Wolverine: Black-Ops
by
Abyss
The following is a story about some guys you might recognize, in a situation that might ring a few bells. I had to take some liberties with the story, mostly because my collection is in another city, so some of the specifics couldnt be confirmed. I think I got most of it right though. I welcome any comments, critiques, suggestions, etc...
Special thanks to Hawk for originally posting this.
Characters and ideas contained herein that resemble anything owned by Marvel Comics, and its parent and subsidiary companies are their property, I'm just having fun with them, receiving no money, and wouldn't dream of it.
The title of the story does not in any way refer to any publication of the same or similar name.
A poet would look on the moon and see only a sphere of ice, reflecting light, but no warmth. It was that cold. A soldier would curse the moon, and bless it. It may reveal his enemies, or reveal him to them. Like many things, the light was a double edged blade, as sharp and cold as the wind blowing with the bite of the Siberian plains it had crossed through on its way south and west. Here in Berlin, it had lost none of its teeth.
The wind blasted its way between buildings, howling its fury where the passage was narrow, damning men for impeding its way. Its rage grew high and fierce over one particular rooftop. The building was not the tallest in the area, nor the newest. It sat in the rough center of the divided city river, perhaps fifteen stories high, of the practical and plain stone so much of the city was built from. No guards paced before its entrances. Spotlights, so common for security in government offices, specifically those of the government, didn't dot the courtyard in front or the roof. Nothing made this place stand out. It was much like the people, in a place where standing out either meant you were powerful, or you were destined to disappear. Yet in spite of its very ordinary facade, this building was going to attract some very special attention on this night where Vikhor's breath filled the air.
The roof of the building was liberally dotted with antennae and vents. The moonlight gave each of these a dark shadow of its own. Like a cell dividing, one off those shadows slowly extended itself from the company of a vent. It crept away from the cold metal, barely disrupting the whistle of wind around the vent as it moved. The moonlight barely gave definition to the shadow, giving it form, but little substance. Human, but barely so. Dressed all in black. A harness in dull metal crossed shoulders and back. Shoulders and upper body were liberally covered in plates of armour. Here and there small packs and cases were fastened. A similar belt held nine or ten identical metal boxes, each the size of a cigarette case, on one side, and a diverse assortment of additional cases and packs on the other.
The figure stood upright, stopping at a crouch. It held a small, intricate looking gun in one hand. The other hand held an instrument, similar to a camera. A small cable ran from the instrument to a goggles and helmet assembly of the same dull grey. The figure pointed the instrument, first at one end of the roof, the slowly over to another, stopping three times to click on a button where a camera would have a shutter switch. A second sweep was performed quickly, then the figure turned. Looking towards a nearby rooftop, the figure nodded his head slightly, once. There was the flash of moonlight on something made of glass, so brief that it could have been the glimmer of a star.
Moments later, another whistle joined that of the wind. The figure on the rooftop, turned away from the noise, scanning the rooftop, and the surrounding ones. He breathed deeply of the night air, tasting it, feeling the chill of the wind, the of the city and the nearby river. Perhaps the faintest hint of the winds northern origins. Footsteps fell softly on the rooftop behind him. A voice, yet another whisper in the night, questioned him. He responded, his voice a blade across sand.
"Clear. Twelve to six disarmed. Seven to eleven still active, passive audio, targeted away from us."
The second figure was a man, taller than the first, with more body armour in the same dull grey with some yellow on the padding and a full combat mask, marked with black fangs. He carried a gun on either hip, another smaller one on a shoulder holster, and a long, double barrelled rifle with a sophisticated night scope on a harness across his back. Red lenses covered his eyes. Only his lower face was visible. His mouth barely moved as he spoke.
"Entry point?"
The first man's reply was lower, almost a growl to the second mans German accented whisper.
"Trap door, six inches from edge of active sensors. Should lead to service elevator if plans were right."
"Creed signal?"
"Does he ever?"
"Ready?"
"Go."
* * *
"Remove the carbonadium from the containment."
Men in lab coats and technicians in grey coveralls hurried to carry out the command. They moved with the co-ordination of workers who had rehearsed a procedure until it was second nature, and with the speed of those who knew the slightest misstep could cost them their lives. Spetsnaz, KGB elite troops, watched every action with eyes that held no emotion but confidence, no promise but death.
In sets of two, eight workers lifted shining steel boxes from large steel containers that steamed and hisses as they were open. With care beyond that of a mother holding her child, they moved towards a large mechanism in the center of the room. They kept their eyes on the crates, and carefully avoided even glancing at the huge figure suspended in a glass tank above the humming machines.
* * *
The basement level of the building was no more outwardly impressive than the exterior, except the it was about three levels deeper than any normal Moscow architecture. Aside from an excess of power lines, the room was dark, damp and cold. Mildew patterned grey stone and mortar walls. The hum of the furnace and power cables was the only sound. No lights were on. No one was there to need them. Had anyone actually been there, they would've heard the noise. The first instinct would be water dripping, then maybe mice. Then the scratching would grow louder and they would think perhaps some stones were loose in the floor, and then the small section of floor would fall out, and if their first thought wasn't to run, they would think nothing at all, ever again.
Victor Creed had entered the building.
* * *
The two from the roof made their way through the top floors of the building. They moved quickly and easily, never actually watching each other, because each knew instinctively what the other was doing.
The shorter, black-clad man went first. Low to the floor and scanning everywhere, he moved to a point in the corridor ahead, then paused. The second man, in the battle armour, covered each advance, his complex gun covering the space the first man moved through. They were fast, thorough and completely silent... until the first man stopped cold in the middle of a hallway, not yet at the split ten feet in front of him. He just stopped dead, gun held low and pointed up, free hand lingering near the knife at his hip. The second man paused only a moment, scanned the hallway before and behind, then moved next to the first.
"Logan, it's wrong."
"I know. This wasn't in the floor plan."
Their voices were low and intense. The exchange took seconds and they moved again. Both advanced towards the division in the hall, stopping just short of the corners. No looks were traded, no signals given, just a pause as long as a breath, then they glided forward in opposite directions into the corridors.
Logan heard the others gun go off. Silenced as it was, the sound was like a baby coughing, once, twice. His own corridor empty, he whirled, gun up and tracking. The other man stood there, crouched, gun already dropping. Down the hallway from him, two figures lay prone on the floor. He wasn't surprised to see there were no telltale pools of blood on the floor, no brain matter on the walls. Two perfect head shots, and no mess.
"Low velocity ammo, North?"
Logan didn't look at the other as he stalked past. North covered the hall way as he dragged the bodies into the office they were walking out of. He tried not to look at the bodies either. One was a security guard, his uniform identifying him as Spetsnaz. The other had on the white coat of a lab worker. Logan wasn't sure what disturbed him more. Heavy opposition or...
*What...innocent victims? No one here is innocent. Not even...*
North's response interrupted Logan's thoughts.
"Yeah, and something new from the Major. Softpoints."
"Cute."
* * *
A panel of monitors and readouts lined the wall directly in the immobile figures line of sight. If he were to open his eyes, he would see a woman standing in front of the panel, occasionally glancing up to study him.
Janice Hollenback consciously tried not to look at her watch. She was supposed to be a dutiful drone. A scientist from a soviet satellite country who had studied in America, but returned to serve the Rodina. Dutiful daughters didn't let anything distract them from their work.
*They also don't have extraction teams coming to retrieve them either.*
For the umpteenth time she cursed her luck. The project was not supposed to go into action this soon. As far as she knew a subject hadn't even been selected, the synthesizer hadn't been tested. She looked again at the muscular, blond figure suspended in fluid, floating over a machine that was supposed to make him at once something more and less then human. Various pipes and wires ran to and from his body, which was superbly built. She wouldn't have been surprised if he was one of the Spetsnaz troopers. Perhaps one of the guards here would know him. If not for the readouts, shed be sure he was dead. His skin was a pale white, and badly patched gunshot wounds dotted his torso. Those could be traced, if she could remember the numbers...
*No time for that. Where the hell are you, Logan?*
* * *
Victor Creed was not in a good mood. First, he had drawn low-point-of entry for this mission. Solo, which was good, but basement, which stunk... less likely to be guards or anyone else that needed to be eliminated. Second, he had to crawl through a few hundred meters of sewer to get to the entrance point, because the building plans had been off by about three floors. And finally, he had been in the building almost six minutes, and hadnt killed anyone yet.
*Maybe I'll get lucky and they'll actually have a early model super-soldier around. *
Two stair cases up he stopped. His black body suit let his blend better into the shadows, the harness and helmet treated not to reflect light. No one could have seen him, but someone was ahead, and coming down.
*One man, sounds like he's armed.*
The usual clatter of weapons was muted though. Creed wasn't at all surprised when the heavily armed Spetsnaz came down the steps. The man was big, and though he wasn't on patrol, since all his guns were strapped away, Creed could tell in the way his eyes moved that he was always a step away from violence.
Creed respected that. He only broke the mans right collarbone when he stepped out of the shadows, twisted the 200-some pound man like a doll and slammed him into a wall. The soldier had a knife out in an instant, stabbing backwards in a motion to disembowel a nearby opponent. Creed shifted sideways and the knife passes by, then reached out and snapped the mans wrist, holding the nerve down so that the fingers tensed up and couldn't drop the knife to make a noise. The man barely gasped. Creed was impressed. He put his mouth close to the man's ear and whispered like steel wool on sandpaper.
"How many guards, and where?"
His Russian was flawless, of course. The man's reply, to his credit and Creeds surprise, was hardly affected by the pain he must have been in.
"Yob... Tovyu.... Maht."
"I was hopin' you'd say that."
* * *
"Distracted, my dear?"
In spite of herself, Janice jumped. The mans voice was so low, she almost thought shed imagined it, but he was standing there all the same. She collected herself quickly, remembering to reply in Russian.
"No General Sabatnich. No. Its just... this is all so overwhelming. I never thought..."
The man cut her off abruptly.
"You are here to think, professor. See that you continue to do so. The weak are those who do not think, and they are inevitably supplanted by the strong."
He turned his back on her and walked towards the tank. Janice watched the large man walk away. As far as she knew, the man was a special military observer, yet she frequently saw him speaking to the scientist in charge of the project. Speaking, not directing or questioning, and that was unusual for any of the military in dealing with those who weren't.
His name had long since been committed to memory. She would find out more back in the states.
* * *
Four off duty Spetsnaz were in the room when Creed kicked in the door. Not surprisingly for the elite troopers they were, the commandos reacted instantly and without hesitation. It wasn't enough.
Even as the door splintered, the commando facing it was down with a knife through his throat. The others dived in different directions, smoothly grabbing at weapons that were near at hand. The figure at the door, a huge man all dressed in black, came in low, sweeping the room with his gun. Another trooper was propelled against a wall, twitching spastically. Yet another saw his own hand shatter before his eyes, then took two bullets in the face and didn't see anything. The last man reached his weapon, and in one motion grabbed it up and swung in the direction of the door. Creed was right in front of him. The rifle barrel was torn out of the commandos hands before he knew what happened, then Creed shot him in the forehead. Barely a sound had been made, but all the men were lying in pools of blood motionless. Creed scanned the room quickly. He approached the largest of the corpses, the one he had killed with the knife. There was a slight hint of blood around the collar, but hardly a problem. Real Spetsnaz would never allow it, but few ever looked directly at real Spetsnaz long enough to see something like that.
* * *
The observation room was empty, all non-essential personnel being reassigned before the Omega Project had been initiated. Logan saw this with slight relief, North without concern. Staying low and to the edges of the room. The two scanned quickly, then moved to the plate glass window.
"What took you?"
The voice was undeniably American, but the speaker wore a Spetsnaz uniform. Logan lunged forward, knife up even as North scanned the room, rifle tracking for other targets. Both stopped short within seconds, Logan a breath away from jamming a knife into Creeds chest.
"Aint we high strung."
Even in the darkness, Logan was sure Creed was grinning.
The larger man pushed passed the smaller, still standing with a knife held out. Creed ripped away the Spetsnaz uniform as he crouched before the window. After a moment the other two joined him, North half watching the door.
In the huge room below them, people moved about like purposeful automatons, carrying out work they had obviously practised long and hard at. Above it all, in a glass tank, watching like a gargoyle made sickly flesh, the huge, pale figure drifted in fluid. Blond hair formed a halo around his head. Tubes and cables criss-crossed the floor around the tank.
Logan only took in the scene for a moment before looking elsewhere. He spotted his goal easily.
"I see her. Over by that console."
If either of the others heard the catch in his voice, they ignored it. North knew Logan wouldn't let his past involvement with Janice interfere with the extraction. Creed didn't care.
North had a more pressing concern.
"If she's here, the project must be in its final phase. They aren't suppose to be able to do that thing with the metal yet."
"Looks like Ops screwed up again. Guess well have to improvise."
Logan looked warily at Creed, waiting for more. North spoke first.
"Hey, we've survived worse scenarios than this."
"Maybe North, but none spring to mind. This mission is FUBAR from the word go."
Surprisingly, Creed agreed with Logan.
"The runt is right. I'm for cuttin' our loses. I say, screw the mole, lets grab that metal makin' tech they're using to finish the process. Never did trust double agents anyways."
Logan gritted his teeth and hissed at Creed.
"We got our orders, and getting Janice out of there is part of them."
"True, but the Major couldn't have known the Russians were this far along with their super-soldier program." North sounded resigned.
Creed on the other hand, sounded excited.
"Logan, you grab the doohickey. North's in charge of the dame. Me, I'm gonna wish Ivan there a big old happy birthday."
Creed snapped down the visor of his helmet.
"They're ready to activate the super-soldier. Were gonna stop that."
North was silent. Logan felt a cold knot form in his gut.
* * *
Janice faced the console, but here eyes were everywhere. For a moment, the idea of sabotaging the project herself crossed her mind, but she let it pass. She was here to observe and record, not to interfere. At least she had figured a few things out already. The large man in the tank wasnt supposed to be there, at least, not yet. She had watched earlier as technicians set up additional fluid packets and plasma, but had thought them just safety precautions. They were not. They were attached to the man, more obscene umbilical cords in a womb giving birth to...god only knew what. Pumping life into what had to be on the edge of death.
Activity around the tank was frantic now, commands being shouted and readings called out at an insane pace. Compensating, adjusting, feeding... the womb analogy was making more sense all the time, as the carbonadium feed began.
"The synthesizer is working. He isn't rejecting the grafts."
"Containment is reaching critical on the spoor filter, venting to secondary systems..."
"Life signs are stable, but still below normal."
Janice glanced over at the main feed lines, drawing the strange metal from storage and pumping it directly into the blood and marrow and flesh of the man. A part of her wanted to rejoice that the system worked. She had contributed to the final adjustments to the synthesizer, but had never expected to see it work. Another part of her cringed in horror, for the same reasons.
* * *
*Pain, such pain, why is this happening why do I feel so much pain why do I feel at all I was deaddead dead, killed the girls, killed them all then the agen tkilled me killedmeshotmedead hot pain in the chest, and I finally now what death is like warm darkwhy am I feelingfloatingwhatwhytwhy who dies next...*
* * *
"Life signs rising... good lord...they're spiking! Cardio off the scale, ECG twice normal, respiration increasing..."
"Initial carbonadium feed almost completed, synthesizer is ready for stabilization and integration..."
"What in the name of god...."
The last cry was not a reaction to the perversion of birth taking place, but from a technician who had glanced upwards at the observation deck. Spetznaz shouted commands and snapped out weapons, orders were shouted... Janice followed the mans gaze to the deck above. The room behind the window had been empty and dark, but now the lights were on, and a large figure was standing, there, waving at the crowd below and smiling.
Janice recognised the figure and crouched down behind the console, forcing her eyes to look away and at the ground. Creed didn't smile for many things....
The explosion tore the glass right off the wall and shattered it into a million shards, flying into the room below. A wave of heat blasted through the room, causing many to lift hands and turn away, saving some from the glass shrapnel that followed instants later.
Spetznaz were rushing the entrances, some were firing up at the window. None saw Creed rise from the floor from behind the empty crates stacked just below the window. They didn't see him open fire either.
Janice stayed where she was as soldiers twisted and thrashed, bullets tearing into them. She could hear a the distinct sound of Creeds gun, so much louder than the Russian AK-47's. It was getting closer. He was advancing into the fire zone.
Gunfire competing with screams for volume, Janice was surprised when she heard the voice in here ear, gruff and low, but urgent.
"Lets go lady."
Surprised to hear it, but more surprised at whose voice it was. North. His combat visor was down, so she couldn't see his eyes, but she knew she wouldn't see concern there. That would've been in another's eyes. Logan.
* * *
*noisenow, whynoise, no noisedoesnt hurt...the pain is goingdeath is lettingme leave but stayinginsidegodi can feel the hungeragain onlyworseworseworselikeburningif I dieit wontgoaway I wont go to the warmthill burn with hungerpain cantdie againcantcantwont...*
* * *
Bullets ricocheted off the console. Janice flinched. North didn't. He looked away from her, gun tracking in line with his eyes. One shot, a Spetznaz dropped to the ground. North grabbed Janice by the arm. She almost lost her balance as he ran into the gap in the commandos, pulling her with him. Bullets whipped by. He shot back. One bullet. One target. Another kill. Never an extended burst to draw fire. That was Creed's job. He pulled Janice along like a rag doll. She stumbled, he dragged her. She recovered, he pulled her faster, towards the door. Technicians scattered out of their way. Scientists either cowered by their stations or ran, from Creed.
The tall figure in black advanced into the Spetznaz like they were amateurs. He weaved, ducked and fired burst after burst into the commandos. And he advanced. Two men rushed him, another jumped out from behind a crate and covered. Creed kept coming, one gun firing through the crate to take out the commando, the other tracking the attackers, leaving them dancing like marionettes before they dropped. Creed barely looked at them. All his attention was on the huge figure in the glass tank.
North and Janice were moments from the door when he leapt sideways, pulling her with him. A commando stepped through the door, firing. Automatic fire chewed up the floor towards them. North shot the man twice. He fell, but two others were running towards them. North swung, bracing himself for the impact of bullets. He didnt even pull the trigger when both men dropped, the echo of the gun that killed them thunderous in the hall outside. Logan stepped through the door. He glanced at Logan and Janice, then pointed the rifle over them, killing another wounded commando who was dragging a gun from a dead comrade. Logan looked up at North, but the other was already advancing out of the room, tracking and killing any commandos still advancing on Creed. North pulled Janice towards the door. As they passed LoganNorth, he turned his head.
"What took you?"
"Reinforcements."
Before he was already out the door, North knew what he would find. The scent of death was always distinct. Eight bodies littered the hallway. Only one was killed with a gun. Head shot, close range.
North pushed Janice against the wall, crouched near the door and waited. Inside, there were fewer and fewer reports from AK-47s.
Between Logan advancing to the rear, and Creed's unstoppable approach, the last Spetznaz were dead in moments. A sudden hush overtook the room. The wounded and the flames that dotted the equipment made the only sounds, and there were very, very few wounded. The two men converged on the glass tank. A few bullets had nicked the glass, but it remained surprisingly intact.
* * *
*Deathdeathisnear dethis inside me ohgodthe hungerneedto killneed to die needtospread deathtolive not againwontletithavemeagainmust...DEATH!!!*
* * *
"Suppose this is the supersoldier?"
The words echoed strangely to his ears, like he was under water, or behind a wall.
"Must be. What are ya gonna do about it?"
They sounded so close, he was sure they must be nearby. He tried to open his eyes, but his body didnt seem to be obeying commands.
"Stupid question. You got the gizmo?"
"The synthesizer, yeah."
"Happy birthday, red."
The world exploded. Shattering, vibrating noise all around him. He opened his mouth to scream and fluid rushed in. He tried to move and nothing obeyed. All at once the noise stopped, but the echo stayed in his head.
"Tough glass. Pass me a clip of the heavy stuff."
*No.....*
* * *
North leaned in the door.
"Move it, we got company coming!"
Creed locked in the new clip and hefted his gun. Armour piercing rounds exploded outwards into the tank. Glass shattered and fluid came pouring out. Creed and Logan had to move back. The huge pale figure came falling out as well. He lay on the ground. Creed shifted aim.
A door on the far side of the room burst open. Spetznaz came pouring in. Logan had his gun up in an instant. The first five through died, but there were more behind them. Creed brought the heavy gun around and the two slowly backed up, firing into the doorway as the commandos tried to break past the bodies of their own dead. North was shouting something from the door, but neither of them could hear over the roaring of the guns. Logan changed clips, Creed shot wide to compensate, then they continued their retreat. More and more men forced there way into the room. They were spreading out now, running from cover to cover, firing all the way. The commandos continued to advance. They were at the door now. From the other side came gunfire. North's company had arrived.
Then the prone, pale figure on the floor woke up.
* * *
Arkady opened is eyes. There were men all around him, men in uniforms. The government had got him. They had got their precious mutant agent after all. Arkady felt the death-virus swelling within him, begging to be let out, stronger than ever before. And different, but he didn't think about that. He rose to his knees. Spetznaz, all around him. He opened his mouth and his mind at the same time. Breathing in, releasing the virus out.
To Creed and Logan, it looked like a wave had swept through the commandos, and pushed them all to the ground. They dropped. No gunshot wounds, no explosions. They just dropped, and Creed smelled something he had never scented as strongly before. Death.
Logan was through the door, instinctively checking Janice. North ducked back into the room when Creed didn't immediately follow.
More Spetznaz rushed through the door. Arkady, his back to Creed and North, focused his death spores, still roiling within him. He held out his arms, a symbolic gesture he used when killing for an audience, and something totally unexpected happened. With the release of the spores, two tentacles of pure white metal exploded from his arms, driving right through the closest man, even before the spores killed him.
Arkady screamed in pain and elation at same moment. He felt a tearing in his arms, and at the same time, the fury of the death-spores, so much a part of him until now, abated, almost to none. He was stunned. He kneeled there, on the ground, two extensions of metal lying limp along the floor, like the cables stewed across the room, only ending in a mans chest.
From behind him he heard a voice curse.
"Holy $#!%."
He whirled. Almost unnoticed, the tentacles withdrew halfway into his arms. He could feel the death spores building up inside again, begging to be released. Two men stood, staring at him, guns held slack in their hands.
The curse triggered a memory, one of these had been the voice he heard in the tank, one of these had tried to kill him... and the spores were demanding release...
North had never seen Creed like this, he stood there, head back, nostrils flaring, almost shivering. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he saw the huge man from the tank bring his arms up, tentacles hissing against the metal floor as they came around. This was no time to hang around.
North grabbed Creed by the shoulder and shoved him at the door. His eyes remained on the approaching tentacles. He brought his gun up and fired at their source. Arkady flinched and they were through the door, even as the tentacles exploded through the wall in front of Logan who was outside, holding off Spetznaz reinforcements. Logan stumbled back even as Creed and North stumbled out. The tentacles withdrew from the hole. North saw men advancing through the hall way. He glanced behind him...dead end... the only way out was through them.
"Creed, Logan, its through them or through that thing back there..."
Logan changed clips. Creed snapped out of his stupor, teeth drawing back in a grin.
"This way to the exit, kids."
Creed charged down the hall, firing. Logan grabbed Janice, who had been crouching on the floor, and pulled her after, firing. North threw a last glance at the door behind them and charged after.
* * *
In the auditorium, Arkady still knelt on the ground, staring at the metal abominations stemming from his wrists. A voice cut in behind him.
"Its called carbonadium."
Arkady whirled, tentacles thrashing along the ground. They were unwieldy, but he could feel the power in them as surely as the muscles of his own arms. The spores rose like bile within him, demanding release. Arkady looked at their next target.
"You don't want to do that. Killing me would be a mistake."
Arkady's voice rumbled deep in his throat.
"Speak."
To Arkady, the man seemed very relaxed for someone so close to death. Like someone who had nothing to fear from it.
"How did you feel when the tentacles carried the virus?"
Arkady got to his feet slowly. The tentacles thrashed at his feet. He didn't answer.
"You felt release didn't you? For the first time, the virus within you was silent? And now its growing within you, more than ever...isn't it, Arkady?"
Still no response.
"You are a mutant, which is why the government was hunting you. Also, because you are a killer. The carbonadium was meant to make you better at being both."
Arkady spoke now, still a whisper like thunder.
"I escaped you."
"By dying? Oh, you led them a merry chase, getting shot by the Interpol man was an definite impediment to them, but as you know, tovarich, what the Rodina wants, the Rodina gets, particularly when the GRU is acting for it."
"I'm dead."
"Indeed, but there you are. Truly, your mutation marks you as one of the strong, Arkady. Your virus wasn't willing to let you die. And neither was I."
"But you failed. I'm dying again...and so will you..."
Arkady lunged forward, the tentacles thrashing everywhere, then joining around the general. Arkady felt the virus within him bursting forth, but he restrained it, barely.
Suspended a foot off the ground, the general looked down at the killer calmly.
"You dont have to die, but others must."
Arkady looked up at the man.
"Those men you saw... American agents. They stole the device necessary to stabilize the carbonadium in you, those tentacles, and the metal bonded to your skeleton."
"I don't... understand..."
The spores were like a black haze behind his eyes now, demanding release.
"Get back the device Arkady, and you will suffer no more. No one will be able to control you."
Arkady paused, the words sinking in.
"I will."
And then he let the virus flow.
Moments later, he ran from the room, the tentacles extending and withdrawing as he grew accustomed to them. The generals body lay on the ground amidst the other corpses in the room. And then it got up.
"Not THAT strong, fool."
There was a small flash of light, and the man disappeared.
* * *
"Which way to the roof?"
Logan had to shout to make himself heard above the gunfire all around them. Both he and Creed had taken hits, but they were to busy killing commandos to worry about it, and the bleeding had already stopped.
North fired through the wall the Spetznaz were using for cover. Shouts, and the firing diminished as they drew back.
"Didn't you memorize the plans?" Creed growled.
"The plans were bull."
Janice grabbed Logan's sleeve.
"I know the way."
"Then lead on darlin. Creed, North, we are leaving."
Creed left North to take the rear and moved to just behind Logan, his gun tracking over the other mans head. North threw a grenade down the hall behind them and sprinted to catch up. The explosion sent a wash of heat over their backs, and a fresh round of screams to their ears as the advancing Spetznaz were caught in the blast.
They were one level from the roof when the floor collapsed in front of them. Two white tentacles smashed through and thrashed, reaching for something. Wolverine grabbed Janice and hauled her back. Creed stepped in front of them and fired through the floor at where the grasping horrors were coming from. A sound was building in his chest. Logan heard it. He dragged Janice back to where North waited then turned. Creed hadnt followed. He stayed where he was, dodging the tentacles and firing into the floor. His roar of pure rage competed with his gun for sheer volume. He was face to face with something he couldnt understand, but knew with every sense in his body, and he hated it. One of the appendages suddenly withdrew into the hole. Creed kept firing. Logan shouted.
"Creed. Let's go."
No response. He kept firing. Logan head the sound of boot approaching, weapons chambering rounds. They couldn't stay here.
"CREED!"
North heard the shouts.
"Dammit, whats he doing... Logan!"
Logan sprinted back down the hall. He knew what Creed was doing. If Janice wasn't there, he might be doing it too. Death was reaching for Creed, and he felt it in every nerve. Logan had felt it before, when the tentacles ripped through the wall. It was pure death, and it was like a red haze of fury in his head.
The first tentacle exploded through the floor under Creed, its pointed tip ripping a bloody furrow in his shoulder. He had to jump back to avoid falling into the hole in the floor, and as he did, he lost the rifle. The tentacle swung back, wrapping itself around his leg. Logan had never heard Creed scream so loud before. He reached him just as the tentacle began to pull. A headlong leap across the floor to grasp Creeds arm kept the man from being pulled down into the hole. A scent so strong it blocked out everything else around him hit Logan. Pure death, flooding into every pore of his body. Creed pulled out a pistol, pushing the muzzle against the tentacle below his foot, he fired until the chamber was empty. The tentacle loosened just a little and Creed kicked free. Logan jerked him to his feet and they both stumbled back towards North and Janice. North noted they had the same expression on their faces. A mixture of disgust and fear neither would ever admit to. Boots sounded clearly from the staircase the had come from. Turning, Logan and Janice in the lead, the four headed down the only path remaining to them.
Two turns of the hallway and they hit the dead end.
* * *
The window looked out over the East Berlin street. At another time the view might have been romantic.
"Backtrack!" Logan shouted.
They whirled to rush back up the way they came. A tearing sound erupted from the floor in front of them. The floor caved inwards and two tentacles forced their way through, thrashing, reaching. The four backed up. North, Logan and Creed trained their weapons on the appendages, but before they could fire, Spetznaz troopers rounded the corner in front of them, firing.
"Any ideas?" Logan shouted.
"We're boxed in, only one way to go!" Creed sounded almost excited. "Getting out is easy."
He turned and fired a burst through the window. The glass shattered into the street below.
Logan fired at the commandos, casing them to pull back and crouch near the wall. He glanced over his shoulder at the window.
"What are you, nuts?"
North just kept firing up the hallway. Janice crouched behind Logan, who kept one hand on her arm, trying to shield her behind him.
"We're ten stories up. Well be killed!"
She seemed to be trying to hang onto Logan and the floor at the same time. Creed whirled on her.
"Ya got any idea what they'll do to you now that yer covers blown? Yer gonna look a lot more creative than a stain on the sidewalk."
Logan pulled Janice to her feet, firing at the guards, waching the tentacles find purchase in the floor. Janice resisted.
"You're insane... no..."
Logan never saw Creed swing his gun around and fire three rounds into her back.
"And yer a liability."
Logan saw every twitch. Something jerked in his heart every time.
Logan and North both stopped firing and stared at him.
In the gap in firing, Arkady pulled himself up through the floor. The spores rose like bile within him when he saw the commandos just standing there. The spetznaz at the end of the hall pulled back.
"Creed..."
"You psychotic sonova..."
"GIVE ME THE DEVICE..."
Arkady's voice was low, but it cut short North and Logan's exclamations. They all looked at the pale white figure shuffling towards them, tentacles thrashing, reaching...
North looked towards the window, Logan stayed fixated on Creed, murder in his eyes.
Creed ignored Logan's rage. He pulled two small metal cylinders from a pouch on his harness.
"Been saving these thermites..."
Creed dropped his huge rifle, did something to the cylinders and tossed them at the mostrous Russian. Then he grabbed North by the harness and leaped for the window, pulling Logan with them out into the air five stories up above the Moscow streets.
Janice's body came with them, Logan refusing to let go. Behind them, every window on two floors blew out as Creeds explosives were triggered.
Creed was laughing.
"Go limp, the battle armor..." the rest was lost in the blast.
Logan felt the wash of heat across his back as he watched the ground rush up to meet him. His last words were sheer fury, directed at the man howling in the air with him.
"Creeeeeeed!"
* * *
Creed was the first to regain consciousness, mere moments after the three men and one corpse impacted with the ground. The asphalt was dented slightly, more so where Creed had landed.
North groaned as he rose to his knees, hands cradling his head. His armour was in shambles, pieces of broken metal falling around him as he moved. His voice was forced.
"We're alive?"
Creed was already back on his feet when he replied.
"Proves a theory of mine. Looks like our tentacled friend isn't the only mutant working for a government."
Logan pulled himself to his feet. His voice was death.
"Creed..."
"Later runt, I'm tired of your saying my name, and we got a rendezvous to make."
With that, Creed turned his back on Logan and headed towards the river. North looked at Logan for a moment, then turned to follow Creed. Logan hefted Janice's body and followed. Creed didn't even look back when he spoke.
"Leave the dame, kid."
Logan's voice barely contained his fury.
"You mean leave the evidence. No way."
Creed shrugged and kept walking.
North followed. Logan moved along with Janice's body held close. He looked at the dead woman who had once meant so much to him.
His voice was a choked whisper.
"Sorry darlin, got one last assignment for ya..."
All three were lost in the flickering shadows moments later. The building they had exited continued to burn.
All references to characters belonging to the X-Men Universe are (c) and TM the Marvel Comics Group, 20th Century Fox and all related entities. All rights reserved. Any reproduction, duplication or distribution of these materials in any form is expressly prohibited. No money is being made from this archive. All images are also (c) and TM the Marvel Comics Group, 20th Century Fox and all related entities; they are not mine. This website, its operators and any content used on this site relating to the X-Men are not authorized by Marvel, Fox, etc. I am not, nor do I claim to be affiliated with any of these entities in any way.