joined her, while Jean bent to check Magneto's pulse. To her surprise, he was still alive. Confusion flitted through her mind while she stood and took a good look at the scene.
Blood was splashed over the ground where someone got caught in the blast, but there were no bodies. Her gaze went uneasily to the side, maybe they fell over. Either way, it didn't matter. They had to get out of there before the police arrived.
Scott scooped the unconscious girl into his arms, careful to avoid skin to skin contact. "Should we?" He tilted his head towards Magneto.
"No, leave him," Jean decided. With that, they trooped back down the stairs, passing the still body of Sabretooth, and the corpse of a guard with a gunshot hole in his chest.
Remy fingered the sharp edge of the adamantium needle. Closing his eyes, he swallowed around the meaty thud of his heart pounding in his throat while he focused on the collar. Over the course of the last year, he'd been using the swiped needle to wear a groove in the metal. Three months ago, he'd broken through to the delicate inner workings of the device. His tongue darted out to swipe at his bottom lip while he focused on the task at hand, knowing this would be his only chance.
Memory teased the corners of Remy's mind, distracting him. He couldn't help but think of the day he'd snatched the small tool, discarded from the Doctor's latest attempt to drill into X's bones to get a sample of bone marrow. For reasons he could no longer recall, he'd been strapped to one of the beds at the time. X had been sent away after the Doctor finally gave up on his deranged mission, and the man had turned his evil gaze on an unconscious mutant strapped to a table in the middle of the room.
"Stop." Remy whispered into the darkness, trying to will the memory away. It refused, and continued playing out behind his clenched eye lids. First, the scalpel. Remy remembered how it had glimmered in the biting light of the florescent lights. Then the Doctor plunged it into the teen's guts before giving it a brutal twist. Thankfully, the boy was too far gone to wake up, but the worst was yet to come.
After gutting the boy, the Doctor called for IX. Remy remembered how those cold eyes flicked from the bleeding youth on the table, to the Doctor's blood stained hand without a single question forming in the bottomless gaze.
"Go on. Heal him."
Remy's skin crawled with remembered pain while he watched IX move up to the bed and laid his hands against the boy's vulnerable stomach. The wound was only half healed when the Doctor leapt forward and screamed "BOO!" IX's head had jerked up, eyes locking on the man before the body beneath his hands seemed to erupt in a geyser of blood, shattered bone, and shredded flesh. From neck to knees, there was nothing resembling a human left.
Somehow, even through the horror of the moment, Remy managed to slip a hand free of the restraints just long enough to snatch one of the bloody discarded needles the Doctor had used on X that morning.
"Holy shit! You weren't kidding when you said you couldn't be distracted while healing. What a mess," the Doctor said. Remy would never forget that chortling tone, like an evil little boy who lights a cat's tail on fire just to see it panic and run. IX hadn't replied. He'd just stood there, blood splashed across his face making his green eyes all the more vivid in the crimson mask, waiting for further instructions. "Meh, you're no fun. Take that one back to its cell. I'm done with it for now," he'd said, pointing to Remy.
When IX had reached for him, blood still hot and dripping, Remy couldn't help but flinch away. Something had flashed in the other mutant's eyes at that, but it was gone before Remy could catch it, replaced with the normal frigid ice.
He could still feel those blood slick fingers whisper over his wrists, freeing him from the straps. Still remembered the near mindless urge to slip the bonds on his own to keep from being touched.
Shaking his head, Remy forced his mind back to the task. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, and offering a silent prayer to anyone who might be listening, Remy flared his power. The tiny spark leapt up the shaft of the needle. Something inside the collar hissed and crackled. Terror stole his breath as he waited to see if the bomb would detonate, taking his head off at the shoulders. Seconds melted into a full minute, and slowly, one muscle at a time, Remy relaxed.
Jus' one more test, he thought. Again he closed his eyes before focusing. The needle flared scarlet. His teeth flashed into a grin and he had to suppress the urge to blow the door off its hinges. That wouldn't do at all. Escape required subtlety, and he knew there was no way he'd be able to fight his way free of the base if he brought the whole contingent of guards down on his head.
Sorrow filled his dark eyes when he looked at the other cages full of sleeping mutants, but he forced himself to move silently forward. Careful not to wake a soul.
Zero froze in the doorway, his dark chocolate gaze locked incredulously on the pair slumped in a puddle of blood on the floor. A tightness in his gut that he hadn't been aware of loosened when IX's back rose slowly. Good, at least the brat was still alive.
Two quick strides brought him to their side. Zero knelt and pressed a finger lightly against IX's throat. The pulse was strong, though his skin was slightly cool to the touch. Again worry flitted through Zero's chest. Why was IX's power so badly drained that it sent him into a near coma? What caused the tiny assassin to abandon the mission?
Sighing, he bent down and lifted the small body. Nostalgia flared in him when he cradled IX in his arms. The only thing missing was the stench of burned wood. Zero slipped IX into the bed before turning his attention to X. "So that's what sent you home," he whispered. Long gashes decorated X's muscled body. They'd been healed, but not completely. He knew enough about wounds to know that many of those marks would have been fatal on a normal mortal. Then again, X had never been normal. Confusion burned unpleasantly in Zero's mind. He hated not knowing what was going on, and this whole messed up mission had been one big tangled disaster. Damn it, I'm not a bloody detective. I'm a shooter. Deciding that X's mysterious loss of power didn't matter, he left to give his report and let Stryker know where the wayward pair ended up. A twinge of guilt bit at him, but he ignored it. Not his fault IX failed to follow orders. Still, he was glad he wasn't IX.
"Sleep well kid, you'll need it."
IX woke slowly, his body both heavy, yet empty at the same time. He'd rarely drained his power to the bare dredges, but he knew the feeling. It would take a couple days for his energy to return. Until it did, he'd have to cope without having use of his power. An unpleasant thought bubbled under the surface of his waking mind, nagging at him and demanding his immediate attention.
The mission. You abandoned the mission.
Turning his head to the side, IX found X. The large mutant was still breathing, and he could see the vivid red marks still traced over his skin – a silent testament to the near fatal wounds. Conflicting instincts added their weight to his chest, making it difficult to breath. He should have finished the mission, no matter the consequences, but he had to save X. He had to. There hadn't been a conscious choice in the matter. Instead, he'd seen the blood gushing from wounds that shouldn't have bled, and acted.
IX closed his eyes and took a long breath before forcing his aching body upright. There was no point putting off the inevitable. The world spun around him, only settling after he stopped moving. Once he was sure he wouldn't pass out, IX sank to his knees next to X and rested a hand against the warm throat. He relished the strong thump of the other man's pulse, and knew he would be fine even if he hadn't woken yet. Brushing a finger across X's lips, he forced himself back up to his feet.
Stealing himself for what would come, IX left X still blissfully asleep and unknowing.
Unbearable pressure crushed him against the ocean floor. He could feel the miles of water between him and the open air, and for a long time the cold depths kept him stunned and senseless. Now, he could see something.
He could see a glimmer of light.
Bearing his teeth, he strained against the lethargy and got his body moving. Up, up, up towards the flashing light. As he swam, the cold began to recede as the light grew. The pressure eased and with a huge gasp, Logan broke the surface of the water.
Whisky eyes snapped open. With sense, came pain, and he wondered if he'd been hit by a truck. Every part of him ached, and worse, his memories were a raw black hole. The edges ragged and painful. When he tried to think, all he could grasp were tiny flashes of distorted memory that he couldn't make sense of. It was like he'd been drifting under water, close enough to the surface to see, but unable to control his body.
He remembered shouting, seeing problems, and shouting solutions just to survive. Somehow, he knew that whatever happened to the one in control, would happen to him too. After a while, the flashes faded, and he'd sunk deeper and deeper into the ocean until he felt and saw no more.
A scent lingered around him, under the harsh stink of blood. It was imprinted in the room, tattooed into his skin. His tongue darted out to taste his bottom lip and his groin stiffened at the heady taste. What the fuck is going on?
Sitting up, he flexed, relishing the play of muscle under skin. Every movement felt amazing and new, and he couldn't get enough. His hands curled into fists, and he cursed in shock when three dagger like spikes ripped from his flesh. They retracted when his hands sprung open, leaving tiny pink scars that faded before his confused eyes.
While he was staring at his hands, something massive slapped him back. It was like being hit full force by an enraged tiger. Screaming in mingled fury and fear, Logan fell back into the ocean, swallowed again by the black depths but not as deep as before. He could still see the hints of sunlight and the promise of freedom.
X blinked in confusion before dismissing the odd sensation that came with waking. The scent of blood hung in the air mingling with IX's enticing aroma, but his little mate was gone. Irritation flared inside the feral, knowing that he couldn't track his mate down. No, he'd been trained to remain in their rooms until given a different order by IX, so he'd have to sit and wait for the smaller male to return.
"IX, IX, IX what to do with you?" The Doctor's sing song tone made the small hairs on IX's neck stand up. His meeting with Stryker hadn't gone well. Even though IX and X had destroyed the machine, thus technically completing the mission, Stryker was still angry about their disappearance. On top of that, he was furious with IX's heavy handedness when dealing with the telepath, resulting in the mutant's mental breakdown. So furious that he decided to give IX to the Doctor to punish. IX would have preferred Stryker. The man would have been more vicious, but the punishment would have ended quickly.
The Doctor pouted when IX didn't react to his words. Unlike the rest of his victims, IX never gave him the satisfaction of screaming or showing fear. "Fiiiine…be that way. I suppose, hmm, yes that'll do. Twenty lashes for breaking the telepath, and let's see, how about thirty for abandoning a mission? That sounds fair, don't you think? By the way, don't you dare heal the damage all at once like I know you can. Sure, it'll heal faster than normal, but don't heal it any faster than that. Kay?"
"Yes, sir." Letting his mind sink into silence, IX pulled off his shirt and walked to the wall. Unlike the others, the Doctor wouldn't need to strap him in place. Instead, he pressed his palms against the cool cement, and waited.
"Mkay, I want you to keep count. If you skip a number, I'll keep going until you give it the proper count. If you lose your place, we'll start over," he said cheerfully, as though he were talking about trading Halloween candy after the big night instead of torture.
The Doctor gave the whip an experimental crack, and pursed his lips when IX didn't jump at the sound. No, the mutant stood motionless as a robot, waiting for his punishment like a good dog. The lash snaked out and cracked against IX's pale back. Pain bloomed over his flesh, sinking in with savage teeth, but he knew the sensations would dull as the lashing continued. It was the Doctor's favorite punishment after all, though he'd never been given so many all at once.
"One."
Gritting his teeth, IX waited with inhuman patience for the next blow. Crack. "Two."
Again, and again the wipe struck, shredding delicate skin and exposing slick muscle to the cool lab air. By the thirtieth blow, IX's knees buckled, and he sank to the ground. Still he didn't miss the count. "Thirty."
By the end of the punishment, his voice was a ragged whisper and he was holding on to his senses by the thinnest of threads. "Fifty," he croaked.
"Damn brat, I'm gunna feel that tomorrow. My shoulder's killing me. Guards! Take that and put it in cell 38. IX you are not permitted to leave the cell. It's time you thought about the price of insubordination. You need to remember that you're only on this side of the cage because we allow you to be. Make sure you don't forget it again."
IX tried to acknowledge the order, but his voice failed him and consciousness fled when two guards grabbed him by the arms and jerked him to his feet.
Hours later, pain woke him from his stupor. "How the proud wolf has fallen. Do you get it now? You're a slave, and now you're just another prisoner like the rest of us. How pathetic." The serpentine words coiled around him, but were as meaningless today as they had been yesterday. However, he thought it was a foolish move on the Doctor's part. The prisoners feared him, but showing him as weak and helpless would lessen their fear.
Cracking one eye open, he looked at the snake-like girl. She was grinning wide enough to show elongated fangs. Fangs he knew were poisonous, due to the fact that he'd helped milk her more than once. The Doctor was quite interested in the unique components he'd found in her venom.
Every breath seemed to hurt, and now that he was awake he could hear the hushed and not so hushed whispers of the other prisoners. They echoed the snake girl's sentiments. He blinked, fog clearing in his mind when he realized where he was. Where's Remy? This was his cell, and they wouldn't have moved him to another just to put IX in his. He hadn't been with the Doctor, and IX was the only one who took him out for any other reason.
"Well? Why don't you fix yourself up and escape? Huh?"
"This changes nothing," his voice was as coldly mechanical as always, but he couldn't hide the undercurrent of pain that filtered through.
"You're insane. Did you know that? There is something wrong in your head. How can you work for people who do this shit to you?" She demanded.
"Doesn't matter."
"Fool."
"Mon Ami, why do ya let them treat ya so?" IX blinked, the sound of Remy's voice so clear he wondered if he'd been mistaken about being alone in the cage. Turning his head again, he assured himself that Remy wasn't there. But the question lingered.
Why?
"I exist to serve, to obey my wielder in all things, my life, my death, all belong to my wielder…I exist to obey…that is my purpose," the words were hoarse and broken, acknowledging mental chains that were a thousand times harder to escape than any cage. Darkness roared up in his mind, dragging him back down into unconsciousness.
Adelaide scowled and fought against the pity trying to swell inside her for the little bastard. But she couldn't help herself. He looked so pathetic and small. Helpless. Her stomach turned while she studied what was left of his back. Eyes widening, she realized the small flashes of white were exposed bone, where the flesh had been completely whipped off. How the hell is he still alive? Her tongue flicked out, tasting the air. The stink of death was missing, even though he looked like he should be lingering on death's door.
Hate filled her as she stared at his broken form, but she couldn't ignore the tiny new thread of pity. She still had bruises in the middle of her back where his knee pressed against her, pinning her arms behind her, and holding her down while he forced her mouth open to milk her as though she were nothing more than a common snake.
Worse, in some ways, was the fact that he could speak to her in her language. Adelaide didn't know how or why he could, but it hurt. It hurt because she'd always wanted someone like her to talk to. An actual person, instead of just snakes. When she finally found him, he turned out to be one of the monsters who used and abused her. Still, she always spoke to him in the tongue of snakes, and to her secret delight, he always responded in kind. Maybe, deep down, he's glad to have someone to share the language with too, she mused while she watched him.
It was like trying to watch a flower bloom. Though she never saw it happen, she could tell that the wounds were starting to heal.
"I'm glad you won't die," she whispered, so softly that none of the others heard. Yes, she hated being here, and hated what he did to her, but she couldn't deny that he was only as harsh with her as he needed to be. If she fought, he would strike her hard enough to leave her dazed. Still, he never hit her for mouthing off, and when she did manage a lucky blow, he never retaliated with more violence than was needed to subdue her.
To her endless irritation, yet strange satisfaction, he treated her like a man would treat a snake needing milking. He never seemed to blame her for lashing out, simply did his job.
Adelaide wanted to hate him with her whole heart. Before seeing him like this, she wasn't able to do so.
Now she didn't know what to think.
It took over three days for his powers to return and to heal the damage done to his back, and a fourth before the Doctor was satisfied that he'd learned his lesson.
Laying in the center of Remy's old bunk, he toyed with the long, thin needle he'd found in the blankets. Found was a relative term, since he'd found it with his backside when he'd finally had enough strength to make it to the bed and sit down. The needle was the only clue he had to his sparring partner's disappearance. He'd asked the snake girl, but she flipped him off and wouldn't answer. IX doubted she knew. None of the others were willing to answer either. It's as I thought. Respect bought with fear is a fragile thing. Much of the fear is gone now that they see me as a victim. I'll have to be harsher with them from this point forward, he mused as he let his power flit over the sleek metal. There was something familiar about the shine that he couldn't place.
The door to his cell slammed open. IX let the needle slip back into the blankets before sitting up to give the manically grinning Doctor a bland look.
"Rise and Shine pet! It's time for you to get back to work. I think you're going to love your new assignment. Remember to bring back samples. Oh, go get your mutt and report to Stryker for the details." His message delivered, like a gleeful doom shouter, he turned and sauntered away.
IX stood and stretched, working some of the tension out of his stiff muscles. The past four days had been difficult for the small assassin. It was the first time he'd been forced to sleep away from X while not on a mission, and he'd found it difficult to do so. He also found himself missing his daily sparring sessions with Remy. He hadn't realized how much he enjoyed the practice until he could no longer do it.
He discarded the unease of the past few days, and left the cell. For the last time, he promised himself. That would be the last time Stryker would have to punish him for disobedience.
When he pushed open the door to their room, he wasn't expecting to be mauled by X. Air exploded out of his chest when the much larger man crashed into him, sending them to the floor. Sharp teeth sank deeply into his shoulder, making IX hiss at the savage bite. His hand tangled in the wild mane of hair, giving a single sharp pull of reprimand. Instead of loosening the hold, X snarled and bit deeper, until teeth scraped against bone.
IX gritted his teeth before forcing his body to relax into the punishment. Even though he'd rather not suffer the pain, he understood the message. It wasn't like anyone would have come and explained to the feral where IX was.
The whole team tended to treat X like a beast. They saw him as IX's pet, as though he were a circus tiger who only IX could put through his paces. They couldn't see the feral intelligence in his amber gaze, and didn't understand how to work with him. No, they all relied on IX to hold his leash and give him orders. So he accepted X's rage, and permitted the punishment, even though he'd already been punished enough by the Doctor.
Finally the savage teeth retracted, leaving a deep throbbing ache that radiated from the bite that pulsed in time with his heart beat. A low sigh escaped IX when X's tongue traced the marks. Even that light touch made the pain flare white hot in his mind, but he couldn't help feeling soothed by the familiar touch. He basked in the heavy weight of X's body blanketing his, and savored the musky scent that invaded his nostrils.
IX reluctantly nudged X, not wanting him to move, but knowing they had to go. "Off." A sharp growl met the command. "Off," IX repeated, letting a bit of steel leak into the word. With a final nip at IX's abused shoulder, he stood. IX followed suit. In minutes, he'd pulled on a fresh pair of clothes – ignoring the way X stared at him while he changed – got armed up, and left the room with X on his heels like a dog with separation anxiety.
When they reached Stryker's office, he gave the door three sharp taps.
"Come in," came the muffled reply.
Stryker studied the pair as they entered the room. IX looked pale and drawn, dark circles marred the flesh beneath those startling eyes. Even wan from his ordeal, IX still looked as blank as ever. Stryker often wondered what it would take to break the mutant, or was he already perfectly broken? It was a question that had no answer. Beside him, X stood staring at him with the eyes of a half-starved panther. The look always made Stryker uncomfortable because there was nothing human in it. No one home to reason with. He was always surprised that the indestructible killing machine never turned on his tiny handler.
Setting aside his observations for the time being, Stryker fought to hide his satisfaction. Oh how he'd envied the Director his perfect weapons, but Stryker was on the brink of crafting a weapon of his own that would make this pair look like a couple of kittens in comparison. Things were finally coming together, but he couldn't risk IX reporting his activities to the Director at this stage, so the current situation was perfect. He'd known about IX's growing attachment to one of the test subjects. A wily creature that managed to escape during the last mission. Now he had the perfect excuse to get the two spies out of his hair for the foreseeable future.
"Five nights ago, while the team was on mission, subject 143 escaped," Stryker stated, his cold gaze locked on IX's face, waiting for a reaction to the news only to find none. He reached into his desk and pulled out a small device that had been purposefully tampered with so that it would only work 40% of the time.
"Your mission is to locate the escaped mutant and terminate him. His power seems to be interfering with the tracking beacon imbedded in his hip, but it should get you close enough to his location to take him out. Bring the body back when you've finished. I expect regular reports on your progress. Dismissed," he said, sliding the device across the table to IX's waiting hand.
"Yes, sir," IX responded, giving nothing away.
Remember this well. There are two types of fights. As we have put our lives in battle, we must be able to distinguish between the two. The fight to protect life, and the fight to protect pride. –Ukitake Jushiro, Bleach
It took them twelve days to catch up to him at a hole-in-the-wall bar on the outskirts of a small town. X growled eagerly when he caught the scent, but a light touch on his arm froze him before he could attack. "Listen to me, this fight is between Remy and I. Do not interfere." White teeth flashed in a silent snarl, but X backed down.
"Ah Mon Ami, Remy should'a known dey be sendin' ya for 'im," Remy said after taking a slow drag off his cigarette.
Something akin to pain flashed in IX's solemn eyes before it vanished, overridden by obedience. "You shouldn't have run."
"Twas run or die, ya know dat."
"I know," IX agreed. "Come." Remy fell in step beside the tiny assassin as they walked away from the bar, out into the surrounding wilderness. In the days after his escape, Remy played this moment out in his mind again and again. He thought he'd feel terror, or that he'd get a knife in the back or a bullet to the brain without ever seeing the one sent to kill him. But, now that he thought about it, he knew IX would never be satisfied with killing him from afar. Not after the many hours they'd spent together.
They might not be friends, but he knew IX respected him as a fellow fighter. He would die tonight, but it would be a death worthy of their strange companionship.
It took over thirty minutes to find the perfect clearing. During that time, neither spoke, and both ignored the ominous shadow striding in their wake. For them, it was a final moment of peace before the end. After years of sparring, they would see who the best was, and the loser would never leave the field.
They took their places, facing each other side ways with enough space between for the twin bows to cross. Like mirror images of one another, they bowed before kicking their staffs up into their hands. IX moved first, bringing the weapon down so fast the air screamed from the force of the blow. Remy, blocked the strike, a grin curling his lips.
"Remy missed dis, Mon Ami. It be good, fighting ya again."
It might have been a trick of the sunlight filtering through the ancient trees, but Remy thought he saw IX's lips quirk into a faint smile.
Then the battle began in earnest. Remy's next strike was infused with power and IX was driven back. For the first time since they'd started training together, Remy saw IX's eyes widen in surprise. It was then he realized how much he'd bought into the myth of IX. Years of fighting, and losing, made him believe that the other mutant was undefeatable. But he'd forgotten.
He'd been cut off from his power for so long that he forgot how much he could enhance his fighting style with it. Hope flared like a white hot flame as he followed up with a brutal combination that nearly shattered IX's bo.
IX back tracked, having to compensate for the far more powerful strikes to keep his weapon from breaking. It was all he could do to keep the blows from landing. A small flicker of excitement curled through him when he realized that the battle wasn't going to go how he'd first envisioned it. Not since that first battle with X had IX felt he might not walk away from a fight.
No one else had been a real challenge for him. Leaping over a low strike, IX whipped the bo staff around and felt the satisfaction of the wood connecting solidly with Remy's left shoulder. The Cajun cursed as he rolled with the blow to minimize the damage.
He leapt to his feet, and stabbed out with the end of the bo. IX hissed as the wood grazed across his ribs, ripping a shallow furrow in the skin. Each regained their footing and began circling again. Remy drove forward, only to lash out at empty air. Leaping back at the last second, he avoided the neck high blow that would have shattered his spine.
"Dat how it is, eh?" his eyes flared red and he whipped the bo around full force. IX brought his up to block like he normally would during one of their sparring matches - forgetting that circumstances had changed.
IX's bo shattered while Remy's continued unimpeded on its deadly course. The sound of bone splintering was louder than the staff breaking. It struck with enough force that it sent IX careening into the ground. He rolled half a dozen times before ending up on his back.
X roared, charging Remy. Without missing a beat, he reached into his pocket and pulled a deck of cards. Charging each in a matter of seconds, he threw them all at the enraged feral. The resulting explosion sent X crashing into the forest with enough force to knock the beast unconscious.
Silence echoed around him as he walked to where IX lay. Remy felt his heart clench with sorrow when he saw the half caved in chest. IX's eyes were still open, and his breath came in small, sharp gasps. Blood oozed from both sides of his mouth, painting his pale lips crimson.
Remy sank to his knees. Instinct caused his hand to jerk to the side, catching the delicate wrist before the tiny assassin could plant the slender dagger between his ribs. The thrust was so weak, Remy thought it wouldn't have managed to reach his heart even if he hadn't caught it. Even that small movement must have been agony, if IX pale face was any indication, but even now, broken and dying, he tried to complete the mission.
Respect and pain mingled, leaving a bitter taste in Remy's mouth as he gently pried the blade from IX's hand.
Finish it, Remy thought. Green eyes locked on his, and even now there was no fear. Unable to help himself, Remy reached out and dipped into that cool empty pool. He felt a mild current of something that almost felt like satisfaction.
Taking a deep breath, he brought the knife to rest over IX's heart. All he'd have to do is hold the blade tight and lean forward. His weight would do the rest.
A lone song bird sang in the depths of the forest. Wind tugged at his hair, bringing the rich scent of pine. Do it. Tis da only way ta be free. None of da others can take Remy. Only 'im. Do it. In the distance, he could hear the gentle burble of a stream.
Do it.
The blade bit into flesh, coming to rest against bone. Do it.
A cloud drifted past, and a shaft of sunlight struck IX's face. Eyes as clear and beautiful as emeralds stared into his. The blood, instead of detracting from the picture, added accents of ruby. Alabaster skin, and raven wing hair, he looked like a fallen angel about to be slain, and so young.
So terribly young. Remy never realized how young IX was until this moment. Always before, he'd seemed so much older. Small yes, but never...delicate.
Closing his eyes, Remy leaned forward and rested his forehead against the hilt of the dagger. "Remy canno'," he whispered, his voice hoarse with despair.
Not killing IX was tantamount to committing suicide. IX would never stop hunting him, never. By not killing him, he was asking to die. But he simply couldn't do it. Standing, he let the dagger fall.
All that was left to do was to provide a damned good chase.
IX watched Remy walk away, unable to comprehend why he was still alive. He didn't notice his lips lift in a tiny, genuine smile as he closed his eyes to focus on healing the devastating wound. Next time, Remy, you won't win so easily.
The past months hadn't been kind to Remy. Limping, he shouldered the door to the American Museum of Natural History open. All he wanted to do was sit down and rest. He knew IX wouldn't attack him in a crowded place, so he could if he wanted to, but the risk of staying in one place too long was too great.
If only he could stay in places like this forever, then maybe he'd have a chance to recover. But, they always had to close, and if he lingered in any one place long enough, the hunters would catch up to him.
So far, the only reason he'd survived as long as he had was that he kept moving. For some reason, he noticed that they tended to lose track of him. Unfortunately, it never lasted long, and he knew they were circling, getting closer. He also knew that he wouldn't survive the next encounter.
Remy's left shoulder throbbed. In their last altercation, he'd managed to tear something important. That, and he was certain one of the bones in his left leg was badly cracked. Unlike IX, he couldn't heal damage overnight. It wasn't fair. No matter what he did to the tiny mutant, he always kept coming.
Dat's 'cause Remy wouldn' kill 'im, he thought bitterly. They'd fought seven times in the last eight months, and each time he managed to win, though barely. And every time he won, it was harder to accomplish. IX learned from each battle, and he'd almost managed to master defeating Remy even when he used his full powers during their fights.
It was a hopeless situation. One that could only end one way. "Fine, Remy just wan' ta rest now," he whispered under his breath.
Lost in his dark thoughts, he didn't see the woman until he crashed into her. Agony shot up his leg as the weakened bone finally gave way. He landed hard, feeling his shoulder scream a nauseating counterpoint to his leg.
Startled green eyes stared down at him, and Remy's mind froze for a second, seeing different eyes. "De wrong shade," he croaked, the spike of fear easing as darkness ate at his vision. It wasn't IX. He was still safe, for now.
Jean staggered for a second time when an image slammed into her brain. A small man with eyes two shades lighter than hers, a blood soaked knife in hand and death on his mind. The mental image matched her own memory, and she realized to her horror that this man was being hunted by the one who'd almost killed her and the rest of her team.
Professor? We have to help him.
She felt his mind sink into hers, soft as a cloud as he reviewed her memory and looked through her eyes at the unconscious man. They both regarded him, saw the sunken drawn look on his face, and the half hidden blotches of old and new bruises.
Yes, take him back to the Manor, have him tended to. I promise, we'll keep him safe. Even though he'd agreed, Jean couldn't help but feel anxiety over bringing him home. What if they followed? Knock it off, you're being paranoid. Once you get him away from here, he'll disappear. Everything will be fine. Even if they do make it to the manor, they'll never be able to defeat us there. It won't be like last time.
After her little pep talk, she knelt and got one of his arms around her. Using her power, she eased his weight and got them both upright.
"Need some help, ma'am?"
Jean turned, and offered a winning smile to the guard who'd come to offer assistance. She could see his watchful gaze, and knew he was wondering what was going on. "No, I've got it. My friend was in a car accident a couple days ago. I told him he should have stayed home, but you know how guys are. He promised to take me to the Museum, and refused to break his word. Next time I'll have to tie him to the bed," she offered a false laugh, and he chuckled with her.
"Have a nice day."
"I will, you too."
With that, Jean maneuvered her burden towards the door.
IX stared down at the faulty device, patiently waiting for the small white dot to reappear. It vanished over an hour ago, still he silently willed it to reappear. Instead, the screen remained tauntingly blank.
Tucking the device away, IX entered the building. He'd left X behind in a hotel room to sleep while he and Remy played hide and seek throughout the city. X never did well around mundanes, and it was asking for trouble dragging the feral around the city with him.
Not that he needed the backup now. The hunt was coming to an end, and it would only take one more clash to finish it. Over the months, IX had twisted on the hook of obedience, trying to find a way to circumvent the orders, but it was impossible.
Remy had to die by his hand, and nothing could change that. The only concession he had was the fact that he refused to take him out from a distance. Had he chosen to do that, he would have finished the mission that first week.
A slight frown touched his lips while he walked through the crowded museum. Why hadn't Stryker forced his hand? IX gave his reports diligently, but the Major never told him he was taking too long to finish. Instead, he was told to continue and without further orders being given. It was odd, IX wondered what the man was hiding, but didn't care enough to find out.
If the Director wanted more information on Stryker's activities, he would be given orders to increase his surveillance of the man. Until then, it wasn't his problem.
IX stopped at one of the kiosks. "Hello. Have you seen this man?" His lips turned up into his 'friendly' smile, though his tone didn't match the gesture. The teen seated on a wooden stool looked from him to the picture and back. Heavy eye liner made her brown eyes stand out, though it clashed with the bubblegum pink lipstick.
"Yup. Um, I think he fainted or something, cuz a bitchy looking red headed woman had to practically carry him out," she said, words punctuated by flailing hands.
"What did the woman look like?"
"Uh...I don't know. Like I said. She had red hair, about this long," the girl used her hands to demonstrate the length. "And, um, she was pretty tall. I, like, think she was with a big group of kids or something. I saw her come in with them. Sort of like one of those field trips, you know? I think she was like a teacher or something. She had that stuck up look about her. Like she'd give you detention for passing notes. You know the type." One eye lid dipped down in a flirty wink.
IX didn't react to the gesture. Instead, he turned and walked away.
"Jeeze! Welcome much?" She shouted after him.
IX nibbled on a delicate roll of sushi, pondering the information he'd collected. The only students here belonged to Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. Now that he had a destination, he'd be able to collect X and finish the mission.
But first, he decided to get something to eat. It would take some time for Remy to get to the Institute, and he wanted to allow them to get him settled. They might even take him to a hospital. It didn't matter. No matter where he went, IX would find him. A small part of him that he refused to acknowledge pointed out that he was giving Remy a chance to recover when he should strike now while he was too weak to fight back.
Ignoring the inner monolog, he let his gaze drift over the mundanes. Half way across the room his gaze was drawn to a group of teens. Two groups appeared to be in the early posturing stages of a fight. He sipped his tea and watched it develop.
Then something unexpected happened. Fire erupted from the cigarette of one of the males, lighting the youth on fire. Another male stood up and held out a hand covering the flaming youth in frost. IX gave a low hum, his mind working out how to take the pair down even though they weren't his targets. Together, they'd make a difficult pair, but they were too young to work side by side without fighting each other as much as the enemy.
People were screaming, fleeing, and making a nuisance of themselves. That was one of the primary reasons IX never attacked Remy in a crowded place like this. It wouldn't due to be outed as a mutant. IX ignored them in favor of the drama playing out. Suddenly the stampeding herd froze, locked silently in place.
IX blinked, tilting his head to the side when a new group entered the scene. It was the man in the wheel chair that captured his attention. He's the one, IX thought. Though he couldn't explain how he knew, he was certain that was the mutant who'd frozen everyone. He's a powerful one. I'd have to take him by surprise or not at all.
There hadn't been many like this over the years. But when he and the rest of the team caught up to them, they'd learned the hard way that it was better to simply kill them than to try and capture them. Not that Stryker or the Doctor liked that philosophy, but it had only taken one omega class mutant nearly decimating the base to bring them around to IX's way of thinking. Some mutants were too dangerous to try and hold.
"The next time you feel like showing off, don't!" Even handicapped, the man's voice resonated with power. It made IX's bones ache and his mind itch.
Nine words were all that was needed for the youths to be cowed, and they followed meekly after him with tails tucked between their legs.
IX polished off the meal, watching the mundanes unfroze and began to mill about in confusion for a long moment before they got on with their day. It always amazed him how quickly they got over their fright. Like a herd of antelope after a lion makes a kill. They'd settle back down to grazing minutes after one of their own was pulled down.
Finished eating, he stood and made his way out of the museum.
Tomorrow. They would finish it tomorrow.
Fear jerked him awake, making his heart leap in his chest in anticipation of the Doctor's high pitched laughter.
"Ah, you're awake. How are you feeling?"
Remy's eyes locked on the large, blue being in a lab coat. For a second he wondered if one of the Doctor's experiments had wildly backfired, but looking into the creature's eyes, he saw a kindness that the Doctor's eyes never held. No, wherever he was, it wasn't back in the lab.
Not that lab anyway. Remy's gaze swept over the room, noting the medical equipment. His hands jerked up, and to his relief he found he wasn't bound to the bed. "Where be dis?" He demanded, trying to sit up.
"Relax. I'm not going to harm you. My name is Dr. Hank MCcCoy. You're at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, and it looks like you've had a hard time of it lately. I set your leg, and put it in a cast. There isn't much we can do for your arm. It'll have to heal up naturally, and you'll need to spend a few months in physical therapy to get it back up to normal."
He wished he could accept the offer to stay, but he knew it was impossible. "I be Gambit. Gambit be tankin ya, but he be needin ta go now." Again he tried to sit up, but a large blue hand tipped in blunt claws gently pushed him back down.
"Jean said she thought you were being hunted. Is that true?"
The startled look on Remy's face was enough to confirm the statement. "I told you this was a school, but it's more than that as you might have guessed." He waved a hand at the high tech lab before gesturing to himself. "We are a school for mutants. This is also the home of an organization known as the X-Men-"
Remy gave a half-hysterical bark of laughter at the name. Dr. McCoy arched one fuzzy blue eyebrow at the outburst. "Care to share the joke?"
"Gambit just be findin' it ammusin' dat the group who offers sanctuary be sharin' almost da same name as de ones who be huntin' 'im."
"Oh?"
"Dey be da X-Team and dey be made up of many a fierce mutant."
Dr. McCoy frowned, not recognizing the name. A group of mutants who hunted other mutants should have been on their radar. Then again, Jean said she'd run into the one who was hunting this man before.
"We have some of the most powerful mutants in the world on our side Mr. Gambit. I assure you, you'll be safe here. Now rest."
Remy huffed, but closed his eyes. No, he wasn't safe here. He wouldn't be safe anywhere, but he had nowhere else to go. Perhaps it would be best to wait it out and try to heal. When IX and X came, he would use the chaos of their attack to hobble away. He didn't like the idea of using the people who were helping him as cannon fodder, and hated the fact that more children would be put in harm's way, but what could he do?
"Know dis, da group be huntin' mutants. Havin' dem know of dis place would be a dangerous ting. Do ya understand?" Remy asked, unable to keep silent. "Ya be safer if ya cast Gambit back out der," he added, almost too quietly to hear.
"Perhaps we would be, but that is not in our nature Mr. Gambit. You need our help, and we are honored to save a fellow mutant. Now, sleep. Everything will be fine."
"No. It won'," he whispered, but he allowed himself to relax back into the bed. He marveled at the comfortable surface. It was nothing like the steel tables of the Doctor's lab, or the thin padding of his cell cot. Warm, safe, and mildly high on pain medication, Remy slept.
IX perched on a thick oak branch, studying the school through a pair of powerful binoculars. On the ground beneath him, X prowled. Each exhale from the large male ended in a low snarl, confirming what IX was seeing. From his vantage point he had an excellent view of the grounds, and the children who played there during their breaks.
After seeing the kids in the food court, he should have realized what 'gifted youngsters' were. At the time, he'd only thought it was a small group of mutants, perhaps out with a few adults to keep them in line. It wasn't uncommon for mutants who'd been cast out from their homes to band together, and he hadn't made the obvious connection.
Truthfully, he hadn't suspected there would be such a massive enclave of mutants hiding under the guise of a school. Though it was a brilliant form of camouflage. I'll have to report this to Stryker, he thought, watching as a bell rang and the students – blatantly using their powers out in the open - returned to the building.
For now, the report had to wait. He had to finish is original mission first, and taking the school with an eye to acquisition would be too difficult for them alone. No, better to slip in unnoticed, complete his task, and return to the base to provide further information about the school.
IX curled up on the branch, waiting for night fall.
Remy jerked awake, hissing when pain rolled through his body like a kitten stretching. It raked claws down his back, reminding him of the blows he'd been forced to take while defending his cracked leg.
Looking around, he huffed in annoyance when he realized the blue doctor was gone. He could really use another hit of those pain meds. If it weren't for his overwhelming exhaustion, he knew he never would have slept as soundly as he had. Unfortunately, the anxiety returned with wakefulness, and he just wanted to blunt the edge of dread that refused to abate.
With a low grunt of aggravation, Remy levered himself up out of the bed and hobbled towards the cupboards. Since this was a hospital of sorts, they had to keep the medication somewhere. He found a few bottles of pills with names that had too many syllables, and almost gave up when he found a nearly full bottle of brandy tucked in the back of one of the lower shelves. "Dat'll do," he muttered, opening the bottle and tipping his head back.
The alcohol burned a long heated line from tongue to belly. It was beyond soothing. He hadn't had a drink since the first altercation with IX, and he'd forgotten how comforting alcohol could be. Ya shouldn' be doin' dis, he thought, but his hand and mouth ignored sense for once. It wasn't like he was in any condition to fight anyway.
An hour later, he polished off the bottle and wasn't feeling a lick of pain. Then the lights cut off and he bit back a scream.
Being hunted by IX gave a man a new fear of the darkness. Instinct told him what was coming, but alcohol and injury kept him on the bed. Even if he managed to get off the damn thing, he wouldn't be able to walk. Of all da times ta get drunk, he thought morosely, even as he wished for a second bottle to polish off while he waited for IX to appear.
IX let his hand drop from the side of the building after releasing the controlled blast of power. X was prowling the woods, and would provide a perfect distraction for any mutants who exited the building.
Mind clean of anticipation, thinking only of moving forward and completing his task. IX slipped into the pitch black building.
Professor Xavier closed his book when the lights went out. Blackouts weren't entirely unheard of, but the lack of a storm made the sudden darkness unnatural. Focusing outward, he found a pillar of thought blazing on the edge of the woods.
There was nothing human in those thoughts. They reeked of dominance, territoriality, and challenge. Whoever was out there was looking for a fight. "You've picked the wrong battle field my friend." Xavier said before sending his mind out to Scott, informing him of the intruder.
The fire of X mind was so bright and consuming that it masked the dark, still mind that had slipped into his home.
Scott glared daggers into the woods. He'd gotten the Professor's message, and wished this whole situation could have waited just another hour before happening. The cloth over his groin chaffed, and all he wanted to do was get back to Jean and finish what they'd started. Why did things like this always happen when he was about to get lucky?
Thoughts on the beautiful red-head waiting for him in his room, Scott didn't notice the branches above his head shake slightly.
SCOTT! Xavier's mind cried out when he saw the trap his almost son was walking into.
The feral leapt, and he saw the sharp claws about to plunge into Scott's unprotected back. Reaching desperately into the feral's mind, he tried to take control, but found his grasp slipping against the animalistic thoughts, unable to gain purchase.
Then he felt something deeper. A voice screamed up at him: "HELP ME!"
Out of options, and unable to fully examine the situation, Xavier's mind plunged towards that voice, yanking it up and free. At the same time, the rest of his considerable mental power crashed into the feral mind overlying the other. With a vicious twist of thought, he ripped the other mind down and shoved it into a mental cage. It was a very crude version of what he'd once been forced to do with Jean, and if he'd had more time, it would have been a more thorough job.
Agony seemed to shred Logan's mind as the ocean he'd existed in forever came to a boil. He felt himself being torn upward, pulled through the mind that had taken over his body doubling the pain.
Opening his mouth, he screamed.
Scott jerked to the side, warned both by the Professor and the agonized howl that mid-shriek turned into a skull splitting scream. The body landed hard, making no move to break its fall. Silvery claws sank back into flesh as the mutant's hands came up and gripped his hair.
Still the scream went on and on. Scott's stomach turned. They all understood how powerful Xavier was, but it was so easy to forget how dangerous he could be. Finally, the agonized screams died down to weak whimpers. Every inch of the half-naked man seemed to quiver in reaction to whatever the Professor had done.
Even though the mutant seemed to be incapacitated, Scott didn't take his hand away from his visor. Nor did he try and get closer. He wasn't sure what happened, and the fact that the mutant (the same one from the Liberty Statue) he realized, was still conscious bothered him. Normally the Professor would have taken control of the man, or put him to sleep. Something had gone wrong, and Scott couldn't help but think it was partially his fault. If he'd been paying attention, he wouldn't have been blindsided like that.
Still shaking, the mutant slowly lifted his head and looked around with wide glazed eyes. "Where am I?" the voice was painfully rough with more than just screaming. It sounded like the man hadn't spoken in ages, but he made no move to attack, so Scott relaxed slightly.
"You're outside of Xavier's School of Gifted Youngsters. Mind telling me who you are and what you're doing here?" Scott demanded.
The mutant blinked, as if trying to make sense of the words before answering. "Don't know. Logan...I think."
With that, he collapsed, his mind going into shock from its abrupt upheaval.
The lights came back on when the emergency generators kicked on. IX pressed his hand against another door. For once, the tracking device was working perfectly, and he knew Remy was behind this door. There would be no more fighting, no more tests of skill. It was time to bring the hunt to a close.
"Open."
When the door slid open, he caught the strong scent of alcohol, and knew Remy wouldn't have been able to fight even if he wanted to.
Remy spotted him and tried to crawl off the bed, only managing to fall off and end up in a drunken heap on the floor. "Ah Mon Ami, Remy try' ta tell dem. He did, he try, but dey don' listen." His accent was thicker, the words slurring together like a thick gumbo.
Unable to get to his feet, Remy knelt on the floor like a perfect sacrifice. Closing his eyes, he smiled and tilted his head back to offer IX a clean blow. "Remy be hopen he gave ya a good time, Mon Cheri."
IX slid his sharpest dagger free as he stalked silently forward. "You did."
"IX: Report."
IX paused in front of Remy's kneeling form. "Sir, I have located the target and am about to terminate him. Be informed I've found an enclave of -"
A blazing headache made Xavier want to take a handful of aspirin and go to sleep, but something nagged at the back of his mind.
The mutant from the Liberty Statue.
Scott's thought crashed into him with the force of a punch to the gut. His mind leapt out again, seeking Remy's and finding the cold mind he'd seen in Jean's thoughts of that time. It was the assassin.
He slid into the mind as the mutant began his report, and knew he had to stop it before the man gave away his location. Pain gripped his heart, but despite what Erik might think, he was willing to make the hard choices when it came to protecting his children.
At the last second he changed the hammer blow that would have crushed the mind below his into dust to a thin rapier of power focused on the small bundle of brain tissue that had been mechanically altered to allow instant communication. He burned that place away, incinerating the nanos and the brain tissue around them.
Leaning forward, he didn't fight the wave of nausea that wracked him, knowing that the damage he'd done was irrevocable.
"Mon Ami?" Remy slurred. The dagger slipped from IX's hand and his green eyes grew impossibly wide before going dark. Somehow, Remy managed to catch the small body as it fell. "IX?" He shook IX's slim shoulders, trying to wake him even though it was insane to want to do so.
The blank look in the assassin's eyes terrified him. "IX!"
Still no response. Shifting a little, Remy brought his hand up and pressed it against the soft skin of IX's neck. Relief made his hands shake and his stomach churn at the cartwheeling emotions when he felt the slow strong pulse. IX was still alive and so was Remy.
That was a better outcome than he'd expected when he'd first spotted the assassin and accepted his fate. Still, what happened? IX had never collapsed like this before. Even though he knew the little male was there to kill him, he couldn't let go of his concern.
"Hey! Be anyone der?" he shouted, trying to shift them both into a more comfortable position so they weren't sitting on his cast anymore. Not even the copious amounts of alcohol could keep the pain away if he insisted on sitting in such an awkward position. He shook his head, trying to chase away the drunken rambling thoughts.
Pushing IX gently to the ground, Remy managed to regain his feet. Three hobbling steps brought him to the door and he almost ran face first into the large blue doctor. Grabbing the white coat to keep from falling, Remy shook the mutant. "Remy's friend be needin ya help."
"Friend?" Dr. McCoy asked, looking past Remy and spotting the fallen form.
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