Chapter 34 – Where It All Began
"You don't always need a plan. Sometimes you just need to breathe, trust, let go, and see what happens." - The Joker
Hogwarts
Fingering the Spell-O-Tape wrapped around the center of his wand, Ron scowled. It wasn't like the awful thing fit him to begin with being Charlie's old wand and all, but then George had to trip him when he was getting off the train at the start of term and down he went. It didn't help that his mom always badgered him about keeping his wand in his pocket.
The wand snapped when he fell, and not even his desperate owls to his mother fixed the situation. Her response? A roll of Spell-O-Tape attached to a Howler. Sullen anger burned in his chest and made his cheeks pink when he remembered the humiliation of her screeching for the whole school to hear that if he wasn't so clumsy and actually paid attention to where he put his feet, it never would have happened. As if anyone could be careful enough around the twins to avoid their traps.
More often than not, the youngest Weasley male thought the twins were changelings, switched out at birth by some devious creature, leaving Halflings in their place. Except for the fact that at a glance they were pure Weasley through and through. "Glamours, that's what it is. Maybe they look too much like us to be real," he muttered under his breath while ignoring the latest idiot who was supposed to be their Defense Against the Dark Art's teacher. At least this one can say a whole sentence without becoming a stuttering wreck. That was true, unfortunately, Lockhart's greatest talent had nothing to do with magic. Instead, it was an uncanny ability to turn any topic under the sun back to himself. At the rate they were going, they weren't going to learn a single spell this term, but they'd all know every one of the three hundred and forty two flavors of tea the man loved, and just how much work went into preserving that perfect smile.
"Mr. Weasley!"
Ron jumped, dropped his wand, and felt his ears burn as the other kids started laughing at him.
"Break it again Weasel, maybe that'll strengthen it out," Draco laughed, increasing Ron's fury ten-fold. If he had his way he'd shove the broken wand so far up-
"Detention, Mr. Weasley," the blond ponce snapped, making Ron's head whip around to gape at the man.
Shoving his wand back into his pocket, Ron turned his glare on the man. "What? That's not fair," he shouted.
"Maybe next time you'll pay attention when someone addresses you, hm? Now, please inform the class what spell I used to cure the Wagga Wagga Werewolf."
"Er…"
"That's what I thought, 7 PM sharp, young man." The blue eyes glittered at him like a pair of demented robin's eggs, and Ron felt the almost irresistible urge to slam his fist into the bastard's face just to see if it would shatter.
Gideroy ran his fingers through his golden tresses a final time while he waited for the boy to arrive. When he'd taken the job, he thought he'd be able to hold back, to keep control of himself. But it had been months, and watching all the children day in and day out, well…it wasn't like he'd hurt the boy. Even if he did, it wasn't like young Ronald would remember. He licked his lips. Redheads were always his favorite.
With only three minutes to spare, his door cracked open, and the lanky twelve-year-old walked in with an adorable scowl on his face. Gideroy couldn't wait to see his cheeks painted red with passion and those sweet lips parted in a moan as he taught the boy a few new lessons.
"Come here," Gideroy purred, making Ron's steps falter. His own blue gaze studied the teacher. Something about the tone, the look in the man's eyes, set him on edge. It was the sort of look the twins gave him whenever they were planning a particularly nasty prank and needed a victim to test it out on.
But what could he do? It wasn't like he could run away from a teacher. Swallowing, he took a hesitant step forward, and forced himself to continue even when the man gave him a wolfish smile.
With a speed that would set Snape back on his heels, Lockhart drew his wand and cried, "Immobulus!"
Ron barely registered the drawn wand before he was frozen. What in Merlin's name? His thoughts tumbled over each other trying to make sense of the attack. Lockhart was a professor, not the twins or a sneaky Slytherin.
Gideroy savored the look of panic flashing in the boy's wide blue eyes. Such a beautiful color, rich and deep, like sinking into the ocean and reaching the point where the light fades to near darkness. Grinning, he stalked around his prize, his wand hissing over the frozen form. "I shouldn't be doing this, so unprofessional I know, but I never could say no a pretty pair of eyes. Relax, you'll enjoy this as much as I will," he whispered before his tongue darted out to stroke the outer edge of Ron's ear.
A tiny meep escaped Ron when understanding crashed over him. This can't be happening! As the pervert circled him again, long slender hands started to tug at his clothes even as the tip of his wand wandered over bits of exposed skin.
Ron's heart beat frantically against his ribs, so fast and hard it hurt. He focused, using the fear and fury to his advantage. With an almost audible pop the binding spell gave way, thank Merlin the bastard chose immobulus since it was the Twins favorite spell to catch him with so they could use him as a test subject without him wiggling around. Escaping the spell was the only bit of accidental magic he'd managed to master into wandless.
With a shout that wavered between a roar and a squeak tore from his throat, Ron's hand darted out to grab the teacher's wand.
"Hey!" Lockhart jerked, causing the wand between them to snap like a wishbone. "Why you little shit. I was going to go easy on you, make you enjoy it, but now I think I'll take you rough."
Terror spiked in Ron at the words, and he yanked his own wand out of his pocket. Faster than a mongoose snapping a cobra's neck, Lockhart snatched the wand out of his hand. By instinct more than design, the curse he shouted next was the one that he'd perfected in his youth, in this very school to hide his…nocturnal delights from partners who never remembered their little games afterward.
"OBLIVIATE!" He roared.
As if the shouted word was a detonator, the wand exploded in his hand. Ron flung his arms over his head and leapt back.
The man who'd been attacking him a second ago blinked at the boy from the ground where the blast had knocked him flat. "Oh, hello. Who are you?"
Nightcrawler knew, perhaps more than anyone else, what it felt like to be stared at. Yet, he found he couldn't keep his eyes away from Mystique. His tail twitched, and he finally worked up the nerve to approach the shapeshifter.
"They say you can imitate anybody," he paused, his eyes tracing her blue face with the strange yellow eyes that were as close a shade to his as he'd ever seen. "Even their voice?"
Her lips curved into a teasing smile as she replied in a perfect imitation of him, "Even their voice?"
A grin of delight curled Nightcrawler's lips, and his tail gave a happy flick as he clapped his hands together in appreciation from one performer to another.
The smile faded into seriousness as she gave him a long look. "The voice isn't a challenge. Now the tail might take a little work."
"Would it be like mine," he wrinkled his nose, trying to find the English word, "what is it, like-"
"Prehensile," Logan offered as he wandered over to listen.
"Ja, ja, ja! Yes, like a monkey."
"It's not polite to ask a woman her secrets, mein herr," she teased, "Or expect her to give them up for the sake of satisfying your curiosity."
"Forgive me," Nightcrawler whispered, recognizing the flare of emotion flickering in her eyes but not knowing exactly what it represented. "I did not mean to cause offence."
Now she gave a delicate snort. "Not even close."
Silence lapsed between them, but he shifted from foot to foot like a small boy who desperately wanted to speak but wasn't sure his thoughts would be welcome.
Mystique huffed, but couldn't quite keep the smile from her face at the sight. "Yes?"
"I vas vondering, with such an ability, why not stay in disguise all the time? You know…look like…everyone else?" Under the simple words, Mystique read the heartbreaking truth, what he meant to ask was, "like normal people."
"Because we shouldn't have to."
Sleep proved elusive, and Logan found himself staring up at the roof of the tent as if it had offended him. Glaring would be more accurate. His thoughts turned back to the mansion, to Zen. At the time, in the midst of the action, he'd been certain the short man would be fine. Of everyone he had to worry about in the school, Zen was at the bottom of the list when it came to guarding his own back. Even though he couldn't remember, he still knew Zen could handle himself.
That feeling was slowly eroding with every hour that passed. Where was he? Logan didn't doubt the assassin could find them if he wanted to, so why hadn't he?
Worse, what was he doing if he wasn't looking for them? He could envision Zen tracking down and killing every person who'd stepped foot on his domain, or worse, trying to take out a whole army of the assholes and getting himself killed.
A growl that sounded suspiciously light a laugh whispered up from the cage in his mind. "Right, laugh it up fur ball. I know you think he's the cat's meow or whatever, but even he can be outflanked."
That silenced the noise, drawing his attention to the faint odor of Folavril, Jean's perfume. A dark grin curled his lips, after all, he knew the best way to rile up X. The zipper hissed open, and she crouched inside. He watched the fast throb of her pulse on her throat, and could almost taste the flush of her skin on his tongue as blood filled her skin in a pretty blush.
His lips parted to speak, but her smooth finger ghosted against his lips, stopping the words before they could form. A low rumble rolled in the back of his mind like caged thunder, and he almost laughed out loud.
Jean's green, feline eyes glittered with anticipation as she crawled closer. Even though this was half a game to torment his other half, he found he couldn't help follow the smooth line of her shirt, unbuttoned more than she usually wore it. Without a word, she straddled his hips. Her scent twined around him like a long furred cat, and he took a long draw of it, rolling it along his senses like another man might savor the first sip of wine.
Her hands slid over his chest before tracing the rugged line of his throat to cradle his face between her palms. Then her lips captured his, and Logan groaned when pain spiked in his temples as X roared his fury and tore at the cage holding him back.
Logan forced his hands to remain gentle as caressed the smooth skin of her belly, moving up and up over the gentle curve of her ribs until they rested between the swell of her breasts. A single fingertip traced the scar divot he knew he would find, even though he didn't hold actual memory.
She trembled against him, her breath rushing out in a sharp gasp at his touch.
That was the moment he chose to strike, letting his claws tear free. The two outer claws extended to bracket her throat, forcing her to keep her head high and tight to keep from being sliced open. The middle claw tickled just below her pointy chin as a silent warning to behave. One misstep, and she'd lose her head.
When he knew he had her attention, he tore open the front of her shirt, revealing the scar IX left behind when he'd nearly killed her on Liberty Island.
"Busted," Mystique said, sounding entirely unapologetic. If anything, her grin was more alive than before as her eyes glittered down at him like a feral dog's. She danced on the knife edge of danger to add a layer of spice to life that couldn't be found any other way.
As he watched, her green eyes melted into chrome yellow, a color that expanded to encompass the entire eye. Then, like a flower taped and played in fast forward, the transformation spread outwards from her eyes. Without a sound, her hair shortened and darkened to a brilliant red as her clothes sank into her skin, which darkened to deepest blue.
She gently but firmly pushed his claws away from her neck with barely a millimeter to spare; the edges never touched her skin.
Then, with a purr that was almost primal, she melted against him and kissed her way up his neck. Her teeth sank into the lob of his ear in a hard, sexy love bite. Before he could push her off, she straightened. "What do you want?" She asked, her voice a sultry caress.
Again she shifted, this time her skin darkened to sun kissed mahogany. Her hair silvered into strands of moonlight as her eyes shifted to blue. She gained height and majesty until Storm straddled him, naked and glorious, yet still he remained unmoved by her beauty.
Lush lips shifted into a pout and something sly flared in her sky blue eyes. Again they shifted, this time darkening to jade as the body shrank, grew lean, no longer the soft curves of a woman, but the hard lines of Zen.
"Or is this-" Zen's quiet monotone was interrupted by a low snarl. Before she could react he flipped them, and when their eyes met again, Mystique realized she'd bitten off more than she could chew as animal instinct fill his eyes, stealing control. A low growl vibrated through him, making her breath catch in her throat. Then white, sharp teeth flashed in something too predatory to be called a grin as his body tensed.
"Shit," she hissed, trying to shove him off, but the angle was wrong, his greater weight pinned her as easily as a lion pins a baby gazelle moments before delivering the fatal bite. "Don't you dare."
His hands gripped her arms with crushing force as his head darted forward in a move nothing human could mimic. A single hair's breadth away from her frightened jugular, X froze. Lips peeled back and a snarl like ripping silk tore from his gaped jaws, but no matter how he fought, his body refused to obey.
"For shame. Is this how you repay your debts?" Magneto's amused voice made the hair along the back of X's neck rise. "Then again, I'm hardly think a beast like you can comprehend such things."
With a twitch of his fingertips, he lifted the feral three feet into the air, earning another savage growl. "The X-Men should train their pets better," he mused as he flicked his finger, shaking him roughly.
Mystique's lips quirked in an amused smile as she squirmed out from under the hanging male whose baleful eyes promised revenge if either one of them dropped their guard in the future. "Since we can't afford to let you go rampaging about at this juncture, be a good dog and return to your kennel."
X's only response was to violently twist in the air, trying to break the old mutant's grip on his skeleton. He would have had a better chance of breaking out of a solid block of cement. The mild amusement on Magneto's face shifted to irritation and his fingers flared wide, pulling at X's limbs, stretching him wide. "How hard do you suppose I'd have to pull before one pops right off? I wonder if it would grow back."
Snarls of rage mutated into a volley of curses. "God damned mother fucking bitch cunt whore!" Logan shouted as his joints screamed in protest. From the second that bitch took Zen's form, he knew they were in trouble. He hadn't had a prayer of keeping X locked up after that, even though he knew the feral knew she wasn't really Zen. No matter how well-crafted the clone, it couldn't stand up to his scrutiny. While the shape and voice were perfect, she hadn't been able to nail Zen's unique scent.
A disappointed sigh brought Logan's wrathful thoughts back to the man holding him captive. "I see there's little difference between you and your alternate, Logan. You're both uncouth."
"I wasn't the one sneaking into someone else's tent pretending to be someone else," Logan growled, the sound holding an echo of X, letting them all know how shaky his control was.
Magneto flashed a look at Mystique, who only gave a mocking bow in return. Arching an eyebrow, he fought a smile. "I won't save you again, my dear, if you insist on poking the tiger."
This time she stuck her tongue out at him before slinking out of the tent. Without another word, Magneto dropped Logan, and made his own retreat.
Closing his eyes, Logan let his fists clench shut but kept his claws sheathed as he fought against X's instinctual urge to follow in a futile attempt to establish dominance. It didn't help that the man was old, and smelled it, giving off the signal of weakness to his inner monster. Things aren't always what they seem, he growled in his mind, and imagined an old rattlesnake whose poison was still deadly. It didn't have as much of an affect as he wanted since they both knew he could take a full shot of snake venom to the face and hardly feel it. But still, he'd made his point. The old man was a hell of a lot deadlier than any snake.
The bitter tang of old blood saturated the air like morning fog. It coated her tongue and clung to the back of her throat like a leech, making her want to gag. Instead of choking on the horrible taste, her body stood passive, waiting.
Always waiting, even as the scream began to build in the back of her mind. NOT REAL!
It didn't help. It never did. Instead, she waited, her frantic eyes tracing over the endless field of spilled blood. It seemed to go on as far as she could see, stretching from horizon to horizon. How many deaths, how much blood did it take to fill up such a vast space? How many times had she died here? Not me, not mine, his…IT'S HIS.
Horror spiked in her mind, though it wasn't reflected in the flesh now trapping her to this nightmare realm. Something shifted beneath the ground, as if the blood itself had come alive. Slowly, so slowly she wanted to scream or claw her eyes out, the shadowy shapes formed around her. Eight.
"Learn what they have to teach you. Kill...or be killed." The hated voice boomed all around her, and like a switch being flipped, her slender form sprang into motion.
What was worse? The feel of her own bones shattering, or the horrible sensation of other people's bodies breaking under her skilled hand?
And then came the unexpected blow from behind, knocking her to her knees, an arm closing around her slender throat and squeezing. No, no, no, please, no more!
Darkness ate the world, bones ground together, fractured, pain flared as all sense started to leave her.
Jean woke with a gasp, her hands jerked up to cradle her neck, trying to reassure herself that she was still whole. Swallowing, she forced her hands to drop back down. Just a dream.
The night seemed to fold around her like heavy drapes, making her long for sunrise, no matter what the next day brought. Instead of thinking about the future, or Scott, or the little bastard who haunted her nightmares, Jean's own ghosts decided to make an appearance.
Her mind turned back the clock, and in her head she heard her friend Annie Malcom's voice. "Benny! Come on boy, catch it." Everything about that day felt imprinted in her mind. The way the hot pink Frisbee flew, caught by a stray breeze and flung over the wooden fence. How the small mixed dog darted through the open gate and Annie, sweet foolish Annie, chasing after Benny, heedless of the danger.
Jean saw what Annie failed to, a car speeding around the sharp curve in the road. The car never slowed, he never even applied the brakes before or after. All she heard was the sickening thud and the rough screech of tires skidding on asphalt as the driver fought to maintain control before speeding away.
Not wanting to, but unable to turn away from the memory while still fighting the after effects of the nightmare, Jean's mind continued playing it out. She found Annie slumped against the stone wall, her body crumpled, twisted at impossible angles, and the blood, so much more than such a small body should be able to hold, was splashed everywhere. Jean choked on a scream. She wanted to howl like a wounded animal at the sight, but the part of her that refused to give up control bit down on her bottom lip until she could form words. She forced air into her lungs and shouted for her mother.
Annie's small chest was the only thing that moved, desperately trying to draw breath, to continue living even though she'd been damaged irrevocably. The only other thing that seemed alive about her were her wide, bright eyes, shining with confusion as her battered brain tried to understand what happened. Jean couldn't hold back the flood of tears. They splashed silently down her pale cheeks as she knelt and pulled Annie into her arms.
She found herself in a vast space filled with light. All around her glittered sparkling clusters of energy. Reaching out, she touched the closest and caught a flash of a specific time and place, together with a flood of associated emotions, and in a burst of insight, she realized each of the clusters represented one of Annie's memories. With the quick agility of a child's mind, she concluded at once that she was inside Annie's mind.
But the delight she felt for the new adventure died when she noticed the brilliant clusters were starting to fade, along with the background radiance which infused the endless space around her. It was like looking at a summer sky chock full of stars of every imaginable color and size fighting against the sharp fingers of nightfall.
Pain and horror filled Jean when she saw one of the clusters closest to the darkness explode apart in a show of sparks, like fireworks, before the embers vanished. Unlike a sunset, where night encroached from a single horizon, the darkness of death seemed to come from every direction. Desperate, she reached out and tried to catch hold of the memory clusters, trying to carry them to safety. Only no place within the dying brain was safe. As more and more clusters vanished, Jean could sense less of her friend remaining.
"Annie!" she screamed into the darkening landscape, but the word only echoed in a place where it had no more meaning. Annie was going, and nothing Jean did would stop it.
Instead, she embraced the few clusters she'd managed to grab, her own heart burning with grief so intense she thought it would explode like one of Annie's memories. If only she could push her own strength, the essence of her will and soul into the last fleeting scrap of her friend, maybe she'd be able to save her.
Then the last of the light went out. All around her, save the last piece of Annie she still cradled to her chest, had gone dark.
But paradoxically, as the final night fell, the cluster Jean embraced burned more brightly than before until it was like holding onto a captive sun. She saw colors there were no names for that reached out to all her senses. They manifested themselves as textures, tastes, and scents. The light filled her, embraced her, was pure in a way poets strove for and only lovers found, and then only rarely.
The final cluster, the very last piece of what used to be her best friend, broke apart in Jean's grasp and slipped through her fingers before rushing away. It was so beautiful and peaceful Jean's first instinct was to follow after her friend so that she wouldn't have to face the new place alone.
It would be so easy to let herself slip away. No more pain, no more fear. She would be able to avoid the soul crushing grief waiting to pounce the second she opened her eyes for real as she was confronted with the broken doll who'd once been her best friend.
A shout broke her concentration. It was so raw with horror Jean was shocked to realize she wasn't just hearing the words as her mother cradle-crushed Jean into her own arms the way she'd done with Annie, as headless as her daughter had been of the blood soaking them both. She could feel the torrential emotions rocking her mother's psyche along with an influx of thoughts – relief that it was Annie and not Jean, shame at the acknowledgment, fury that the girls had been so careless, and a terrible flood of rage at the driver who hadn't stopped after he hit Annie.
It's okay, Mommy, she remembered saying. It had taken her years to realize she hadn't said the words out loud, which is why she'd been shocked when her mother fell back in shock. There's no need to cry. I'm okay.
Much later, she understood that what she'd told her mother had been a lie. Nothing would ever be okay again after that fateful moment when her mutation catalyzed years before it was supposed to.
Tears, an echo of the ones that had burned her face those long years ago, whispered down her cheeks unnoticed. Why had that memory surfaced now? Then a trembling smile touched her lips. "Thank you, Annie," she whispered.
No matter how convincing IX's memories were, they weren't real. She knew the taste of death, and how it felt, and his false deaths were just that: fake.
William Stryker took no chances now that victory was so close he could feel it rushing through him like an undercurrent of lava in his veins. Reviewing the security procedures from the control room, he ensured the electronic sensors were up and running, video surveillance active and tracking, sentries in place, and fast-reaction units armed and ready to strike should anything attempt to approach the facility. A mosquito wouldn't be able to land on the fence without him knowing about it.
While he was unable to utilize AWACS here the way he could over Westchester, he had adequate ground radar capability in place to lock down the air space over a hundred miles in diameter, backed up by a Doppler imaging system that could detect the heat signatures of any jet engine, no matter how advanced, as well as the ripples such a craft would cause in the air currents. He was confident nothing would be capable of approaching without his knowledge, even so advanced a stealth airframe as Xavier could boast.
Behind him, the door shushed open, but he didn't turn to acknowledge the man. He didn't need to. As Lyman and his escort entered the room, a shadow stepped away from the wall and placed herself between them and Stryker.
Yuriko Oyana stood poised on the balls of her feet, her hands up in a waiting pose, prepared to strike at the least provocation.
"Sir," Lyman said, not quite able to keep the edge of nerves from underlining the word. Stryker bit back a smile at the tremolo in the man's voice. It amused him how Yuriko could have that effect on a man when she was prepared to fight. They didn't know what to make of the woman, except that she was undeniably dangerous.
Stryker observed the men in the blank squares of inactive display screens mounted on the wall in front of him. Instead of replying at once, he paused while Wilkins, the duty officer, finished off the checklist. When he did respond, his tone was curtly dismissive.
"The men can wait outside, Mr. Lyman."
"Yes, sir," Lyman replied before dismissing his guards with a nod. They took up posts outside the door. At an unseen cue from Stryker, Yuriko stepped back, her lithe frame once more docile and unthreatening.
Lyman cleared his throat. "Sir, the machine has been constructed to your specifications."
"Good."
"If I could ask, Sir, why are we keeping the children?"
With a flick of his finger, Stryker activated the monitor showing the children huddled together in the middle of a single holding cell. They were clearly unhappy to be there, and by contrast, Stryker radiated cold joy at the sight. Though it dimmed a little as he stared at the group of pajama clad creatures masquerading as children. Looking at them, something unpleasant jangled along his nerves like the first flash of distant lighting heralding a coming storm. He suppressed a shudder of loathing as he turned away from the screen, turning his back on the test subjects to face Lyman.
"I'm a scientist, Mr. Lyman. When I build a machine, I want to know it's working."
Lyman blinked at him, confusion flaring in his dark eyes.
Stryker gave a sharp edged smile. "Consider the children a control group. They'll be our living benchmarks. What happens to them will indicate what's happening outside. If needed, we can adapt settings and protocols according to their reactions ensuring greater efficiency and potency."
"But sir, they're just children," Lyman sputtered in a reflex more of surprise than actual protest. When Stryker's eyes locked on his like a vice, he regretted speaking out of turn.
"They're mutants, Mr. Lyman. Never forget that. This is war."
While Stryker was explaining his plans for the children, the aircraft he'd been so worried over was sitting within a few miles of where he stood, tucked away in a patch of snowy woodland. Yes, he'd modified the systems to compensate for the Blackbird's unbelievable stealth capability, however he hadn't taken into account Magneto's ability to deflect radar pulses before they made contact with the jet. He also failed to recognize Storm's power and how she could smooth the air behind them and mask the heat of the jet's exhaust.
Guessing at the level of security around the hidden base, they'd come in low and slow, stretching the science behind nap-of-the-Earth flying to the breaking point. The jet's underbelly tickled the tops of trees, and in some areas even dipped below the tree line to fly between branches whenever possible. Helicopter pilots would have balked at some of the stunts they pulled. During the approach, Jean kept her teeth gritted in a mix of determination and delight since they were breaking so many fundamental flight safety procedures that she'd been forced to take the flight manual to keep the computers from having a conniption. As she flew, she tossed her telepathy ahead of them, ensuring they didn't run head first into a stray sentry.
After they'd safely landed, they reapplied the stealth netting to hide them from visual and electronic detection. On board the jet, they shut down all but the most vital internal systems to keep stray emissions low. While the terrain itself acted as a cloak against unwanted observation there was no reason to take chances.
Once they finished securing their position, they returned to the jet and uploaded the stolen data from Stryker's office, creating a three-dimensional map of the installation before projecting it as a hologram for them to study.
The dam itself was not a thing of aesthetic beauty, unlike the grandeur of Grand Coulee, or Glen Canyon, or Hoover. No, this construction was simply a massive wall across the valley in the shape of a shallow L. there were two spillways along the long face of the dam, and a third coming off the short leg. There were also two massive concrete trenches dug along each bank, one dedicated to the hydroelectric generators that provided power to the base; and the second for safety, allowing for a controlled release of water should there be significant snowmelt.
The X-Men tapped into the government's technology, slipping into one of the same keyhole surveillance satellites that had spied on the mansion to download current pictures of Alkali Lake. The digital images showed the power trench was clear, but the depth of undisturbed snow revealed it wasn't the path the new inhabitants were using to enter the base.
At a glance, the entire base held the haunting air of abandonment, and any casual recon of the site would move on, assuming it remained inactive.
"Surface scans are cold," Storm informed them. "No electronic emission, power, or heat signatures. As far as the satellite is concerned, this place is dead, and has been so for years."
"We're shielding," Jean pointed out.
Storm gave a shrug in response, tapped out a few more commands, and the scene transformed, revealing a different perspective of the base.
"The first image was merely a topographic representation of the area. This one-" she pointed out a number of different points on the map-" shows the density changes in the terrain. Lighter coloration, the heavier the repetitive activity." To the casual observer, the right-hand spillway, the power trench, was covered with virgin snow. However, under the enhanced imagery of the spy satellite, a new picture revealed itself. The trench was lined with hundreds of colored lines, running the length of the spillway and up the ramp to the single road that terminated at Alkali base. They didn't need to waste time looking at the legend to understand that this was an abnormal amount of heavy activity, not just in terms of raw numbers of vehicles but their weight as well.
"Busy little bees," Jean muttered under her breath.
"It's fresh," Storm added.
Again, Storm switched perspectives to focus on the spillway. Below the dam, the trench glowed various shades of blue, while the rest of the landscape was a pearly white.
"The legend shows the depth of ice and snow covering the ground," she informed them. "It looks like there's been recent water activity."
Jean nibbled her lower lip as she studied the image. "If we go in there, Stryker could flood the spillway."
Glancing at Nightcrawler, Storm asked, "Kurt, would you be able to teleport inside?"
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I have to be able to see where I'm going or I could end up inside a vall."
Logan studied the map, trying to ignore the low amused growl echoing inside my head. The bastard knew something. Damn it. Closing his eyes, he ignored the conversation, letting it flow around him as he poked his thoughts at the caged monster. What?
An image drifted up, floating into his mind like a balloon released from a careless toddler's hand. It was a door. Not just any door.
A hidden door.
Logan hissed under his breath, trying to pull more information out of the feral, but only getting that low almost laugh like growl again.
"Logan?" Jean asked, her eyes flashing in concern. They'd never considered what bringing him back here might do to his psyche. Was X trying to break loose?
Giving a low huff of exasperation, Logan looked up and had to fight not to glare at the woman. She had that look on her face that said she was just waiting for him to go all primal on them and ruin everything. How he hated that look. He shoved the disgruntled thoughts away. "There might be another way in."
"Oh?" That amused sound made his hackles rise, and he glared at Magneto.
"Yes."
"What's the catch?" Magneto asked.
Now Logan's shoulders hunched a little. "I don't know where it is. Just that it's in the woods."
Jean scoffed. "What use is that?"
"I see," Magneto said, his gaze sharpening on the duel personality man. "X knows, doesn't he?"
"Yes."
Again Jean's eyes flashed with worry. Letting X out was akin to releasing a hungry tiger in the middle of a preschool. Not an idea any sane person entertained. "I think the spillway-" she began, only to be interrupted by Magneto.
"The idea has merit, and I'm sure I could provide an adequate leash for the beast. What I'd like to know is its motive in leading the way."
Logan snorted, "hell if I know, Bub, his reasons are his own."
"You aren't honestly thinking of using him, are you?" Jean demanded. Why did she always end up the only voice of reason in a sea of madness? Ever since IX and X came into their lives, it had been a never ending series of horrible decisions.
"Jean," Storm soothed. "If Logan-"
"Not Logan." Jean snapped, wanting them all to be aware of that fact if they planned to go through with this. "It won't be Logan who takes us in, and who knows where X will lead us. For all we know, he'll deliver us right into Stryker's hands."
"I doubt that," Logan said.
"Why?"
"Because X hates Stryker."
"What?" Storm asked, startled by the information.
Locking eyes with Jean, almost daring her to look deeper, he answered. "Stryker isn't a nice man, and he's a worse boss. Failure wasn't tolerated, and those who failed were punished."
Jean swallowed, shame and pain trying to choke her as Scott flashed through her mind. They had Scott, the professor, and who knew how many of the children. What if they were being harmed right now while they fought about how to get into the base? "He…hurt you?"
"Not me."
"Not…oh." Jean didn't want to feel pity for the small assassin. She refused to. "Fine. We'll let X lead us, but if he acts out in any way, Magneto will put him back in line." She locked eyes with the older man, silently demanding his compliance.
"Very well," Magneto said, still smiling that faint, amused smile.
In the hours since their frightened awakening, the children lapsed into abject boredom. No one entered the holding cell, and there was nothing to divert their attention from the utter lack of stimulation. Even the terror wore off after the first hour or two.
Now they sat huddled together in the middle of the cell, trying to preserve their warmth and starting to feel the effects of captivity.
Zen sat a little apart from the main group, turned so his face would be mostly hidden from the cameras as he contemplated the situation. Anyone else would have felt the rat like gnawing of panic, but he simply continued to run through different scenarios, seeking the one that would allow him to free the students without any of them dying in the process.
Another loud huff of exasperation exploded out of Pietro, and like all the others, Zen ignored him. Not even bothering to glare at the speed mutant in an effort to cow him back into silence.
"Well?" Pietro demanded as he shifted his weight to his other buttocks in a vain attempt to ease the growing numbness. It didn't help, all it did was make his lower back complain. They'd all learned the hard way not to lay down. The cement floor sucked the heat out of them, making them tremble like a basket full of soaked puppies left out in the rain. Instead, they tried to keep as little of themselves in direct contact with the floor as possible.
Zen let his eyes slide open to stare at the gray haired teen. "Well what?"
Sneering, Pietro flipped the assassin off. "What do you think, genius, how the hell are you going to get us out of here? That was your grand plan, right? So what are we waiting for? Can't you just, I don't know, disappear us or whatever?"
"I can only shadow walk with two people at a time, anymore and it becomes dangerous for the passengers," Zen admitted, remembering the Doctor's experiments and the girl whose lower body hadn't made the jump. She'd lived for only a few minutes before bleeding out. He'd attempted to shadow walk with four people. One of the others lost a foot. The other two were fine, if violently ill from the sensation, or the sight of their screaming companions, he didn't know.
"So? Take us two at a time. There are eight of us. It would only be four trips," Artie piped up from his spot huddled between two girls who had their arms wrapped around his thin shoulders to share warmth.
Zen's dark eyes shifted to the child, making him meep and huddle deeper into their hold. "The guards would know the instant I saved the first two and kill or incapacitate the rest of you. They would kill me the moment I returned."
"Oh," he squeaked, closing his eyes tight as if that would make the whole terrible situation disappear. Zen turned his attention back to Pietro, dismissing the frightened boy.
Pietro's glare intensified, "fine, so maybe that wasn't the best idea, but at least it was an idea. It's not like you've given us anything more than 'we wait'."
"I am not going to propose an idea that will end in the death of a single student. There is no value in talking through ideas that will end in failure," Zen replied, his voice as coldly bland as the cement they crouched on.
"Jeez, could you possibly be more of a downer?" Pietro snapped, wanting to jump up and throttle the monotoned bastard.
Studying the speed mutant, Zen gave a single nod. "You know better than the rest what awaits them if they aren't killed outright. If you wish, I could inform them of their fate if we don't make it out or if I'm recognized before I can act."
Wide frightened eyes shot between him and Pietro as the kids were torn between wanting to know and desperately wanting to believe they'd be rescued before anything bad happened. "Don't you dare," Pietro growled, sounding almost as savage as X. "We're all getting out of here, you understand? We aren't going to be their lab rats, and if I have to save us myself, I will."
Zen didn't point out the statistical likelihood of failure to his roommate, or the odds of any of them surviving, which was borderline zero. Instead he returned to analyzing all options.
"Um, guys? I really have to go to the bathroom." Sandy whispered, her plump cheeks burning a dark scarlet as she bowed her head to hide her face behind a fall of straight brown hair.
Logan could almost taste X's satisfaction. The emotion flavored the air of their mental landscape, a noxious cloud of dark pleasure. He gritted his teeth. "Get ready old man," he growled, locking eyes with Magneto. It was only as he slotted the mental key into the locks of the cage that he wondered if X's motive was revenge.
Oh well, they'll survive or they won't. It was no skin off his nose either way. The sound of the locks disengaging echoed through his mind, and Logan expected the monster to explode outward in a storm of claws and teeth like any other wild beast.
Instead, the door slid open and X glided past him without inflicting pain. Logan's breath caught as their minds flowed past one another, rubbing sides like two great and deadly creatures gliding past one another in the darkest depths of the ocean. It felt…good. Surprisingly good as X nudged him out of control instead of fighting him of for it. To his internal disgust and confusion, it felt natural. Right.
Still, he didn't remain in the depths. Logan spiraled up after his counterpart and settled in the back of X's mind, looming behind him like a dark shadow, ready to lash out of the feral tried to attack anyone who wasn't an enemy.
Magneto's eyes remained locked on Logan's. He watched the human personality fall back, replaced by X's more feral mind. It was like he'd stumbled across a tiger in the woods while taking a hike. The animal stared at him with dark eyes as the body it inhabited shifted with it. Not into a beast, but all the muscles gained a tension they'd lacked a moment before. That coiled waiting all predatory creatures had that told the onlooker even if they're at rest, they'll still be ready to leap up and tear your head off at the least provocation.
Without meaning to, his power coiled around X, touching lightly on the metal, prepared to freeze him in place or rip him apart if needed.
"Let us help," John demanded as he stood up, the X-Men's attention shifted to the teen, but Magneto kept his power and eyes on X. Behind John, Bobby and Rogue nodded in agreement.
Storm halted the idea like a snow storm snuffing out a camp fire. "You're not helping with anything."
John opened his mouth to protest, but Storm held up her hand. "If something happens to us, and we're unable to make it back, activate the escape-and-evade flight sequence programmed into the autopilot, just the way we've shown you. Don't touch any of the controls, on the ground or in the air. The Blackbird will get you home safely."
"Then what?" Bobby demanded, unable to hide his thoughts. As if any of them had a home to go to. Or a school for that matter!
Mystique gave him a vulpine smile. "You have superpowers, don't you? Figure it out children."
With that, all their attention returned to X. "Lead the way," Magneto said, in the same tone he'd use to cast off a hunting falcon. X lifted his upper lip in a silent snarl, but didn't attack. With a last hard glance at Magneto, he turned and stalked down the off ramp of the jet.
Once free of the jet, X closed his eyes and took a long deep breath of the fresh mountain air, savoring the mix of scents that flooded his mind. It felt good to be back here, all that was missing was IX. Take us to the entrance, Logan growled in the back of his mind. Turning, he headed deeper into the woods, away from the facility.
"We'd better be headed the right way," Jean grumbled under her breath as they trotted after the maniac like a pack of idiotic puppies. Against her will, she saw the scene in Alice in Wonderland where the clam children follow blindly after the walrus and carpenter, happily trotting along to their own deaths. The only thing standing between them and mutilation was an old man with impressive power but aged reflexes. It would only take a second's inattention for X to take advantage, and then their blood would feed the forest like so many others before them.
The hair along Storm's arms rose as goose flesh prickled along her skin. A few miles from here was the burned out remains of a town they now knew Zen had destroyed, and the facility where X helped butcher countless people. It was abandoned when they'd scouted it all those months ago, but now it was active again, and she couldn't help think it an ill omen. Land could become poisoned, and if ever there was land that should be sown with salt and forsaken, this place was it.
Before long, the tree line began breaking up, revealing a solid dark stone cliff face. X stepped forward and slammed his claws into a smooth piece of the rock. Instead of the grind of stone breaking, electricity spat from the damaged wall. A portion of the stone slid open, gaping like a mouth leading down into pitch blackness.
X stepped silently into the tunnel, the one he'd been led through countless times as he was brought out into the forest for the outdoor hunting tests. He took a deep breath, before giving a feral bearing of teeth that made a mockery of smiling. There were no new human scents in the tunnel, meaning the new prey hadn't found this little escape hatch.
A beam of light cut through the gloom like a laser beam, and the rest followed him into the night encrusted bowels of the secret facility.
"Wait."
Magneto paused, and gave X's metallic skeleton a slight tug of warning to bring him to heel before he glanced back at Jean. "Not having cold feet, I hope?"
She glared back at him, as if she'd let Scott or the Professor down now that they were so close. "No, but I highly doubt they're going to give us the guided tour. The minute they see us in the security cameras, they'll be on us."
"How do you plan on getting us around that?" Mystique asked.
Closing her eyes, Jean bit the inside of her cheek as she felt the nail-like spike of the psy inhibiters built into the facility attempt to thwart her. The pain built as she forced past them, forcing her mind to reach out for the one she sought. There! She locked onto the mind seated in front of a bank of monitors. Everything is fine, you won't see anything unusual. Everything is fine, normal, boring. Everything is fine. Blood filled her mouth as her teeth sank into the tender flesh while she drove the mental compulsion into the mind, forcing it in like a thought splinter before pulling away.
Once she was certain it stuck, she pulled back into the safety of her own mind. "Are you all right," Storm asked, her hand rubbed along the other woman's back in silent support.
"Yeah, fine. We can go now. As long as we avoid being seen by anyone, we won't have to worry about the cameras," she said, her voice a little breathy from the pain. Psy inhibitors like the ones the facility employed could be breached, but for the psychic, it felt like forcing their way through a razor wire fence.
X's low growl brought their attention back to task. "I don't suppose you know your way to the control room?" Magneto inquired. Glancing back, X made a low chuffing sound before he turned to take point again. It felt unnatural to avoid detection instead of cutting a blood soaked swath between him and his goal, but his enhanced senses allowed him to guide the rest without alerting a soul to the infiltration.
The morning broke open around them like a precious gift as the sun crested the horizon while the helicopter cut a smooth path through the thin fog ghosting over the hills of Hudson Valley. Anyone watching would assume the aircraft was nothing more than a corporate helo, taking care of one of the countless moguls or upper echelon elites who called this stretch of Westchester County home.
Their flight was pleasantly uneventful as they made their way from Alkali Lake to the coast, but as they approached their destination, it was difficult for Charles Xavier to keep his impatience at bay. A niggling sense of dread played along the edges of his distracted thoughts.
A mental flex caused the pilot to make a combat approach to the clipped back lawn. In seconds, they'd popped over the surrounding trees and came down in a neat landing.
As eager to make sure the children and Jean were safe as Xavier, Scott shifted Xavier from his seat into his wheelchair. While Scott pushed him up the ramp to the terrace, Xavier allowed the pilot to shut down the engine and issued a silent order to force the man to sleep.
During all of this, Xavier's thoughts continued pinging around the school, seeking the bright lights of his students. No matter how far he casted his thoughts, there wasn't a response. He should have caught some hint of them, of Jean at least. But all was silent.
Now that they'd reached the mansion, the disturbing absence of contact ate at his nerves.
"I don't like this," Scott said as they passed through the foyer. He'd called out as loud as he could, but all they heard were the fading echoes of their voices bouncing around the empty halls and rooms. "Where are they?"
"See if you can locate the Blackbird, Scott," Xavier said. "Try to use the transponder to raise the onboard computer. Locate Jean and Storm. I'll use Cerebro."
Nodding, Scott headed down the corridor. Xavier turned his chair towards the elevators, never thinking twice about Scott breaking both protocol and common sense by leaving him alone in a possibly hostile environment. And since he was studiously ignoring the growing dread in his chest, he failed to turn his head and see Scott vanish behind him into nothingness.
Underground mirrored the corridors and empty rooms above, making him believe everyone had fled until his ears caught the muffled sound of sobbing. Closing his eyes to focus better, Xavier slowly pivoted at the man junction, where a pair of halls came together in front of the elevator to form one of the many ubiquitous X's that could be found throughout the underground complex.
"Come out, please. Everything is fine now," he called. A frown of confusion touched his lips as his mind sought her but couldn't quite pinpoint her location. "You can come out now."
After several minutes of searching, he found her tucked in a corner of the computer room. Another frown brushed his lips as he studied the girl. She was young, not the youngest he'd ever dealt with, but still younger than the average mutant by several years. Straight blond hair fell into her pale face. She used the hair as a curtain, looking at him through the fragile strands with wide eyes brimming with tears.
"Are they gone?" she whimpered, and Xavier knew she meant Stryker's soldiers. It hadn't struck him as odd that what should have been a violent invasion of his school left no visible mark on the building. That wasn't important. All that mattered now was the girl, and finding his lost pupils.
"Yes, where are all the others?"
She gave a small shrug.
"Well, I guess we'll have to find them, won't we?" He offered her a smile and held out his hand. Her smaller one slipped into his and together they moved down the hallway towards the vault like door that was the entrance to Cerebro.
Like a pack of dangerous ducklings, they followed behind X while he led them through back passage ways. They stopped when he stopped, allowing patrols to pass before entering a new hall. In less than fifteen minutes he'd brought them to the main control room. Without a word he opened the door and drove his claws into the guard who'd turned to see who it was. The guard dropped, dead before he recognized the threat.
At the computer terminal, a tech sat silently, face forward, utterly oblivious to the invading force as they piled into the room and shut the door behind them. Magneto turned the chair, and studied the blank faced man. "Impressive."
The word, the praise, made Jean shudder in revulsion as she looked at what she'd done. A second ago, she was about to lecture X about killing, yet now she had to face her own dirty work. There was a slight smile on the man's face, and he continued staring through them. In his mind, everything was normal, fine, boring. The only thing Jean didn't know was how long it would last. An hour? A few minutes? Forever? Had she turned the poor man into a vegetable by accident?
While she silently freaked out, Mystique grabbed the man and tossed him bodily out of the chair before taking his place. Her elegant blue fingertips danced over the keyboard.
"Have you found it?" Magneto asked.
With a few more key strokes, she brought up the power grid on the main display. "The hydroelectric net is still functional and has been reestablished by Stryker, with a large portion being diverted to this chamber. It's newly constructed," she said, pointing out one of the sectors of the complex, one of the only areas where there was no video feed to be found.
Magneto sighed, "Yes that would be my fault. Can you shut it down from here?"
"No," Mystique replied.
X ignored the group huddled around the computer screens. Instead, his attention was caught by the guard he killed. Kneeling, he took a deep breath, scenting the man. Faint, almost gone, lingered the heady aroma of lightning. His lips pealed back in a silent snarl. Standing, he headed for the door. IX was here, and anyone who stood in his way would die.
The feeling of adamantium retreating drew Magneto's attention, but he kept silent on the matter. Let the feral be a distraction for Stryker and his men, it couldn't hurt, and it kept him from having to worry that the brute would turn on them at an inopportune moment.
"Come," Magneto said to Mystique. "There's little time."
Before Mystique could stand, Jean blocked their path to the door. "You're not going without us." Turning, Mystique brought up another screen, showing the huddled children.
"Dear God," Storm gasped. "The children! Kurt?" Without needing her to elaborate, Kurt nodded his agreement.
"Will you be all right?" Storm asked Jean, who was engaging in a glaring match with Mystique. Jean knew what they were doing. It was obvious to her that Magneto had a plan of his own, and Mystique deliberately used the children to split the X-Men up and limit their ability to interfere.
"Yeah, I'll be fine." Her green gaze slid around the compartment. "Where is X?" She demanded, calling herself seven kinds of fool for loosing track of a potential enemy. Then she pinned Magneto in her stare. "You were supposed to be watching him."
"I was aware of his departure."
"Why did you let him leave?" she snapped, trying her best not to shout at the man.
Again he lifted that one single eyebrow. "I'm not his keeper. He fulfilled his part of the mission. What he does now is of no concern to me."
"And what if he goes back to his real masters!" This time, she couldn't help it, she shouted.
"Are you trying to bring the guards down on our heads?" Mystique hissed, wanting to knock the woman out and be done with it. A subtle head shake from Magneto stayed her hand.
"What's done is done, we have to save the children and the Professor," Storm cut in before the fight could progress to blows.
Xavier came to a halt in front of the retinal scanner. Once it confirmed his identity, a feminine voice said, "Welcome, Professor." With a swish, the door cycled open, revealing the impressive spherical chamber beyond. He gave the girl a warm smile, and she smiled back, but when he turned to enter, her panicked voice halted him.
"Please don't leave me!"
Her cry lashed through him like a dagger. How could he be so thoughtless, so uncaring? What sort of teacher was he to abandon a child after all the trauma she'd endured when he wasn't here to protect her?
"Don't leave me," she begged. "Please!"
"All right," he soothed, projecting calm and reassurance. "You can come inside."
A radiant smile broke over her young face, making Xavier's aching heart lift as she followed along behind him. He never glanced back. Never saw the polished floors of his beloved home melt into cracked concrete. Never saw the horrible nightmarish shape of Mutant 143 keeping pace with the girl image he'd projected into Xavier's mind or the pair of armed guards standing with guns ready at the doorway.
Xavier believed himself free, but in truth, he'd never left Alkali Lake. He was still a prisoner, and for Jason Styrker, he was the best toy he'd ever had the chance to play with. A mind of superb grace, infinite possibilities. When he was finished, it would be a wasteland.
This was going to be so much fun.
Author Notes: I'm sorry I was gone so long. Nano took a lot out of me, and then the novel blew up in my face. I got over 75k words written, and I'm going to have to cut most of those. Things went awry, and I've spent the last couple months poking the corpse with a stick and crying.
Anyway, with 75k words of a different story between me and this, I went back and reread the whole thing from beginning to end. I also did some edits, nothing major, mostly misspellings and such.
While I was gone, I also co-authored a book of micro stories. If you love me, please check it out. It's only a dolor on Amazon. Look for Byte Sized Fiction by Dana McDowell and Govind N R.
I only got about half the stuff into this chapter that I wanted, but as you can see, it's already over 10k, so instead of another 25k chapter, I'm going to stop this one here.
Because I love you all so much, I've joined Camp NaNo for April, and this story is what I'm going to focus on. So look forward to at least 50k added to the tale over the month.
Again, not so much Zen, but he was supposed to be more! He'll be in the next chapter, and the ones after that are going to be the epic twist chapters. Some twist here, but not all that I wanted to get to.
Thank you all so much for reading and for putting up with my utter inability to have a predictable posting schedule.