Soundproofing worked both ways -- it had barely been five minutes when the door opened without warning. Logan heard it just in time but the girl hadn’t, and he had to pull her hair hard to stop her words before Marco heard what she was saying.
He watched helplessly as the light of hope died from her eyes, replaced by a look of utter betrayal. She began to fight like a dervish, kicking her stockinged feet against his legs, turning her head to try to bite his wrist, jerking against the cuffs until the scent of her blood tinged the air.
“I warned you, she’s a feisty one,” Marco smirked. “That collar is well worth the extra investment.”
“Settle down,” he growled, but she didn’t seem to hear him. He let go of her hair and stepped back, letting her struggle futilely against the cuffs, spitting curses at them both. He looked to Marco. “Bring her. I’ll start the transfer.”
__________
Logan entered an account number onto the screen. If there was one advantage to working for a man richer than God, it was unlimited funds for shit like this. No need to set up a dummy account and risk warning bells going off. Xavier was more than willing to risk a cool quarter million to get Jubilee and Kitty back.
Marco came from the back room, pushing the girl in front of him. Her hands were still cuffed behind her but her eyes were blank, her body unresisting as he shoved her roughly ahead of him. Her stockinged feet skidded a little on the wood floor, and Marco hauled her upright by the cuffs.
He pulled the collar remote from his pocket and put it on the table. “It takes some time after the collar comes off for the effect to wear off. Don’t be fooled.”
Logan nodded. A few more clicks and the transfer was authorized. Logan watched the “Transfer in Progress” bar patiently, his mind already jumping ahead. He would get the girl out of here to the rendezvous point, and then he’d be back. He had already decided which of the men were immediately expendable and which he’d save for questioning. Marco would definitely go last, slow and painful...
At first he barely registered the buzz of a cell phone, only absently noting as Marco pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced at the text. His senses picked up the change before his mind even processed it. Marco’s breath had hitched, his scent spiking with adrenaline. Fuck.
From then things seemed to happen in disconnected flashes. Logan was already on his feet when Marco screamed “Kill him!” The first shots came from behind, and Logan popped his claws in a smooth motion, ignoring the thunk and burn of the first round, gutting both men at the door in seconds. A second barrage of gunfire at his back and he felt his lung flood with blood, slowing him down. With a choked roar he took out Audiovisual Thug with a slash across the throat, shaking his head to clear the blood from the arterial spray from his eyes.
Marco held the girl defensively in front of him, cigarette-and-insomnia thug at his side. “He’s a healer! Aim for the head!” Marco shrieked. Logan sprang, and the rest was blackness.
______________________
Logan struggled toward consciousness. It was very important that he wake up. Wake up, dammit, he told himself, not knowing why. He became aware of the pain first, a fierce burning in his chest and back, and a pounding ache in his head. Next came the voices, just a babble at first, but then he could make out words.
“I don’t have extras -- get the collar from the girl. Cuffs too. Fuck, don’t argue -- just tie her, she’s not going anywhere. We have to time this just right...”
“He’s coming around, give me the gun...”
______________________
More blackness. Another struggle up from the void. The pain...
The girl. The girl. Fuck...
Logan wrenched his eyes open, springing his claws. He tried to leap to his feet, but was held back. He felt the bite of metal cuffs around his wrists and twisted his hand, trying to cut them with the claws, but couldn’t reach. They had stripped his shirt and jacket from him and cuffed him around a solid metal pipe in the back room, his arms wrenched through the open back of the metal chair. His feet were chained to each chair leg. Fuck.
Marco was standing in front of him, the smug grin back on his face. He triumphantly held something up in his hand, and Logan squinted against the blood in his eyes to see it. A small electronic remote. Fuckity fuck. He felt it now, the slim metal collar around his neck. No healing.
They must have put it on the second the bullets left his skull. His healing factor had prioritized the mortal wounds, and the less serious gunshots to his back and chest were still raw and only partially healed. He could feel blood seeping from the wounds, trickling down his sternum, pooling at the base of his spine.
He tried to clear his head, pushing aside the pain with long practice. Only Marco and the cigarette-and-insomnia thug were left alive. The girl was huddled in a corner, her eyes shut tight, her forehead against her knees. Logan caught a glimpse of rope at her wrists, tied behind her to another pipe. Shit. They could have at least put her in the other room for this.
Marco pulled a knife, and that sick excitement that had tinged his scent as he watched the video came back even stronger. He enjoyed inflicting pain. Logan sighed. Well, he was in for a helluva time. Three hours, give or take, until he missed the rendezvous and Cyke and ‘Ro realized something had gone wrong. He had deliberately stretched the rendezvous time -- hoping to avoid interference from the others, confident that he could handle anything alone. Now both he and the girl might have to pay the price of his arrogance.
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Logan was intimately acquainted with pain. He knew every type, every variety. The slow burn and the icy stab, the deep nerve-searing cut and the nauseating ache. You’d think he’d be used to it by now, but somehow it always managed to feel fresh and new. Infinitely surprising in just how much it hurt, just how much he could take. He had passed out a few times already from the pain, which was pretty much unprecedented, but each time they had revived him and moved on to the next torture. Marco did indeed enjoy his work, and in this at least he was no amateur.
“Who do you work for?”
Damn, you’d think the man would be tired of asking the question by now. Logan was sure tired of hearing it. He raised his head against the haze of pain, coughing up a bubble of blood and spitting it out before he could answer, his voice a low wet growl. “Sorry, Bub. Still can’t remember.”
Marco dug the knife in deeper, twisting it with a little flourish. Logan couldn’t help the whine of pain that escaped his gritted teeth. Fuck, he’d better dial back on the smartass comments. That felt like a nick to his liver. Marco’s pleasure in inflicting pain was starting to slip away in his frustration at getting no answers. He was getting careless.
“This is my lucky day,” Marco sneered. “I got the money for the girl...” -- a swift cut of the knife deeper -- “...I get to keep the girl...” -- another twist of the blade -- “...and then there’s you. I bet some lab somewhere will pay a pretty penny for something like you, huh?”
The knife came out and dug in again, a little more to the side, and Logan’s whine of pain came damn near to a scream. When the red haze of pain faded and Logan could see again, he found himself looking past Marco into the deep brown eyes of the girl. She had finally lifted her head, her haunted eyes looking right at his. Fuck, he wished she didn’t have to see this.
“Sorry, kid,” he found himself saying.
“Aw, that’s sweet,” Marco taunted. “Now...” -- another slow twist of the knife -- “Who sent you? Who do you work for?” Logan jerked against the pain, his body convulsing against his will, even though he knew it would only drive the knife deeper. His vision dimmed again.
____________
Logan came to again, lifting his head wearily to face Marco. The questions were the same, the pain still infinitely surprising, but...something was different.
He focused his eyes on Marco, ignoring the movements of the girl in his peripheral vision, desperate not to give her away with a flicker of his gaze. She had gotten her hands free somehow, and was slowly pulling herself to her feet. Logan heaved in a wet, sucking breath and spat blood at Marco’s face. She only had to cross behind them to reach the door, if he could keep their attention on him maybe she had a chance to get away. She was moving silently now, edging with her back against the wall. Good girl.
Marco wiped the bloody spit from his cheek, his eyes glinting with malice. He pressed the tip of the knife against Logan’s eye. Logan kept his eyes steady on his, but something was wrong. The girl had stopped moving.
“Go ahead,” Logan snarled, looking at Marco but hoping the kid would get the message. Fuck, fuck, the girl was pulling off her gloves. What the fuck was she doing? She was coming closer, instead of moving away.
“No,” Logan muttered, and saw Marco’s eyes light up at what he took to be the first sign of him breaking. He felt the knife pierce his eye. “No!” he roared, as he felt the dimness start to overtake him again.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This gets a little gory. Plus, Logan curses a lot. Updates will probably slow down after this, Chapter 4 came quick but 5 and 6 are putting up a fight. ;-)
Chapter End Notes:
Please review! :-D