Cyclops brought the Blackbird up at a sharp angle of ascent, banking the plane smoothly and bringing her to a cruising altitude within seconds. The roar of her engines subsided to a low growl, and he risked a glance at Ororo in the co-pilot's seat beside him.
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.
She raised a delicate eyebrow and favored him with a gently sardonic smile. "I'm pregnant, Cyclops...I'm not dying." She then returned her gaze to the cockpit windows, scanning the night sky with serious eyes. "Right now, truth be told, my condition is the least of my worries," she added softly. "I'm thinking of Logan."
"I know," Cyclops said quietly. "We'll find him, Storm...I promise."
"Why anyone would want to kidnap Logan is beyond me," Jean said from the rear seats. "And Forge, for that matter...why them?"
"I don't know," Ororo mused. She was working so hard at this serene front...after all, Xavier had assured her that he was fairly certain Logan was all right. Some instinct told her that he was not all right, however...and it was taking every ounce of composure she had not to scream. Swallowing the fear, she gently eased the right toggle levers, keeping an eye on the blue-black line of the far horizon as the right wing flaps stabilized. A small shudder ran through the jet, and Cyclops glanced over at her.
"Turbulence?" he asked.
"A little." She studied the low cloud cover, glad for something to do to keep her mind off Logan and his whereabouts. "Let me see what I can do..."
"I..." Cyclops suddenly stopped, cut off by an urgent, insistent beeping coming from the overhead instrument panel. "What the hell...?"
"What is it, Cyclops?" Ororo asked.
Cyclops frowned. "The emergency sensors are detecting an outside presence on the Blackbird...below us, in the cargo bay."
"An outside presence? You mean a stowaway?"
Scott nodded tersely and glanced back at Jean. "Can you sense anything?" he asked.
Jean obediently closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind...tense seconds passed, as Ororo and Scott alternated between keeping the Blackbird level in the buffeting wind, and watching Jean with more than a little concern. Then Jean's eyes fluttered open, her normally serene face hardening angrily.
"Why, those little..."
"What is it?" Cyclops asked.
Jean unbuckled her seat restraints and stood up. "I don't know how they managed it...Rogue and Remy. They're hiding in the cargo hold."
"What?!"
"I'll get them," Jean replied in disgust. She was going to kill those two...this was the last thing they needed on this mission. She slammed open the door to the rear area of the plane, her red ponytail bobbing as she turned and disappeared down the hatch into the lower cargo bay.
"Switch on the bay lights," Cyclops said, adding under his breath, "Those damn kids..."
Ororo carefully hid her smile and flipped the switches that illuminated the cargo bay. She really wasn't that surprised...Rogue was too much like Logan. Once she got it into her head to do something...well...
Logan would be so proud, she thought with an inner chuckle.
***
Forge stumbled a little under Logan's faltering weight...although Logan was slowly gaining strength (and skin, thank God), he was still sufficiently weakened that the short trip down the corridor to the supply wing had winded him and sapped what little reserves of strength he had left. It was with a great deal of relief that they finally reached the main door to the storage rooms, and Forge allowed Logan to collapse against the wall, struggling to catch his breath while Forge punched in the access codes for the door lock.
Beep...click...beep...the keypad accepted the codes, and the door slid open smoothly. Forge grabbed Logan's arm and put it around his neck, sliding his free arm around Logan's torso. "Come on," he whispered, helping Logan stagger back to his feet. "Once we get you inside, you can rest for a minute."
Logan only grunted in reply, and Forge took that as a yes. He guided Logan as quickly as possible into the dimly-lit bunker on the other side of the door, pausing only long enough to hit the door-close button, the door shutting once more behind them. He glanced around quickly at the rows of shelves, and the single, swinging bulb hanging from the ceiling...then he saw a small desk chair, looking forsaken in a dark corner, and it was into this that he gently lowered Logan with a relieved sigh.
Logan closed his eyes, his head slipping back against the wall behind him with a soft thump. Forge stepped back and eyed him critically...most of the skin on Logan's face had healed, and even his thick, wild black hair was growing back, covering his head...the shadow of his beard slowly filling in the unscarred skin of his chin and cheeks. Forge shook his head in silent amazement, and Logan opened his eyes again briefly, fixing Forge with a tired look before closing them and laughing weakly.
"What? Are you gonna tell me how beautiful my eyes are?" Logan asked.
Forge grinned a little and shook his head. "No...I just can't believe how fast you're healing."
"Come back tomorrow and I'll show you my disappearing bunny trick."
"Great gods...how can you crack jokes at a time like this?" Forge asked, with more than a little admiration. "A few minutes ago you had no skin!"
Logan grimaced. "Thanks for reminding me."
"I..." Forge stopped, suddenly unsure of what to say. He shrugged. "Let me find your clothes," he said instead, moving away quickly to search down the rows for Logan's things. He heard Logan sigh behind him, a sound of utter and complete exhaustion.
Ah, this would help...the boxes were in alphabetical order. Would they be under "Logan" or "Wolverine?" Better check both...he hurried, his eyes scanning over H, I, J, K...
"Found it," he said aloud. He snatched the box off the shelf and hurried back to where Logan sat, dropping it on the floor between Logan's bare feet and kneeling down to open it. Logan's clothes were neatly folded inside, along with his boots and a plastic bag containing his wallet and a few small personal items. Logan opened his eyes again and leaned over, a small grimace of pain crossing his face at the movement, but he gamely took the proffered clothes from Forge's hands and stumbled to his feet.
"Do you need any help?" Forge offered.
Logan shook his head. "No, I can handle it."
"Good." Forge wandered a short distance away, absently smoothing his ponytail as he stared at the floor with a dark frown. He seemed suddenly at a loss for words. "Look...for what its worth," he said quietly. "I'm sorry," .
Logan glanced up at him briefly from where he was painfully putting on his jeans. "Sorry for what?" he asked.
Forge waved a hand at the door. "This is my fault...all of this."
Logan said nothing. With a wince of pain, he pulled the rough denim over his still-blistered legs.
"Then why are you helping me now?" he asked finally.
Forge's shoulders sagged a little. "Because I didn't know...I didn't know about any of this." He looked away, finding it hard to meet Logan's cool stare. "It's my fault that you're here, though...I wrote a report about you, about all of you...and it came to the attention of the wrong people."
"Santrock?"
Forge crossed his arms across his chest and nodded. "He conned me into thinking this project had offical sanction, but it never did. None of my superiors even know we're here right now, or what Santrock is up to."
Logan pulled his shirt over his head, then sat back down with a pained grunt and reached for his boots. "Do you know what he's up to?" he asked.
"Genetic engineering," Forge replied.
Logan met Forge's eyes for a moment, then he nodded. "I figured as much."
"He wants to clone you, or something like it...use your healing ability to manufacture perfect soldiers."
Logan snorted laughter, yanking on his boots quickly. "Fuckin' dumbass, if you ask me."
"I agree." Forge watched Logan carefully...although he appeared to be completely healed, there was a drawn, weary look to his face, and a slight tremble to his hands as he ran his fingers through his newly-grown hair. "You know," Forge continued cautiously. "He has your DNA on record now."
Logan sighed and closed his eyes tiredly. "How do we get it back? Blow the place up?"
"If we have to," Forge replied quietly. "Leave that to me, though. I'll take care of it." His lips tightened with regret. "If you'll trust me to take care of it."
"I've trusted you so far, haven't I?" Logan replied. "So let's..." He stopped in mid-sentence, a sudden, stricken look crossing his face as he bent and picked up the plastic bag of personal items out of the box. Forge watched him curiously as he opened it, pulling out his wallet and a bunch of car keys...and a small, glittering object, which Logan cupped loosely in his palm.
Logan stared at it in silence. Funny how pain can make you forget...the circle of filigreed gold winked up at him, the delicate lines of its traced flowers mocking in the dim light of the ceiling bulb. Ororo...
"What happened to Ororo, Forge?" Logan asked quietly.
Forge blinked in surprise. "She ran into the park, long before Santrock and I...I mean, before we..." He flushed in shame, unable to finish, but Logan waved it off.
"She's not here, though?" Logan asked gruffly.
Forge's eyes narrowed a little in concern. "No...Santrock wasn't interested in her."
"Thank God," Logan muttered. He turned the ring gently in his fingers, then slipped it back on his smallest finger without a word.
"What's that?" Forge asked curiously.
"Just a ring," Logan replied. He shoved his wallet in his back pocket, then picked up the last remaining object of clothing...his jacket...and put it on quickly.
"Your ring?" Forge pressed quietly.
"No."
Forge took a breath. "Ororo's?"
"It was supposed to be," Logan said. His eyes held a faraway look for a moment, then he shook himself. "Are you ready to go?" he asked abruptly, refusing to meet Forge's eyes.
Forge stubbornly remained where he was. "An engagement ring?" he asked, choosing to ignore the dark expression stealing over Logan's face.
Logan raised his head, his dark eyes burning as he stared at the other man. "Yeah...yeah, it was," he said, his voice low and painfully bitter. "But she said no, okay?" Logan gave him a haunted smile. "I'm sure you're thrilled to hear that."
Forge frowned. "She really said no?"
"Not in so many words, but yeah...she said no."
They watched each other in silence. "I'm sorry," Forge said after a moment. "I truly am."
"I'll bet." Logan winced...he hadn't meant to sound that bitter, but it was hard not to. "Looks like you've got a shot, after all," he added...but that just sounded worse.
"Why did she say no?" Forge asked, as if he hadn't heard. "Did she give you a reason?"
"Not really."
Forge shook his head in silent amazement. "I can't believe you would give up on her that easily."
Logan looked away. "You didn't see the look on her face," he replied.
"But that's..." Forge began, only to be cut off by a loud burr-WHOOP...burr-WHOOP rudely blatting through the air over their heads. Logan reeled back in pain, his hands over his ears trying to vainly block out the sound of the alarm, and Forge stiffened, realizing through the barrage of sound that their fifteen minutes were up.
"Come on!" he shouted at Logan over the sound. "They know you're gone! We have to get out of here!"
Logan nodded, his face a contorted mask as the alarm drilled into his sensitive ears, but he staggered in Forge's wake as he opened the door again and stepped out into the hall. Forge looked both ways, and luckily for them the storage rooms were in a less-used portion of the barracks...the corridor was clear, at least for the moment. Thankfully, the alarm shut off shortly after they stepped into the hall...only to uncover the shouts and pounding feet of alerted sentries in the halls and room beyond.
"Can you run?" Forge whispered.
Logan nodded, the hunted look coming back into his eyes. "Do I have much of a choice?" he asked.
"No." Forge looked to the left, then motioned Logan to follow after him. "Come on...I think I know a way out of here," he said, and the two of them started down the corridor as quickly as they could...Forge jogging cautiously, with Logan following painfully behind.
***
Another shudder passed through the Blackbird, and Rogue shivered and slid a little closer to Remy. He glanced down at her with an amused expression.
"You nervous, chere?"
"A little." It was a little chilly in the cargo bay, and she wrapped her arms around herself with a sigh. "What are we gonna do when we get there, Remy? Can we get out the way we came in?"
"Remy don' see why not," he replied. Just then, the shadowy interior of the hold was flooded with light...the can lights above the floor brightened almost instantly, and both of them stiffened in surprise.
"Why did the lights come on?" Rogue asked nervously.
"Remy t'ink we jus' got airborne," Remy replied, looking around with a perplexed expression. "Maybe dat's why?"
There was an answering clang above them, and both of them looked up quickly to see the main hatch to the medlab swing open. "Quick...we gotta hide, Remy!" Rogue hissed. They scrambled to their feet and pressed against the wall behind their backs, hoping that whoever came down the ladder wouldn't see them. Booted feet rang on the metal rungs...there was a pause, then a soft thump from the person jumping lightly to the floor. Rogue and Remy held their breaths...
"Don't bother hiding, you two," Jean said aloud. "I already know you're in here."
"Oh, no..." Rogue breathed. She looked at Remy, and he returned her gaze with a shrug and a sheepish smile.
The sound of Jean's steps came closer...and then suddenly she rounded the corner before Rogue could do more than gasp. "There you are," she said sternly.
Rogue looked up in consternation, a hot blush of embarrassment spreading across her cheeks. Jean looked positively furious, standing before them with her gloved hands on her hips. "You two should be ashamed of yourselves," Jean said angrily. "This is no place for you! You're in danger...and you could jeopardize our mission!"
Rogue flushed deeper. "Ah'm sorry, Jean, but..."
"No buts!" Jean snapped. "There's no excuse!" She pointed at the hatch ladder with an imperious finger. "Now get up that ladder, before I lose my temper!"
Rogue glanced over at Remy, who actually looked cowed by Jean's display of anger, and the two of them slowly walked to the hatch with their shoulders slumped and their faces burning.
***
Logan collapsed against the wall, unable to drag himself any farther. He was healing...slowly but surely...but the acid washes had done something to his insides that was taking longer to heal. He was finding it hard to breathe, and every step made his muscles scream in agony.
Forge looked back and saw Logan pressed against the side of the corridor, his eyes closed and his chest heaving laboriously. He wasted no time hurrying back. "Come on, Logan," he said gently, taking Logan's arm and slinging it over his shoulders. "We're almost there."
"They're coming, you know," Logan replied, his voice barely audible. "I can smell them...they're right behind us."
"I know...but if we hurry, we can still get out of here." Forge staggered upright, taking most of Logan's weight on his shoulders as he began to half-drag, half-lead him down the dark hall. "There's a recreation room at the end of this corridor, and it has ground level outside windows. If we can just get there and bolt the door..."
As if in answer, a shout went up from the hall behind them, and Forge's skin prickled, recognizing the sound of Santrock's voice. "Shit," he muttered, summoning what was left of his strength and hurrying faster, Logan stumbling along as well as he could. "You're right...they've found us."
The hall seemed endless...and it didn't help that there were no lights. It was because of this darkness that Forge misjudged himself...and suddenly they were stumbling headlong into an empty space, Logan tumbling free of Forge's hold and collapsing on the floor with a low moan.
It was the rec room...and it was empty. Forge's eyes adjusted quickly, and he kicked the brick doorstop away from the door and slammed it to, throwing the flimsy bolt. He looked around the room wildly...that lock wasn't going to hold...but he spied a cheap folding chair next to the card table, and he used this to pin the door shut under its knob as well.
Logan crawled to his hands and knees, his eyes still closed as he retched violently. He hawked and spat...a glob of something bloody splattered on the floor, looking thick and viscous in the spare moonlight streaming in through the solitary window above them.
Forge grimaced. "That looks disgusting," he commented, crossing the room to the window, where he peered up at it urgently.
"It tasted worse," Logan muttered. The sound of muffled voices and booted feet grew louder outside the door, and he lifted his head and regarded the door with baleful eyes. "I hope you're thinking fast," he said to Forge. "'Cause we're about to have company."
As if on cue, a terrific pounding commenced on the door. "Open up, Forge! We know you're in there!" Santrock shouted.
"How do they know that?" Logan asked.
"All they had to do was trace the password trails," Forge replied shortly. "I left my mark on nearly every computer in this place."
"Great," Logan remarked dryly.
"Well, we didn't exactly have time for me to delete the files," Forge retorted.
There was the sound of scuffling outside in the hall, then a sharp, low voice issuing a command. Logan's ears pricked, and he staggered to his feet and scrambled backwards toward Forge.
"What did he say?" Forge hissed.
"They're going to shoot the lock," Logan growled. "Think faster!"
"I'm hurrying!" Forge said. He jumped up on the low bookshelves bolted to the wall, balancing easily on its wide upper shelf as he wrenched the window lock. Damn...it was painted shut. He set his face, clenched his teeth, and prepared to drive his fist through the glass...
He never got the opportunity. The roar of military-issue detonator fire rat-a-tatted through the flimsy particle board of the door, shooting the lock off its surface and filling the air with a rain of wood fragments. Logan instinctively ducked, covering his head with his hands...but the shower of ammunition sliced through the air over his head, slamming into the side of Forge's body. Forge grunted, reeling back from the window and nearly losing his balance.
"What the...?" Logan uncovered his head in time to see a shower of electricity arc from Forge's blasted arm. The skin was seared and fragmented like shrapnel...exposing a myriad hodge-podge of metal wires and sockets. "You're a damned robot?!"
Forge grinned weakly. "Nope...just my arm and leg. They're bionic. I..."
There was an answering set of loading clicks from the other side of the door. "Get down!" Logan shouted, grabbing Forge around the waist and dragging him to the floor. They hit the worn, wood-strewn carpet just in time...another hail of bullets exploded through what was left of the door, and then with a triumphant shout soldiers began pouring in through the ragged opening.
Santrock's enraged face could be seen through the dust behind them. "Kill Forge! Take him out, men...but take the other into custody. Move!"
Logan snarled and leapt to his feet, his head and aching joints exploding with pain...but he held his ground over Forge's stunned form, crouching low over him as he readied himself for the onslaught. The metal of his claws sang as he snapped his wrists, unsheathing them and holding them out poised in a fighting stance.
The soldiers hesitated for a fraction of a second, startled as a group by the sight of the gleaming metal. "Come on, you fuckers," Logan growled. "Who's it gonna be?"
"Logan! No!" Forge shouted.
The soldiers answered Logan with a spray of machine-gun fire, riddling his body with bullets. Forge stared up in horror as Logan shook from the impact, stumbling backwards and crashing into the decimated bookshelf behind them. Blood flew, splattering in warm drops over Forge's face and the wall behind...and Forge bellowed, launching himself forward and slamming his body into the legs of the soldiers standing at the door.
Logan's breath burst like fire inside his lungs...he bit back a roar of pain, side-stepping the one man that had seen Forge's feint and rushed straight for Logan. His claws came up and in before the man had time to react...the soldier's head and most of his right shoulder sliced off cleanly, sagging to the floor with a soggy thump as blood sprayed up from what was left of his torso.
Machine-gun fire ripped through the room again...dust and darkness were everywhere, filled with the screams of soldiers and Logan's roar as he launched himself into the midst of them. Heedless of the tearing agony in his barely-healed flesh, he dove into their ranks, slicing blindly, his razor-sharp claws hacking indiscriminately at whatever was unlucky enough to be in his way. The guns roared, bullets slammed into him...he stumbled to one knee...
Forge shoved someone away, cursing the darkness and his inability to see. The guns took up their ear-splitting thunder, the blue fire from the ends of the barrels lighting up the room like a laser show...Forge saw Logan go down, and he tackled one of the soldiers with a strength borne of panic, wresting the gun away just before turning it on him and blowing off the side of the soldier's head. A man screamed and fell, his legs cut out from underneath him by Logan's savage claws...and Forge socked the searing metal of the machine-gun against his shoulder and opened fire, mowing down the last of the soldiers in one fell swoop.
A whistle was blowing...plaster dust from the ceiling settled around them, sticking to their faces and hands and turning pink as it mingled with the blood on their skin. Logan staggered drunkenly to his feet...Forge stumbled over the carnage on the floor, rushing into the corridor just in time to see Santrock disappearing down it at a flat-out sprint, shrilling on his whistle all the way.
"Dammit! We've got to get out of here now...before he brings reinforcements!" Forge turned, hooking the machine gun over his shoulder as he headed back to the window, when he stopped dead at his first sight of Logan. "Great gods..."
"I'm fine," Logan choked out. He staggered again, weaving a little, then his knees gave way and he crumpled to the floor. He was covered in blood, his shirt and jeans literally soaked with it.
"Logan!" Forge fell to his knees beside him, grabbing his shoulders in order to haul him back to his feet. The tacky warmth of the bloodied shirt seemed to burn his palms.
Logan waved him away feebly, trying to stand again and failing. "I'm healing..." he muttered.
"Not fast enough...you're going to bleed to death!" Forge said.
"Just...slow..." Logan squeezed his eyes tightly shut, a wave of pain slicing through him. A sluggish stream of dark blood oozed from his mouth and dripped over his chin. "System is...in shock, I think, 'cause of what they did to me...earlier..."
"Then let's get you the hell out of here," Forge said. He moved to haul Logan to his feet...then the sound of renewed shouts and running feet could be heard down the long hall. "It's Santrock!" Forge hissed. "Come on, Logan...we haven't much time!"
Logan opened his eyes, clouded with agony as he looked up into Forge's face. "Get...out..." he whispered.
"I'm not leaving you," Forge said. "But you've got to help me, Logan...I can't move you on my own."
"And I can't get out," Logan replied. He coughed violently...and when he spoke again, his teeth were stained with blood. "I'm worth more...to them...alive..." he gasped. "But they...want you...dead. So get out, now...get...help. I'll...cover your...escape..."
Forge locked eyes with him, knowing that Logan was right...but the agony of the decision was too horrible to comtemplate. The shouts came louder...soon they would round the last turn in the corridor, and then the guns would open fire from a safer distance, burning him down where he stood.
Forgive me, Ororo, Forge prayed...then he gripped Logan's cold hand tightly. "I'll be back for you," he promised...then he turned quickly and scaled the remains of the bookshelf, using the butt of the machine gun to smash out the few shards of glass left in the frame after the spray of fire had shattered it. The window was level with the ground outside...he tossed the automatic out into the night ahead of him, then grabbed the sides of the frame in his hands as he hoisted himself out into the darkness beyond
Logan staggered to his feet behind him, reeling backwards as he leaned against the exterior wall. He snapped his wrists reflexively...the shining length of his adamantium claws sprang forth, and Logan summoned up the last of his strength.
A yell went up behind them...Santrock and his reinforcements had rounded the last turn in the hall. "They're getting away, men! Open fire!"
Correction, Major Santrock, Forge thought guiltily. Only one of us is getting away. With a burst of energy, he yanked himself to freedom, the tiny slivers of glass left in the sill slicing through his pants and into his knees as he crawled through and onto the soft, damp grass beyond. He barely registered the sting of the cuts...Logan snarled behind him, launching himself into the midst of their enemies...and Forge was out, rolling to his feet...he scooped up the machine gun and burst into a mad dash for the woods, the deafening staccato of Santrock's men and their guns howling through the air behind him.
***
"We're closing in on their position," Cyclops said. He adjusted the magnified monitor over the digi-map, then brought down the overhead infrared screen as the beeping of the locator intensified. "Let's get ready to bring her down, Storm."
Ororo nodded briefly, adjusting the manual controls and easing the stick back with the slightest of movements. Jean was silent behind them, alternating her serious gaze between the infrared monitors, and the pair of miserable truants strapped into the seats beside her. They really did look remorseful...well, Rogue did, at any rate. Remy, on the other hand, looked like a kid on a joyride, peering gleefully out the window at the night rushing by with a big happy grin on his face.
Rogue glanced up from her lap, where she was clenching and unclenching her hands fitfully. She saw Jean looking at her, and she tried on a apologetic smile. "Ah'm really, really sorry, Jean," she said softly. "We weren't tryin'..."
"Hush," Jean said, not unkindly. Her initial anger at the pair had faded somewhat, now that they were actually nearing their destination. "Just be quiet for right now," she added.
The beeping of the locator intensified, the repetitive sound merging into one long, annoying shriek. Cyclops frowned and switched off the audio, then turned and slapped at another switch, bathing the infrared with a green glow.
Ororo gave him a quick look. "What is it, Cyclops?"
Cyclops' frown deepened. "The monitor can't get a lock on their position."
Jean leaned forward curiously. "That's to be expected, though...isn't it? The professor said he wasn't able to pinpoint their exact location."
"Yes, but he was able to locate the outpost," Cyclops replied. "I can't even get a surface reading."
"Could they have some sort of radar blocking device?" Ororo asked.
"It would have to be pretty damn amazing to bypass our sensors," Cyclops said. He reached up to the overhead panel and flicked two toggles, then stared at the monitors with a shake of his head. "I've switched to sub-terran mode, and I still can't see a thing." He flicked the switches back into position. "Bank her to the right, Storm. We'll take her on another pass."
Ororo nodded, matching Cyclops' movements as they turned the plane in a broad circle...preparing for another pass over the night-darkened trees below.
***
The jet sliced through the air over Forge's head, and he instinctively winced and ducked a little as she screamed through the night sky. Damn, she was flying low...Santrock? Forge was reasonably sure that the Major had no air support to speak of, but he also wouldn't exclude the possibility. He couldn't have got them airborne that fast, though...could he?
Forge scrambled to his feet, hoping that the close, dark trees around him would keep him from being spotted. The jet was banking, tilted gently as she cruised in a circle over the tops of the trees. He strained his eyes, trying to pick out her markings...but only sleek, black steel could be discerned...black, shiny...familiar...his eyes widened, his heart speeding with excitement as he realized who it was.
"Hey! Heeeey!" he shouted. Forge jumped up and down, waving his arms wildly at the Blackbird as she banked again for another pass. Her flight pattern was staying consistent...Forge's face fell, realizing that the security of the trees was keeping the X-Men from seeing him. If he only had a flare or something...
Wait. He might not have a flare, but he had the next best thing. Forge slung the machine gun off his shoulder in a burst of inspiration, socking it against his shoulder once more and angling it upward and out of the Blackbird's path. He waited...the jet angled back, her cockpit lining up with Forge's position...and he squeezed the trigger, the gun's report crackling through the night as fire sparked from its barrel.
***
Remy blinked, then squinted his eyes in surprise. There it was again...something flashed on the rise of the low hill below them, like little tongues of fire dancing amidst the trees. He nudged Rogue with his elbow. "Hey, chere," he said. "What's dat?"
Rogue leaned over him and peered glumly out the window. "Ah don't see anythin'," she said...then she her eyes widened in surprise as the fire sputtered again. "What in the world...?"
"What is it?" Jean asked.
"There's somethin' down there," Rogue replied. "Like a signal or somethin'."
"What was that?" Cyclops turned in his seat, glancing back at them with a frown. "Where?"
"Over here on de right, mon ami," Remy replied.
"Storm, bring her around one more time," Cyclops ordered.
Ororo adjusted the altitude and swung the jet in a low arc. "There it is," she said, the sparks clearly visible through the cockpit shields. "Can you get a visual, Cyclops?"
Cyclops brought down the infrared monitors once more, fixing them on the target. The tense silence in the plane was palpable...he tapped the manual focus, the blurry picture swimming into view...
"It's Forge!"
"Let's take her down," Cyclops said triumphantly.
***
Forge got ready to fire another barrage of ammo...then he saw the Blackbird alter her path, the wings tilting as she readied for her descent. They saw me! he thought wildly. Thank the Great Spirit...they saw me!
He stumbled forward...a few short feet away, the trees thinned and the hill sloped gently downward, to where a small clearing waited. The Blackbird was locking in position, the whine of her engines speeding up as she shifted into hover mode...Forge shouldered the gun once more and began to run, sprinting toward the jet as fast as his tired legs could carry him.
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.