War Crimes, Parts 16-18

by Morgan Lewis

Part 16

Forty Miles North of Udine
1942

His awareness returned to him in increments. He first became aware of a floating sensation, as if his body was suspended on a cloud and was currently drifting through a wide expanse of space. The next thing that he noticed was the smell. The acrid smell of spent bullet casings, the pungent stench of raw sewage, and the hot stingy scent of freshly spilt blood. All these various odors penetrated his sensitive nose, dully at first, but then with growing intensity.

But the most telling was that the next sensation that returned to him was one of pain.

Logan groaned dully and attempted to orient himself. He slowly opened his eyes to take in the tunnel surrounding him. In the distance, he could hear the scuffling sounds of German troops, undoubtedly sent to retrieve his body. The sounds were still quite distant and indistinct meaning that he probably had about ten to fifteen minutes before they found him and finished the job that they started back in the dungeon.

Sore muscles screamed in protest as Logan pulled himself out of the moving water and onto the bank. His shoulder were the bullet had impacted felt like it was on fire. Despite how it much it still hurt however, Logan knew that by now the wound had probably already closed. In another hour only an ugly gash would be left were the bullet had struck him as he tended to heal internally first before all the exterior signs of the injury were gone. By tomorrow though, all signs of the wound would be erased.

Logan shook his head slightly. This strange ability to heal from any wound at such an accelerated rate still seemed incredibly unreal to him. Even his heightened senses hadn't made him feel as much as a freak as this mysterious power did. After all, his heightened senses had seemed so natural when they first began to surface that he had assumed it was a normal characteristic possessed by all members of the human race. It had been somewhat of a shock to him to discover differently.

His healing ability, however, had been another story entirely. He had seen more than enough death and suffering to know that it wasn't natural for him to be able to recover from a bullet wound in a week that could permanently disable any other man. He had also learned, albeit the hard way, to guard the secret of his powers closely. Even his current teammates knew nothing about his capabilities.

The thought of his companions sent a wave of sorrow and guilt crashing through his entire frame. So strong it nearly overwhelmed him. How could he have been so stupid to have fired that first shot? He should have known that he was only inviting a massacre.

As his teammates were cut down around him, all he had been able to think of was getting him and Adams out of there. The wave of bitterness and self-loathing surged. Adams might still be alive if he hadn't been such a coward.

No! He told himself forcefully, trying desperately to bite back the overwhelming sense of shame that he felt rising the back of his throat.

*There was nothing I could do for any of them. Adams killed himself when he refused to follow me down the tunnel.*

He repeated the thought forcefully. Unfortunately, it did nothing to relieve the overwhelming feeling of loss and guilt.

Logan's head snapped up at attention putting his guilt aside for the moment as he heard the sloshing sound of someone moving through water toward him from the opposite direction.

These sewers were practically mazes in and of themselves. A group of German soldiers could have easily come around from a different direction. The stench of the place was overwhelming his ability to scent out his enemies before they arrived so they might have no problem slipping around him and catching him off-guard.

Logan scrambled for his rifle only to find that he had lost it in the sewage. Cursing silently, he withdrew his knife from his belt and settled into the shadows to await the arrival of his enemies. They may very well kill him today, but he was going to drag a couple of them down to hell along with him. His grip shifted and tightened on the knife handle as the shadows of the soldiers rounded the corner and came into view.

Logan sighed as relief so powerful it was almost painful settled into his heart. Venuti and Shipper slowly approached him, their rifles carefully poised for an engagement. The relief was then replaced by a profound sense of sorrow as his mind forcefully compared the present scene to the one almost a week ago when Venuti and Shipper had found him, Mclenn, and Landen. He had briefly mistaken them for the enemy then as well. Only this time, there was no barn or rendezvous point were the rest of the team was waiting. This time, they were truly alone.

Logan stepped from the shadows slowly, making sure to keep his hands where Venuti and Shipper could see them easily.

"Over here guys."

The two men whirled around, their guns raised, then relaxed when they saw who it was.

"Logan," Venuti said somewhat breathlessly, "we heard gunshots. What happened?"

Logan sensed a tremor of fear enter into the man's scent as he looked around the tunnel. "Where are the others?"

Logan bowed his head as a huge weight settled on his shoulders.

"They're dead Venuti."

Logan didn't have to look at them to know that both men now wore twin expressions of sick fear and loss. It was Shipper that managed to overcome his amazement first. "How?"

"We were ambushed in the dungeons," Logan suddenly felt a great deal older than he really was. "I think that the dungeon might have been an alternative route once considered fer the incursion. That info was probably sold along with the rest of it."

The two men both paled at the importance of his words. Logan sank down against the wall momentarily overwhelmed. They had been beaten. That was all there was to it. They had given it their very best shot, had fought against incredible odds, had given up blood, sweat, and the lives of seven of their companions, and they had been soundly beaten by one treacherous enemy. One that they would never be able to face.

"So," Logan opened his eyes to see both Venuti and Shipper staring at him expectantly. "What do we do now."

Here he was, injured, on the verge of exhaustion, wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and sink back into oblivion before he was overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation, and these men were staring at him as if he was their only hope of salvation in the world.

Logan bit back a laugh and simply responded "I don't know. Why ask me?"

Shipper shrugged. "Hopps told us that if anything happened to him, you were in charge."

Logan leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as a wave of resentment swept through him Of course. That damn stupid promise. He had been a fool to make a promise like that to Hopps. However, he had managed to convince himself that it would never come to this. He would have found the irony humorous if it wasn't currently choking him with its bitterness.

Logan opened his eyes to find that the two men were still looking at him expectantly. He took a deep breath of resignation and rose slowly to his feet. The first thing that they needed to worry about was getting out of the tunnels.

He could hear the sounds of the search in the distance. By now, he was certain that the enemy would have sent an organized search party down into the tunnels to flush them out. Patrols had undoubtedly also been dispatched to scout out the area near the citadel to ensure that they wouldn't be able to escape into the surrounding woods. Those search parties would have been bad enough, but with his wounds still healing and them being short on supplies, it was going to be near impossible to just get out of the area alive.

He couldn't let them know that though. He hoped he was projecting a decisive enough looking manner to keep the two calm, or they would have no chance at all to escape.

"Okay, there are German soldiers currently scouring the tunnels looking fer my body and any other American troops. We're going ta havta' sneak our way out of here as quietly as possible, make our way back inta' the grottos, and back outside the citadel from there."

Both men nodded in understanding as Logan took the lead of their small group. They needed to move quickly. The sound of German soldiers was growing closer. It was echoing though the tunnels in a way that he couldn't determine from where it was coming, and the smell of sewage kept his effective range of scent to just under six meters. Two of their best warning signs had been overpowered which effectively rendered his abilities useless to give them advance notice of an enemy patrol nearby.

Logan quickly shoved his concerns into the back of his mind as he moved determinedly through the tunnel. He may have lost Adams and the rest of the team, but he was not about to lose Venuti and Shipper.

The group continued stealthily down though the tunnels, alert at every turn and corner. Venuti and Shipper both kept their guns trained in front of them while Logan held his knife close to his side ready for a possible confrontation.

Plans whirled , were considered, and discarded in his head as they continued their measured progress. Things could get tricky if they ran into any resistance. Given the circumstances, Logan tried to calculate how many soldiers that they could reasonably defeat.

Logan came to a sudden stop as a group of echoes resolved themselves into a sound from directly ahead of them. With a sharp downward gesture, Logan ordered the other two men to drop below the surface of the water. They complied and Logan soon joined them, letting himself drift over to were the shadows were darkest.

If there were several soldiers, they would just sit tight and let them pass. However, if there were only one or two... the train of thought trailed off as Logan's mind began to calculate a new set of possibilities.

In the dim light, Logan saw the outlines of two German soldiers as they slowly made their way down the tunnel. Logan flashed the number to Venuti and Shipper who nodded in return. He drew his knife, and gestured towards the two arriving soldiers. Both of his companions seemed to understand as they both pulled their knives in preparation as well.

Surprisingly, the attack went far better than he had planned. These men had obviously been sent to retrieve a simple corpse and had no idea what they were headed into. Logan managed to slit his man's throat before the soldier could even scream. Venuti and Shipper, meanwhile, were equally efficient in dealing with their man. A few moments later, they were pulling the two bodies over to a side tunnel where they proceeded to search them.

While engaged in their task, Venuti gave a sudden short bark of laughter. When the other's looked at him questioningly, Venuti explained.

"I was just thinking. Right now, I'd bet that the north ridge doesn't have a soul watching it," he shrugged. "I just seemed kind of ironic. That's all."

Logan was about to nod his head in agreement when a his mind suddenly grabbed hold of a new idea and refused to let go. He almost shook his head. The plan was foolish, poorly planned, and completely unrealistic. Which meant, of course, that he was going to at least try to make it work.

"Venuti, Shipper," the two men glanced up from their work at the sound of his voice, "finish up with these guys then take your clothes off."

The looks on their faces were priceless.

Logan was doing his best imitation of what he imagined a corpse to be as Venuti drug him by the collar of his coat across the stone floor of the citadel. Both men were dressed in the uniforms taken from the dead German soldiers.

For being such a foolhardy plan, it was working fairly well so far. No one had challenged them as Venuti and Shipper returned to the dungeon area with Logan's inert form. They had been allowed to pass with a gesture and barked order that none of them understood but assumed meant something along the lines of "put him with the other bodies.

Even though they had no clue about the layout of the facility, it was simple to discover where the rest of their companions had been taken. All they had to do was follow the trail of blood left on the stone floor where their bodies had been dragged away. The hardest part of this whole scheme would undoubtedly come when they found their companions and would have to control their expressions. Any reaction beyond cold indifference could alert their enemies or make them suspicious.

Logan held in his grunts as he was drug up another set of stairs, his head striking every third step. No matter what his discomfort, he would have to hold his silence. Dead men didn't make any noise. So instead, he tried to pay attention to where they were going doing his best to memorize every detail of the route for future reference.

His sense of direction told him that the wall facing the north ridge was somewhere farther up on his left side. They would need to always stay aware of its position in order for the plan to work.

As the three men cleared the final stairs, Venuti and Shipper scanned both ways down the hall before ducking into a side room with Logan in tow. Once they had entered, Shipper quietly closed the door behind them.

Logan took a moment to stretch and examine the room in which they were located. It was large, supported by thick stone columns and, at the moment, mostly empty. It appeared to be some type of storage area, but obviously it had been a while since this particular out-post had received supplies. Logan nodded in satisfaction. It would be a good place to conceal themselves while he went over the details of the plan with them.

The Canadian listened carefully for a moment to ensure that no one was in the hall.

"Okay, here's the plan. If our luck continues to hold the way it has so far, we should be able ta' just waltz right into the area where they're keepin' the bodies."

Logan braced himself for the next part. He knew that it would not be to their liking.

"What ya' need ta' do is just dump my body off with the others, then head to the wall facing the north ridge as quickly as ya' can without raisin' any suspicion. I'll try ta' reach ya' if I can."

"But Mathison..." Shipper started to protest.

"No buts," Logan cut the man off sharply. "Enough people have seen ya' draggin' my carcass around that they'll start gettin' real suspicious if they suddenly come up one body short. So don't argue on this one."

He could smell the reluctance from Venuti and Shipper both, but they didn't voice any further objections.

Logan took a deep breath before continuing. "I'll be takin' two of those German pistols with me, in case I need ta' fight my way out. I'll also have this," Logan reached into his shirt and withdrew a grenade.

"If I run into too much trouble and can't reach ya', the grenade will signal to ya' to just go on without me."

Logan put the grenade back in his shirt where it would remain concealed from any casual search of his person. The two German pistols were nestled in the small of his back, also out of sight of casual observation.

"The blast will also create a distraction, maybe buy ya' some more time."

The air turned bitter with regret as they realized what he was saying. In all likelihood, his was a suicide run to give them the time they would need to escape. Logan summoned all of his courage and smiled fiercely at his companions.

"Don't go soft on me guys. Someone had got ta' make it back ta' tell command that there's a mole in their intelligence network. Someone has to warn them about how we were sold out."

The three men each exchanged long silent glances before Venuti finally said. "Mathison, it had been an honor to serve by you." Shipper nodded as well, his ears burning a fierce red.

A few seconds later, the three men had returned to the hallway and were once again following the trail of blood. It led them around another two corners before arriving at a large stone doorway. At their arrival, Logan heard a voice address them in German and indicate an area out of Logan's line of view, probably telling them to deposit his body with the others.

Venuti and Shipper assumed as much as well, for he was drug through the entrance and deposited on top of a pile of cold bodies.

Logan tried not to gag as the smell of death penetrated his nostrils. He gritted his teeth silently and began to hum a tune in his mind for distraction.

*Don't think about!* His mind screamed. *Just don't think about it!*

He needed to give Shipper and Venuti at least another ten minutes before he attempted anything. In desperation, he tried to focus on the other scents coming from the room where he now resided.

His keen sense could smell the sweat of fifteen or so men who were laboring in the tight confines. The pungent odor of sheep-marrow candle added its own peculiar twist to the air. However, it was the scent of sulfur and chemicals that made Logan snap open his eyes when he felt it was safe to do so.

Logan stared around himself in open disbelief. The soldiers had brought the bodies of him and his companions to a laboratory. Logan gave his head a small shake, wondering why he had been brought there when he noticed the body of Mclenn laid out on one of the examination tables with three scientist-types huddled over the still form. Logan felt his anger began to rise. Obviously, even, or maybe only, dead bodies were being used for the citadel's experiments.

Logan made a brief count and noted that there were fifteen men in the room, all of them seemingly lab-coated scientists. Most of the soldiers must have been deployed in a perimeter search for any remaining enemies.

They would regret this lapse in their security. Logan knew that he probably didn't have the greatest odds of getting out of his present circumstances alive, but if he had to die, he would now die completing his mission.

Logan slowly rose to his feet, drawing out the two German pistols as he did so. Moving quietly, he positioned himself directly behind the closest scientist, raised the gun, and calmly blew the man's brains out.

The explosive retort rang out ominously in the cramped area and was then followed by an almost eerie silence as the other scientist stared at him in shock and disbelief. Then, all hell broke loose.

Logan simply placed himself in front of the doorway, knowing that it was the only exit, and that his prey would have no other means of escape. He raised both weapons and began picking off the frightened men at his leisure. It's more like slaughtering cattle than anything else he thought bitterly. A few would fall at his feet in a begging gesture. Mercy written in their eyes, and sick fear riding in their scents. Logan merely crushed down anything that he felt inside until coldness filled him as he continued pulling the trigger.

Almost all had fallen now save one or two that were still hiding in the corners of the room, and one who didn't cower away. He leaned heavily on one of the tables not more than five feet in front of Logan. The man wore a heavy, saddened expression, yet his scent indicated relief.

Logan's confusion only deepened as the man stared at him with those sad yet relieved eyes, then bared his chest to Logan's gun. The soldier in Logan closed his eyes and pulled the trigger. When he open his eyes, it was to see the man lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood with an oddly content look on his face. Logan tried to ignore him and moved to finish the job.

The remaining scientists put up no further struggle as he ended their lives as well. Logan just felt cold and empty inside. The feeling was accompanied by a certainty that these men had been pawns forced into labor by powers beyond their control. He was sick and nauseated now, in this room that was filled with the scent of blood that he had spilt. Hanging his head in defeat, the mission had been accomplished and.

As Logan lifted his head, his eyes met the lifeless stare of Mclenn. Logan felt another wave of sorrow pulse through him. He slowly walked over to the body and gently laying his hand over the man's face, closed his sightless eyes. "Sorry I couldn't be there for ya' buddy."

Unbelievably, there was no sound of German soldiers running to investigate the gun shots. Obviously they assumed this area to be completely secure and were far way searching for the last members of his group. Logan couldn't help but be bitter that only now luck had decided to join his side.

Logan stared emptily at the room for a few moments more before snapping into decisive action. He needed to ensure that whatever it was these scientists had been working on never would be used by Nazi Germany. He withdrew the grenade from his shirt and was about to pull the pin.

At the last minute he stopped himself. Venuti and Shipper would both probably need another couple of minutes before he set off the grenade. Logan glanced around the room until his eyes settled on the still burning candles. He moved quickly to retrieve one off of the table were it rested.

Logan then picked out a heavy table that was covered entirely with test tubes and chemicals. Surely something in all of that mess had to be flammable. Ducking underneath it, he searched until he found a large gap between two stones in the floor. Once he had located the gap, he carefully moved the table until one of the legs rested directly behind gap. Next, Logan quickly broke off the top half of the candle and jammed it into the space. Then he wedged the grenade between the candle and the table leg, pinning the release handle in place even after he had removed the pin.

Logan stood back up collecting his other weapons as he went his way. If he had estimated correctly, it would take approximately ten minutes for the candle to burn down and release the grenade. Logan just hoped that ten minutes would be enough. When that grenade went, it was going to bring the entire citadel down on them.

He broke into a slow jog as he left the laboratory. There wasn't any time to lose and any second could be his last if he ran into enemy opposition.

Mentally readying himself, Logan kept both of his weapons at his side and proceeded cautiously at each turn. However, nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him when he rounded the next corner.

General Heiner was standing in the hall with a detachment of five soldiers. Kneeling in front of him, with guns trained on their heads, were Venuti and Shipper. Heiner's voice was cold and hard as he said.

"Herr Mathison, won't you please join us?"

Part 17

Forty Miles North of Udine
The Present

The hallway torches flickered briefly as Fallon strode past them, a strong determined aspect to his gate. Outside, darkness had finally fallen in its entirety. Neither Adams nor Vanhorn had returned or reported in from their patrols in over two hours. Fallon was not foolish or naive enough to simply believe them to still be alive. Nor was he foolish enough to attempt to send another group of men to hunt down the obstinate X-man who, even now, refused to lay down and die.

When Adams and Vanhorn had failed to report, Fallon knew that it was time to revise his strategies. Logan was obviously in his element in the forested area. It would be a fool's errand to try to deal with him on those terms especially with the resources the man had now likely acquired. That was why Fallon had decided that since he could obviously not allow himself to be drawn out to Logan's battleground, he would have to draw Logan back into his. Fortunately, Fallon had the perfect baitwith which to accomplish such a task.

He smiled at that thought. They had been able to capture the X-Men with unexpected ease. Unexpected because it had not been until the last possible moment that he had thought to use the nanytes in such a creative manner. Slowly drawing the oxygen from the confined area until the X-Men, completely unaware of what was happening until it was far too late, collapsed from lack of air. He was fortunate that they had not brought the one called Storm with them. She undoubtedly would have detected such a maneuver and, in all likelihood, would have been capable of preventing it.

Fallon's smile grew fractionally. That had been the second unexpected and useful application that he had discovered for the nanytes that day. The first being the ability to limit a telepath's range. Hidden surveillance equipment had recorded the remarks of the telepath. Psylocke, he believed she was called. Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense that the addition of literally billions of sentient entities would prevent any telepath from being able to concentrate on any one mind when all the others screamed for attention.

There was also the fact that he and his men had not been trying to attract attention as the nanytes had been doing making it even more difficult for the X-Woman to track them.

With the X-Men's threat of interference removed, Fallon was able to alter his plans back to what he had originally intended. It was very likely that Adams and Vanhorn had been unsuccessful in their task, and now he had a chance to take Logan alive once again. With the X-Men as his bargaining piece, he was certain that Logan would be forced to cooperate in the completion of the project that he had tried to destroy fifty years ago.

The soldiers, Venuti and Shipper, both snapped to attention as Fallon turned the corner. Fallon quickly put them at ease with a wave of his hand.

"Have you take the appropriate measures to ensure that our guests are comfortable?"

Shipper nodded. "We gave the woman enough sedative to keep her unconscious for the next five hours as per your orders sir."

Fallon nodded. They didn't have the facilities to restrain a telepathic opponent so the only solution was to keep her unconscious.

"And the others?"

"They have awakened now sir. We deactivated the control panel on the visor of the one called Cyclops so that he is unable to open the visor and fire any blasts. The one called Gambit has been placed in special arm restraints that keep his hands from touching anything and charging it into a potential weapon. As for the one called Bishop," Venuti shrugged, "his hands are chained into one of the support pillars. If he tries to fire off any bio-energy blasts, he will just bring down the room and kill them all. Plus Hopps, George, and Landen are all in there ready to put a bullet in any one of them if they try anything."

Fallon nodded in satisfaction. "Good. I wish to speak with our guests and would hate to think that our accommodations were inadequate."

Fallon saw a faint flush of shame burn in the man's cheeks.

"No sir. We have them fully secured, sir. Enter at your leisure."

Fallon was pleased but his good humor vanished almost instantly when he entered the room. Three defiant glares were immediately directed at him from the prisoners. In that moment, Fallon knew that he would have to move quickly. For these men, even left as they were, would not stay prisoners for long.

He had not beaten them; merely bought some time. If it were not for the fact that he needed them alive to draw Logan back into the open, he would have quickly ordered their execution for precaution's sake.

Despite his change in mood, Fallon placed an oily smile on his face as he greeted his prisoners taking a moment to examine each one. The Asian woman, Psylocke, hung limply in her restraints, still unconscious as a result of his scientist's wonderful narcotics.

Next to her, the X-Man leader, Cyclops, hung stiffly in his own manacle, suspended some two feet above the floor. The activation light on his visor was dull, proof that it had been rendered inoperative. Yet the man still carried a poise and defiance that made Fallon extremely wary of him, even restrained.

Next to him was the large black man, Bishop. He was the only one of the four that was not suspended above the ground. Both of his arms were secured behind his back, sunk into a stone pillar up to the elbow. The man glared at him with a look of pure violence on his face. Fallon ensured that he stood clear of the man.

The fourth and final prisoner hung in place quietly, his face a perfect poker mask revealing nothing. The restraints that held him were quite different from the other's. Nothing encased the man's hands. Rather an iron band had been clamped around his forearm just below the elbow. Metal bars fused it to other iron bands fastened around his biceps. The restraints kept his forearms bent foreword with his hands out away from his body and anything else. Fallon was fairly certain that it was not a very comfortable position.

"Who are you?" the question was more of a demand from the visored man.

Fallon's lips thinned into a hard line as he regarded the prisoner.

"I don't believe that you are in any position to make demands of me young man." Then he reconsidered for a moment and shrugged. It would do no harm. "You may call me Fallon."

"Is that your real name?" that question came from the tattooed black man and was delivered in much the same fashion as Cyclops's query.

His annoyance was slowly reaching the levels of anger with these people. Curiosity, however, convinced him to keep his temper in check. Even with his reliable sources, Fallon had been unable to discover more than vague rumors as to the origin of this Bishop. A fact that had made him curious but had never really concerned him as his target had always been Logan. Now would be an excellent time to satisfy that lingering curiosity.

"My true name, as you call it, would mean nothing to you," Fallon responded after a long pause.

"What about Logan?" the man pressed. "Would the name mean anything to him? Is that why you brought him here?"

Fallon took several deep calming breaths before responding. "Perhaps we can arrange for an exchange of information if that's what you want?"

The man's features were still as hard as stone, but Fallon could see the spark of curiosity in his eyes. "What do you have in mind?" The large man responded slowly.

Fallon smiled. "I am a man who is greatly interested in studying men of stature." Appealing to the man's ego probably wasn't going to get him anywhere, but one could never know for sure. "It is a ...hobby of mine to follow the paths of such men."

"You want to know were I come from," Bishop's voice was flat.

Fallon nodded. Bishop merely smiled and replied, "My origin would probably be as meaningless to you as your name would be to us."

Fallon sighed. Even his curiosity was not enough to give him the patience to deal with such open belligerence. The man could die a mystery for all he cared. Besides, it was quite obvious that Bishop would not cooperate and thus would never willingly reveal the information that Fallon desired.

Fallon turned on his heel and was about to stalk away when the man stopped him cold with one single phrase.

"Why don't you tell me about Operation Falconmount?"

Fallon stopped dead in his tracks and whirled to pin Bishop with an icy glare. Gambit, seeing the effect that it had on him, decided to push it one step further. "O' if y' like. Ya' can tell us about a little mission fifty years ago called Operation Monfalcone."

Only a handful of people on the Earth knew anything about Operation Falconmount. And even they didn't know anything about Operation Monfalcone, much less the true nature of the entire project. However, if these people already knew this much, which no one on the planet save himself should have known, then there was no telling what other knowledge they might possess.

Curiosity hadn't been enough to calm his temper, but survival of his dream was. "Why don't you tell me? Tell me what you know, and I'll tell you if you are right or not."

"First tell us how the two are related, and how they involve Logan," Cyclops responded.

Fallon stared at them for a long time before suddenly throwing his head back in laughter. They looked at him in confusion, but Fallon didn't care. They didn't understand, could never understand. The irony of it all, the utter bitter irony was so intense that he couldn't help but laugh. Here they were, his prisoners, completely in his control, and yet, once again fate, destiny, or perhaps an omniscient supreme being was once again showing him just how little control he truly possessed.

Fallon continued to giggle as his mirth subsided. "Why they have everything and nothing to do with each other. Absolutely nothing, and absolutely everything."

They were staring at him as if he were some deranged madman now, but it didn't matter. Neither did the amount of knowledge that they possessed. For it would soon die with them. No, the only thing that mattered right now was finding Logan. And for that, he would need the aid of one of these X-Men, preferably a more docile one.

"Hopps, Landen," the two soldiers snapped to attention at the sound of his voice. "Please escort the young lady into the hall and deliver her into the care of Venuti and Shipper."

The two men hurried to comply despite a protest from the leader of their little mutant group. Satisfied, Fallon took one last look over the remaining prisoners thinking of how valuable they would be to him once he had killed them then reconstructed their minds and bodies as his servants and turning on his heel, left.

Remy Lebeau was generally not what he considered a patient man. He blamed part of the fact on his mutant heritage. The strange and unique demands of his metabolism which allowed him to produce his trademark biokinetic charge kept him constantly on the move. It was a primal need that kept him instinctively wandering around late into the night in search of action and thrills when any sane person would already be home in bed. He always knew that he would have to find an understanding wife if he ever married again to put up with him and his vagabond ways. In fact, Remy was often surprised that he had been able to master the instinctive urge and stayed with the X-Men as long as he had.

However, despite all of these factors, mutagenic and otherwise, when Remy Lebeau needed to, he could wait with the patience of the mountains. Which was what he was doing at that moment.

He again glanced at the soldiers left to guard them and decided that they were still far too tense and wary for him to try anything as of yet. He needed them to be relaxed and have dropped their defenses a little bit. Otherwise, when he made his first move, they might simply respond in their agitated states by executing him and the other X-Men in the room. For now, he needed to wait some more.

Still, it was an extremely frustrating situation. Just because he could be patient didn't mean that he enjoyed it. In normal circumstances he wouldn't have had to wait. He would have simply attempted to charm the guards using his enigmatic empathic abilities the moment that he regained consciousness. That is were it not for unforeseen factors.

The same "interference" that had blocked Psylocke's earlier telepathic probe was also playing havoc with his abilities as well. He still had them. They just felt greatly muted.

Remy sighed and shifted his weight slightly trying to get the circulation to return to his arms. His restraints were effective if not very comfortable. With his hands immobilized as they were, he couldn't even attempt to pick the lock. And, of course, the soldiers standing over him would have shot him dead at his first attempt even if he could have reached the restraints. Remy almost felt a stab of professional respect for this man called Fallon. The man had done his job of studying them and planning well.

After a some moments more, Remy glanced back up at the nearest guard letting his empathic senses wash over the man once again. He was still somewhat tense, but Gambit decided that they just couldn't afford to wait any longer.

"So, what zactly did de little furball do t' ya' ta' piss ya' off so much?"

The man glanced back at him malevolently but refused to respond. Remy pressed on.

"Hey, I know dat de guy can be a real pain in de ass at times, believe me. Just de ot'er night he tried ta' cheat me out of a full night o' drinks even t'ough I won fair and square."

The guard chuckled slightly at that comment. "Mathison always was a lousy gambler."

Gambit chuckled right along with him then turned his head to address the others before continuing.

"Dat's true enough. Plus, de man never does know when ta' admit he's wrong."

The three men nodded their heads emphatically at that statement. Remy nearly smiled in satisfaction. He almost had them.

"Dat's probably all t'is whole t'ing is about, heh?" the Cajun continued, pushing his empathic powers. "Ol' Wolvie probably had some unpaid debts, and ya' just wanted t' collect." Remy shrugged as best he could in his present circumstances. "I can respect dat. If I had known it be somet'ing as simple as dat, I probably wouldn't have bothered comin' all de way out here."

Remy ignored the shocked stare from Cyclops and the openly belligerent glare from Bishop and plodded on.

"I got no interest meddlin' in ya' business. Ya' claim seems legitimate enough ta' me. Who am I ta' interfere?"

He had the attention of all three men now. Each had acquired a slightly glazed look to their eyes.

Remy knew that it was time to make his move. He cut his eyes briefly to Cyclops and with a subtle nod of his head indicated the guard standing closest to the X-Man leader. To Cyke's eternal credit, he seemed to understand what Remy was planning. The Cajun gambler then turned his attention back to the guards focusing on the one nearest to him.

"Hey, mon ami," he was really pushing the limits of his powers now. "I be dyin' for a cigarette. Ya' got one?"

The man's expression cleared momentarily and settled into suspicion. For a brief instant, Gambit wondered if he hadn't pushed to far to fast. However, the lapse soon passed and the soldier began rummaging around in his pockets until he retrieved a small pack. Pulling out a single cigarette, the man walked over to where Gambit hung suspended against the wall. The soldier hesitated a second more before reaching out and placing the cigarette in Remy's lips.

"T'anks, mon ami," he mumbled around the cigarette.

The soldier started rummaging through his pockets again. "Need a light?"

"No t'anks." As he spoke, the cigarette began to glow a dark lurid pink, "Got my own."

Before the guard could even think to react, Remy turned his head and spit the now energized cigarette at Cyclops. It struck the joint of the X-Man leader's visor, and flashed in a small explosion of metal and tobacco. The end that was no longer held in place to his uniform slid down uncovering Cyclops's right eye.

The guard in front of Remy looked as if he was beginning to come out of his dazed state as Cyclops's optic blast struck the guard next to him. Remy didn't waste any time in reacting. Before the man could raise his weapon, a Heckler and Koch MP5, the Cajun heaved his body and wrapped his legs around the man's neck. Another heave sent the man crashing into the nearby wall throwing off his aim. Automatic gunfire rang out inside the cell but thankfully, hit no one. Remy slammed the man into the wall again, and this time, he let his gun drop to the floor with a clatter.

Remy sensed that the third and final soldier had finally come out of his stupor as well and was raising his gun to fire on Cyclops. "Cyke! Eleven o'clock!"

The X-Man leader's head cut leftward sharply leaving a trail of destruction as his optic beam sliced though walls, doors, and even a support beam. Finally, it reached the soldier; laying him flat out on his back before he could fire. Remy breathed a sigh of relief that was quickly cut short when he heard an ominous creaking from overhead.

"Close ya' eyes Cyke! Close ya' eyes!" He yelled hoarsely. Cyclops had already done so even before Remy's desperate warning; however, the damage had been done. With an awful groan, the ceiling gave out in the area where Cyclops had cut through the support beam. Tons of stone and mortar came crashing down around them. Gambit winced as a particularly large chunk came to a shuddering rest just inches from his face.

Closing his eyes, Gambit braced for the blow that never came. A few seconds later, the crashing sounds ceased and Remy warily opened his eyes again. He coughed on the dust and debris that now floated in moats in the air. He reached out with his senses, trying to locate the others; however, there was just too much debris floating around and interfering with his abilities for him to be able to sense anything.

Remy looked down at the limp form that he still held in a death lock with his legs and realized that the man was now dead. Coughing again, he disengaged himself form the corpse before calling out to the others.

"Bishop, Cyclops? Ya' okay?"

From out of the dust cloud, he heard Cyclops's coughing reply. "Define okay, and I'll get back to you on that."

"I am without injury," came Bishop's terse reply. "Lebeau, that was a foolhardy maneuver. It could have gotten us all killed."

"Yeah, ya' welcome Bishop," Remy replied as flippantly as possible.

Cyclops coughed again. "Well, now that we have managed to overpower our captures. We need to get out of here as quickly as possible."

Gambit was inclined to agree. However, he didn't see any immediate solutions. His present restraints would take a while to undo. He would probably end up having to pick the lock with his feet, which took considerably longer than more conventional methods. He was just about to begin the laborious process of removing his metal boots without his hands when Bishop's large form suddenly appeared in front of him from out of the dust and debris.

Remy knew that the amazement must have been obvious on his face.

"How?"

Something very close to a grin passed over Bishop's features. "Don't be so surprised Lebeau. After all, you raised me."

After hours of relentless torrents, the rain had finally passed along with the rest of the storm. Overhead, the clouds were just beginning to break apart in the darkening sky. The moon was alternatively visible then obscured as the great clouds continued on their long patient course. The aftermath of the storm had left the ground saturated, filled to bursting with water that collected in near stagnant pools.

Logan carefully made his way though the darkened landscape. His senses seemed prenaturally sharp in the darkening twilight. The passing storm had left the entire landscape with a clean fresh scent that, under normal circumstances, Logan would have taken a few moments to enjoy. Today, however, was not a day of normal circumstances. Thus Logan ignored the musty scents of earth and nature as he continued skirting the perimeter of the citadel.

The Blackbird had landed in the structure well over three hours ago. Though Logan tried not to worry, his concern and a dreadful certainty were growing with each passing moment. If the X-men had encountered and defeated Fallon's forces, Logan was certain that he would have seen one of them searching the surrounding area for further clues. And if Fallon and his men had simply evacuated, the X-men should have finished their search hours ago. Either way, the Blackbird should not have been resting idly by if things were alright with the team.

"Mathison!" Logan flinched at the sound of a voice amplified by though some type of megaphone. "Logan Mathison, we have something that I believe belongs to you."

Logan slowly crept through the damp vegetation until he had a clear view of the front gate of the citadel. Fallon stood on the stone walkway, next to what looked like a public address system. However, it was the sight of Venuti and Shipper and what they held that made his blood run cold.

Venuti prodded Betsy Braddock's limp form forward and Logan had a moment of relief as he could tell from the rise and fall of her chest that she was simply unconscious and not critically wounded.

Then Logan's eyes narrowed as he saw the twelve gauge shotgun that Venuti held poised at the base of her skull. The barrel of the shotgun was tied securely to her neck by a long length of cord. Venuti's hand was similarly secured to the handle of the gun with another length of rope.

They weren't taking any chances. Logan knew that even if he had the use of his claws, he would be unable to cut the cords and separate her from Venuti before he pulled the trigger.

"That's right Logan," Fallon was continuing now. "One of your precious X-Men allies. You wouldn't believe how easy it actually was to capture them. I didn't even have one casualty."

Logan wasn't certain whether or not he believed that statement, but the man sounded sincere enough. Either he was telling the truth, or his warped mind believed that he was telling the truth. Logan preferred to believe the latter, but could not afford to complete discredit the former. He still didn't know everything about this man's capabilities.

"Surrender yourself now, and she and her companions will be spared,"

Fallon's face hardened making his scar dance lividly on his face.

"Refuse to cooperate, and I will slaughter them like cattle."

Logan growled softly in frustration as his mind forcefully compared the scene before him to one he had faced with Venuti and Shipper over fifty years ago. Once again, Logan was being forced to chose who would live and who would die. He wondered briefly if Fallon had intentionally brought these two men to specifically to remind him of the past experience.

The man seemed to know everything about those fateful events. Yet why it was that Venuti, who was there, seemed to have no knowledge of the matter?

"I will count to ten, Mathison." Fallon's amplified voice interrupted his reverie. "Then after I have killed this one, I will fetch another one to be slaughtered. I will kill as many as it takes to flush you out Mathison."

The X-Man felt his scowl deepen. He suspected that Fallon would eventually just kill him and the rest of the X-Men in his control anyway, but that was a vague future, and right now all Logan could see was the harsh present. The certainty that Fallon would indeed kill Elizabeth right now just to get to him.

"One!" Fallon's harsh voice called out. Once again, Logan was painfully reminded of an eerily similar no win scenario.

"Two!" The X-Man rose to his feet. He knew that he had no real choice in the matter.

"Three..." Fallon trailed off with a satisfied smile as his eyes met Logan's. Logan glared in return and slowly crossed the distance between them.

"That is quite close enough," Fallon said when he had come within twenty meters of the man.

Logan nodded in Betsy's direction. "Let her go. Cut the straps loose."

Fallon actually laughed in return. "Now Mathison, why would I do a stupid thing like that?"

In response, Logan whipped one of the M-16's to a firing position and trained it on Fallon's head. Shipper was quick to level his gun at Logan.

"Now, now, now. There is no need for that."

Logan had to give the man credit. He wasn't the least bit concerned even with an assault rifle aimed at his head.

"Simply put down your weapons, surrender yourself, and I promise you that Miss Braddock will live to see another day."

They stood there, unmoving for almost a full minute, before Logan finally responded by dropping the two assault rifles to the ground. Next, the two Magnum .45's joined them on the stone walkway.

"Is that everything?" Fallon queried. Logan nodded in response. "Good, then step away from the weapons and lie on the ground with your arms spread."

Logan slowly complied walking out ten feet from the pile of guns before lowering himself to the hard cold stone and placing his hands on the ground in front of him. In a flash, Shipper was on him pulling his arms behind his back and restraining them with a third length of rope. When he finished, Shipper rose dragging Logan to his feet as well and prodded him forward to join the others.

Fallon wore a satisfied expression and the smug smell of victory emanated from his every pore. "Now Mathison, I shall keep my word; though not in the manner you were expecting."

Logan looked on in confusion as Venuti cut loose the straps that held Betsy bound to the shotgun. Without the support she slumped heavily to the ground.

Venuti then turned a questioning gaze to Fallon, who merely nodded in approval. Realization set in and Logan barely had time to scream in defiance as Venuti coldly shove the barrel into her abdomen and pulled the trigger.

Part 18

Forty Miles North of Udine
The Present

Fortunately, the Blackbird had not been disturbed. It still rested in the now darkened courtyard the same as it had been when they had left it there nearly three hours ago. All systems were intact and none of the aircraft's security measures had been breached. Apparently Fallon had never had any interest in the capabilities of the X-Men's technology.

A fact for which Scott was grateful. The thought of Forge's Shi'ar enhanced ingenuity in the hands of a desperate madman such as Fallon obviously was didn't appeal greatly to the X-Man leader.

Of course, the idea of two of his team-mates in the hands of that same lunatic wasn't all that comforting either. And given the choice, he would have gladly traded the blackbird for the safe return of Logan and Elizabeth. Unfortunately, their options were not quite that simple. Which was why they had returned to the blackbird the moment that Bishop had finished freeing them from their bonds, and they had been able to find their way back to the courtyard. Scott desperately needed to advise the other X-men of their current situation and possibly call for reinforcements.

Scott's nerves were already on edge when he sat down at the communication's console. His condition was not greatly aided when the screen flickered on to the very worried countenance of Storm. Scott could see that there was a tightness at the corner of her eyes that bordered on near panic. He knew that his message was not going to aid in soothing her concerns ... nor his.

"Scott, I've been trying to contact you for the past hour."

Scott belatedly noted that the unanswered incoming message counter was now in the double digits.

"What has happened? Is everyone all right?"

Scott let out a pent-up sigh. "Gambit, Bishop, and myself are all fine. As for Betsy and Logan..." he floundered for a moment before continuing. "We believe that they are both being held captive by an enemy of unknown power."

Scott had expected to see a look of increased concern cross his co-commander's face. Instead he received a look of dread certainty and conformation.

"Then you have confirmed that Logan is being held at that site?"

"We haven't had visual conformation as of yet," Scott felt his own concern rising as he detected an heavy sadness in the woman's eyes and voice. "But, Fallon, as he calls himself, has all but said that he has Logan in his possession."

Scott noted the way she curtly nodded at his assessment. Something was obviously bothering Storm, and Scott could see that she was debating on whether or not would be a good moment to tell him.

"Storm, what's wrong?"

She hesitated a moment longer before responding. "Warren is in the infirmary. It happened about ten minutes ago. One moment he was calmly discussing stock market options with Bobby, and the next moment he fell to the ground clutching his head and screaming in agony."

Scott felt his stomach clench into a tight knot. Warren was one of his oldest and closest friends. The thought of losing him was like a blow to the gut.

"Is he going to be all right?"

Storm nodded. "Hank has him stabilized now and has assured me that he should fully recover, physically at least," the X-Woman paused for a moment as an errant tear leaked from the corner of her eye.

"Psychologically, he's just not sure. Hank says that the bond Warren and Betsy share was the cause of the seizure." Her voice finally broke. "Scott, we believe that Betsy is dead."

Scott leaned back in his chair completely overwhelmed and at a loss for words. At first, the concept was too unreal, too alien, for his mind too accept. He had been with Psylocke on countless missions, many of which had been against a much deadlier foe than the one they now faced. The idea of her being dead now just didn't seem possible.

A slow persistent sensation of guilt began to settle in his gut. A team member had died under his command, and he hadn't even discovered it on his own. The X-Man leader slumped in his seat in defeat.

"Scott?" the sound of Ororo's worried voice snapped him from his reverie.

"I'm fine," he quickly assured her even though he wasn't sure of his statement.

Scott quickly rose to his feet. If this Fallon had been willing to kill Betsy, then they needed to retrieve Logan as quickly as possible and safely retreat for the moment. When back-up arrived, they could proceed with a further more in-depth investigation.

"Prepare and send an assault team of no more then six members for back up. Use your own discretion in selecting the team members. We are on an alert status. They may end up walking into the middle of a firefight when they arrive."

"What are you going to do?"

Scott didn't like the answer any more than she did. "Gambit, Bishop, and I are going to make a quick scout of the area in an attempt to locate and recover Logan and Betsy. Once that is accomplished, we will retreat to a secure location by means of the Blackbird and await the arrival of reinforcements."

Storm looked hesitant, but nodded her approval. "I'll dispatch a back-up team now. Good luck Scott."

The screen flickered off as Storm broke the connection leaving Scott to consider their current options. He still couldn't accept the idea that Betsy was actually dead. He knew that he wouldn't be completely convinced no matter what Hank said until he was able to see the body with his own eyes. Scott wondered idly if even that event would convince him of the reality of the situation.

Scott walked down the ramp of the Blackbird to find Gambit and Bishop where they had been standing watch against the possibility of another attack. Both men looked at him expectantly as he approached.

"Storm is sending a back-up group right now. But its going to take a while for them to get here. Until then, it's going to be up to us to locate Psylocke and Wolverine."

Bishop and Gambit nodded. They hadn't really expected anything more.

"There's something else," he was hesitant about the next part, but they needed to know. "Psylocke may be dead. If she is, don't worry about recovering the body now."

Scott knew that his voice must have sounded cold as he spoke, but he couldn't do anything about it. "Our concerns for now are to retrieve the living members of the team and get out of here as quickly as possible. If necessary, when back-up arrives, we will be able to recover any bodies then."

Neither man reacted visibly to the news of Betsy's demise. Both had the common trait of rarely letting any emotion show through to their face, but Scott liked to believe that each was disturbed by the message.

Unfortunately, right now they didn't have the time to indulge themselves in sorrow and self-pity. At least one of their teammates was still alive and currently in the custody of a deadly enemy. If necessary, there would be plenty of time for mourning later.

Logan had resisted the urge to charge Fallon even with his hands bound behind him, and do his best to end the miserable creature's life. He hadn't resisted the urge out of any noble X-Man sentiment that both Xavier and Cyclops had tried to pound into him. Nor had he resisted the urge because of any of his own moral compulsions regarding vengeance. No, the only thing that stayed his hand was the fact that he knew that Fallon was planning something. And Logan wanted to know what that was.

It was for this reason, and this reason alone, that Logan allowed him self to be prodded forward by Venuti's shotgun as they marched down the halls of the citadel.

Logan felt the bitterness rise in his throat as he stared over at Shipper, who was carrying Betsy's limp form. Blinding rage clouded his vision for a moment, and Logan had to fight intensely to suppress his desires for revenge. Looking at these men, who had once been his friends, who had once fought and bled alongside him, Logan had almost been surprised when he realized that with Betsy's death, he had ceased to feel any loyalty to them any longer.

Even after days of mental and physical abuse, he had been unable to truly consider these men his enemies. They had just been pawns, controlled by forces more powerful than themselves, acting against their own will. Now, all such illusions had been completely stripped form him

Fallon continued leading them through the different corridors of the keep. It only took Logan a few moments to realize where the man was taking them. Logan remembered the way well, Fallon was headed toward the laboratory where the X-Man had been forced to execute the scientist all those years ago.

For a moment, Logan wondered if Fallon wished simply to try to torment him for his past crimes once again. Logan quickly dismissed the notion. Fallon's scent was purposeful, not vindictive. Whatever the man's intentions were, he was not interested in prolonging Logan's torment at the moment.

"Ah, here we are," Fallon announced as they approached the stone entrance to the small room. He tossed a wicked grin at Logan.

"You'll notice that I've made some modification. However, I do believe that the room is recognizable enough to bring back a few memories."

The "few modifications" remark was somewhat of an understatement. Fifty years ago the room had been furnished simply with a few tables filled with test tubes, beakers, and other strange chemicals. The test tubes, beakers and chemicals were still present, but that was the only similarity. A large mainframe computer dominated the entire end of a once blank wall. The sheep marrow candles had been replaced by an intricate overhead lighting system. A thermostat on one end of the room indicated a constant temperature of sixty-eight point three degrees. The sight in front of him was a far cry from the one that had greeted him fifty years before.

"Yeah," he growled sardonically, "looks like ya' been busy. Am I supposed ta' be impressed?"

Fallon's smile was tight, and his scent carried a hint of irritation.

"Logan, the only reason that I am showing you any of this is because you played such a large role in its near destruction and, ironically, its rise to what it is today."

He smelled extremely satisfied with himself as he continued his explanations.

"In fact, once I gained control of this project, I even renamed it Operation Falconmount in honor of the part that Operation Monfalcone played in its development."

Logan simply snorted, "I don't know what ya' been smokin', bub." He gestured at the room with a broad sweep of his head. "I had no part in the rise of this."

Fallon smiled, truly amused now. "Oh Logan, if only you knew," He began to pace the room examining the contents of several of the test-tubes as he went.

"Did they ever tell you what the true nature of this project was when they sent you to destroy it?"

Logan wasn't sure where exactly this current line of conversation was headed, or if it was a trick. Therefore, so he answered warily.

"Somethin' ta' do with creatin' the perfect soldier if I remember correctly."

Fallon's laughter was completely genuine if a little less than sane.

"Of course, of course. We military types could never see any application for a new discovery beyond that of having another weapon."

When his laughter finally subsided he turned to pin Logan with an intense glare.

"Even the governments that fund me now can't see my offer as anything beyond a line of defense against the mutant threat. Their lack of vision amuses me almost as much as it annoys me. But no, Operation Falconmount is so much more than a simple super-soldier project."

Fallon crossed rapidly to a table were he carefully withdrew a glass case. Inside the glass case Logan could see an ancient parchment. So old that if it was exposed to the outside atmosphere it would probably crumble. Fallon absentmindedly stroke the glass covering as he spoke.

"Operation Falconmount goes back much farther than the Nazis and World War II. It's origins lie near the very beginning of recorded history."

Fallon continued to gaze at the ancient parchment lost in his own account.

"The ancient alchemists had a quest. They desired to be able to refine the coarse and abundant materials of the world into the more refined and valuable substance called gold by chemical processes. Their quest was both a failure and a success. Though they never did discover the magic process that they sought, their work did lay the foundation for that later sciences of chemistry, botany, biology, and others."

Fallon seemed to come back to himself and glanced at Logan over the glass structure.

"So little is known of what these men might have actually discovered. This," he indicated the parchment, "was discovered in the vaults of an ancient Cathedral in the city of Aquileia at the onset of the second world war. No one was ever able to discern its origins, but it contains theorems and formulas that no one at that time had even conceived could be possible."

Fallon's eyes shone fervently now. The scent of excitement was so strong in the air that Logan wanted to plug his nose.

"Those ancient alchemists had somehow discovered what we with our great technology are still bumbling around with. The secret of immortality."

Logan shook his head. "Yer crazy, bub."

Fallon's scent changed so suddenly and violently that Logan half-expected the man to attack him. Logan suppressed a shiver. Fallon's mood shifts were always lightning quick and were set off at the least provocation. This man definitely was not operating with a full deck.

"Crazy am I?" Fallon's tone was dangerously soft. "Then Logan, if I am just a mad lunatic, how do you explain the presence of your comrades returned after their deaths fifty years ago?" A twisted smile lit up Fallon's face as he continued.

"And Logan, if I truly am mad, how will you explain the restoration to life of your X-Man companion."

Logan didn't have a chance to ask what he meant before Fallon gave a sharp gesture to Shipper and Venuti. Venuti responded by shoving Logan onto a stool next to one of the tables filled with test-tubes. At the same time, Shipper drug Psylocke's body to an empty table where he plumped it down on the surface. Fallon meanwhile busied himself with a hypodermic needle and a small group of glass tubes.

Fallon smiled at Logan as he advanced on him. "Do you remember the first thing that they did to you after you had been captured by General Heiner?"

A sick feeling began to wash over him. "Yeah, they wanted blood samples. But they never did tell me why."

"Oh, it's quite simple really," Fallon said absentmindedly as he prodded Logan's arm for a vein. Venuti was standing close by to restrain him.

"The serum that they were trying to develop acts in concert with human blood, only human blood. It doesn't appear to have any effect on animals for some reason."

Fallon nodded in satisfaction as he found the vein for which he had been searching and plunged the needle in. After a few seconds, Logan could see the tubes begin to fill one by one with the dark red liquid.

"You see," Fallon said turning his back as he walked to another table and sorely tempted Logan to take a cheap shot even with Venuti standing over him. "The serum is based on the concept of nanytes, microscopic machines composed of atoms. Yet each one having a sentient awareness. When combined with blood cells, it modifies those cells into new more advanced, intelligent organisms. Think of it, blood cells that would be capable of thinking, problem-solving, and could almost instantly repair damage done to the host organism."

"But the applications extend beyond that. The modified blood cells are then capable of repairing cellular tissue, damaged by illness or trauma, on a molecular level. Sickness would become a thing of the past," Fallon's voice was rising in passion as he spoke. "Aids would be rendered harmless, cancer could be cured completely in a matter of moments with a single treatment."

Fallon smiled ironically. "Even the dreaded legacy virus would fall before such medical treatments."

Logan had to fight to keep his mouth from falling open. If even a fraction of what Fallon was saying was true, it could mean a great deal to him and the rest of the mutant race. However, he just couldn't quite bring himself to believe this madman's claims. If he truly was capable of doing everything that he claimed, then why had he only implemented his plan on such a small scale?

"It's a nice story, bub."

Logan decided that provocation was probably his best bet to shake loose some more information. After all, he thought sardonically, why change technique now when it has worked so well for him so far?

Logan grinned insolently. "I'm just not sure that I buy it. If yer really capable of doin' all this wonderful stuff, then why did ya' only bring back fifteen scientists and my old buddies?"

A sudden thought struck him. "Why didn't ya' ever bring back yer wife and kid?"

Logan watched as Fallon's face became a mass of thunderclouds.

"My motives are not to be questioned by one such as yourself." His eyes nearly glowed with an insane rage. "You could never even begin to fathom my purposes."

"Ya' got that right, bub."

Fallon snorted, but appeared to accept Logan's comment at face value and. continued on. "The scientists that Nazi Germany had assigned to this project were extremely close to reaching a break-though. Given a few more months they may have perfected the formula. However, the serum that they had developed never did reach an active status."

Fallon paused thoughtfully picked up a test-tube to examine its contents. "The nanytes were dormant in the serum that they had managed to create. It had been combined with blood samples from hundreds of donors; all with the same result, failure." Fallon positioned the test-tube back in its place with a sigh.

"They realized that they needed a catalyst, an activating agent to animate the dormant nanytes."

Logan felt a sense of dread slowly crawl over him as the pieces of the puzzle began to fit together in his head. "My blood. The healing factor in my blood."

Fallon nodded with an expression that said he was somewhat surprised that Logan had managed to figure it out on his own. "Yes, your blood. The unique mutagenetic structures inherent to your blood were enough of a catalyst to bring the nanytes out of dormancy to full activity. The nanytes then modified your blood cells into the finished serum, capable of saving, or even restoring life."

"Or turning a normal man inta' an unstoppable killin' machine," Logan nearly spat. "Don't give me any crap about noble intentions. I've already been the subject of an experiment of "noble intentions" that was designed ta' make me the ultimate weapon. I don't care what ya' say, the Nazis had no intention of improvin' the quality of life. They just wanted ta' breed the perfect soldier fer' conquerin' the world."

For a brief instant, Fallon's face became somber. His scent now smelled very tired for some reason.

"You do not understand. The project was within my control. It would have never been misused in such a way. We would have kept the serum out of the Nazi's hands. It was designed to help, not hurt, the human race."

The instant passed and Fallon's hardened mask slid back into place. His scent became bitter as he continued.

"After your interference the project was canceled for a time. The fools didn't realize that though you had killed the scientists, you had also left the answer to the complex puzzle in your wake. After the war, I purchased the remains of what was considered a dead and unsalvageable project from a German government that was so desperate for money, they probably would have even sold me plans for the nuclear bomb had it been in their power."

The bitterness in his scent increased marginally tinged now by sorrow.

"By the time that I was able to perfect the serum and test it on myself, my wife and son were already two years dead. It was too late for them."

"That still doesn't answer the question bub..."

"Enough," Fallon cut him off. "We waste too much time with your pathetic games. Once I have obtained enough of your blood samples to manufacture an indefinite amount of the serum, I shall have no more use for you." The wicked smile returned to his face. "I am sure that your friends will be able to see to you after that." He indicated Venuti and Shipper. "For now, however, I must see to your companion."

Logan nearly growled in frustration. He was so close to understanding, but some of the pieces still just didn't fit into place. He watched with detached interest as Fallon retrieved a small vial of Logan's blood and mixed it with a small amount of dark gray fluid which he assumed was the nanyte serum. Logan found it somewhat odd that the serum didn't seem to change the color or the viscosity of his blood. Fallon seemed satisfied and loaded the mixture into a hypodermic needle.

Turning to Logan, his face broke into a hardened smile once again. His scent indicated that he was quite pleased with himself. "I don't even have to worry about matching blood types. The modified cells can quickly adapt to any blood."

Logan didn't want to let himself get too hopeful that the man really intended to bring Betsy back.

"Why are ya' doin' this fer her Fallon? And don't tell me that it's out of yer sense o' honor about keepin' yer promise to me that she would live if I surrendered myself."

Fallon paused for a moment considering whether or not to respond to Logan's question. "If you really must know, I need to test the serum on her."

"I thought that ya' already tested it on yerself?"

Fallon sighed as if he was trying to explain a complex concept to a child.

"The serum that I had to test on myself was not in infinite supply. After bringing back the fifteen scientists and your former comrades, I just did not have enough left to continue my experiment. Unfortunately, I never was able to completely reconstruct Professor Bressan's notes."

"Why didn't ya' just ask Bressan when ya' brought him back?"

Fallon simply ignored him as he continued his narrative. "However, as luck would have it, a few years ago a brilliant young scientist in New York by the name of Jim Khanaz unearthed some of the old formulas and was hair's breath away from unraveling the mystery himself when he was "tragically" murdered by a motorcycle gang. His notes survived him thankfully, and I was able to procure a copy of them with the excellent aid of Mr. White."

Fallon moved over to Betsy' body and poised the needle above her neck.

"In a sense, this is not the same serum that I used on myself some forty-five years ago. I need to ensure that it will work as effectively as the original."

A wry smile crossed Fallon's features. "And in the case of Ms. Braddock, who hasn't even been dead long enough for decomposition to set in, I won't have to reconstruct her mind as I was forced to do with your companions."

The pieces of the puzzle suddenly clicked together in Logan's head with a clarity that astounded him. He stared at Fallon in such open amazement that the man had inadvertently given him the answer that he barely noticed as the man completed giving Betsy the injection.

"That's why ya' never brought them back isn't it," Logan said with a soft certainty.

Fallon's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. "What are you talking about."

"That's why ya' never tried ta' bring yer family back once they were dead."

It was so painfully obvious to him now. "Ya' may be able to repair and reconstruct their bodies. But ya' had no way to rebuild the complexities of the human mind and spirit. All ya' could do was try ta' remake imitations based on yer own impressions and memories. But no matter what ya' did, they would still only be one dimensional cutouts of the originals."

Fallon's scent was sliding toward rage again. Logan, however, had ceased to care and plunged onward.

"I should have figured it out when Adams, Venuti and Vanhorn all couldn't remember basic events in their lives. Ya' obviously didn't have access ta' those memories when ya' rebuilt them."

Logan shook his head. No wonder the scientist had been of no use to him in reconstructing the serum. "Just out of curiosity, where did ya' get the memories that you do have fer' them?..." Logan' voice trailed off as his eyes passed over containers of his own blood.

"That's right," Fallon continued for him. "The neural energy given off by your brain to the blood that brought it oxygen. The brain often leaves psionic impressions on blood. It's one of the reasons that telepaths can feel so many negative emotions floating around at a murder scene."

Logan felt himself begin to tremble with barely suppressed rage. "Ya' sick hypocrite. Ya' talk about these grand ideals, the betterment of mankind and such. But for the last fifty years, all ya' have done is create hollow paper soldiers ta' satisfy yer own petty sense of vindication."

Fallon's anger snapped. "This is for the betterment of mankind! You are the sick animal, a remorseless murderer who has been allowed to plague society for more than half a century! Justice demands that you pay for the crimes that you have committed and be prevented from slaughtering innocents again!"

Logan was more than a little fed up with this man's twisted perspective of justice. "If I'm the remorseless killer, ya' wanna' tell me how many people that ya' ended up killing with that stuff before ya' were able ta' perfect it?"

The man's face went white in rage. Logan could smell an anger so intense on him that Wolverine had no misconceptions about what the man intended as he stalked determinedly towards the bound X-Man. So complete was Fallon's rage, that Logan could even smell nervousness and concern coming from the two soldiers standing over him. It was obvious that Fallon no longer intended to leave him to the guards as his final fate. The man had every intention of killing him with his own hands.

Logan, however, had other ideas.

As Fallon approached him, Logan leapt from his stool towards Fallon. As he dove forward, he brought both of his arms from behind his back in a large sweeping motion. Fallon's minimal surprise at seeing that his bonds had been severed was nothing compared the shock that entered his scent when Logan extended his newly re-grown claws and caught Fallon's torso in a cross-slash.

Logan lifted the still stunned man slightly in the air on his claws and brought Fallon's scarred face to his own.

"Ya' said I was a remorseless killer." Logan bit off every word harshly. "Well just remember in yer dyin' seconds then that I'm the best there is at what I do."

Logan spun quickly and tossed Fallon's body on the completely stunned Shipper. Venuti had finally managed to recover from his own shock and moved to raise his shot-gun to fire. Logan didn't even give him time to pull the trigger.

One slash of his claws sent the shotgun to the ground. Venuti's severed hand still clutching the stock. The second slash opened Venuti's throat and sent him crashing backwards over a table of chemicals.

Logan turned his attention back to Shipper who was now struggling to disengage himself from the bleeding Fallon. As he lunged to his feet, Logan grabbed him roughly by the collar of his shirt and sent the man flying over another table before crashing into the far wall. Shipper slid to the ground with a sickening thud and remained still.

Logan coldly examined the room as his claws slid back into his hands with a snikt. After fifty years, it appeared that this chapter of his life had finally been closed. Logan just wished that the cost hadn't been so high.

It was funny in a sense. He still didn't even know who Fallon was, or why the man had hated him so much. Still, it was a mystery that he was more than willing to leave buried. He already had more than enough answers to suit him.

Suddenly, he heard a painful gasp come from the table on which Psylocke's body was resting. The X-Man whipped his head around in shock, irrational hope welling up inside him. He tried not to let that hope overcome reasonable thinking as he practically ran to Psylocke's side.

Logan blinked his eyes at the sight that met him. He closed his eyes again, yet upon opening them, the sight stayed the same.

"Betsy, are ya okay?" he asked nearly choking on his own voice.

The ninja's eyes fluttered briefly, and she groaned in pain again. "I am alive, Logan. Other than that, I cannot say much."

It was a miracle. She breathed steadily, very much alive. Logan nearly shouted for joy wanting to pinch himself in disbelief. But, as impossible as it should be, the wounds in her abdomen were gone. The flesh natural and healthy looking where parts of her uniform had been blown away.

As incredible as it seemed, Fallon's serum had actually worked.

Logan's smile nearly split his face. "Well, that's more that I had hoped for, girlie. Now, let's go find the others and..."

Logan's words were cut off by Psylocke's sudden scream. She tossed her head back in pain as blood flowed freely from her nose and ears. Logan looked on desperately frantically trying to think of something to do.

As Psylocke collapsed into an unconscious state as the blood suddenly stopped its mass exodus from her ears and nose.

Logan watched in abstract horror as the blood flowed across the stone floor and traveled directly towards Fallon's rising body. It was then that Logan noticed that blood was also flowing from the bodies of Shipper and Venuti. These two streams also converged on Fallon's form and began entering it though his mouth, ears and nose.

As Fallon rose, his skin began to twist, contort, and reform itself over again as if it were made of clay. His clothes shredded off of him leaving only his nude form as his body continued its macabre display. His lids slowly pulled back to reveal white pupil-less eyes that gazed at him with an intensity that was discomforting to even a man of Logan's courage.

Even the man's voice had taken on a more ominous tone as he spoke.

"Foolish, foolish man. Did you truly believe that you could kill me that easily? Did you really believe that you could ever be a threat to me?"

When Logan didn't respond, the Fallon creature thrust his left arm forward. The arm grew and extended until it struck Logan in the chest, throwing him backward and pinning him against the wall. The thing that held him merely chuckled. What ever this creature was, it smelled of blood and death so strongly that Logan could make out no other scent.

"The outcome of any confrontation is never guaranteed, Logan," Fallon's voice cracked like a whip. "We must always expect the unexpected. Learn to adapt to unplanned contingencies. You, of all people, should know this, Logan. After all, you taught it to me."

Logan pushed futility against the fleshy bond which held him pinned.

"Who are you, Fallon!?" He cried in frustration. "Where have I met you?! Why do you hate me!? What did I do to you?!" He howled.

Fallon's face contorted into an unnatural smile. "Yes, I suppose that the time for facades is past."

The X-Man was about to scream his agreement when Fallon's face suddenly seemed to melt into a featureless blank. Logan stared in amazement, then sick certainty, as a face without scars slowly emerged that he fully recognized.

"Brennon," he whispered softly.

[next part]

back to Morgan's stories | Cyke and Logan archive | comicfic.net