Two of a Kind
Chapter 3
by
Wolviesvixen
Disclaimer: All X-men and other known mutants are the property of Marvel Comics. Brianna/Vixen is mine.
I was vibrating.
This was the first sensation that came to me as I floated up to consciousness. The second was the pleasantly warm, very solid something my head was resting against. The combined sensation was strangely comforting, and I sleepily nuzzled my cheek into the warmth. A wonderful woodsy scent tickled my nose. I sniffed again and caught an underlying whiff of ...motorcycle exhaust?
I peeled one eye open and was met with the vision of trees and telephone poles rushing by in a blur. Ok, that explained the vibrations and fumes. I was on a motorcycle, pressed tightly up against someone's back, speeding along...where?
My mind sluggishly tried to bring my disjointed thoughts into some sort of order. The who's, what's and why's of the situation flitted around wildly, searching for something to connect with. Then I smelled dried blood and remembered.
I gasped and stiffened, causing the bike to wobble slightly. I realized my arms were bound tightly around the driver's waist, whom I now recognized by his very unique scent.
"Logan?" I said into his back, not wanting to move and unbalance the cycle any further.
"Yeah?" I felt his voice reverberate against my ear more than heard it over the roar of the engine.
Still not completely convinced I wasn't dreaming all this, my attitude was one of mild amusement. "Where're we going? Someplace fun, I hope."
"Someplace safe." His gruff reply erased all traces of disbelief I still had. I craned my neck to try and see over Logan's shoulder, with no success. Wriggling my hands experimentally, I realized they were being restrained by Logan's right hand wrapped around my wrists.
Being ever practical, I asked, "How're you planning on braking?"
"I wasn't," he shot back at me, but he did loosen his grip. I flexed my fingers, joints popping loudly, and sat back a bit, but I was more than happy to keep my hands resting on Logan's hips for balance.
I tilted my face up to the night wind, eyes closed, and a slow smile spread across my face. I always loved riding and racing motorcycles. The adrenaline rush was intoxicating. I remembered the first time I ever threw my leg over a bike seat and the sensation of raw power rumbling beneath me. I was immediately addicted to the excitement and speed, the feeling of freedom and invincibility.
Logan felt the same way.
My eyes flew open and I scowled in confusion and semi-anger. "Hey!" I yelled over the wind, "What're you doing in my head again?"
"I was gonna ask you the same thing," came Logan's reply. "I'm glad you're liking the ride, though." I could hear wry amusement in his voice.
I made a mental note to pursue this unsettling development when we weren't speeding along a dark road at 80 miles per hour. At the moment, more pressing questions came to mind. "Who the hell was that back there? And what did he want with me?" A wave of revulsion swept through me as I remembered the hairy beast and his attempt to...what? I knew it wasn't merely robbery or rape Creed had had in mind. I had sensed something much more sinister in his dark aura.
Logan reached back and placed his hand over mine, giving it a warm, reassuring squeeze before taking hold of the bike's handlebar again. "You'll be safe with me," he said in response to my unvoiced fear. An unexpected, warm comfort filled my mind at Logan's words. I was indeed save with him, I knew instinctively. "The bastard's name is Victor Creed," he continued, answering my original question. "But lately he's been going by Sabertooth. Why Magneto sent him after you, I don't know. We'll find out, though. The Professor..."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I interrupted. "What's a Magneto? What're you talking about?" Things were being thrown at me way to fast. "And you still haven't told me where you're taking me." I didn't like having no control over my situation like this.
My answer came just then as we slowed and a massive wrought iron gate loomed into view. We stopped between two large brick columns and Logan punched a code in on the security panel set in the side of one of them. I read a plaque, dimly lit by the moon, which stated we were at XAVIER'S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS. The gates swung open silently and, as we passed through, I wondered just what I was getting myself into.
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