One Day After the Crash
The Wolverine bellowed, roared, raged. The veins in his neck stood out, his muscles straining against the adamantium chains that held him. There was no way for him to slice through them with his claws. The only way he was getting out of there was if they fucking let him out. He'd rubbed his wrists raw over and over again as he tried to find the tiniest fault in the metal. But he kept healing, and he'd found no weaknesses in the flawless surface of the adamantium. He could do nothing but growl his frustration. He was at the complete mercy of his captors. And fuck, he was pissed.
Logan ground his teeth in frustration. It had been eighteen hours since the Blackbird had crashed. Eighteen hours since he had found Marie covered in blood, and smelling like she was an inch from death. Eighteen hours since he had blacked out after giving Marie his healing ability. Eighteen hours since he had fucking seen her, smelled her, and known she was okay. He felt sick inside at the thought of her in a place like this. She'd already experienced enough of his memories from when he had been experimented on. Now she was going to have nightmares of her own, and his beast was mad with fury at the thought. He'd said he would protect her. Promised her. And now once again he found himself unable to get to Marie.
The room he was held in was bare. There were no windows, and only one door which also appeared to be made of adamantium. A cement floor, cement walls, and a fluorescent light bulb. Fucking great, he thought. The only thing he needed to make the cell more depressing was the mind-numbing buzz of a fluorescent light humming incessantly twenty-four hours a day. There were tiny holes dotting the cement walls at regular intervals. Logan wondered if there were cameras in there. He released the middle claw on each hand and growled again at the thought of being watched.
The intercom suddenly crackled to life. “Come now, Wolverine,” a mocking voice said. “You don’t think growling at us is going to get you out of there, do you?”
At the first sound of the voice, Wolverine released the remainder of his claws and quieted immediately, his ears straining for any hint of familiarity. He inhaled deeply, searching for any shred of scent that would allow him to identify the persons who had done this to him and Marie. But whoever was speaking to him over the intercom was out of range of his sense of smell.
"What do you want with me?" Wolverine ground out through gritted teeth.
"Well now, that's an interesting question," the man with the slick voice said. "To be honest, we hadn't expected to be able to acquire you when we shot down your jet."
Logan clanked the adamantium chains in response. Clearly, they had been planning on capturing him if they had adamantium chains bolted deep into a cement floor.
"We were hopeful, but not optimistic," the voice said dryly in response to the sound of chains jangling. "We've tried tranquilizers on you in the past after all."
Logan's body jerked involuntarily at this statement. Were these the same bastards that had put the adamantium on his bones in the first place? He searched his mind for any recollections regarding his imprisonment. Aside from the brief flashes of the procedure where they'd lined his bones with metal, and escaping through the woods, he couldn't remember anything. Nothing about the voice, or this room was familiar.
"What with that healing ability of yours, they do tend to wear off pretty quickly. Turns out, when someone sucks almost all the life out of you, the tranquilizers do a nice job of keeping you docile. For a time, anyway."
Having the man mention Marie made his blood boil. "Where is she? Where's Rogue? What have you dicks done with her?" He could barely speak for the rage he felt coursing through him.
"There's no need to be so rude, Wolverine. She's alive, so you can stop growling at me." Logan ceased growling immediately, as he hadn't realized he'd been making any noise.
"I want to see her."
"You'll see her if we want you to see her."
A crackle of static over the intercom as the voice stopped talking momentarily . "What about the others?" Logan asked, feeling a stab of guilt for not thinking of Storm, Kitty, and Bobby. He needed to keep this asshole talking so he could get as much information about their situation as possible. The more information he had, the better his chances were of getting them out of there. He didn't know how long it would take for Charles and Scott to assemble a team to rescue them. He was going to try and get them out of there as soon as possible. Unfortunately, their knowledge of the lab's security and size were limited. After all, that was why they'd been sent here in the first place, to investigate the assholes running this facility.
After a moment, the voice came over the speaker again. "Oh, they're just fine. Recovering nicely from the crash. We want everyone else in excellent health before we begin. But you, " Logan froze, sensing a change of tone in the man's voice. "You're already in perfect health, aren't you, Wolverine?"
A faint hissing noise reached Logan's ears and he saw the holes that dotted the walls were releasing a colorless mist that was spreading rapidly throughout the room. He jerked frantically at the chains, trying to avoid breathing in whatever the hell that was, or letting it touch his skin.
"What the fuck is that?" The gas moved inexorably forward to where he was positioned in the center of the room. He braced himself for the first sign of any reaction to the mist on his skin, but felt no pain. He tried to avoid inhaling it as long as possible, but after several moments found himself unable to resist breathing any longer. The mist moved smoothly through his nasal passages and lungs. He'd expected pain, but the gas seemed to be relaxing him into a stupor. No, it was relaxing Logan into a stupor. The idea of figuring out a way to escape seemed to be unimportant as the gas continued to be absorbed by his body. For some reason, he wasn't healing and rejecting the effects of the drug. That was the last thought Logan had as he succumbed to the blissful languor of the mist.
The Wolverine was raising his head, sniffing the air, and stretching, feeling the last bonds of his captivity drop away. The man had been keeping him chained down, only letting him out when he felt like it, usually when he was mating. Or fighting. He was an animal that survived on instinct. And right now he wanted his mate. And to kill the strange noise coming from the tiny box on the wall across from him. He let out a guttural roar that shook the light bulb above.
"Now, Wolverine. What fun would it be if we told you?"
_____________
Colonel William Stryker released the button to the intercom and looked at the monitors displaying Wolverine's cell. The animal was roaring, rattling the adamantium chains that held him. There were no coherent sounds coming from the cell any longer. The animal was truly in control. Stryker smiled as he realized his work of more than twenty years was finally going to be validated, was finally going to be used control the mutant plague that had infected every corner of his world. Since he had first discovered the presence of mutants and seen what they were capable of, his entire professional life had been dedicated to one thing; the eradication of those mutant freaks.
He turned to the two male lab attendants who were in the control room with him. Vasquez and Farris were two fairly obedient peons. They did what he asked with few questions, and that's exactly what he was going to need in the next few months. Complete obedience. "I want regular dosing every twelve hours, unless he starts showing any signs of human actions. In that case, dose him immediately. Split up your shifts; this animal needs to be monitored at all times. Testing will commence in twenty-four hours so make sure he eats something."
"Yes, sir," the first technician responded.
"And get a sample from TS183. Did you hear him? 'Where is she? Where's Rogue? What have you dicks done with her?'" Stryker scoffed as he repeated Logan's words. "It seems like the Wolverine may have found something he wants, even in his animal state. That could prove useful in the coming weeks, and I want to see exactly what effect she has on him."
"Yes, sir. Anything else?"
Stryker hesitated then nodded. "Yes. Come to think of it. Prepare to wake up TS79 - but don't get him up just yet. We may need him, considering his history with the Wolverine."
"Very good, Colonel."
Stryker turned to leave the control room, feeling confident in the path before him. Final testing would validate the pharmaceutical and implantable technologies he'd developed over the past twenty years and would make it possible for the global implementation of Project Vanquish.
He owed so much of this to Wolverine. Well, Wolverine and TS110. Between the two of them, he had the information and data to build the foundations of his two weapons. Once the Mutant Registration Act passed, they would be able to start compelling mutants to identify themselves. Identification would lead to implantation and control, by any means necessary. If that wasn't enough to make him celebrate, Stryker had received word that even in the unlikely event the MRA didn't pass, Project Vanquish was to be given the green light, regardless.
"Oh, and fellas?" Stryker said, turning back to the lab assistants. They looked up from their laptops and waited expectantly. "Make sure you record everything. This is important work we're doing here."
"Yes, sir," replied Vasquez.
Farris spoke up as Stryker was preparing to exit the control room. "Sir? One question regarding the documentation."
"What is it, Farris?" Stryker said, one hand ready to key in the code to open the door.
"Do you want us to document everything for Wolverine under TS184? Or his original identifier?"
Stryker thought for a moment then smiled. "Let's use the original. After all, we do owe so much of our success to TS01."
_____________
Wake up.
Marie opened her eyes instantly at the command that echoed in her mind. She looked around and found she was in a different room than where she had previously awoken. When she'd been naked and humiliated in front of those men. She felt her anger rising at the memory and she strained to sit up, but as she had feared, she was unable to do so under her own power.
She remained on the thin cot, staring up at the cement ceiling. What had they done to her? Why couldn't she move her body on her own? She felt a pang as she thought of Logan. What had they done to him? And what had they done with the others? She suddenly remembered feeling that they had been betrayed; been set up. She remembered the Wolverine in her head agreeing with her. She also recalled trying to reach him in her mind and finding nothing. For all the complaining she'd done about having bits of the people she'd drawn energy from over the years, she felt suddenly bereft at their absence.
Tentatively, she tried to reach out once more for any sign of Wolverine, Iceman, Magneto. But once again streaks of pain shot through her skull. And once again, there was nothing there. She felt empty. Alone.
You may move freely.
Marie exhaled in relief and immediately rose from the cot and began pacing the room. To her relief, she looked down and found she had been clothed in some plain gray sweatpants, and a gray tank top. As she wasn't naked anymore, she'd take it, though the thought of someone dressing her while she was unconscious was deeply disturbing.
As she paced, she noted the room had no windows or bars, just one very solid looking door, the thin cotton cot over a narrow metal bed frame, and a metal toilet in the corner of the cell. Cell. It was an appropriate word to describe the place, since she felt like she was in prison. The only other accessories in the room were a camera in one high corner of the ceiling, and what appeared to be an intercom speaker, which was also high out of her reach.
She swallowed a lump in her throat and felt the stinging sensation of tears gathering in her eyes. She would not cry. She had to remain strong and try and figure out a way to get to Logan and the others. She stopped pacing and closed her eyes momentarily. Fuck. The others. She didn't even know if they had survived the crash of the jet. She raised one hand to nervously run her fingers through her hair. It seemed clean. The last she remembered, it had been soaked with her blood. She shuddered at the thought of someone washing her and wondered just how long it had been since they were shot down. She rubbed the muscles in her neck and suddenly remembered the sore spot at the base of her skull. She raised one hand to check for any remaining pain, but there was no remaining tenderness or sensitivity. Whatever the injury had been, she must have had enough of Logan's healing ability left over to take care of it.
The unexpected static of the intercom made her jump. "TS183," it was a man's voice, though a different one than she'd heard in the other room. "Stand and face the opposite wall with your legs spread and your hands on your head."
Marie didn't much care for the tone in this voice. "What the hell is TS183? I thought you were callin' me Marie."
"You don't have a name anymore. Not in here. Now get against the far wall and don't say another word."
Marie felt her anger bubbling to the surface. "And if I don't?"
"We can make you," the voice said, simply, letting the threat speak for itself.
Even knowing it was true, Marie wasn't about to make things any easier on the people who were keeping her captive. "Fine. Then make me."
The speaker crackled and the man was silent. Feeling shaky but confident in her decision to not take orders, she grabbed her head as a command exploded in her mind.
STAND AGAINST THE FAR WALL. SPREAD YOUR LEGS AND PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD. THEN DO NOT MOVE UNLESS WE TELL YOU TO DO SO.
Her legs carried her to the opposite side of the cell of the door and she let out a scream of fury, the sound echoing in the bare room. Her hands rested on her head and her legs were spread. She did not move further. What the fuck had they done to her?
Her heart began to race as she heard the door to her cell open and the sound of footsteps approach. If he touched her, he was dead. She would suck the life from before he had a chance to yell for help.
"So, TS183. Not so cocky anymore, are you? You'll be a good girl, won't you?"
Marie immediately felt a flood of disgust at the condescending tone in his voice. "Fuck. You." she replied through gritted teeth.
The man laughed and turned her to face him. He was middle-aged, and had the look of someone who'd once been an athlete but had let himself go. He didn't seem to realize it though, and oozed superiority as he looked her over. His dishwater brown hair was slicked back and Marie had the impression of a used car salesman. Sleek and slimy. That's what she felt when she looked at him. He wore a white lab coat with the name "Farris" embroidered in black thread over his left chest. Disappointment spread through her as she saw he wore purple nitrile gloves. She wouldn't be able to drain him, not unless she had skin contact.
"Just need a couple different samples from you for today," Farris said as he took out several vials and needles from a small caddy he carried and set them on the floor.
"Don't you fucking touch me," Marie snarled as he moved to grab one arm.
Farris looked at her, eyes cold. "I'll do whatever I damn well please. You should consider yourself lucky all we need from you right now is samples." He jerked her am down from where it had rested on her head. "And you'll do whatever I tell you to do." He tore open an alcohol prep pad and rubbed it over the vein at the crook of her left arm. He then efficiently inserted a needle, and proceeded to withdraw several vials of blood. She couldn't wince at the swift pinch of the needle. Couldn't move as he swiftly placed a cotton ball and bandage over the puncture. Couldn't fight back.
Farris put the syringe and vials carefully back in the caddy, then brought out several clear test tubes and a packet of cotton tipped applicators. He ripped open the sterile packaging of the applicators, separated out one swab and turned back to face Marie. He had a sick grin on his face as he said, "Open your mouth."
A small ribbon of fear was working its way through her stomach and up into her chest. She kept her mouth shut and stared daggers at him. There was no way she would willingly comply with his order.
Farris snorted lightly through his nose at her defiance and barked out, "Vasquez! A little help."
A moment of nothing, then -
OPEN YOUR MOUTH.
Tears of rage stung her eyes as she felt the command rip through her mind. As she obeyed.
Farris inserted one of the applicators into her mouth and swabbed the interior of her cheek, placed it into one of the empty test tubes, then sealed it. He repeated the process several more times, then patted her cheek twice. "Good girl. Two samples down, one more to go. Now shut your mouth."
Close your mouth.
Marie stood still, more than happy to heed the command to close her mouth. Her breathing was slightly shallow as she tried not to think about the other sample he would take from her. She waited, staring ahead at the cement wall, waiting for Farris to tell her to do something else. Instead, she felt one finger ease its way under the elastic waistband of her sweatpants and panic ripped through her. She was utterly defenseless and completely incapable of fighting back. She felt her tears spill over and saw them drip down to stain her tank top.
The waistband her of pants was pushed down to her knees and humiliation stung her cheeks as she felt the cold air of the cell against her bare skin. She braced herself for an assault, and was mildly relieved that she only felt the dry touch of several cotton swabs between her legs. Those too went into test tubes and they were quickly sealed and placed in the caddy. Farris picked up his samples and moved to exit the cell. Pausing before the door, he turned to Marie and said, "See you tomorrow, TS183."
She heard a click as the door was unlocked remotely and exhaled with relief as she heard Farris exit the cell.
You may move freely.
Marie immediately pulled up her sweatpants and roughly wiped the tears from her face. Breathing hard, she turned frantically around in the cell looking for something to punch. Her eyes settled on the thin cot and she launched herself onto the metal bed frame. She screamed in fury, letting her fear and rage and frustration rip through her. She slammed her fists into the cot over and over again, screaming until her throat was raw, until her screams subsided into sobs and she lay curled in a ball, unmoving, exhausted. She wished Logan was here with her. She wished Wolverine was in her head. She wished she knew how the hell she was going to get out of there.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Let's check in with Logan!
Warning. Some difficult times are ahead for our characters...
Warning. Some difficult times are ahead for our characters...
Chapter End Notes:
I hope you were able to make it through this tough chapter! I'll try to have a nice flashback in the next installment. Thanks again for reading, and I appreciate the reviews!