Logan didn’t know how long he had been sitting there -- his head in his hands, wrapped up in his dark thoughts and self-recrimination -- when Xavier’s voice rang out in his mind.
“Logan? Forgive the intrusion, but...”
Logan sat up, cracking his neck, pulling on his boots, answering aloud through force of habit. “S’okay, Chuck. Is it the boat?”
“Not yet. But Ororo would like to meet with us in the War Room.”
____________
The others were already assembled when he got to the War Room, still rubbing his blurry eyes. He hadn’t slept for more than a few hours in days, and even with his healing factor he was starting to feel it.
“Ororo?” Xavier inclined his head, inviting her to begin.
“I think I have a location for the last mutant Rogue was able to tell us about -- Stacy. I discovered the address through Freddy’s financial transactions, and Charles was able to verify the presence of her psychic signature with Cerebro. She’s in Greenwich, Connecticut, in the home of a financier named Richard VanDoren -- just an hour by road, or five minutes in the jet.”
“So what’s the issue? We go get her,” Logan grumbled.
“This is also the night that the boat is supposed to land,” Ororo pointed out. “There has been no sign of them so far, but if it happens while we are otherwise occupied it could be disastrous. On the other hand, we know this young woman was already...assaulted...by Freddy. The idea of leaving her with her abductor for even a moment longer than necessary...” She trailed off uncertainly.
“We’ll split the team,” Scott said authoritatively. “We have no idea when that boat is actually getting there -- ‘in three days’ is hardly exact, and that’s assuming it shows up at all. But just in case, most of us will go by road to be on site with Piotr and Bobby.”
He turned his head to Logan. “Logan, you and ‘Ro take the jet and go to Connecticut. You may even make the pickup and beat us to the dock, but we’ll be in constant contact. If Piotr or Bobby see any sign of the boat, abort the pickup and you can get us with the jet on the way to Delaware. At worst it’ll be twenty minutes, and the radar we have in place will sense the boat at least that far out from the dock.”
The ruby quartz visor scanned the table. “Any questions? All right then. With any luck we’ll bring them all home tonight.”
____________
Logan forced the window open, vaulting over the sill and landing silently on the thick Oriental rug inside. This mansion was as large as the one in which they had found Owen, but instead of an abandoned wreck it was a hive of activity. Staff were bustling around the lower floors, apparently clearing away the remains of a dinner party, forcing Logan and Ororo to scale the side wall to the second floor bedrooms as an entry point.
Logan listened carefully, sniffing the air. The room had been occupied recently, but was empty for now. They would have to move quickly. He turned to help Ororo over the windowsill.
The sound of a gun being cocked had him wheeling back around, shoving Ororo behind him and popping the claws.
“Hold it right there, cowboy.”
A woman stood in the doorway to what must have been a dressing room. She was wearing a silk dressing gown, her hair still in an elaborate updo while diamonds glittered at her ears and neck.
Wolverine narrowed his eyes. Not how he expected to find her, but she fit the description. Looking closely he could see a fine pattern of scales, starting at her collarbone and disappearing into the plunging cleavage of the dressing gown. “Stacy?”
Shock flickered through her eyes, but the gun never wavered.
“I go by Miranda here, thanks very much,” she offered in a dry, sarcastic tone. Her eyes raked over them, obviously taking in their status as mutants, and she seemed to relax slightly. “Now what can I do for you two?”
Ororo shifted to the side so that she could peer around Logan’s bulk, ignoring his growl of warning. “We are not here to hurt you, Stacy. We just want to talk to you.”
“Something wrong with the doorbell?”
“We understood that you had been...abducted?” Ororo said hesitantly.
Stacy regarded them impassively for another long moment, and then a sardonic smile twisted her lips. She relaxed her grip on the gun, using it to gesture them toward a pair of armchairs.
“So you’re the rescue party, huh? Left it a little late, didn’t you?”
Ororo moved over to the chairs, tugging Logan’s arm. He retracted his claws and followed, but didn’t sit down, standing instead with his legs braced and his arms crossed across his chest.
“We just found out about you a few days ago,” Ororo explained in her lilting accent. “We have been working to track you and the other mutants who had been sold through Freddy’s financial transactions.”
“Freddy,” Stacy repeated, her green eyes growing cold and glittering like jade. “I have some unfinished business with that sick son of a bitch.”
“‘Fraid you’re too late there. He’s already dead,” Logan rumbled. “And all his crew.”
Surprise crossed her face, but she recovered quickly. “Well, haven’t you been busy bees? I guess I owe you one then. Maybe two if it was slow and painful.”
Logan thought about the video of Marie draining Freddy’s henchman, and his own experience touching her skin. “It was pretty fast, but I guarantee it was every bit as painful as you would have wanted it to be.”
“Well, good.” She moved over to the bed, putting the gun in her nightstand drawer and starting to take off her necklace and earrings. She raised an eyebrow at them. “Anything else?”
Ororo’s voice was warm and sympathetic. “My dear child...don’t you want to come with us? Isn’t this the residence of the man who...bought you?”
Stacy laughed humorlessly. “Who, Ricky? Yeah, he bought me. Lonely old guy, wanted a nice piece of mutant tail at his beck and call. But then he made a mistake.” Her eyes met theirs, her green gaze almost glowing. “He took the collar off.”
She lounged back against the pillows, toying with a diamond bracelet. “Now he’s the one at my beck and call. Bought me all of these,” -- she held her arm up so the diamonds twinkled. “Next week he’s changing his will. After that, who knows.” Her eyes glittered cold again. “Maybe he’ll suffer a mysterious heart attack. Too much adrenaline can do that to a man.”
She shrugged carelessly at Ororo’s soft sound of distress. “Or maybe I’ll keep him around for awhile longer. Either way, I’m doing just fine here.” She smiled again. “So, thanks for the rescue attempt, but I went ahead and rescued myself already. You can go out the way you came. But feel free to leave a card or something. I like the style of your...organization, and I have a feeling there may be a future for me in philanthropy. Do you take donations?”
__________________
Logan and Ororo were already in flight when the call came through on the comm, Scott’s voice taut with tension.
“Piotr called in...a boat is approaching the dock. We’ve found a field for you to land in to pick us up. Sending the coordinates now.”
Ororo quickly made the necessary adjustments to their flight plan, landing the Blackbird gently.
Within moments Xavier’s wheelchair whirred up the ramp, followed closely by Scott, Jean, Hank, and...
Logan sprang to his feet. “What the fuck is she doing here?”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry for the late update...I was traveling for work all week. And boy, only three reviews for the last chapter -- you guys must have really been mad at me! ;-) Oh well, I'll soldier on. Big doings in the next chapter!
Chapter End Notes:
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