A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Feeling creative? Post your fan stories and fan art here!
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

Sinister Designs: Chapter 7


Nathaniel had just finished collecting his specimens from Hank's cage when he heard that chime go off. Only someone using Harold's number had that chime. Hence, it meant Mr. Trask, the world's highest-maintenance genius, was on the other end of the line.

One of the most fascinating experiments I've had in months, and I'll have to baby-sit Harold for the next half hour before I can even put my samples in agar, Nathan thought with great irritation. This "partnership" is wearing very, very thin....

As Nathan walked down the hallway, Fred poked his head out of his private room.

"Is that Larry again?"

"Yes," Nathan said icily as he passed Fred's chambers by.

Fred stood up and followed Nathaniel. "What the fuck! You just got back! Can't this guy take a shit on his own?"

"I'm starting to think not. Please stand clear, Mister Dukes. I'm using the video conference this time. Maybe the sight of me up to my elbows in gore might give the impression that I'm busy."

Fred snorted and stood behind and to one side of the screen, well clear of the camera's field of vision. Nathan was careful to only use his left hand to move his rolling chair back and forth as he sat down in front of the monitor; his right had enough blood on it to possibly mark the fabric.

"Yes, Harold, what is it this time?" he asked.

The screen blinked into life, revealing a clearly agitated Harold Trask.

Harold was the kind of man Hitler would have fantasized about as the ultimate "Aryan". Blond hair, fair skin, piercing blue eyes, a face chiseled out of marble, and incredible, superhuman intellect. Right now that face was strained with lines of worry, the hair straggly and oily, and the eyes seemed to bulge from their sockets. The fading red tinge to his skin meant some poor devil had been verbally assaulted in the past few seconds. How long had this man worked without sleep? Better yet, how many amphetamines had he used?

"Dammit, Nathan! I've been calling for the past ten seconds! Don't you answer your line?" Harold shouted.

Fred's eyes' widened and his lower lip quivered theatrically as he cowered behind his invisible skirts. Nathaniel folded his hands in front of his face, the latex squeaking as it rubbed together.

"And I've been ten seconds down the hall with my latest subject," he replied. "We're both busy men, so I request that you--"

"Did you take McCoy with you?" Harold interrupted. "Is he your latest subject?"

"Yes, Harold, and when we're done here--"

"You know that Xavier will track him, don't you? He's got to have Cerebro up and running by now! How else could he have intercepted Unit 6? Kill Henry immediately! He's a risk we can't afford!"

"Harold, will you please let me finish a sentence occasionally?" Nathan paused for a half second, and when Harold didn't immediately leap in, he continued, "I have my own scramblers in place to prevent Xavier from finding this place. So far as Cerebro is concerned, there's no one here but normal men and women. You helped me work on them, remember?"

"Which is why I'm so concerned! I knew they weren't complete!"

"Harold, there comes a time in a man's life when he has to trust in someone besides himself. Is this the only thing you called about?"

Harold's face became that familiar reddish purple again. "Trust? You don't return my calls! You're evasive on every level! And where the hell is Larson? You find Larson for me, and maybe I'll trust you a bit more!"

Fred took it upon himself to put a mockingly sympathetic face forward... and couple it with a very rude "rubbing" gesture. Nathaniel tried to ignore him, and kept his attention on the monitor.

"Larson was the best research assistant you ever sent me, and he had a great deal of sensitive information. I'm as concerned over his disappearance as you are, and I'd be very glad if he could be found." Harold opened his mouth to speak, and this time Nathaniel cut him off. "Harold, Lars has been missing for six months, and the scramblers have been in place for three years. If you don't come up with some pressing reason why I shouldn't go back to my lab, I'm going to assume this is another one of your 'they've kicked me off of tactical' screaming fits, and I'm going to hang up right now. I'm a very busy man."

"Too busy to give me your feedback on Unit 6's destruction? And what about that soldier? Sergeant Martin? Have you managed to harvest anything from him?"

"I have been back from Washington for less than an hour, and that time has been taken up preparing Hank for involuntary physical mutation. Which, might I add, is the entire reason you hired me--"

"Don't lecture me on--"

Nathan spoke loudly and slowly over Trask's interruption. "You hired me to create a way to 'mark' mutants for easy detection, containment, and elimination." Not as a nanny. "Say it with me, Harold."

Harold blurted out, "You're not taking the threat seriously, Nathan!"

"Don't use that name over the airwaves."

"Xavier's soldiers have compromised our security net and destroyed our best chance at taking down Magneto, and you're waltzing around like nothing has happened! For God's sake, why do you think we had to do the extraction? Do you think your name will remain safe for long? The barbarians are at the gates, man!"

Now Fred was doing that obscene gesture with both hands, in two different directions. In fact, he was making a dance out of it. If he kept this up, Nathaniel would have a difficult time keeping a straight face. He needed to cut this short before Harold went into a full blown paranoid frenzy....

"Has it ever occurred to you that your reaction to all of this is the reason why you were taken off tactical maneuvers in April? The key to victory is to outlast and outmaneuver the enemy, not waste adrenaline and resources jumping at shadows."

"Damn you, Nathan--!"

Nathaniel cut the transmission then and there. Harold knew better than to use his real name like that. A first slip was bad enough, but a second one was unforgivable. He looked directly over at Fred Dukes, who by then had his back to him as he gyrated and wiggled his impromptu "stroking off" dance.

"Mister Dukes, I think I could have happily gone my entire life without seeing that," Nathaniel said as he stood up.

Fred grinned as he turned around. "Beats seeing ol' Larry do it, right?"

"At least you're quiet about it. There was absolutely no reason for that call. He just wanted to complain in someone's ear about how horrible everyone has been to him."

He walked to the small shower area and began to strip of his bloody clothing. Fred waited outside the small stall.

"Maybe you aughta get an unlisted number," he suggested.

Nathaniel tossed everything into a waste chute and turned on a spray of antibacterial fluid. "Don't tempt me, Mister Dukes."

The mocking smile dropped, and Fred's eyes gained a cold, hard quality. "When're we taking that paranoid shit out, Mister Sinister? You ain't got no idea how long I been waiting for that."

"At least as long as I have, I'll wager."

Nathan turned the spray off after a few short seconds, then took a few steps to the dressing area and pulled out a fresh set of clothing. The solution evaporated as he ran a comb through his hair, and he dressed without a need for toweling off.

"I had hoped to gain more of Harold's trust before we moved, but it doesn't look like that's going to happen. Even if we hadn't needed to dispose of Lars, we would never gain more trust than we have now. It's rather difficult to make friends with a paranoid delusionary. So now it's just a case of finding the right time."

"Yeah? And when's that gonna be?"

"Well, considering Trask has alienated most of the FOH, I'd say that day is coming rather soon. Especially when I call to complain about Harold's increasing interference. That's the problem with childish groups like this. They invariably fracture after a short time." Fully clothed, and his hair nearly dry, he walked to Fred and looked up, his hands respectfully clasped behind his back. "Have patience, Mister Dukes. Harold has strained his organization's resources to their limits, and they're one step from open revolt. I don't think we'll have much more than a month to wait for a power struggle."

Fred just nodded and followed him down the corridor of holding cells. Nathaniel stopped at Henry's new cell and gestured for Fred to stand out of sight.

"Henry, are you awake in there?" he called brightly. "Not that I expect you to be, but it would be interesting to see how fast you recover."

At first it seemed that Henry was just laying, unconscious, where Fred tossed him in the middle of the otherwise empty cell, but then he opened one slightly swollen eye. With a guttural growl, he slowly raised himself on all fours. Every finger and toe seemed to be working. Excellent. But he wasn't raising to a plantigrade stance. Had this secondary trigger reduced his mental capacity in favor of upgrading his physical ones? Such a reaction had happened with six of Nathaniel's subjects to date, and half of them never recovered. It would be a bit of a shame to lose all that impressive intellect....

Nathan stepped to one side and signaled for Fred to step into view. At the sight of Fred's massive leg, Hank's demeanor instantly went from aggressive to submissive. He scuttled back into a corner, cowering, while a trickle of liquid flowed into the nearby drain.

"Submissive urination at the very sight of you," Nathan mused, looking back at Fred. "And no signs of permanent injury. Very impressive, Mister Dukes. There'll be a bonus in your account by tomorrow."

That got Fred to grin. A bonus always did that. Fred leaned closer to the bars and tapped them. Hank flinched and curled up tighter, shielding his head with his arms. Fred whooped and pounded the bars, gently enough not to damage them. That got Hank to tremble violently and mewl.

"All right, Mister Dukes, you've had your fun," Nathaniel said. "Try not to traumatize Henry too much. I want to see if this animalistic reversion is a temporary condition or not. Let's give him some breathing room before we start in on the stress tests."

Nathaniel moved on. Fred moved on, jumped back for a last scare, and then followed his employer the rest of the way out of the cell block. They didn't even glance into Moira and Isidro's cell. However, after a few seconds, their Plexiglas shield suddenly slid back into the ceiling, leaving only the bars.

"Use this newfound privilege wisely, Moira," Nathan called back. "If you're too boisterous, it'll be taken away again."

"Mighty white of you," Isidro muttered.

Moira said nothing as she moved to the front of the cell, casting withering glares in the direction their jailers had passed. She stopped short and looked up at the three or four inch thick milky white bar in the ceiling, where the shield had retracted.

"In the next cell," she whispered. "Marlin? Richard Marlin? Is that your name?"

Nothing. Moira wanted to reach through the bars, over to the cell to her right, but she knew she'd never get her arm back in time if Nathan decided to put the shield down again.

"My name's Moira," she continued. "I don't know how long ye've been here. Hell, I don't know how long I've been here...."

She heard movement in the cell, the sound of cloth gently rubbing against itself.

"It's Martin," a man's voice said softly. "Reckon you ain't been in here more'n a' couple hours."

To Moira's shock, Martin reached his bare arm through the bars to her side.

"Are ye daft, man? Pull it back before ye loose it!"

"I should be that lucky. They ain't gonna do that to me. Not until they get what they want."

Martin's hand was calloused, the accent from the southern states, though Moira had no idea which one. But the arm was almost skeletal thin, the skin pallid and unhealthy, his voice robotic, almost dead. She gripped the hand gently. It was cooler than it should be, and his grip was weak.

"Just to let ye know, don't be grippin' me much harder than this," she said, trying to smile. "I think I sprained a finger or two."

"That your friend across the way there?" Martin asked. "Blue fur an' everything?"

"Yes. His name's Henry."

"I guess... guess he didn't look like that afore this, did he? I didn't get to see him, but I know the voice changed somethin' awful."

"No," she whispered. Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat. "How long have ye been here yourself?"

"Dunno. Months, I guess. Kinda hard to tell without no calendar. They ain't put no one this close to me for a long time."

"They said somethin' about isolation for ye. What're they doin' to ye?"

Martin's hand went limp. "They do spinal taps once in a while. They think they're gettin' some of that damn juice outa me. I ain't gived them none yet. They tried beatin' me, druggin' me, put me in this here cage and never seed no one forever. Like they expect me to make the stuff on my own."

"What... what kind of 'juice'?"

"Stuff what makes people do stuff they don't wanna do." His voice trembled a little. "Stuff what can make a mama kill her babies. Make a man kill his brothers."

Extracting mind control serum from spinal fluid.... Stryker's serum? According to Charles, that's how they extracted it from Stryker's son. Were they recreating Stryker's experiments? Did they find another mutant like Jason? She gently held Martin's hand with both of hers.

"Are ye a mutant?" she asked. "Is that why they're doing this?"

"No." He weakly returned her grip. "Ain't no mutant. They just used the stuff on me, that's all."

"On the back of the neck? It burns at the back of your neck, and it makes you some sort o' puppet?" She heard his gasp, and his grip tightened. "I know two people with those marks, and another who's gone through something close. You're not the only one."

She glanced back at Isidro. Funny, how he hadn't come up to talk to their fellow prisoner as well....

She did a double-take. Isidro was casually sitting against the wall, staring straight ahead. She called his name, but he didn't respond.

"They don't make none of the stuff, do they?" Martin asked. It was more of a plea. "Your friends?"

Moira looked back at the hand between the bars. "O' course not. Not a drop. Only one man made it, and he's gone for good. If Nathan thinks he can bleed some out o' you, he's dumber than I thought."

Martin's arm shook, and his grip tightened painfully. Moira ground her teeth, but didn't let go. She could hear him quietly sobbing in the cell, choking out what sounded like "thank God" over and over. Moira turned back and hissed Isidro's name, trying to get his attention.

Isidro turned to her, moving slowly like a man half asleep, and silently mouthed the words: Moira, hold on. We're coming.


TBC....
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
buri103
Bilge Rat
Bilge Rat
Posts: 50
Joined: Mon Aug 16, 2004 3:54 am
Location: Southern Cali

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by buri103 »

Jeez, you just...encompass so many different facets of real life and interweave them seamlessly in the X-man universe..and it's faboo. Since "Forgiveness", I've been so hooked and your take on the X universe is the best I've seen yet. Pleeeeeeaase keep writing forever.

I'd die of Fabulous-Fanfiction-Withdrawal...

And you don't want that, do you? ;)
25 And the Lord spake unto the Angel that guarded the eastern gate, saying Where is the flaming sword which was given unto thee?

26 And the Angel said, I had it here only a moment ago, I must have put it down some where, forget my own head next.

27 And the Lord did not ask him again.
~Good Omens

http://www.nataliedee.com/ and http://www.toothpastefordinner.com
Rowena
Global Moderator
Global Moderator
Posts: 886
Joined: Fri Dec 19, 2003 12:55 am
Location: Time And Relative Dimension In Space
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Rowena »

Hi! I just finished reading your other stories at ff.net (I left a few reviews there too) and all I can say is "WOW"! You're a truly terrific writer! Your stories are intense and moving and your characterization is really excellent and realistic. I only just started in on this one so I haven't actually reached this page yet, but so far it's great! It was so sweet of Kurt to keep Ororo's coffee fresh and hot like that. Also, about eating weeds--the supermarket where I shop sells dandelion leaves (in season) and they do make a nice salad. They have a very sharp flavor, but I like them. :)

I'll review again once I catch up. I've been working on a Mr. Sinister story myself on and off for the past few months (it's not nearly ready to be posted yet) and from what I've read of him, I have the feeling that this story of yours is going to get really dark...
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

I actually had a problem with good ol' Essex at first. I loved the idea of him as a foil, but in the comic universe he's "amplified" into supervillian-dom by Apocalypse (who I do NOT want to deal with :urg), and his powers are so extreme and diverse that he kind of looks like a "Martin Sue" character to me. I had to figure out how to take his basic roots (an unsavory geneticist born in the 1800s) and turn him into a viable (but not overblown) threat without Poccy's intervention.

Poccy is just too much for me in this universe. If I ever introduce him, he's going to cause a huge uproar as various religious figures proclaim him to be God's Unstoppable Wrath On Earth.....
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
kelly
Lubber
Lubber
Posts: 11
Joined: Thu Oct 23, 2003 4:36 pm

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by kelly »

Hey, Mael - fancy seeing you here! Just checked in for the first time in ages a few days ago to find, much to my incredible squeeing delight, some "new" fic here from you!

Mere words cannot express how dearly I love this series of yours - I join the chorus of fans asking for more... you know, when you have time... if that's okay...pretty please... ;)
"See, this is another sign of your tragic space dementia,
all paranoid and crotchety." - Malcolm Reynolds
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

I know, I know: it's been two months since I posted anything. But at least I'm posting now.... :blush


-------------------------

Sinister Designs: Chapter 8


It didn't take Scott too long to find Katherine Pryde. She wasn't with the students, and she wasn't in the hanger bay, so that left one other likely spot. Sure enough, she was in the danger room, alone. A quick glance at the control panel let Scott know he didn't have to chew her out for indiscretion. The program was just an exercise run, a setup of forcefields at varying frequencies. The worst she injuries she could sustain would be from running full-tilt into a wall.

Scott watched her from the darkened observation booth for a bit. She was in her old dancing leotards, and she wore a less-than-perfect French braid. It was rather sloppily done, probably braided without help and in haste, but it served its purpose: keeping her hair out of her face. A line of ten forcefields stood in front of her, each one ten feet apart, each one a different color and frequency. She crouched in front of them, a runner ready to bolt into action.

"Start!" she shouted.

The automatic timer began as Kate sprang forward. The first three forcefields didn't seem to exist for her, the fourth she had to push through, the fifth didn't exist. The sixth one stopped her cold, however, and it took five seconds of straining to bypass. She collapsed to her knees, swearing, between it and the seventh wall.

Scott turned on the mike and asked, "You're not going to bother with the next three?"

She looked up, startled, while Scott turned on the main light in the control booth.

"I didn't know you were up there," she panted.

"That's not an answer, Kitty. You got all the way through the sixth field in record time, and then you stopped. Why?"

She looked away, silent. Scott left the observation booth and made his way down into the danger room itself. By then Kitty was sitting on a nearby chair. Every inch of her body screamed frustration, even if she didn't say a word herself.

"You really wanted to go with the team, didn't you?" he asked softly.

She winced before turning meekly to face Scott. "You saw me?"

"My vision's not that bad. It was a nice idea to crouch so low to the ground in the hallway, but I was looking down at the time." He knelt in front of her chair. "You've only had a few hours of sleep. Are you sure you don't want to rest instead?"

"I should be on that jet. I should be going with them."

You and me both, he thought. Aloud, "I know. It's hard to wait here. But I'm glad you didn't try to sneak onboard."

"I could have. I could have gotten in one of the holds, and even Logan wouldn't have known. No one would have known until I got out at the end. I could've done it."

"If you're so sure of that, why didn't you?"

"I made a promise," she whispered.

"Good to see you're taking your parent's concerns seriously."

"Not them. Dad'd be proud of me. He's been facing down the Klan all his life, and it didn't even matter when they tried to firebomb the house. He never backed down."

That's a lot different than putting your daughter into the line of fire alone.... "Then who did you make the promise to, Kate?"

She gave a trembling sigh. "I promised Rosa, okay? She was really scared one of the amp suits would come for her, and I told her I'd protect her, all right?" She looked down at the floor. "She was so scared. She looked at me like I was her only hope. I couldn't... I just couldn't leave her like that when I promised her I'd protect her."

Scott had difficulty swallowing. For once, he was glad that his eyes were perpetually hidden behind his ruby shades.

He cleared his suddenly constricted throat. "Well, if you're going to do that, you could probably do with a combat simulation instead of just an obstacle course."

Kate's jaw dropped. "You'd do that for me?"

"Marie's taking care of monitors right now, and it's taking all of the Professor's concentration to contact Isidro. I've got some time on my hands. Unless you're tired."

"No way! I don't get one of these solo ones very often."

Scott nodded and left without a word. Outside, in the hall, his vision blurred for a second, before this glasses misted inside, then cleared under the constant bombardment. I just couldn't leave her like that when I promised her I'd protect her....

He ground his teeth and jogged up to the observation booth.

::

The Blackbird pushed the envelope of space as it silently screamed along at mach 3. Kurt gripped the yoke tightly as he watched the soft red glow of the Blackbird's nose. He had only simulated supersonic flight a few times, and this was his first real-world experience. In fact, the only ones who were familiar with supersonic flight were Ororo and Piotr, and only she had been "behind the wheel".

"What's that sound?" Kurt asked. "That sizzling? Is that normal?"

Ororo nodded. "Perfectly normal. It's just ionizing air."

Kurt slowly let go of the yoke as he turned around. It was a relief to see that he wasn't the only one nervous about this. The rest of the Xmen were slowly letting go their collectively held breath.

"It's nerve-wracking the first time out," she called back. "You get used to it after a few flights."

"I thought the place was going to shake itself apart for a while, there," Logan muttered as he unhooked his belt.

"Just think how bad it must have been for Yeager the first time. That little turbulence was nothing."

Kurt turned back to the controls. "The simulator was certainly accurate about that shaking. I thought Scott was just giving me a hard time back there."

"Well, he might have been a little overboard on the shaking," she conceded. "But from here on out, it's smooth as silk."

"So now we just wait and watch the controls?"

"That's about right. And wait for that 'phone call'."

"I hope the Prof can get ahold of him," Logan said. "We find more of those amp suits, we'll need all the help we can get."

"I just wish I knew Mr. Cassidy better," Ororo said. "It's not easy fighting alongside of a man you've never trained with."

"Yeah, well, if his daughter's any indication, he's not designed for stealth," Bobby grunted as he stretched.

Logan unbuckled his seatbelt. "He'll make a damn fine distraction, though."

"Speaking of distracting, what was with all the door slamming back there?" Bobby asked. Logan gave him a curious look, and he clarified, "Before we took off, you were checking all the compartments down to the fridge. What was that all about?"

Logan turned away, and replied in his characteristic, almost unintelligible mumble, "Lookin' for stowaways."

"Stowaways?" Kurt asked.

"Someone who hides on a --"

"I know what the word means," Kurt interrupted, somewhat testily. "But what makes you want to look this time?"

"Caught Kitty's scent in the hall outside the study. She was listening in. Thought she might try gettin' onboard."

"How much do you think she heard?" Ororo asked.

"Don't know, but she was tired and pissed off. She might've tried tagging along." For no apparent reason, he came up front to the cockpit and looked out at the darkened sky. "Just didn't want to take the chance she might do it."

"Why didn't you tell us beforehand?" she asked softly.

He glanced back down at her before moving back to the main cabin. "Kid doesn't deserve to be embarrassed in front of everyone like that. 'Specially since I was wrong."

A soft chime issued from the control panel, prompting Logan to turn about in mid-step. The chime was immediately followed by a softly accented, Irish, baritone voice.

"This is the Banshee."

Ororo replied, "Banshee, this is Storm. It's good to hear from you."

"Same here. I'm glad this thing worked. Haven't used it in donkey's years." His voice held the last bits of sleepiness. "All right, Cyc told me about the kidnappin', but he didn't give all the bits like where we're goin'."

Logan stepped back up to the cockpit and leaned on the back of Ororo's seat, watching flight controls that he barely understood.

"Believe it or not, we're still narrowing down the 'where'," she said.

"You're kiddin' me."

"I'm not. We know it's in your area, but that's about it."

"Jays, Storm, I thought Cerebro could get better than that."

"The Professor's not using it."

"Well, why the hell not?"

"Because it's not doing the job, Banshee. It's like everyone involved just dropped off the face of the world so far as Cerebro's concerned. He's doing it the old fashioned way."

Banshee paused. "That could take days."

"Not according to him Not in this circumstance."

He hesitated again. "All right, so that's solved, but... Look, are ye absolutely sure it was Nathan?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because if he's really the one behind all this, we'd better pray he's doin' it in some super-secret facility even the Royals don't know about. The hoor's melt has big contracts with the British government, and ye can imagine what would happen if we got caught at one o' those installations."

"It means I want the flowers and the chocolate to go with this," Logan growled.

::

Moira stared at Isidro. Did he say what she thought he did? His lips moved just enough to follow his words, but the motion was subtle enough she might be misreading him.

It's Xavier, Isidro continued silently.

Moira quickly scanned the room and what she could see of the hallway. She knew Nathan wasn't stupid enough to leave them without monitors. Unfortunately, he was also smart enough to have them well concealed: she couldn't tell what angle they were being monitored from. She looked back at the withered hand that clutched hers.

She fumbled for some way to disengage from Martin without giving Nathan more information. "Martin, I... I need to do something."

Martin's hand let hers go. She scuttled back to Isidro, who tracked her approach with disturbing slowness. She put her face right next to his ear, and cupped her hands around her lips to discourage lip reading.

"Charles, is that you?" she whispered.

She immediately put her ear in front of Isidro's mouth to catch any sound. Faintly, he responded, "Yes."

She went back and forth as she spoke with "Isidro", doing everything she could to hide their conversation from prying cameras.

"How long until ye get here?" she asked.

"Not long now. They have Sean with them."

"Charles, for the love of God, be careful. We aren't the only ones here. I dinna know how many else, but there's at least one more prisoner here besides us, and he's in frightful shape. There may even be another guard besides that walkin' blob."

"I had the feeling that was the case. We've sent all that we can." Isidro blinked, then closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Moira, I can't keep this up for long. I have to conserve strength. I'll... listen in...."

Isidro's breath released in a sigh, his head lolled to one side, and he seemed to have fallen asleep. After two seconds his whole body jerked awake with a startled cry, his eyes wide, his arms flailing out for balance. Moira grabbed him and held him against the wall. He immediately grabbed her forearms and clung.

"Say nothing," she hissed. "Say absolutely nothing."

Isidro made a quick visual check of the walls and corners of their cell, then looked to her and nodded. He closed his eyes and let go of Moira, his breathing slowing from frantic hyperventilation to something more sustainable.

"Son of a bitch," he whispered.

"How much do ye remember? Did ye talk with Charles first?" she whispered into his ear.

He swallowed and nodded, speaking only when she cupped her hands around his face and leaned in. "Yeah. He warned me. It's just.... Dammit, that felt like being in the suit. Jesus, that was close. I don't like being pushed back like that."

Moira pulled away as he rubbed his face. They both looked back at the cell bars, where Martin's limp arm still rested. Isidro flexed his fingers a bit, then stood and moved over to that arm.

"Hey, fella, you gonna be okay over there?" he asked.

The arm moved a bit in response, groping for the person behind the voice. Isidro grabbed Martin's hand.

Martin's voice was still choked with emotion. "Gonna be fine. Just fine. Ain't nothin' more they can do to me, now. It don't matter none. They ain't gettin' the juice. They ain't doin' it again. That's all what matters."

Martin said words to that effect over and over again, his own personal mantra. It must have worked, because his grip grew more sure and less desperate, his voice more even.

That was, until their guard's voice called from down the hall.

"Hey! Nutcase! Pipe down in there! We gotta phone call!" Fred shouted.

Martin started to giggle. "What'cha gonna do about it, tubbo? Rip off'n my arm? That'll cheese off the boss right good, now, won't it?"

Fred's footsteps echoed down the hall as he walked closer, but the accompanying tremors were far more intimidating. He lumbered to down to Martin's cell and glared in at the man.

"I'm not kidding, buddy," he snarled. "You shut the fuck up and stick that arm back in there before I lose my temper."

Martin let go of Isidro's hand and pulled his arm out of their cell... then gave Fred the finger. Fred swore again, loudly, but seemed very reluctant to follow through on his implied threats.

"Mister Dukes, if you have to break his arm, that's quite all right, but I don't want any bleeding," Nathaniel’s voice called from somewhere.

Fred looked back and forth, down the hall, at Martin, down the hall again. He then grabbed Martin's arm and pushed it back into his cell, taking care to stay in contact with the man as little as possible. Fred pounded once on the bars to Martin's cell, probably to intimidate, but no matter how much he tried to impress Martin, it seemed to have little effect. The caged man kept laughing.

"If any of your crazy rubs off on me, I'm gonna make your head into a canoe, buddy!" Fred shouted as he wiped his hand on his clothing.

He moved back down the hallway without sparing a glance into any of the other cells. His stream of grumbled profanity was cut off abruptly when that soundproof shield slid back into place. He quit the scene as quickly as he arrived, leaving Moira and Isidro to wonder just who Nathaniel could be talking to.

::

As far as Harold Trask was concerned, his workroom was a wreck. An absolute disaster area, with loose wiring, test equipment, and "everything else" lying around. The fact that the place was a Class 10,000 cleanroom made no difference. The fact that every wire, every chip, every tool was in its proper place made no difference. The tools were mis-aligned at least three degrees off kilter. The chairs were out of place. The boxes of EPROM’s were incorrectly stacked. It wasn't perfect. Therefore it was a mess. This whole business with FOH had him so agitated that he couldn't even keep his own lab up to his demanding specifications. And so he was alone in his own cleanroom, in the dead of night, trying to make things livable.

The more he tried to straighten the place up, the worse it seemed to get. His hands shook with anger, his face burned so hot that it was a miracle he didn't fog up the enclosed cleansuit faceplate (anyone who actually stooped to the term "bunny suit" was immediately removed from his presence). Everything he touched reminded him that he was effectively trapped there, in that cleanroom. Never to lead the troops outside again. All control of FOH, an organization that he founded, was slipping away from his grasp.

The Westchester attack was sound! The units were parked outside of the mansion's sensors, the government's spy satellites were elsewhere, and it was the dead of night! Everyone should have been asleep! Even that blue monstrosity should have been asleep, dammit! There was no reason for it to be awake at that hour, let alone in the exact position to see the missile racks! It should have worked! If it had, the entire training camp would have been destroyed! Why didn't anyone understand the importance of that?

Damn Graydon! he thought, slamming his fists on the counter. It's all about the politics and funding to him! All he talks about is how much this costs, how much that costs, we have to work slowly.... This is a war, dammit! The costs of inaction are far worse!

Stryker's legacy would fall to dust if something wasn't done. No one understood how lethal the Xmen were. Not that arrogant pig, Nathaniel, not that greedy pig, Graydon. You didn't just leave terrorist nests alone like that. You eliminated them! It had to be done! Yet here he sat, completely isolated from all tactical decisions. His precious Sentinel project was no longer his to command.

He mumbled "damn you, Graydon" over and over, not completely aware of his own words. Graydon. Charismatic, smooth, the ultimate manipulator. He must be a mole, a mutant sympathizer sent to destroy FOH. He might even be Mystique in disguise....

His sudden epiphany froze him in his tracks. Yes. Of course. Graydon had to be her. Anyone who let the enemy survive was a traitor. Graydon paid lip service to the cause, but held it back every way he could. That's where Mystique went. That's why she hasn't been seen anywhere.....

He sat back on a nearby stool. Everything made all too much sense now. Mystique and the Oval Office Assassin both could go anywhere they wanted unseen and unchecked. They could have met at any time with no one the wiser. "Graydon" must have found out about Harold's intended attack on the institute, and gone to warn the mutants ahead of time. That's the only way the blue freakish thing would have discovered them. The only way. If Harold was going to save FOH... if he was going to save humanity itself.... Mystique had to be eliminated.

"Graydon" had to go.

He abruptly got up and left the cleanroom. No one else in FOH knew the truth, and if he attacked without proof, the results could be disastrous for the cause. He had to catch the bitch in the act, or at least make the effort. He ran through the possibilities as he stripped off the tyvek suit in the airlock/changing room. Satellite? Good, but took a long time to reposition. He'd work on it. Wiretap of her personal phones? It wouldn't show her face, and her voice was as malleable as any other part of her... but it was immediate and simple to do, and she might blurt out something incriminating. Personal surveillance? Possible, but who could he trust? How far had the "contamination" spread down FOH? How many sympathizers had crawled in under her wing? Worse, how many mutants could be there? That x-gene blood test suddenly didn't seem all that certain anymore, what with "Graydon's" authority to hide any inconvenient results. One telepath and the whole thing could be blown. No, he'd have to stick with remote surveillance for now, until he found someone he could trust to plant the bugs.

He tossed everything into the garbage and left the airlock. Wiretaps first. He could then monitor the phone lines as he programmed the satellite into position. He walked briskly to his secondary lab.

You tipped your hand too early in sealing me off, Mystique, he thought. That's going to cost your and your kind dearly.
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
User avatar
RavEnigma
Butt Monkey
Butt Monkey
Posts: 211
Joined: Wed Dec 17, 2003 2:54 am
Location: Stalking Quicksilver!
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by RavEnigma »

Wow....this was definitely worth the two months, mon ami. Wow.
:bunny Naz-Bunny Lover Club member #1

"God help the outcasts, or nobody will"

"That's not a cat, it's a minion of the antichrist!"

Pietro Fan Club Member #1
:evopietro = :love
CurlyyHairGirl
Swashbuckler
Swashbuckler
Posts: 1503
Joined: Sat Dec 13, 2003 4:52 pm
Location: San Jose State University

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

Woah! How could I have missed an update on this:o too many fics floating around!

RavEnigma has hit it spot on!
I hope to see more..preferably soon, but take your time.
one name: Bruce Campbell
DoomInABox
Shoulder Parrot
Shoulder Parrot
Posts: 141
Joined: Sat Jun 05, 2004 4:59 am
Location: Uranus
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by DoomInABox »

Oh my God ...

I love your writing. I can't say it any simpler. Somehow you make a fanfic read like a bonafide novel. Even staring at the computer screen until my eyes bleed, I forget I'm reading fanfiction.

And oh my God, I WANT MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I thought it was all done forever with "Isolation", and now I find this juicy gem just sitting here blinking innocently at me ... please finish!! I'm going to be on my toes until you do!
"Picture this: bumpity bumpity bumpity SPLAT!"
-- Nightcrawler, X-Men Evolution

Visit my art sites, please!
http://www.kenthayle.deviantart.com
http://www.geocities.com/ironthorncomics
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

I'm sorry to have kept people hanging with this. I honestly wanted to attack this with one or two updates a month, at the least, but the Holidays are hard to work through, and then there's that damned writer's block. Thanks for your patience, everyone. :)

--------------------------

Sinister Designs: Chapter 9


Most of the institute was gathered in the rec room, watching that gigantic television set. What had been rapt, silent attention at first had now turned to quiet commentary and grumbling among the students. News of the "giant robot" attack was still hot, but there was nothing new to report. What little hard data the broadcasters had was padded with layers of commentary and supposition, and this journalistic popcorn was growing mighty stale.

Jubilee: "Dude, with the teachers gone, I swear they're gonna come here again."

Regis: "They aren't all gone. The Prof's still here, and so is Mr. Summers."

Theresa: "Ms. Munroe said they must have taken down 50 of those suits. How many more could they have? Those things have to cost a lot."

Flea: "We got the alarm system upgraded, right? They won't get close enough to do that again, right?"

Jubilee: "Assuming they don't teleport here. Then we won't get any warning at all."

Regis: "If they could do that so easy, why did they keep coming after us in trucks? There's gotta be a reason they don't teleport a lot."

Rhane: "I say we do our own patrols. That way we'll fill in the holes the cameras miss."

The muttered conversation stopped. Everyone turned to look at Rhane, who was glaring at the TV as if it was Nathaniel himself. Then, in silence, they looked at each other.

"Scott's gonna shit bricks over this," Jubilee whispered, though her grin made it look like she was less than worried about possible consequences.

Judy shrank back into the overstuffed leather sofa. "You've gotta be kidding. Didn't you see the guns on those things? Didn't you hear Mr. Summers talk about how hard it was to take them down?"

"You're such a Goddamn princess, Judy," Jubilee sneered as she stood up.

Judy's face reddened. "Easy for you to say, Miss Sparkler USA! You can burn holes in stuff! I can't! All I do is shape it!"

"You're a spoiled princess, Judy! You're always screaming and running away! Maybe you aughta do something useful instead of using us as armor!"

"Oh, yeah, I guess standing up to Stryker's guys got you someplace, didn't it? All the way to Alkali Lake!"

Jubilee went for Judy. Jamie deliberately bashed his elbow against the wood of the couch, and immediately four of him were between the two girls. Energy crackled around Jubilee as she hurled insults past the wall of Jamies. At that moment, Rogue appeared at the doorway, in uniform.

"Hey!" she barked. "Knock it off!" When Jubilee silenced, Rogue added, "Y'all want to sit around bitchin' an moanin', or do somethin' useful? What's it gonna be?"

"Like the princess here could be useful in a fight," Jubilee mumbled, glaring back at Judy.

Suddenly Rogue was inches away from Jubilee, pointing a gloved finger right between her eyes. "That ain't useful at all, Jubes."

Startled, Jubilee stumbled back and almost tripped. She and Rogue were close in size, but something about Rogue's attitude made her seem twice as tall that moment. She watched the "Xkid" with sullen respect.

Rogue addressed everyone. "Just because I don't slice and dice like Logan don't mean I ain't had some experience with those things. I've seen what they do first hand." She shuddered involuntarily, and her voice dropped in volume. "And second hand."

She quickly scooped up the remote control and turned off the TV. "In any case, it ain't gonna do us a lick of good to bitch at each other. So I'm askin' again; you want to defend this place or not?"

For several seconds, no one dared move or speak. Shocked silence descended on the room.

"Mr. Summers is really gonna let us go out and do something like that?" John asked nervously.

Rogue glanced over her shoulder, and her voice lowered in volume again. "Well... let's just say I'd rather beg forgiveness than ask permission. He ain't told me 'no', and he's workin' with Kitty on a training sequence for somethin' like this in the danger room, so that looks a lot like 'yes' to me."

"Wh...what about the rest of us?" Judy whispered, giving apprehensive glances Jubilee's way. "Professor always told us to run instead."

The students divided into camps of anticipation and apprehension. Rogue had no illusions about what they must have been thinking. No one could forget being woken at 2am by Syryn's scream, and then the terror of running for their life from Stryker's commandos. And then it seemed to happen again just a couple months ago, though this time the assault never breached the institute's gates. She stood in front of the gray TV screen.

"Look, we've all been through having this place attacked. Y'all with me on this one? Ain't no way you can put up a good defense when you're woken up outa a sound sleep, all in your rooms, all disoriented like that. But we weren't prepared then. We weren't ready for it. This time, if someone thinks they can take advantage of the rest of the Xmen being away... we're gonna be ready." She crossed her arms and planted her feet. "We're gonna defend our home."

::

"We're not landing?" Logan repeated with disbelief.

"Sean doesn't need for us to land," Ororo told him. "Just to slow down a little."

Kurt gave a snort of laughter. "That's the first time I ever heard of a thousand miles per hour referred to as 'a little'."

"We needed to drop out of mach anyway," she continued. "We won't lose much time at all. Kurt, could you open that third compartment down to your left? We're going to be needing those badly."

Kurt opened the indicated pop-out drawer and looked in. He saw a mass of pink plastic bits, glaringly bright against the navy blue interior: industrial grade earplugs. He grabbed a good-sized handful and took them back to the rest of the cabin.

"In the event that a screaming Irishman should enter the cockpit, take two of these and plug your ears completely," he said. "In the event of premature ramp lowering, check to see if ground is attached before exiting this aircraft."

"And remember that premature ramp lowering happens to everybody sometime in their life," Logan mumbled as he took a pair of earplugs.

Kurt lightly cuffed Logan on the side of the head as he passed by, continuing to hand out earplugs, and continuing his speech in that blandly pleasant manner so familiar to flight attendants throughout the world. "It is advised that you fasten your seatbelts, as I only rescue pretty girls when they are sucked out of an aircraft. The rest of you will just be laughed at."

Ororo couldn't help looking out of the cockpit as she searched for Sean. She knew she'd find him through the transponder, not with her eyes. Besides that it was pitch black, with no moon. But her instincts kept telling her to look up, to watch for his presence. Kurt would be back in his seat by the time Sean finally showed up on their sensors.

"Everyone strapped in? I'm lowering the ramp!" she warned.

A quick glance showed her three thumbs up, so she overrode the controls and opened the ramp in mid-air. Kurt turned around in his seat and clung as the hole opened up in the floor. They were only up a few hundred feet by then, speeding along at less than 100 MPH over the Irish Sea, but there was still a lot of noise from the wind, to say nothing of the chill. For a second or two there was just the sound of the wind buffeting against the ramp, then everyone heard a clear, tri-toned, dissonant set of pitches that didn't quite deserve to be called a chord. It quickly increased in volume, like someone managed to plug a random set up tuning forks into an amplifier. It was just getting up to the point of discomfort when it abruptly stopped. There was no Sean.

What had gone wrong? Kurt teleported to the edge of the ramp, gripping to the floor with both hands and feet, and looked down. On the ramp clung a man in a bomber jacket, slowly making his way up the steps. Every inch of his body was covered, right down to the goggles and old-style leather aviator cap. Kurt leaned over the ramp, grabbed the man by his shoulders, and pulled him in.

Ororo closed the ramp after the two men were clear, then demanded, "Sean, why didn't you fly in the rest of the way?"

"And burst everyone's eardrums?" Sean asked back. "That'd be a fine way to start this off."

He pulled down his protective mask and raised his goggles as he spoke. Despite what must have been a dreadful wind chill factor, his face remained pink with warmth, though he was panting a bit.

"I would've made it just fine," he went on. "But it was nice to have the a--" He turned to Kurt for the first time and stopped in mid sentence. After an awkward heartbeat, he finished, "Assist. I'm sorry. I shouldn't've stopped like that."

Kurt pulled the plugs out of his ears and smiled. "That's all right. Everyone does that the first time."

Sean was pushing 50. His face was weathered, his vibrant red hair just beginning to gray, and as he removed his gloves all saw that his hands were spotting with age. In this case the years only made him more dangerous, and more valuable. He slapped his gloves in one hand and looked about the rest of the cabin.

"Right, then! Has the Professor got us some more precise coordinates?"

"They just came through a few minutes ago," Ororo said. "Give me a moment to pull up to a better altitude."

The Blackbird's nose tilted up, and while Kurt casually stood where he was, Sean hastily sat down before he risked losing his footing. He wound up sitting right behind Logan.

"Read your file on the way here," Logan said quietly. "One question; you made any 'long term' enemies with the Brits?"

"Just the tangerines," Sean answered just as softly. "And they consider carrots traitors for havin' greens."

"So you're not marked?"

"Shouldn't be. Sinn Féin got everyone a good deal, they did."

The jet soon leveled out, and Ororo called up a quick holographic map of the area in question.

There was one good thing about Nathaniel's technological abattoir: it was in a rural environment. In fact, it was in the middle of some farmland, with acres of rye spreading out in all directions. Security was apparently light to non-existent, with a basic chain link fence around the perimeter and a single asphalt road in and out. The building was relatively small, with no obvious power or phone lines above ground.

"It's listed as an agricultural lab," Ororo stated without turning around. "Considering how many patents he has on seed stocks and low-impact pesticides, it could be a legitimate lab on the surface."

"It's hard to get a sense of scale," Bobby said. "How big is that place?"

"Judging by the fields, it could be as big as the school," Piotr answered. He pointed to a spot on the building. "Here is where trucks would pick up and deliver. If they are using those mobile torture labs, they could change them here and no one would know." He pulled his hand back and rubbed his chin in thought. "I worry about those fields the most. With all that rye growing, it could hide a great deal."

"Like a suit?"

"If the rye is tall enough, and the suit laid down flat, then yes, it could. It could easy hide a man. How tall is the grain, Ororo?"

"I wish I could get a current satellite picture, but it looks like there's nothing in range now," she said. "We're pretty sure that Moira and Isidro are stationary, so either they're parked somewhere, or they're in a cell in the building."

"Or under," Logan added. "Basements are easy to hide."

"Power source?" Bobby asked.

"Officially they're connected to the local station, but they're sure to have backups," Ororo answered.

"Well, there's one thing we can count on," Bobby said. "You need a lot of water to grow grain...."

::

One of the best things about working with Graydon Creed was the fact he made himself available at all times. On the rare occasion when Nathaniel had no choice but to wake him up in the middle of the night, Graydon had always been polite and cheerful, qualities that came through even though the voice disguiser. He always made it sound as if he'd been happily anticipating this call. Of course, those same qualities that made Graydon a joy to work with also made him a very dangerous adversary, but Nathaniel would burn that bridge when he came to it. Right now, it was enough to know that his call to the colonies would be answered in short order.

Within seconds, a modulated voice answered, "Good evening, Mister Sinister."

"Good evening to you as well, sir," Nathaniel replied.

"Was your trip as pleasant as planned?"

"Pleasant and profitable. However, I fear we may have a bit of a storm brewing on the horizon. Our favorite Sentinel has made repeated interruptions, and has been taking more and more of my time."

Graydon made a frustrated sigh. Nathaniel could picture him pinching his nasal ridge and contorting his face in a pained grimace. "He has."

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"How many calls has he made?"

"Over the past ten hours, he has called me no less than three times. I hesitate to say this, but I'm beginning to fear for his welfare. He seems to be very anxious."

In the meantime, unbeknownst to either party, a third party was monitoring their conversation. Harold Trask had invited himself in. He sat at his secondary workbench, listening to Nathaniel and Graydon while he plotted orbital trajectories for his satellites.

Graydon: I don't suppose there's anything in particular he's upset about? Anything you could actually change?

Oh, yes, Mystique, there's a LOT I'm upset about, Harold thought, clenching his jaw in irritation. And you'd be amazed about how much of it centers around you.

Nathaniel: Well, not really. He seems to be growing more and more concerned about his lack of field control.

Graydon: In that case, you're not the only one. He's taken to spamming everyone in the organization, right down to the janitors. If anything, he's just proving why we made the decision we did.

After all, we can't have someone with FOH's actual welfare making tactical decisions, can we, mutant bitch?

Nathaniel: It's good to see I'm not alone, but the question is what can we do about it?

Graydon: Well, I've warned him against this sort of action several times. I just sent an ultimatum to him yesterday, and he seems content to ignore me.

That's because you're not in charge! I AM! I wouldn't bow to another human on this, let alone a freak like you!

Graydon: His technical expertise is almost as valuable as yours, Mister Sinister, but his obsessive paranoia is about to make him a liability. I think our best bet is to quietly ignore him, but make it look like he's still part of the process. That way we can keep him happy without everyone playing babysitter.

Nathaniel: That requires the cooperation of the entire board. Is that a possibility?

Graydon: More than a possibility. We've been in agreement on it since the disaster. If it came down to it, that's what would be done. Now it's come down to it. If you can't work with him, then this is our only recourse. And to tell the truth, I'm kind of relieved. He could portray a bad image, if someone ever photographs him during one of his tantrums.

Tantrums! Is that what they called the defense of the human race? A tantrum? He banged on his keyboard, hitting so many keys at one time that an error screen popped up. Dammit! He entered the text again. He was going to get access to that satellite. He was going to watch Nathaniel's little testing lab like a proverbial hawk. Because if Nathan was going to turn against him, he needed monitoring almost as much as Mystique herself.

Nathaniel: A liaison is still needed. Do you have anyone in mind?

Graydon: Actually, I have several prospects. In the meantime, don't worry about him. Feel free to "screen your calls", or disconnect that line entirely if you'd prefer.

Nathaniel: Disconnecting sounds like an excellent idea. Now I'll actually be able to get some work--....

Harold looked at the speaker, surprised by the sudden quiet spot.

Graydon: Is something wrong, sir?

Nathaniel: I'm not sure.... hold on for a moment....

Harold sat waiting with annoyance. The speaker was quiescent, and the computer was updating. Long seconds passed in silence as he watched the progress bar.

Nathaniel: I'm afraid I'll have to speak with you another time, my friend. I have to tend to things here.

Graydon: All right, then, sir. Good evening.

Nathaniel: Good evening.

Harold crossed his arms and tapped impatiently on his elbows as he waited for the screen to clear and refresh. Finally, he saw a light-enhanced view of some British countryside or another. (He could never remember the exact address off the top of his head.) Harold zoomed in on a few key spots. Had more mutants been delivered recently? Probably not: the loading dock was clear, there were neither rigs nor trailers parked outside, the lights were off, and Nathan likely had his hands full dealing with Hank McCoy down below. He pulled back to check for other possible contact points. Maybe someone had pulled up to the front door instead of the loading dock.

And maybe the Xmen themselves might be attacking, drawn in by Henry's presence despite the 'Cerebro scruffs', Harold thought as he checked the perimeter. You should *never* trust unproven technology, Nathan. Never.

He skimmed past fields of grain, their stalks gently swaying with the night breezes, then headed to the edge of the property. Where he found a large black aircraft parked by the fence. A large, distinctly military, distinctly stealthy craft, with no civilian applications whatsoever.....

"I have to tend to things here"? That was a mild term for it! The Xmen were launching an assault! Good Lord, Harold was right! He knew something like that was going to happen the second they insisted on keeping Hank alive! That idiot, Nathan! He'd sealed his own doom!

Harold checked around the sleek jet, then the darkened building, but saw neither motion nor light. And even if he wanted to save Nathaniel's arrogant British hide, there wasn't anything he could do about it from here.

Wait....

Yes....

Yes, there was something he could do. Because if the Xmen were all there, taking out Nathaniel, it meant the institute's protectors were occupied as well. Oh, the might have left a token force, but if only three of Xavier's battle-hardened abominations had left the terrorist's camp, it meant there weren't enough left to stop him.

His thoughts raced with the possibilities as he ran to the hanger. FOH hailing him as a hero. Mystique being exposed for what she was. The blood of abominations beneath his feet, cleansing his soul as it nourished the ground. Just the thought of eliminating these threats before they blossomed and claimed innocent human lives sent his heart soaring with excitement and pride.

Stryker went in with normal weapons, searching for extraordinary equipment. This time, Harold Trask would be bringing that "extraordinary equipment" with him.




TBC....
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
DoomInABox
Shoulder Parrot
Shoulder Parrot
Posts: 141
Joined: Sat Jun 05, 2004 4:59 am
Location: Uranus
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by DoomInABox »

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ack, I'm pulling a CurlyyHairGurl. I can't help squealing, I'm so happy you wrote again! Whee! the suspense is still killing me, but it's a slow, happy kind of death. :P
"Picture this: bumpity bumpity bumpity SPLAT!"
-- Nightcrawler, X-Men Evolution

Visit my art sites, please!
http://www.kenthayle.deviantart.com
http://www.geocities.com/ironthorncomics
HoodedMan
Administrator
Administrator
Posts: 2335
Joined: Thu Jul 24, 2003 11:39 pm
Title: Lord Sarcasmo von Snarkypants

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by HoodedMan »

This looks like a fantastic update though I was a bit unfamiliar with the original story and went back and read it. Excellent story, and I especially like Kurt's personality and the developed personality of the Sentinel. I hope to hear more! :D
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
CurlyyHairGirl
Swashbuckler
Swashbuckler
Posts: 1503
Joined: Sat Dec 13, 2003 4:52 pm
Location: San Jose State University

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

Originally posted by DoomInABox
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ack, I'm pulling a CurlyyHairGurl. I can't help squealing, I'm so happy you wrote again! Whee! the suspense is still killing me, but it's a slow, happy kind of death. :P
Ditto
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I loved the ''Flight Attendant" scene. Absolutely hilarious!!!

I read this in my English class while I was supposed to be getting info for a project on my career selection and I started busting up right there and got sent to OCS. It was worth it.:LOL
one name: Bruce Campbell
User avatar
RavEnigma
Butt Monkey
Butt Monkey
Posts: 211
Joined: Wed Dec 17, 2003 2:54 am
Location: Stalking Quicksilver!
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by RavEnigma »

Wow! This is great! More soon, mon ami, please!
:bunny Naz-Bunny Lover Club member #1

"God help the outcasts, or nobody will"

"That's not a cat, it's a minion of the antichrist!"

Pietro Fan Club Member #1
:evopietro = :love
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

[quote]Originally posted by CurlyyHairGirl
I read this in my English class while I was supposed to be getting info for a project on my career selection and I started busting up right there and got sent to OCS. It was worth it.:LOL [/quote]

:LOL Careful, Curly! Don't get into trouble in an English class on my account! (Math, sure, but not English! ;) )

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sinister Designs: Chapter 10


Nathaniel hung up the phone and looked around the blood red room with consternation. Why did the emergency lights activate? He strode quickly out into the hallway and to power control room, where three technicians were in a race to shut everything down. One technician noticed that his employer was standing in the doorway.

"The coolant flow has suddenly stopped, sir," he said as he continued his work. "We're shutting it all down before permanent damage."

"ALL of it?" Nathaniel echoed. "From every single source?"

Nathaniel moved to the control panel in question. The technician continued speaking, but kept his eyes on his work.

"Yes, sir. All sources have suddenly run dry. We're going to figure out why once we get things stable."

A glance over the man's shoulder told Nathaniel this wasn't some instrumentation glitch. The rest of the gauges were running much too hot, precisely what he'd expect from a coolant flow interruption. Only twice had they dealt with serious flow interruptions. Once was in the dead of winter, during a brutally cold spell, and the other was from a broken connection. Neither situation disrupted every single coolant flow. The men succeeded in shutting off the alarms in the power room, but the ones in Nathan's head were still ringing. And as things calmed down, and everyone could take the time to look at each other, they became aware that they were all thinking the same thing:

The only thing that could shut off every single source was deliberate sabotage.

"Activate the perimeter guards," Nathaniel ordered. "All of them."

"Are they to take prisoners, sir?" a technician asked.

Nathan thought about that for a moment. Then he said, "No."

----

Iceman laid down in the field of tall grain, panting for breath. God, that was hard. Jesus Christ, that was hard. The bastard had five different coolant pipes running to five different spots. To make matters worse, the damn things had some sort of heater built in to prevent freezing. He had to freeze one, go to another, return to the one, return to the second one, freeze a third before the first one thawed....

"Storm, tell me the power's off," he wheezed. "Tell me I don't have to go running around again."

Storm crouched next to Iceman, concealing herself in the rye. Out there, somewhere in the other fields, she knew the rest of the team waited as well, paired into teams of Colossus and Logan, and Banshee and Nightcrawler. She turned her attention to the gauge in her hand. An IR view revealed that the spot inside the laboratory was a bit warmer than before, but the ground around it was cold as permafrost. And as she watched a bit longer, the warm spot began to drop in temperature for the first time. Iceman had finally succeeded in freezing everything solid.

"Rest easy," she told him. "You've done it."

"So now they're on backup power," Logan said over the communicator. "Think it's enough to open up those holes?"

Ah, yes; those three pesky little pits they discovered during the ground density scan. At first the Xmen thought they might be burial shafts, considering their size and shape. After all, Nathaniel probably had a lot of "failed experiments" to get rid of. But the density inside of the shafts wasn't just lighter than the surroundings: it was zero. These were foxholes, covered by what was likely a metal panel. One pit was in the middle of a field, one was in the packed dirt road that ran between fields, and one was only a few yards from the laboratory building itself, right next to the loading dock.

But there was also one very good thing about those pesky little pits. Each one of them had an access shaft that lead straight under Nathaniel's lab.

"Nathan may be arrogant enough to use one of his own properties for this, but I doubt he's foolish enough to seal off those holes when the main grid goes off-line," she said. Silently, she added, Besides, we *need* those pits to open.

"Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying."

"Three guesses as to what's on those pits," Nightcrawler added in a worried tone.

At least now they're coming out on our time schedule instead of his, she thought. And they were going to come out any second now. Storm stirred up the wind, setting the rye to swaying and bobbing in waves. The starry night became gray with cloud cover, and the hail started in. It was small hail, the size of peas; not enough to hurt her teammates, but hopefully just enough to play havoc with any motion sensors. Assuming Nathaniel had them active on backup power.

And assuming he has them at all, she thought ruefully. Everything we're doing here is based off of assumptions. Goddess, please don't let those access tunnels seal themselves off before we can get through....

Nightcrawler and Banshee covered their heads with their arms. Maybe the hail wasn't big enough to injure, but it stung something awful.

"Come on you bloody bastard," Banshee grumbled. "Open that damn hatch."

The only way they knew that their assigned hole had opened was by watching a patch of rye "part" in the middle. The sliding action was completely silent. The men held their breath as the head of an amplifier suit rose up from the waving grain, its back toward them.

"One up," Nightcrawler whispered into his mike.

"Mine too," Logan answered, his voice just as soft.

"And the third one's coming up," Storm said quickly. "Go."

Banshee tensed and ground his teeth, which was Nightcrawler's cue to plug his ears. The suit took a step up, out of the hole. And then Banshee shouted, an unnatural set of pure tones that rattled Nightcrawler's teeth in their sockets. The very air in front of Banshee wavered, the hail pulverized into snowflakes. The suit stumbled as if hit by a physical blow to the back of the head, and Nightcrawler bolted on all fours for an opening into the ground that he couldn't yet see.

Colossus laid flat in the rye, watching the massive suit rise up as if it started from a kneeling position. Was that how they stored those things in the ground? Curled up on their knees, like a man in deepest prayer? Colossus thought about Isidro, and hoped that the pilot of this suit was a willing participant, because he couldn't afford to be gentle. Banshee's sonic scream cut through the hail and wind far to the right, and the suit spun to face the sound. That placed its back squarely at Colossus' mercy.

Logan and Colossus sprang as one entity, each man going for one of the suit's knees. The suit toppled over backwards under the assault, sparks flying from where Logan sliced cleanly through its servos. Colossus used the momentum to his advantage, tossing the huge thing a good twenty feet into the rye field, and clearing the way for Logan to enter the access tunnel.


Logan hoped he'd hit something important, but he couldn't afford to look back at the results of his free shot. No way was Nightcrawler going to be able to do everything by himself in the House of Essex. He dove into the pit, narrowly avoiding a volley of machinegun fire from the suit behind him. On one side of the six foot pit was a series of metal steps, presumably for the suit's use in leaving the pit unhindered. That wasn't what held Logan's attention. It was the access port he needed... and the damned thing was shut tight. He cursed as he sliced through the door; it wasn't a problem for him, but for Nightcrawler it was insurmountable.

" 'Crawler, is your door locked?" he shouted over the gunfire.

More dissonant screeching echoed in Logan's tender ears, and then Nightcrawler's voice came over the radio. "Not anymore. Ow." After a second, he added, "I never intended to stress test my new eardrums this way."

Logan snapped a glow stick and ran into the access tunnel. It was just big enough for a man to walk through, and though there were spots overhead that seemed to be lights, the entire length was dark Nathaniel's heart.

Guess he didn't spring for any emergency lights down here, Logan thought. Here's hoping nothing else is wired to the backup generator, either....


* * * * * *


Harold Trask didn't trust the teleporter. In fact, the very idea of teleportation itself was untrustworthy. If you disassembled and reassembled your body, you ran the risk of "improper assembly". If you cut a hole in space and walked to the other side, you could always get lost. Or worse, something could take your place. And he knew that those things, those claw-like demons, were always waiting for someone to make a mistake. Just one false move, and they would come through again. In case there wasn't enough of a reason to want mutants eliminated, a teleporter's power risked far more than its user.

But now there wasn't much of a choice. If he was going to get onto Xavier's grounds, this was the way it had to be. He slowly inhaled and exhaled, programming the coordinates, preparing himself for the possibilities. If it was anywhere else, he'd never dream of using it... but these were mutants. They had to go. They were more dangerous than ten faulty gateways. If he opened up something unstable, at least it would destroy them as well.

It was worth it, he told himself. It was worth it. It was worth it.

He took his last steadying breath, mentally activated the switch, and stepped into the white glare.

The white washed over him as he walked in. Two steps, three steps, and to his incredible relief, he saw a pinprick window open up in front of him, revealing the dark, quiet, deceptively beautiful grounds of the Institute for Gifted Youngsters. He exhaled as he set foot on the grass, the moist earth packing solid under his feet. The white glare behind him faded, and now he was alone, with the school only a minute's walk away. He strode into the bushes, careful not to snap too many branches underfoot. He had to get closer before he let loose. He had to get a lot closer.

Target, active power use. Three o'clock, down angle.

His suit's artificial voice startled him. He looked to the right and down, and saw a hideous little creature, crouched and trembling in the bushes.

----

Rosa clicked her warning frantically on her radio, so frantically that the greenery around her shook. This suit was HUGE! Even the one that came after her in Mexico wasn't as big as this! It had to be three stories tall! She tried to be quiet. She hadn't said a thing. But it suddenly turned to her and aimed its fist, and she dropped the radio and ran into the grove on all fours. Behind her she heard that sound, that gentle, horrible, all too familiar sound of the suit's energy weapon. She smelled timber burning, heard trees come crashing down behind her. Was it shooting down the trees, or just pushing them aside to get to her? She ran faster. Please, God, don't let me die, don't let me die, don't let me die.....

Syryn's scream echoed through the school grounds, followed by a whooping siren and searchlights. One flashed over Rosa, and she couldn't see for a second. She knew she was right in front of the pool. She dove in, and was rewarded with icy cold water. She swam down toward the bottom as fast as she could, praying she could get far enough down that the thing couldn't shoot her so easy, or grab her. She glanced back to see a gigantic metal hand bare inches from her ankle....

An explosion of sparkles hit the giant suit in the face, startling it before its hand closed around Rosa. Jubilee put everything she had into her attack, but though she could burn through bulletproof vests, she wasn't even scorching the paint job on this thing. It moved for her instead, and it was moving fast. Much faster than something that big should be allowed to move.

"Jesus Fucking H. Christ!" Jubilee shouted into her radio as she ran into what few trees were left. "This thing's as tall as the school!"

Dammit, this suit was designed to take on all of the Xmen at once! Why was Harold having so much trouble with runts like this? He picked up one of the fallen oak trees and swung it at Jubilee. The girl fell under the assault, hurled dozens of feet away where she did not stir. Good. Finally. His first kill. But just to make sure.... He moved over to her and placed his foot over her body....

And was promptly thrown aside by a blow to his right. He rolled to his feet. Well, it seemed that one of the adults was still on the grounds. He'd recognize Cyclops anywhere.

Cyclops kept up the assault as Rhane ran in and dragged Jubilee off the lawn. Good Lord. Good Lord! These things just kept getting bigger and bigger! And the kids shouldn't even be out here! There were three students in close vicinity, and God knew how many more were lurking nearby. What they hell were they thinking?

"Rogue, get the kids out of here!" he shouted.

"Not if it includes me, you're not!" Katherine shouted back.

Katherine? She must have followed him out when the alarm went off. "Kitty, where are you?"

He wanted to look around to see where Kitty and Rogue were, but he literally couldn't take his eyes off the monstrous suit, for fear he'd lose his firing angle. He ran along the tree line, firing every step of the way.

Don't worry about their location, Xavier's voice rang in his head. I will coordinate them.

Professor, get the rest of the kids inside! This is going to be a slaughter!

The suit ripped up an architectural boulder and hurled it like a common stone. By traitorous reflex, Cyclops flung himself back on the ground and watched as the huge rock sailed over him, barely an inch from his nose. It hit the ground with a sickening combination of dull thud and splintering crack. There wouldn't be a tree left on this side of the institute before long.

Another boulder was heading straight for his face. He pulverized it into fine sand as he scrambled to his feet. And then something else came; it looked like a tree trunk. It was all he could do to keep himself from being flattened by the incoming debris. Between missiles, he saw Katherine running in on the suit from behind. If she could pull this off, their problems were over. If she could just hit something vital.....

She ran into the robot's leg and bounced off. The impact was enough to temporarily stun her, and enough to garner the attention of the robot as well. It didn't take a chance at being pushed off balance this time; it just swung down after her with its fist. By that time Kitty had sunk into the earth. The impact left a divot the depth of an irrigation ditch, but there was nothing of Kitty to be found.

----

John stood on one of the balconies of the institute. He knelt by the railing, doing what he could to disguise his silhouette like Rogue said to do. He was just close enough to be able to feel the electricity in the gigantic suit. He could feel the circuitry and switches, but that seemed to be all he could do. He could have a computer shut down and smoking by this point; here there just wasn't anything familiar to grab. He kept trying, shutting off power here and rerouting it there. This thing must be one huge redundancy--

JOHNATHAN PORTSMITH! GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT NOW!

The Professor's voice hit like a sledgehammer, shouting loudly enough to deafen.

I'm not on the lawn! I'm in one of the rooms!

YOU ARE A TARGET OUTSIDE ON THE BALCONY! GET INSIDE THE WALLS THIS INSTANT!

Suddenly he knew he had to leave. It was way too dangerous there. One stray bullet and he was history. He bolted inside and had reached the hallway before he realized that the impulse might not be his own.

Professor, that's not fair!

Young man, if I have to push you to keep you alive, I will do so! I have lost entirely too many students, and I'm not losing any more of you! Do you understand me?

But if I can screw up any of that thing's circuits--!

Then do it from inside the school's walls! Feel for the electricity! Don't use your eyes!

....

He'd never even considered that....


* * * * * *


Nightcrawler galloped headlong through the pitch black tunnel. What started as a level run grew into a good 10% downhill grade halfway through. Twice he ran by what looked like security cameras, dark and motionless. Spaced at disturbingly regular intervals were narrow strips of different colored metal, which he was sure had to be separate plates retracted into the ceiling.

Thank God those dividers didn't automatically come down when the power went off, he thought. He must have thought the combination of the suit and the first door would keep anyone out.

A damp chill built with every step, and by the time he finally reached the end of the tunnel, he could see his breath hanging in the air. Just his luck; the door at this end was locked shut as well. There was a keypad there, of course, covered with frost, but without power, it wasn't much use. Bobby must have inadvertently frozen this part of the tunnel along with the water pipes. How thick was this door? And how big was the room behind it? Was it occupied? The ground density scan wasn't worth much when it came to things like this.

Now what? Do I wait for Logan? Don't tell me I'm going to have to risk a blind 'port....

As he was considering contacting Logan, the door creaked slowly open. It slowly slid a quarter inch into the wall, and eerie red light peeked through. Nightcrawler flattened himself against the wall farthest from the opening, and heard someone cursing from the other side of the door.

"Come on you bloody bastard," a voice snarled.

Just what Banshee said not a minute ago. The coincidence was ludicrous enough to bring a smile to Nightcrawler's lips. The door jerked a fraction of an inch further.

"What the hell's taking so long?" another voice demanded. "It slid fine last month!"

"Yeah, well, someone put the anchors on this thing."

Both voices were muffled, as if the were wearing some sort of face mask. The chances were they belonged to armed guards with helmets. A few fingers of an armored gauntlet worked their way between the door and the wall, and Nightcrawler had his verification. Nightcrawler took a quick peek through the base of the tiny opening to get his bearings. Three pairs of armored boots, metal floor, enough space behind the last pair of feet and the wall to materialize. He teleported into the room.

The three guards were covered in all encompassing battle armor, which made them look a good foot taller and broader than they probably were. They carried short stocked rifles of some kind, maybe semi-automatic. Logan would have recognized the build instantly, but for Nightcrawler they were just something more to avoid. Miraculously, no one had noticed him yet. They must not have been able to smell his arrival in those enclosed helmets, let alone hear him over their own complaints. He made the most of his opportunity and left through the open doorway. Rescue first, fight later.

"I'm in," he whispered as he stalked out into the hall.

"Shit a brick!" a guard shouted from back in the room.

Suddenly all three were running from the room, and straight into Nightcrawler.

----

Logan yanked his claws free of the last of the guards in the tunnel's end chamber. One of these guys got a warning out, he was sure of it. Their timetable just got slashed again.

"I'm in too," he checked in.

"I noticed!" Nightcrawler snapped.

Logan grabbed a weapon from the fallen guards as he ran out the door. "You need help, C?"

Pause. "No, I've got it." Pause. "I think." Pause. "That armor's hard on my knuckles."

"Takin' you at yer word, bub," Logan said as he ran down the hallway. "I'll call you if I run into anything."

The place stank of antiseptic and that damned industrial strength air freshener crap. So far, the only scent he could pick up was his own. He headed to the southern side of the structure while Nightcrawler headed north.

Chances are that the labs will be somewhere in the middle, he thought. Maybe I should head "inland" instead of skirting the edges like this.

Something happened above him. It was a heavy sound, an impact, and if it could be heard all the way down here it must have been one hell of an impact. Colossus, maybe, breaking his way in? Storm's lightning? One of the 'bots? That huge motherfucker that the Prof warned them about? Logan kept running. It could be have been caused by angry fairies as far as he cared. Until something broke through the ceiling, it wasn't his problem.

So far all he found were doorways, with those doors slid into open position. Quick glances showed the rooms to be empty, or only storage. Then he got to a closed door, innocuously labeled LAB 1.

Now we're talking, he thought. Something important enough to lock in when the lights go down.

Three slices and he cut had another doorway into the thick steel. It fell into the next room with a loud clanging thud. He snarled in irritation; nothing here but equipment. Not even any techs. He hoped Nightcrawler had better luck.

At that point, Nightcrawler's voice whispered, "Gott im himmel."

Logan jogged to the next closed door, labeled LAB 2. "Whadja find, partner?"

"I... uh...." His voice wavered, and Logan heard a strange bird-like squawk come through the mike at the same time. "I don't think I can save this one...."

Great. Leave it to the priest to find the first "experiment." "Either 'port her topside or leave her for later, bub. We don't got the luxury of being helpless."

"Then I'll have to leave her, God help me." Another bird squawk nearly overrode Nightcrawler's voice in the transmission. "I'm sorry. I'll come back for you, I promise."

Logan opened up another empty lab. This was getting monotonous. Maybe he should just run like hell until he got some live scents. The bottom level was only so big. He was sure to run into Nightcrawler sooner or later.

"I have never wanted someone dead so much as I want Herr Essex now," Nightcrawler snarled.

Logan broke into a run, leaving LABS 3-5 behind. "Dibs on his eyeballs."

"Logan, I found the main cell wing! North side of the--"

The communication stopped dead.

Oh shit.



TBC....
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
CurlyyHairGirl
Swashbuckler
Swashbuckler
Posts: 1503
Joined: Sat Dec 13, 2003 4:52 pm
Location: San Jose State University

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

Your gonna kill me with these cliffhangers, Maelstrom.


Then I will haunt you to continue. *haunt haunt haunt*
one name: Bruce Campbell
HoodedMan
Administrator
Administrator
Posts: 2335
Joined: Thu Jul 24, 2003 11:39 pm
Title: Lord Sarcasmo von Snarkypants

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by HoodedMan »

Fantastic, and I love the cliffhanger as well. Very detailed and an excellent addition.
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

Considering how well I deal with hauntings, It looks like I'd better get the next part out with all due speed.... :shifty


Sinister Designs: Chapter 11

When the lights went to "submarine red", Moira and Isidro knew something was up. They prayed it was Xavier's promised rescue. Moira in particular split her prayer between "rescue us" and "please, God, don't let the ventilation cut out in this hermetically sealed cell".

It wasn't until they saw Nightcrawler go literally flying by their cell that they knew for sure.

It would take a second or two for Nightcrawler to figure out what went wrong. He came upon what had to be a row of cells, contacted Logan, and then he was flying face first down that hallway. He managed to get his legs up in time to absorb some of the shock, but he still hit hard enough to leave his ears ringing.

"Hot damn!" someone hooted from down the hallway. "You ain't squashed flat!"

Nightcrawler looked back to where the distinctly male, distinctly American voice came from. A huge man walked into view, slamming his huge fist into his huge hand, and smiling a nearly-as-huge smile.

"You shoulda been a blue spot on the wall! I'm impressed, buddy! I really am!" he laughed.

All right, Kurt, you were warned about this big blob, he thought as he spun to a crouching position, somewhat like an annoyed cat who'd been placed on his back. Just don't let him grab you again, and you'll be fine....

He was about to warn Logan of this new development when he felt and heard pieces of something fall from his left ear. Where he'd hit it against the wall. Where his communicator was. Without taking his eyes off the mobile mountain, he caught a glimpse of plastic and metal bits on the floor. Oops. He was on his own. Time for a little manipulation....

"Don't make me unlimber the full force of my fat jokes on you," he started, backing "nervously" against the wall.

His foe just grinned even wider . "Oh, right, you got any new ones for me? I got me a collection, and they all end with someone getting crushed."

The man's grin turned acidic, the cruelty reaching not just his eyes, but every ominous motion of his body. He slowed down, apparently savoring the panic of his trapped prey. Just as Nightcrawler suspected: this mountain was a bully. Maybe he could turn this to his advantage. He looked around frantically, like a trapped animal, as the man closed in. The man slowed even further.

"Whassamatter, buddy?" His tone was something usually reserved for talking to infants. "Didums get all scardey-waredy?"

Then Nightcrawler suddenly disappeared in a puff of blue smoke, leaving a startled and confused flesh mountain a few feet from the end of the hallway.

"Hey! What the fuck?"

Nightcrawler reappeared several feet behind him and began his fast search of cells, looking for prisoners. Empty, empty, empty, empty....

"Get back here you little shit!"

Oh-ohh. The Blob back there was pissed now. Nightcrawler teleported into one of the unoccupied cells as one very irate man pounded on that cell's bars. He did his best not to wince as the Blob's fist connected with, and cracked, both bars and Plexiglas shielding. If Nightcrawler had remained there, the bars should have strained him like a sieve.

My little Oscar-winning performance isn't going to work twice, it seems. Well, if I can't keep him overconfident, maybe I can get him mad enough to make mistakes....

Nightcrawler smiled sweetly, waggled his fingers, and gave his enemy an "air kiss", all while batting his eyes in an infuriatingly coquettish manner. The Blob's face turned a wonderful shade of red, and he wound up for a haymaker. Nightcrawler teleported into the cell on the other side of the hallway as the man's fist smashed through armored Plexiglas and reinforced bars. He didn't want to think too hard about the shrapnel that he just avoided.

The clear plastic shield did wonders for cutting down sound, but Nightcrawler could easily hear the blue streak that spewed from his tormentor's mouth as he realized he'd been had again. The Blob spun about, ripping his arm out of the hole he created and spraying the hall with more plastic and metal shards. It only took him a half second to find Nightcrawler in the cell across the way. His face was turning purple now, and this time he didn't bother with a fist. He bolted headlong for the cell, which partially crumbled under the assault.

As satisfying as this may be, I can't keep doing this, Nightcrawler thought as he reappeared in the hallway. Sooner or later he could resort to taking hostages....

He had a few precious seconds to search for Moira and the rest of the prisoners before his enemy pulled himself free of the wreckage. He bolted down the hallway as the Blob roared in anger from the cell. There! To the left! By the time the Blob stumbled back into the hallway, Nightcrawler was long gone.

Moira and Isidro had just enough time to register that Nightcrawler had seen them when he appeared in their cell. In less than a second, all three had disappeared, arriving in the Blackbird's interior. From the constant noise, a horrendous windstorm must have been raging outside.

"Hank's there an' so is someone else, cell next to us!" Moira shouted quickly. "An' there's sure to be more somewhere!"

Both she and Isidro looked a bit off balance, and to tell the truth, so was Kurt. Teleporting with two people was a difficult feat at the best of times. He gently pushed them to the wall, to two of the seats.

"Stay clear of the center," he said. "I need to have a clear landing platform here."

"We'll be up in the cockpit," she replied. "That all right for ye?"

Nightcrawler nodded. "Tell them my comlink is gone, won't you?"

Moira nodded, and Nightcrawler disappeared. Moira then moved forward to the cockpit and its sensor array. Rain and gravel-sized hail constantly pounded the windshield, making it difficult to see anything outside. Isidro joined her, looking out the copilot's window while she looked out the pilot's side.

"Moira," he whispered, tapping her on the shoulder.

She couldn't hear his words, but the tapping did the trick. She looked his way, then moved up next to him, sharing the view through the copilot's window. Her jaw dropped in shock. No wonder it was so noisy in the jet. A funnel cloud was roping down right over Nathaniel's lab.

::

For Storm, calling down the vortex was the easy part. More difficult was magnifying it into something dangerous. In the last few minutes, while Banshee and Colossus kept the amplifier suits busy, she pulled and pulled, creating a whirlwind out of nothing, and then building its speed. With Banshee's sonic screams coming fast and strong, and the hail already buffeting their sensor arrays, the suits never heard the cyclonic action build up behind them.

When the suits first struck at Westchester, Storm's hands were tied. Fearing catching her friends in the middle, she restricted herself to the most basic and selective of attacks. Now, with Colossus, Iceman, and Banshee spread out over several acres, she had free reign, and the tornado just kept building. F1. F2. F3. The tighter she squeezed the vortex, the more speed it picked up, like a skater spinning in a circle.

F4. It was bucking her for control, now. It wanted to be let out to play.

Not yet, my child, she thought. Not yet. Just a little more strength before you touch down. Just a little more....

F5. She could feel it. The winds topped 300 miles an hour. When this touched the lab it was going to explode, reinforced walls or not. She lit the vortex with lightning bolts, and the night sky temporarily turned to day.

The wind made it impossible to talk over the link, but communication had many, many forms. Like the Biblical Pillar of Fire, Storm's sinuous tornado lit up in a twisting column. Colossus, Banshee, and Iceman had been waiting for this for what felt like forever. As one, they fell to the ground and grabbed the earth in their hands. Banshee howled out a perfectly-tuned cord, then modulated up a half-step. With that counter-signal, Storm yanked the deceptively small whirlwind down. It hit the lab like a 1,000 pound bomb. Debris flung out in every direction. Some whizzed over the heads of those in the fields, but most of it was sucked up into the spinning vortex.

Every amplifier suit spun to face what was left of Nathaniel’s lab. Their reaction were so fast, so human, that Colossus hated himself for what he was about to do.

"Forgive me," he whispered in Russian.

He ran up behind the suit, picked it over his head, and threw it into the tornado.


* * * * * *

Jonathan Portsmith joined the rest of the students inside of the Danger Room, the best armored room in the institute. Half of the students were in there already. Most of them were handling the situation well, but poor Judy was starting to hyperventilate.

"Told you the Professor'd make you come down here," Jaideep said.

"Get bent," John muttered.

"We're gonna die," Judy whimpered. "Rogue was so wrong. We should've run like the last time. We should've run."

Judy's whining was really getting on John's nerves. "Judy, the damn thing has some sort of mutant tracking thing in it. Just how far are we gonna get?"

She stared at him with an open mouth. "How... how do you know that?"

He gave a frustrated growl and rolled his eyes. "I was inside of it, remember? And I saw the specs, okay? Just shut up and let me work from here."

She shook her head frantically. "No! That's not true! It can't find us like that! We have to get out of here!"

She started to bolt. Artie tackled her before she got two steps. The rest of the students grabbed her. She started to scream. Someone slapped her, and she stopped shrieking. They led her to the farthest wall from the door.

"Look, we'll be okay down here," Jaideep told her. "Mr. Summers is up there and so's Kitty. We're just down here so they don't have to worry about us. We'll be okay."

Jaideep's words, repeated over and over, seemed to calm her a little. John and Artie looked at each other.

"You're gonna go into the suit again, right?" Artie asked quietly.

"Yeah," John answered. "Maybe I'll be able to throw its aim off or something. It's not like I can get hurt doing anything from here."

"Anything we can do to help?"

He sneered in Judy's direction. "Keep the princess quiet, okay?"

"You got it."

John moved away from the huddle, sat cross-legged on the floor, and closed his eyes. It took a few seconds for him to "re-acquire" the giant robot's signature through all the electronics in the institute basement. Judy was still whimpering, but she was doing it so quietly that it wasn't a bother anymore.

I'm down in the Danger Room now, just like you asked, he thought.

Good.

And I can still "see" the robot.

Better. Pause. John, can you isolate one process from another?

I should be able to, but it's real hard....

I want to you concentrate on finding the mutant detection equipment. Let me know when you've discovered it, and what you can do with it.

Yes, sir.

::

It didn't take long for Rosa to swim out of the water and meet up with Siryn. The older girl had managed to scrounge an ill-fitting Xmen uniform jacket, which hung off her like a tent even when it was zipped up. Rosa looked her up and down.

"At least it's armored," Siryn told her.

Cyclops' beams lanced up at the robot, though the man himself was hidden behind a few remaining trees. The robot was an easy target. It was hurting the damn thing that was tough. Concussive blasts that could rip the turrets off tanks seemed to have little effect on the beast. At best they pushed it off-balance. Maybe it was more vulnerable to sound than to sheer pressure.

Siryn glanced Rosa's way. "Plug em', sister."

Rosa didn't currently have "ears" per say, but still she crouched down and put her hands over her tympanic membranes. Siryn took a deep breath.

Focus forward, pure pitch, just like Da' told me.

The sound had a will of its own. Unchecked, it would blow out every window on this side of the mansion. But Siryn's will was stronger. She focused it forward and up, at the robot's head. One of Cyclops' shots hit it again, and the combination of their two blows set the thing reeling. It made a drunken swing with its arm, firing its energy weapon all the way. Siryn realized she was in the line of fire. Her pitch changed, from treble to bass, and the air in front of her shimmered. The energy hit the shield and exploded like a series of grenades. The greenery around her and Rosa blackened, a nearby marble bench cracked with heat, leaving only the two of them, and the tile under their feet, unscathed.

More and more energy came down. Siryn's face turned red as she kept the scream up. Her father could do this for hours! What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she hold a note for twenty damn seconds? In fact, it didn't look like the shield was going to last five seconds.

She felt Rosa grab her jacket. Siryn closed her eyes; if Rosa was doing what she thought she was going to do, this was going to be close. She did not resist as Rosa leapt with her, springing up and over the pool with enviable strength. The stone cracked and melted underneath them, but by then both Siryn and Rosa were ten feet away over the middle of the pool. Steam rose from the chlorinated water as the suit tracked them with its energy weapon, but it didn't get very far. Cyclops' beam came up and knocked its aim off to the right, away from both pool and mansion. Siryn’s scream ended in an undignified squawk as she and Rosa hit the water.

"Damn you, Rogue, what the hell were you thinking!" Scott shouted at her. "These kids aren't ready for this! They should have gone out the tunnels!"

Rogue crouched behind a tree and shouted back. "And then where? This thing's got a tracker! Where we gonna go, huh? We're just gonna split up an' make it easier to kill us?"

Scott, I don't like to say this, but Marie is correct, Xavier's voice echoed with regret. This particular unit has some sort of mutant detection system in place. It knows exactly where we are, it will follow, and it moves faster than any of us here. Like it or not, this is where we make our stand.

We make a stand with two and a half adults and a bunch of kids. Great.

There are more differences about this unit, Scott. I can just sense a consciousness within this suit. This time the pilot is not comatose.

The suit suddenly spun around and swept his weapon down as if he was swiping something off his leg. Marie saw the distinctive yellow blur of Regis' teleportation popping around the robot's feet. As the thing tried to grab for Regis, ten Jamies came running out of the brush, each one holding a limpet mine. The suit kicked out, sending half of the Jamies flying. In that second, over a hundred Jamies flew into existence, every one of them doubled over and clutching their chest in pain.

Cyclops felt a similar pain seize his own chest. Jamie Prime had been hit, and hit hard.

Professor, get some of the duplicates to carry each other off! Make sure one of them's Jamie Prime!

It was an absolute horror. Half of the duplicates carried a few of them off, the others, despite the sympathetic pain, tried desperately to grab the limpet mines and affix them to the robot's legs. In return, the massive machine just stomped them into the ground. Several mines went off, tearing one Jamie limb from limb. The robot's armor wasn't even scratched.

They're only duplicates, he told himself. Just duplicates. But Jamie had never had a duplicate seriously injured before, let alone killed. And with Jamie already injured.... I can't do this alone. If only there were more of me....

And he looked at the horde of Jamies, and he looked at Rogue, and Rogue looked back. And the two of them didn't need Xavier's influence to think the same thing. Rogue took a deep breath and nodded. She ran for one of the countless Jamies in the area, removing her gloves as she went. Of all the ones on the field, she went for one that was curled up against a tree, hugging his chest. As she got closer, she saw blood streaming from his mouth and nose.

"God it hurts," he sobbed. "Oh God it hurts."

Rogue's hands shook as she knelt down beside him. "Jamie, I don't know if I can take power from a duplicate, but I gotta try."

"Jamie" looked up at her with tearful eyes. "I'm not Jamie. Jamie's not talking now. He's all quiet and stuff." He took a rattling breath. "But you take what you need. You take everything you need."

Rogue gently held the duplicate against her, touching her hands to the back of his neck. He started to tremble, then violently shake. And suddenly Rogue was just holding thin air. There wasn't even any blood from him on her uniform: it was as if he never existed at all.

As Rogue turned around, once again, Kitty phased out of the ground and reached up to the robot's leg. How it knew she was there Rogue had no idea, but it did, and it reacted instantly, raking the ground with energy fire. The beams went through Kitty, but they blew her back regardless. She fell into the brush, all too solid, steam marking her place in the cold night air.

Rogue looked back to Cyclops, who now did something she'd never seen before: he removed his shades. The full force of his optic beams was focused on the back of the robot's knees. At the same time, he pointed to where Kitty fell. It was time for Rogue to "try out" her new ability, if she'd absorbed it at all. She stamped her foot hard enough to leave her shin stinging. Her consciousness split, and now she was seeing out of three sets of eyes. She and the duplicates looked at each other in shock for a moment, and then both duplicates ran into the battlefield.

Harold Trask fell to his knees. Cyclops' hit felt like a sledgehammer to the back of his legs, but that was the least of his worries. His own mutant detector was going crazy! There were so many of them that he couldn't tell which was which!

"Find the phaser!" he told it. "Find Pryde! Concentrate on her! She's the real danger!"

Target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target....

"Goddammit, what the hell's wrong with you!" he screamed in his cockpit. "Pryde, Katherine! Phaser! Seek!"

Target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target, active power use, down angle, target....

There were too many mutants around. He'd never run it with thousands of them in range: he'd never come across such a concentration before. Somehow his mutant detector had become "stuck". From now on, he'd have to depend heavily on his internal forcefield to keep Katherine Pryde at bay.

Well, it stopped her at least twice. And I hurt her pretty bad with that last plasma burst. All I have to do is eliminate the rest of these freaks, and I'm back in business.

Back in the Danger Room, John had gone into a low-level trance. He sat there, eyes closed, his breath perfectly even, if a bit labored. He finally had it. He had discovered the detection equipment, and forced it into an infinite loop. But he wasn't sure how long he could keep it up. The backup systems were already eating away at his deception.

You're doing fine, John, Xavier's voice said softly, calmly. Don't worry about anything else. Just keep that loop up. That's all you need to do.

Yes, sir. I'm doing my best.

Xavier's mental voice subtly changed tone. There was a tension to it that hadn't existed before. John, I'm going to do something that may be disconcerting. I'm going to disassociate your other senses, so all you'll be able to see will be the suit's systems. It should help you concentrate completely on your task, and I promise it will be temporary.

Um... Okay, sir.

He barely noticed when he went deaf. He didn't notice when he couldn't feel his own clothing against his skin. Nor did he notice when his sight failed, as his eyes were already closed. It was a remarkably gentle change, and considering how hard he was concentrating, it actually did make things easier. Maybe he could keep the loop going for a few more minutes....

And because of what Professor Xavier did, John didn't even twitch when Jamie's body was hauled into the room, and Judy started hysterically screaming his name.

Six Jamies, wheezing and bloody, carried Jamie Prime between them. As two Jamies fell to the floor and disappeared, the other four laid Jamie Prime down. One duplicate looked up, each breath blowing disturbing bubbles in the blood that ran freely from his nose.

"Don't go out there," he wheezed. "Don't--"

And then all the duplicates were gone, leaving Jamie Prime alone on the floor. As bad as the duplicates looked, Jamie Prime may as well have been hit by a freight train. Most of his face was covered with blood, most of his sweater was stained that same red. That chest was sunken, and it wasn't moving right when he breathed.

Judy wasn't alone, she was just the loudest. She broke free of her restrainers and bolted to Jamie's side, still screaming his name, while the rest of the students looked on with stunned horror. Judy grabbed the neck of Jamie's sweatshirt and ripped it open like it was paper, the tough cotton-poly strands of fabric softened to something fragile and brittle. Jamie's chest was just starting to turn purple, and his sternum was sunk by inches. Something deep inside Judy realized that Jamie's ribcage had been crushed, and without it, his lungs would collapse. No one here knew how to use the medlab equipment for something as severe as this, and none of the adults could come down and help them right now.

Tears flowed down her cheeks. She couldn't hear her own sobs. She just knew had to do something about that chest, because Jamie wasn't going to last long enough for help to arrive.


TBC...
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
User avatar
RavEnigma
Butt Monkey
Butt Monkey
Posts: 211
Joined: Wed Dec 17, 2003 2:54 am
Location: Stalking Quicksilver!
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by RavEnigma »

AAAAAGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
Oh how you kill with your cliffhangers!
Hope Jamie's okay!
Please update soon, mon ami!
:bunny Naz-Bunny Lover Club member #1

"God help the outcasts, or nobody will"

"That's not a cat, it's a minion of the antichrist!"

Pietro Fan Club Member #1
:evopietro = :love
User avatar
nghtcrwlr
Lubber
Lubber
Posts: 26
Joined: Tue Jul 02, 2002 5:04 pm
Location: Tennessee
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by nghtcrwlr »

This is an awfully good story! Oh please, please, please keep it coming!! Don't kill us here in the suspense!

This is cruel torture .... and oh so sweet! :love
Keep your distance, my love... I bite.
HoodedMan
Administrator
Administrator
Posts: 2335
Joined: Thu Jul 24, 2003 11:39 pm
Title: Lord Sarcasmo von Snarkypants

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by HoodedMan »

Another FANTASTIC addition! I especially loved the fight between Kurt and the Blob; your characterisation of both characters is EXTRAORDINARY!

Keep it up! :)
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
CurlyyHairGirl
Swashbuckler
Swashbuckler
Posts: 1503
Joined: Sat Dec 13, 2003 4:52 pm
Location: San Jose State University

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by CurlyyHairGirl »

I loved the scene where Kurt batted his eyelashes....I imagined the whole scene perfectly in my minute, yet complex and thouroughly twisted cranium..*face becomes blank as a string of drool begins to fall* unnnnggg.
Even if I hate Scott and his permanent uptight-super wedgie attitude, I suppose his courage and leadership skills in a fight make up for it just this once in your story...this once. BRAVA!!!

...Ouch...you ripped out my spleen, Maelstrom. Now my body is just an oozing blasted bloody mess. A hollow festering sack. A shell now. Just a hint of that at witch it once was before the barrage of organ wrenching, mind sizzling fanfictions that have long since removed my innards, starting with my heart, which ha grown back each time a lovely fic has been written. Just having read a sad one, then this with the Jamie incedent...all I had left was my spleen. I loved this chapter with all me spleen which I give to you freely...along with a cyber box of doughnuts.:D

To sum it up...I am zombie slave:X I bow to thee.

~your dead, organless fan who gives out doughnuts, EMO (CHG)...:toothy(they grow back after eating some cornbread)
one name: Bruce Campbell
User avatar
Maelstrom
Lookout
Lookout
Posts: 830
Joined: Fri Jul 25, 2003 2:41 pm
Location: California, USA

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Maelstrom »

Um..... You can have your spleen back.... (ewwwwww)


-------------------------------------

Sinister Designs: Chapter 12

The last thing Nightcrawler said to Logan was that he found the cell block, and that it was at the north side of the basement. Then, in rapid succession, communication came to an abrupt end and things got very, very noisy up above. Storm's little "present" to Mr. Essex had finally touched down.

Logan only called out for his partner once as he ran. He wasn't about to waste his breath, or clog up the frequency, if the elf wasn't able to hear it. He ran full-tilt down the hallway, which was disturbingly bare of occupants, hoping to get to Nightcrawler's side before anything permanent happened.

Moira's voice was the next to come through the comlink. "Storm, this is Moira! Nightcrawler brought Isidro an' I to the jet and went back in! His comlink's gone, but he's all right!"

"Phase two, people!" Storm shouted, her words just understandable over the ferocious winds outside.

Phase two already? Logan thought. They must have taken care of those bots outside pretty quick. We're getting pretty good at this.

"The big man's still near the cell block, so be careful!" Moira continued.

At that precise moment, the double-doors in front of Logan parted, and he was assaulted by the sight and scent of that very "big man". A very big, very pissed man. He lunged for Logan.

"First that blue faggot, now you!" he spat. "How many more of you are there?"

Logan ducked under the Blob's first swing. Unfortunately, this guy took up the whole damn hallway. Getting by him was going to be a problem.

"You wanna bet I can't carve you up like a Christmas ham, bub?" Logan warned.

"Yeah! Sure! I'll even double down!"

Logan ducked another clumsy swing. Fat was supposed to jiggle, wasn't it? This guy didn't "jiggle". Sumo wrestlers would have killed for this guy's build. But they'd be embarrassed to death by his technique. Logan couldn't tell whether his enemy was unskilled at combat, or maybe he'd let his temper get the better of him. In either case, he didn't feel like waiting for his aim to improve. Just after the next fist that sailed over his head, Logan slashed in at a prodigious amount of flesh.

Two problems. First, it was harder to go through this guy than he thought it should be. Next, and more importantly, there wasn't that much blood. Oh, he cut a good swath, all right, and it probably hurt like hell, but there just wasn't much there to bleed. Blobbo here had so many dense layers of fat protecting him that it'd take Logan all day to cut down to something vital.

Pain spurred the Blob to speed. He grabbed Logan's left wrist, crushing every vein and artery under his fingers. Then he slammed him into the wall. And then the next wall. And the ceiling, and the floor, and back to that wall again.... As bright flashes burst in front of Logan's eyes, he picked up the barest hint of sulfur. As his vision failed completely, that smell suddenly became overpowering. Blob shouted, the world lurched, and suddenly Blob's voice was a bit softer with distance and Logan was lying on the floor of the hallway. He wasn't the least bit surprised to look up at Nightcrawler as his vision finally cleared.

"Oooh, he's not going to like me for this," Nightcrawler said as he looked past Logan, back to where the Blob must be.

It smelled like the Blob was only a dozen or so yards down the hallway, and it sounded like he was taking his frustration out on the walls. Logan staggered to his feet, shaking out his crushed arm.

"Think you could've gotten us a little more breathing room, partner?" He got a closer look at Nightcrawler, who was suspiciously pale. "Okay, maybe not...."

Nightcrawler smiled weakly and gestured down the branching hall. They weren't within sight of their enemy, but they could sure hear him.

"FINE! ANOTHER ONE! BRING IT ON, TIN MAN!" the Blob roared from around the corner.

"Did you think I was dumb enough to come alone?" Nightcrawler asked.

"Actually, yes, I did. And you blocked off the way to the cells, unless you're thinkin' of another one."

BANG. SMASH. CRUNCH. The combined sounds of battle and whatever-the-hell-was-going-on-upstairs pounded away at their ears and nerves.

"We have to get the rest of the prisoners," Nightcrawler said. "Before those two bring everything down around our ears." He grabbed Logan's shoulder. "I get us both there, you open the cells?"

"Do it."

Just before they teleported, both men had the chance to see Colossus' gleaming silver body as he sailed by the hallway in front of them.

Nightcrawler and Logan reappeared in the cell block. Blob, in his rage, had done a number on a few of the cells, but the rest were sealed off and in pristine condition. Nightcrawler stumbled to the right and slumped against the wall, trembling with fatigue and gasping for breath.

"All yours," he wheezed.

Logan ran down the row of cells. There were only a dozen of them left intact. This wasn't going to take long. At least, he hoped it wouldn't take long. In one cell, he saw a half-starved man in filthy fatigues, sitting on the floor. Logan immediately leapt to the cell. The prisoner watched with wide eyes as Logan slashed through Plexiglas shield and reinforced bars, then kicked in his improvised door.

Logan extended his hand into the cell. "You the one who talked to Moira?"

The man nodded as he stood up. "She's next door, y'all aughta get her first."

"We already did. Come on, it's your turn."

The prisoner accepted some help from Logan, but not much. He looked half dead, but his spirit wasn't completely broken. Damn, he seemed familiar, but Logan couldn't quite place where he'd seen or smelled him before. The prisoner looked down at the rifle Logan had strapped across his chest.

"Yeah, that's for you, if you know how to use it," Logan told him.

"Damn straight I can," he answered.

Logan pulled the loop back over his shoulder and gave him the weapon. "I was hopin' I wouldn't be hauling this thing around for nothin'. What's your name, soldier?"

"Sergeant Martin, sir."

Logan looked back at Nightcrawler, to see if he'd caught his breath over the past few seconds. Apparently not; he'd need a little more time. And Logan wasn't so sure teleporting their latest addition would be a good idea anyway: he might not be able to handle the shock. As he looked around to see just what else could go wrong, he saw a dark furry lump huddled in the corner of the cell directly across from Martin's. He couldn't make out too many details, but he could tell that the lump was watching them, eyes unblinking and glittering in the dim red light.

"Moira said that there's your buddy, Hank," Martin told him. "They been pretty rough on him."

Oh Jesus, Hank..... Logan made himself look away to Sgt. Martin, who was deftly checking the rifle's clip and chamber.

"Look, our ticket out of here is sitting by the wall, and no matter what you think, I don't want you shooting him," Logan said as he pointed to Nightcrawler.

It wasn't easy to see Nightcrawler in the shadowy red light, but Sgt. Martin must have managed. He looked in Nightcrawler's direction, seemed to be focusing in, and then gasped in shock and almost dropped his rifle.

"Oh my Lord, you got away," he said, his voice trembling. "You... Stryker didn't kill you.... You got away...."

Stryker? This guy recognized Kurt from his association with Stryker? He wasn't aiming the rifle at Nightcrawler, and he didn't seem angry. It was more like overwhelming relief. Nightcrawler's confused look told Logan he didn't recognize him either. Okay, fine, a mystery to explore once they got out of there. Logan went to Henry's cell and cut his entry.

This time Logan didn't need to kick it in. Because something hit him from behind, hard, and blew him into the cell; bars, shield, and all.


+ + + + +


Rogue came back to Cyclops after absorbing Jamie's power. They had to work fast. Jamie's duplicates were down to a couple dozen, and one winked out every few seconds. They couldn't provide confusion cover much longer. And the giant robot, which Cyclops had just knocked down to its knees, was getting up again.

Without turning around, Cyclops handed back his visor with his bare hand. "Do it now!"

She plucked the visor from his grasp, then held his hand in hers. Cyclops immediately fell to his knees, his optic blast waning in strength. God, it felt like he was being buried under wet cement. Being smothered. He clung to consciousness like a drowning animal to a log.

Professor, guide them... I can't....


Harold Trask finally got to his feet. The pounding had stopped. There were no enemies in front of him, and the entire institute to destroy. He raised his arm... only to have his aim deflected AGAIN by Cyclops! What was this freak made of? He should have run out of power long ago! As he swung down, another beam caught his arm. And then another. And another. In seconds, his main gun was pinned in mid air, trapped between continuous streams of red. He tried to pull it down, but for once his amplifier suit just wasn't strong enough. What the hell was going on? Had the deviant figured out how to split and reflect his beam? He looked down to see six Cyclopses... but they had long hair...?

Then something bright red smashed up under his chin like an uppercut from a heavyweight, and something else smashed into the back of his head, and now his head was pinned in place, the same as his arm....


Rogue made a mental note to never, ever, EVER touch Mr. Summers again. Not unless her life depended on it, and maybe even then. Kurt was no problem. Logan she could handle. Magneto and Pyro she didn't want to dwell on too much, but she could find a way to withstand it all. Scott Summers was a nightmare!

The power was bad enough. How the hell did he keep his neck in one piece? It was as if someone shoved her head back every time she opened the visor! This man must have the neck muscles of a gorilla, even if he didn't look it.

But then came his psyche. Battered, self critical, perfectionist, micro-managing, overcome with guilt and grief for his fiancée's loss. Stay in control every inch of your life. Never let your beams out, even for the briefest second, or the world suffers for your weakness. Imperfection is death. She channeled it into anger; every single bit of it. This was HER place. These were HER students, HER responsibility. They looked to her for leadership, for command decisions. She would rather die than let them down.

Rogue stood where she was, holding Cyclops' bare hand, while Cyclops himself crumpled on the muddy field. She fired on the suit as it once more aimed for the institute, and its aim went up into the air. One of her two "non-powered" duplicates stood behind her, whaling away at her back with tree limb. She only split off one "Rogue-clops" with every hit; if she was Jamie, there would have been at least five each time. But with every "Rogue-clops", they came closer and closer to pinning that monstrous machine down.

Six of her pinned the thing's primary weapon arm in the air, and ten more pinned its head in place, which made sure that the rest of the body wasn't going anywhere. It flailed with its other arm, kicked out with its feet, but none of the duplicates was close enough to be hit. For the moment, it was helpless. For the moment only.


Judy put her shaking hands over Jamie's heaving chest. He needed a rib cage. He needed the bleeding to stop. He needed everything at once. A little voice reminded her that she couldn't affect living material, only "dead" things like plastic, stone, or seasoned wood. She couldn't do what she was about to do.

Tears flowed down her cheeks as she touched the right side of his chest. "I can't do this," she sobbed. "I can't do this."

Under her hand two shattered ribs came together and reformed.

Behind her, the students whispered.

We gotta get him to the infirmary.

What if his back's broken?

Professor said to stay here.

If we don't get him there he'll die!

What do we do when we get him in there? I'm not a doctor. Do you know how to stop internal bleeding?


"I can't do this," Judy kept sobbing. "I can't do this." Two more ribs reformed. She moved her hand up. "I can't do this."

Artie was first to realize what Judy was doing. He knelt by her and watched as that horrible, ugly dent in Jamie's chest slowly filled back up.

He looked back to the group and whispered, urgently, "She's putting his chest back together!"

"No I'm not!" Judy shouted, still crying. "I can't do that!"

But her hands moved further up Jamie's chest, and the sternum continued to raise to its correct position.

Artie swallowed. His voice trembled. "It's okay, Judy," he whispered. "You're doing okay."

"I can't do this," she kept repeating.

"Yes you are. Keep going. It's okay. You're doing okay."

The rest of the students gathered around, as Judy worked. The whispered encouragements. They held their breath. They watched as Jamie's entire chest reformed under the hands of a girl who couldn't stop crying.


+ + + + +


One instant, Logan was making a new door for Henry's escape. The next, he was blown into Henry's cell by some kind of white energy stream. Nightcrawler had the time to stand up, and Sgt. Martin had the time to turn towards the attack, when that same white energy came for them. They wound up sprawled on the floor, as Nathaniel Essex walked calmly out of Sgt. Martin's cell.

Nathaniel's hands tingled a bit. They always did that after a particularly strong energy surge. He'd drained most of his power with that first shot, but Weapon X warranted it. He couldn't take the chance of him recovering any time in the next five minutes. The other two were simple enough. All that was left was Henry, curled up and submissive in his cell, too frightened to emerge. He looked down at Richard Martin, unconscious a few feet away. It was a nice idea, trying to reprogram his system to create the controlling serum, but it just never bore fruit. And considering the rifle the man had been cradling, he wasn't as broken as he thought. Too dangerous. Best deal with him now, then see what he could do about the rest before leaving.

Before he could consider the problem further, something big, hairy, and very fast tackled him. It and Nathaniel both fell into Martin's cell. Nathaniel wound up on his back with a snarling, ape-like Henry on his chest, his royal blue fur black in the eerie red light. Nathan let loose with another bolt of white before Henry got the chance to go further, but Henry avoided it, bouncing back to the Plexiglas cell shield and clinging like bizarre furry spider. His fanged grin was not as feral as Nathan thought it should be.

"You always were an arrogant prick, Nathan" Henry rumbled.

Nathaniel smiled despite himself. So the procedure hadn't robbed Henry of his sentience after all! There was some hope yet for future applications! He had no time to think on this, though: Henry wasn't about to give him the chance. He leapt again.

This cell gives him too much room, Nathaniel thought as he missed yet again. I have to get into confined quarters if this is going to work.

He edged back to the previously-secret opening in the back of the cell. The service hallway between cells was too small for Henry; Nathan would have the advantage then. But Henry made short work of that plan. His third bounce off the walls landed him between Nathaniel and the egress, and suddenly Nathaniel was face down on the cement floor with Henry pounding away.

For a great deal of his life, Henry held back. He held back when he played with childhood friends. He held back in Jr. High School football. He held back in his schoolwork. All to give the veneer of "normalcy". Even when he studied under Professor Xavier, he held back during training sessions. If he lost control of his strength, people could die. Now he tore into Nathaniel with everything he had. He removed his scrubs with a few swipes of his claws. He pounded at his ribs with his fists, he put all his weight behind his knee in the small of Nathaniel's back. If Nathaniel was going to bring the beast out, he was going to get every square inch of it.

So blind was his rage that he didn't initially notice that Nathaniel wasn't bleeding. No ribs had broken. No vertebrae had popped. After three seconds of continuous assault, the man should have been a mangled pile of flesh. He wasn't. In fact, when Henry reared back for another blow, he saw something that stopped him cold:

Sometime during the fight, Nathaniel had turned to metal. The exact same way as Colossus. For a moment, Henry was looking at Piotr, and wondering how he'd gotten there so fast.

And Nathaniel looked back at Henry with a slight, confidant smile. "You were saying, Henry?"


For the first eighteen years of his relatively short life, Piotr Rasputin had never found an equal. Now, in the space of a single year, "worthy foes" were coming out of the woodwork.

Blob was bleeding, somewhat, from that slice from Logan, but he stood up to Colossus' pounding all too well. Worse, Colossus just couldn't seem to budge him. Once he planted his feet on the ground, the Blob was the ultimate immovable object. It didn't make much sense: anything that heavy should be warping the metal corridor under his feet. Colossus should be able to toss him the same way he had been thrown.

Blob just wasn't going to let him by, and Nightcrawler hadn't returned for him. So much for that "snatch and grab" plan. He told Kurt he was too heavy to teleport with....

Cyclops always said the battle plans were the first casualties of war, he thought. My mission must now be to keep this thing busy for the rest of the team.

He stood his ground, crouched and wary. The corridors echoed with the noise from Storm's tornado far above.


+ + + + +


Jubilee, Rosa, Theresa, and Rhane are coming your way, the Professor thought to Rogue. John has the unit's mutant detector in a loop for now, but he'll only be able to give us a few seconds more.

We have a window, Rogue thought back. And when Katherine gets over here, we'll take advantage of it.

She actually felt that last hit from her duplicate. With her armored uniform, and Jamie's ability to absorb and channel kinetic energy, Rogue shouldn't have been able to even notice it. Even more telling, two extra bits of consciousness were no more. And finally, nothing more split off. She had run out of Jamie's power, and her first two duplicates were gone. God only knew how long the rest of her duplicates would last now. She let go of Cyclops before she drained him into a coma. The giant robot jerked around like a man who'd caught his arm and neck in a couple of snares. Its armor was finally deforming with stress under the onslaught. Maybe, just maybe, they could take off the arm....

Two powered duplicates winked out, and now that arm only had four streams on it. Rogue Primary intensified her beam on the giant's neck. They had to remove the sensor array. They had to make sure it couldn't see to blunder its way into the institute. And they had to open up a spot in the armor for Katherine to get through.

The rest of the students had finally made their way to Rogue's side. Jubilee's hair glistened with blood, but otherwise she was standing on her own, looking more angry than hurt. Bad, but at least serviceable. It was Katherine she worried about. Not much could hit her in her phased state, but that weapon flung her away like a rag doll. Even as Kitty approached she was trembling as if cold. Jubilee they could replace in this plan, but it all hinged on Kate. Rosa ran out to help Kate to the group.

"I hope you're up to this, Kitty, because you're our best shot!" she barked, keeping her gaze pinned on the struggling behemoth.

"There's some sort of force field built into the unit," Kitty said, her voice a little unsteady. "But I've figured out its frequency by now. Gimme another shot, and it's mine."

"Lee, Siryn, concentrate your fire on the neck," Rogue ordered. "Rhane, you're the strongest. On my mark, boost Kitty up as close to the neck as you can. Rosa, stay by me."

Rhane shifted, from pure wolf to the kind of bipedal humanoid that special effects teams would envy. The group now fought with an ear-splitting accompaniment in the key of F minor. It covered up any speech, including the angry profanity Jubilee was surely spitting. The remaining two "Rogue-clops" duplicates on the arm gambled that they'd so damaged the weapon that they could concentrate totally on the neck.

A combination of red force, plasma "firecrackers", and sonic power tore into that one spot.

Three more duplicates disappeared.

And suddenly the suit's head popped off like a champagne cork. It sailed over the rest of the combatants, and against all odds, managed to fall cleanly into the deep end of the pool. Siryn's scream ended and she sat heavily on the ground, gasping for air.

"Move it, gals!" Rogue shouted.

Kitty clung to Rhane's back as she half ran, half loped into the field. The suit was now free, but badly off-balance, blind, and deaf. It could blunder anywhere. It dropped to its hands and knees, then started to rise again. The last few duplicates surrounded and pinned it at the waist, but they wouldn't be around much longer. Rhane ran in between two of the duplicates and leapt up. She got a second jumping point on the thing's bent knee, but from there she had little to gain altitude from. Kitty pushed off at the apex of Rhane's leap, and from then on she kept drifting up to the unit's shoulders, to the opening that sparked in the moonlight. If only the Rogues could keep it pinned a little longer, she'd have a perfect shot....

More Rogues disappeared. There were only two keeping the suit in one place now. Katherine dropped onto the shoulders, phased and intangible, and once more hit something solid and unyielding. No problem. She knew that would happen. It was the open neck she needed. She scrambled to the opening and reached in.

She was still blocked.


+ + + + +


Hank was now on the defensive. He'd unloaded everything on Nathaniel before he was armored, and it didn't seem to have done much. Now he seemed to be facing an older version of Colossus. There was no possible way he could get through that armored skin.

The good part? Nathaniel wasn't any faster armored up. That cell, small as it was, gave Henry just enough room to avoid his blows, and then his blasts. And now that he and Nathaniel were roughly the same width in the shoulders, Nathaniel wasn't going to be using that thin "escape corridor" in the back either.

"Stalemate, Nathan," Henry said. "You're not getting away, you know. The second that Logan gets up, he'll make you into aluminum siding."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that so soon, Henry," Nathaniel answered calmly as he unleashed another bolt. "I can do this all day, and it looks like you're getting tired. All I need to do is wing you. And I doubt even the Wolverine can recover from a missing throat. In fact, let's go test that hypothesis, shall we?"

He moved for the hole in the bars, directly under where Henry was clinging. And in that moment, with all the power Henry had in his newfound forced mutation, he felt very, very impotent. If he did nothing, Nathan could well fulfill his threat. Even if he didn't kill Logan, he could easily kill Kurt and Martin. And if he took the bait and got into hand-to-hand... well, if Colossus' Danger Room tests were any indication, Henry wouldn't last very long.

He landed on Nathan and shoved him face-first into the ragged edge of the bars and plastic shielding. Maybe he could blind him. Maybe this armor wasn't as tough as Piotr's. Maybe Nathaniel wasn't as physically strong as Piotr.

Nathaniel spun about, grabbed Henry's arm, and punched him in the face over and over.

Henry's last lingering thoughts were, Then again, maybe so....


"You're a mutant," Colossus panted. "You're working for someone who tortures mutants. How can you betray your own?"

"Don't fuckin' gotta answer you," Blob said. "Don't fuckin' gotta answer to nobody!"

Both of them were getting winded now. They had gone through several rooms of machinery, smashed samples, "uncleaned" clean rooms. Colossus had done what he could to lead his enemy away from where Logan and Nightcrawler saw prisoners and test subjects, and so far it seemed to have worked; they hadn't run into anyone else. But right now, evacuating everyone was going to be impossible with this raging bull down below, and he just couldn't seem to do anything but exchange blow for blow. At least the Blob was slow: Colossus landed two punches for every one of his. It was like hitting a brick of solid clay. If only he could pick this fat man up, he could get him out of the way!

"Colossus, Banshee and Iceman are coming down," Storm said through this comlink. "Have you been able to pry your friend up from the floor yet?"

"Nyet," Colossus snarled softly through his teeth.

"Tell us where ye are, an' we'll be right there!" Banshee's voice came through.

Colossus swung at Blob with deliberate clumsiness. He hit the wall beside him instead, sending noisy shockwaves down the hallway and severely deforming the metal.

"Gonna make you into a hub cap," Blob was threatening. "Gonna make pig sticker into a rake. Gonna make blue boy wish he was dead."

Blob hadn't noticed, but Colossus had: it was very quiet down here now. Storm must have lifted the tornado. Colossus rushed at the Blob one more time. Blob grabbed Colossus' metal fists and held. It became a pushing match, strength against strength. Colossus was strong, Colossus was big, Colossus had height and limb length, but Blob had all the mass in the world, it seemed. The two stood there, jerking from one side to the other, trying to gain the advantage, for several seconds.

The push war went on until Banshee cut a hole in the ceiling fifteen feet down the hallway. Colossus had expected it; needless to say, his enemy hadn't. Blob dropped Colossus' hands and instinctively tried to cover his ears, but Colossus was fast enough to grab the big man's wrists instead. Banshee hovered in the middle of the hallway, the very walls reverberating with his tones, and focused his voice on the mountain man. Iceman dropped down behind Banshee and put both his hands on the floor.

Blob struggled to turn around. He ground his teeth and pushed against Colossus' grip. He lifted up one foot and put it down... right on a very slick mixture of ice and slush. He slipped. For a brief instant, his feet were no longer planted on solid ground.

"You're MINE!" Colossus roared as he lifted the Blob bodily over is head.

Blob thrashed about, but now his centralized mass became a severe disadvantage. There was no way he could twist out of Colossus' hands. Banshee cut open a swath of the ceiling big enough for even the Blob to sail through. Bobby walled himself and Banshee in with ice as the winds sucked up everything lighter than a hundred pounds. For Storm hadn't dispelled the tornado: she'd merely lifted it up a bit, to where it wasn't scouring the ground clean.

And Blob looked up into the gaping maw of darkness and light and debris, and knew too late what Colossus was about to do.

Storm looked on, impassively, as Colossus threw the huge man out of the hole. The Blob sailed close to the tornado, hovered there as he flailed about, then was slowly sucked up into its vortex, gaining speed every instant. He screamed at them, he gestured rudely, he made threats that Storm couldn't hear. Then, just as the other three amplifier suits had done, he too disappeared into the debris cloud that stretched far, far into the night sky.


+ + + + +


"NO! You're not keeping me out!" Kitty screamed, pushing down at the invisible shield inside the giant robot's open neck.

The last duplicate was gone. Rogue was alone, now, and she didn't dare shoot with Kitty on the suit. She didn't dare send the thing that off-balance. The robot lurched forward. Kitty clung on, her legs flailing about. The thing stood up and whirled around with its weapon arm, sweeping across the broad side of the institute. Rogue held her breath.

Nothing fired.

Finally, Kitty disappeared into the stump of its neck.

She fell into the darkness, into a tangled maze of electronics, fiber optics, gel, motors and servos. She spread out like a skydiver, maximizing the damage from her lethal touch. She caught a glimpse of a man in a chair, screaming soundlessly, his body taut and trembling, before falling back into the suit's dark interior once more. In three seconds flat she emerged underneath it and dove into the mud, where she made a hard right turn and began her "underground swim" to safety.

The suit jerked and flailed. Its damaged arm spun at the shoulder so wildly that it literally unhinged. The spasms sounded like they tearing it apart from the inside. The dreadful scream of rending metal was like an animal being slowly dismembered. It took ten long seconds for the "screaming" to stop and the behemoth to lay still on the battlefield, its neck steaming.

Kitty surfaced a few feet away from the hulking machine. Panting, shaking, the world spinning around her. Oh God, I'm gonna be sick.... She fell to her hands and knees. She felt like she was going to throw up, but she couldn't seem to follow through. Rhane came up beside her.

"Tell me...." Kate swallowed. "Tell me... it's not moving...."

"I think ye killed it," Rhane whispered.

Rogue leaned against a broken tree and closed her eyes. They did it. It was finally down. Finally. Jubilee and Siryn sat on one of the few existing patches of grass. Rosa crouched nearby.

"Rogue," Scott rasped. "I need my visor."

Visor? She didn't need it anymore? Rogue blinked, then removed the visor. Cyclops' power was gone. If only the rest dwindled away so easily. She handed it to Scott, who hadn't bothered to stand up yet: he just slipped the visor on from where he laid on the grass. He slowly lifted his head and looked at the motionless enemy in front of them.

"Good job, Rogue," he said softly. "Very good job."


+ + + + +


Nathaniel had just landed his fourth punch on Henry in two seconds when his world imploded, spun, darkened, and snapped back. To the rest of the world, Nathaniel disappeared in a puff of sulfurous blue smoke. Then he reappeared with Nightcrawler a few feet down the corridor.

Nightcrawler felt like someone had punched him in the chest, hard. He'd meant to go further with Nathaniel, to get him out of the basement entirely and let him be sucked up in the tornado like everyone else. But he just couldn't manage it. He couldn't go more than a few feet with this man. He staggered. Nathaniel shoved him away, but seemed just as unsteady on his feet. Both stayed where they were, Nathaniel leaning against the wall, Nightcrawler crouched on all fours.

Then Nightcrawler's tail twitched, and he gave him a sly, predatory smile. "So. Teleporting doesn't agree with you, Mein Herr?"

Nathaniel, looking much more like Colossus than he had a right to, swung around and fired a white bolt from his fist, but his aim and balance hadn't recovered yet. Nightcrawler grabbed Nathan's leg with his tail and teleported again. And again. Just a few feet each time. Just a few feet. One more teleport looked like he might take Nathaniel down entirely....

Someone did pass out with the last 'port. Unfortunately, that someone was Nightcrawler. He slumped to the ground while Nathaniel fell to one knee, gulping in deep breaths of air.

A few seconds to recover, Nathan thought. That's all I need. A few seconds. Then everyone here is dead, and I can leave. A few seconds--

As he was recovering, he saw motion up ahead of him. He looked up and directly into the barrel of a rifle, which was in the hands of Richard Martin. No quips, no pithy sayings, no nothing. Nathaniel just got a faceful of bullets.

The sound jolted Nightcrawler back to complete awareness. A couple ricochets punched him where they hit his armored uniform. Nathaniel fell, then, still encased in metal, but with an angry, red gash in the exact center of his forehead. Sergeant Martin had very good aim.

As Kurt laid there, gathering enough strength to move, he heard metallic "clicking" sounds. The rifle must have run out of bullets, and Martin was still pulling the trigger.

"Goddammit, don't do this to me," Martin choked. "I can't be out."

Kurt slowly pushed himself up on his arms. "It's all right, Sergeant Martin. I think... the danger has... passed...."

He trailed off as he finished his sentence. Sergeant Martin wasn't aiming at Nathaniel anymore. He had the barrel of his rifle pressed up under his own chin.

He pulled the trigger twice more before Kurt scrambled over and ripped the weapon out of his grasp. "What are you DOING, man?"

Martin didn't look at Kurt so much as he looked through him. "I thought there were more bullets 'n that. I thought there were more. Clip should've held more. Why'd they have to shoot them all off? Why... why'd they...."

As Hank and Logan stirred, Richard Martin collapsed into a sobbing heap. Kurt stared, torn between offering assistance or embarrassing the man further. He hesitantly reached out and touched Richard's shoulder.

Logan stood up and moved out of Hank's cell. "Damn good grouping," he noted softly, nodding toward Nathaniel. "That from our boy over here?"

Kurt nodded, and his voice was just as soft. "When I grayed out, he took Nathan down."

"Looks like grabbing the rifle was a good idea."

Kurt's voice was even softer. "The gun may have saved us. What saved Herr Martin was that he ran out of bullets."


To be concluded
Eagles may soar, but weasels never get sucked into the intake of a jet engine..... :evil
Rowena
Global Moderator
Global Moderator
Posts: 886
Joined: Fri Dec 19, 2003 12:55 am
Location: Time And Relative Dimension In Space
Contact:

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by Rowena »

Dear gracious, that's graphic! My mental eye is tearing. Poor Jamie! I was actually holding my breath at times. :holdbreath

These fights were amazingly well planned out and carried through and the characterization of each character was incredibly good. Especially Nightcrawler. I really liked the way he teased Blob, batting his eyelashes like a blue Bugs Bunny, and that grin he gave Sinister when he realized teleporting weakened him. Storm's vortex was really cool too, and Rogue's plan, and...everything! No one was overlooked, everyone had a part to play, and all the parts made a fantastic whole. I eagerly await the conclusion! :D

:bamf
"There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, where the sea's asleep and the rivers dream, people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice and somewhere else the tea is getting cold. Come on, Ace, we've got work to do."
~The Doctor, Survival

"There's no point in being grown up if you can't be childish sometimes."
~The Doctor, Robot

"If this isn't civilization, why am I standing in a bomb crater?"
~Hawkeye Pierce, M.A.S.H.

Rowena Zahnrei's Stories: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/526713/Rowena_Zahnrei
HoodedMan
Administrator
Administrator
Posts: 2335
Joined: Thu Jul 24, 2003 11:39 pm
Title: Lord Sarcasmo von Snarkypants

A new X2 fic: Sinister Designs (PG13 - R for adult situatio

Post by HoodedMan »

As do I! :D I liked someone remembering NC from Stryker. You've done your research and I want to hear more about it! :D
ACHTUNG! Alles touristen und non-technischen looken peepers! Das computermachine ist nicht fuer gefingerpoken und mittengrabben. Ist easy schnappen der springenwerk, blowenfusen und poppencorken mit spitzensparken. Ist nicht fuer gewerken bei das dumpkopfen. Das rubbernecken sichtseeren keepen das cotten-pickenen hans in das pockets muss; relaxen und watchen das blinkenlichten.
Post Reply