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Fic : Sinister 5/?

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  • Sarita
    5/? Storm was just beginning her descent through the tree line when a stirring of the air forewarned her of danger. She had half turned before something,
    Message 1 of 1 , May 6, 2001
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      5/?

      Storm was just beginning her descent through the tree line when a
      stirring of the air forewarned her of danger. She had half turned
      before something, someone, rammed her at tremendous speed. With a cry
      she slammed into the canopy and became entangled there. Dazed, she
      struggled to free herself of the branches all about her, calling a
      strong gust to stop her fall. She rose to clear air only to have to
      acrobatically avoid a branch the size of a small sapling being
      wielded by a tall, muscular woman like a baseball bat. She watched in
      fascination as the woman was thrown backward by a blast from Cyclops
      below, stunned as the woman smacked into and through two tree tops
      before righting herself and coming back for more. Lightening crackled
      and missed as Storm fired and she evaded, coming around behind Storm
      for another attack. Hands seized her hair and swung her savagely into
      the tree from whence she had just come. Her cry of rage was matched
      by the other woman's scream as this time, Storms lightning hit home.
      The woman crashed to the ground, but didn't stay there. With a
      disbelieving heart Storm watched as the woman simply uprooted the
      tree she was tangled in and slammed it into the next, causing several
      others to crash down upon her. The last thing Storm felt before
      blackness took her was the feeling of being trapped as the branches
      closed in all around her.
      Storms initial cry of warning as she was attacked had galvanised
      Cyclops into action, taking the first clear shot he had at the mutant
      attacking Storm. That the blast took her through two trees and she
      still came back for more shook him. He had hit her harder than he had
      intended. Finding that fine balance in his control of getting the job
      done without actually killing someone was precious to him. He knew
      without a shadow of a doubt that was a line he did not wish to cross.
      He gathered himself for a second stronger blast but had to re-sight
      at the last minute as he was rushed by two leafy figures that simply
      rose up from the ground before him. Vines swirled up around his
      ankles, binding them in place and with a start he realised they were
      part of the two mutants he faced. He hit them with a wide dispersal
      beam that knocked them flying before using more precision to free his
      feet. He backed away carefully as they came at him again, this time
      too far apart for one shot. If he took out one at this range the
      other would have him before he could fire again. He had just managed
      to work himself into a good position when they simply stopped. With
      sudden insight he tried to dive to one side, sensing the trap. It was
      already too late. The chain mesh dropped from above like a great
      fishing net, driving him to his knees. Before he could blast free he
      arched in a violent spasm as electrical energy shot through him,
      mouth open in a soundless scream.
      Darkness all around, heavy and oppressive. Storms panic threatened to
      engulf her as she opened her eyes. *It's happening again * her mind
      shrieked. It took all of her prodigious calm to realise where she was
      and the danger they were in. They. Cyclops. She gathered herself and
      blasted her way free of the remains of the tree that had surrounded
      her. Shaking debris and muck from her hair she surveyed the scene
      about her. Of Cyclops there was no sign. She searched for the best
      part of an hour before determining to return to the Blackbird to try
      the more powerful equipment there.
      Storms rush up the ramp was halted by the realisation that the ramp
      was open in the first place. They had left the plane secured. More
      carefully she ascended, in a fighting crouch and it was with great
      relief that Rogue appeared at the top of the doorway.
      "Thank the goddess," she muttered.
      "Storm, you look dreadful," cried Rogue rushing forward to help
      her. "Where's Cyclops?" she asked, stopping, suddenly aware he wasn't
      with her.
      Storm shook her head, "let's get inside. I'll explain everything to
      all of you, but I'd rather do it only once."
      "This is all of me," wailed Rogue and in a gush she spilled out the
      whole nights' events as they had occurred.
      "So Logan is taking Jean to this "boss"?" Storm said finally a little
      later.
      Rogue nodded, "but where's Scott?"
      Storm slumped in her seat and recounted what little she knew of what
      had happened in the swamp. "After the first blast I did not have much
      time to spare to determine what was happening on the ground. I
      assumed that Scott was dealing with his own foes and no longer able
      to assist. When I recovered there was no sign of him, or of what had
      transpired besides some churned up ground. I can only hope that he is
      well, but we must locate him and Jean both. Do you remember how to
      operate the tracer system?"
      Rogue nodded.
      "Then you begin that process, I'll contact the Professor. He must be
      appraised of this."
      Thirty minutes later they were preparing once again to venture into
      the swamp.
      "Think we'll do any better in daylight?" asked Rogue regarding the
      dawn with scepticism.
      " We have no choice – I did not realise that I was unconscious for so
      long. If the professor is right both Scott and Jean are in the centre
      of that swamp area that we have not yet been able to penetrate. The
      professor is unable to establish contact with them but assures me
      they are both alive, if not conscious. Logan too is at the location."
      "Guess we're the cavalry then," said Rogue sounding less than
      convinced.
      Scott's mind groped its way to wakefulness and not a small amount of
      residual pain. His kept his eyes firmly closed and his breathing even
      while he tried to gauge where he was. His first and immediate concern
      was to check his visor was still in place. His relief at finding it
      so was tempered by the next realisation, that he was lying flat on
      his back on a cold metallic surface and firmly pinioned by restraints
      across his forehead, chest, wrists, thighs and ankles. In short he
      could barely move a muscle and certainly not reach his visor to free
      himself. He slowly opened his eyes, straining to take in his
      surroundings in the periphery of his vision. Medical lab of some sort
      he thought to himself. His uniform had been removed and he wore only
      a light, greyish coloured pair of drawstring pants. He pushed against
      the restraints again, testing them.
      "Ah…Mr Summers, you are awake."
      The soft voice seemed to float at him out of the shadows outside his
      view.
      "You know my name," he managed. "What's yours?" His throat felt
      unbearably dry and his voice to his own years came out in a groggy
      croak. The figure that strode into view was only vaguely recognisable
      as the man who had earlier called himself Mr Essex. His skin was a
      dull matt silver, his hair jet black with equally black eyes.
      "Sinister is one name I have used in my long years. If you need to
      put a name to me that is as good as any other I think. And yes, Scott
      Summers, I know your name and more besides. It may startle you to
      know that I observed you for a time after your gift materialised. I
      was distracted by other matters at the time and lost track of you."
      He punctuated his speech by attaching a series of probes and
      electrodes to Scott's bare skin on forehead, chest and arms. At
      Scott's renewed struggles he snorted. "Save your strength Mr Summers,
      I have a great deal to accomplish here and I will not be pleased if
      we have to delay while you over exert yourself." He inserted an IV in
      Scott's arm, taking several blood samples before injecting him with a
      clear liquid.
      "Just what do you think you're doing mister!" Scott ground out as
      Sinister turned his back on him, moving to a powerful electron
      microscope.
      Sinister straightened and regarded Scott. "I've searched for you for
      a long time and this confirms my theory. Your DNA will form one of
      two strands of a template I am working on that will ensure the future
      of the mutant race and be my legacy. And my greatest weapon of
      course," he added almost as an afterthought. "I have powerful
      enemies. I'm sorry that there is not a more comfortable way to
      achieve my ends, but the chemical composition tests I require can
      only produce accurate results when great stress is placed on the
      subject. The stimulants I have given you will heighten the sensations
      further." He didn't sound particularly sorry to Scott. Sinister
      turned and fiddled with another piece of equipment, inputting
      commands into a computer console.
      Scott jerked and gritted his teeth and a wave of painful sensations
      washed over his body, sweat standing out on his pale skin as these
      were joined by a welter of mental and emotional images that augmented
      them. Sinister checked the heart and blood pressure monitors and
      smiled in satisfaction. "Now we leave to simmer," he muttered, "while
      I check on my other guest."
      Jean woke to a stiff neck, slumped over as she was in a chair in a
      room devoid of other furnishings. Gambit immediately rose from his
      position on the floor to a more alert posture. Sinister smile as he
      entered.
      "Just in time it would seem. Welcome Dr Grey."
      Jean rubbed the bridge of her nose as she studied her position. The
      man before her was shielded against her probes or mental bolts – that
      much was clear at a glance. His telepathic ability seemed very
      different somehow to her own and seemed skewed toward misdirection
      rather than "pure" telepathy.
      "What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, keeping up the pretence
      for now.
      He shrugged, "I require your assistance in my work here. As a
      forerunner in your field you should appreciate the project if not the
      means of coming into it. Evolution of the mutant species my dear,
      along with the creation of the most powerful mutant on the planet has
      long been my life's goal. I am close to achieving that now thanks to
      a very fortunate occurrence indeed. I need only to find a suitable
      telepath to complete the work and with your access to mutant records
      I'm sure you can assist me there too."
      Jean froze, wondering if he had guessed or knew her own talent.
      "In theory if you combine a powerful and renewable energy source with
      the DNA of the telephatic gene in a mutant you create the perfect
      offspring. One that of course can be moulded and raised to appreciate
      my outlook on the world order, and place in it. I have just acquired
      that long sought power source and you will use your medical skills to
      assist me in his study. The recombination sequence of mixing the DNA
      will determine all in this matter."
      "So that's what this is all about," she muttered before she could
      stop herself, growing angrier by the minute. "The mutants who have
      been reported missing down here she added quickly – your doing?"
      Sinisters eyes narrowed. "Not widely reported my dear, my people are
      very good. How then is it that you know of such disappearances?" He
      pulled her roughly to her feet.
      She realised there was nothing more to be gained in charade and shook
      him off, slamming the approaching Gambit with a mental bolt that
      knocked him out cold. *Wolverine * she sent urgently, *I need help
      here now. *
      Wolverine stiffened as her thought was cut off abruptly with a
      lingering feeling of blackness. He surged to his feet, startling the
      surrounding men and stormed toward the exit of the small room Gambit
      had left them in.
      "You can't go no where," one of them protested putting his arm out to
      stop him. Wolverines rage, however, had kicked in the minute he
      realised Jean was in serious trouble. The men in the room never stood
      a chance as he tore through the locked door and rampaged toward the
      centre of the complex.
      Danvers hefted Jeans limp body and looked inquiringly at Sinister. He
      looked thoughtfully at Gambit then motioned for the woman to bring
      her.
      "There is more to Dr Grey than first appeared. Your timing is as ever
      impeccable and we should now proceed with haste." He took a blood
      sample from Jeans arm and studied it in a small side
      lab. "Fascinating. I'll have to try recombination to be sure, but
      this looks like the perfect match to our power source."
      "Coincidence ?" asked Danvers flustered.
      Sinister smiled without humour. "That I do not believe in. Pre
      destiny perhaps, for if this is the match not even nature should be
      able to keep them apart – life will find a way I just plan to skip
      the messy experimentation that goes with it and help it right along
      to its natural conclusion."
      He was interrupted by alarm bells ringing through the complex. "Find
      out what it is," he snarled. "Deal with it. I'm too close for
      interruptions now." He took Jean from Cargil and made his way to the
      main lab. He rummaged in a freezer cabinet briefly before returning
      with a hypo which he jabbed into Jeans arm. "I'm well prepared for
      telepath my dear, for your kind are too unpredictable by far."
      As Jean groggily awoke he strapped her arms firmly to the chair she
      was in.
      "What?" she muttered. Her head felt like it was packed in layers of
      wool.
      "Don't try to use your powers my dear," he muttered "the drug I have
      given you severely inhibits your neural pathways and will last for
      some time yet."
      Jean took in her surroundings, slowly becoming more alert as long as
      she didn't try to use her power. "Scott!" she whispered in horror.
      Sinister looked at her sharply. "My, my will surprises never cease.
      You already know each other."
      He turned back to the bank of equipment he had been studying. "A
      resilient young man," he said without emotion, "but resistance is
      with its limitations." He jerked a dial around and Scott arched on
      the lab table, a scream torn from his throat as he threshed.
      "Stop it, you're killing him," Jean yelled.
      Sinister leant down toward her, his hands resting on the arms of the
      chair she was bound to. "No," he said flatly "that would not serve my
      purpose. His pain does however." He turned back to his machines as a
      thin trickle of blood ran from Scott's nose.
      "The shields are down," said Storm urgently, her tracking device
      suddenly alive in her hand. "We're right on top of it, literally" she
      added as an afterthought looking around at her feet.
      "What if it's a trap?" asked Rogue nervously.
      Storm regarded the younger woman with some sympathy. "It may well
      be," she said softly, "but we must help our friends and end this.
      Here," she exclaimed, "a ventilation shaft." She looked puzzled. "It
      had electronic anti – intruder devices."
      "Had?" queried Rogue.
      "They do not appear to be working."
      Far below they could both hear the sounds of shouting and explosions.
      "It seems they may have other problems and are as yet unaware of us,"
      she smiled.
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