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FIC: X-Book 1: New Allies New Enemies, PG-13, Chpt 12

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  • Kathleen
    X-Book 1: New Allies New Enemies - Chapter 12 - INTERLUDE Rating: PG-13 By: Kath713/Leen713 Summary: (See Book 1: Prologue) Disclaimer: I own nothing
    Message 1 of 1 , Jan 4 6:39 AM
      X-Book 1: New Allies New Enemies - Chapter 12 - INTERLUDE

      Rating: PG-13

      By: Kath713/Leen713

      Summary: (See Book 1: Prologue)

      Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with characters from the Marvel
      universe or any previously published work.



      Seven hundred miles north of the arid land of Arizona, a man climbed
      quickly up a wooded mountainside in the vast forests of Colorado.
      He knew he was not very far from Boulder, yet he was far enough from
      civilization to safely call the area the `middle of nowhere.'
      The trees were old and closely packed together, allowing only
      scattered beams of daylight escape down between their branches.

      One would certainly not expect to find a road cutting through the
      trees, and most people would have never noticed the two shallow
      groves tread long ago by unknown tires, now hidden by decades'
      worth of dense underbrush.

      Logan breathed deeply as he walked forward, following the two tracks
      unerringly down their winding path. Whom ever had once used
      this `road' had been careful to not disturb the existing
      plant life, making it much more difficult to follow as it twisted
      left and right among the large trees. A straight road cutting
      through the forest would have been far too conspicuous to any
      passing campers or park rangers.

      Shifting his large duffle bag slightly, Logan trudged upwards,
      following not only the old tire tracks, but the scent of old
      gasoline and oil left by the vehicles that once traveled there. He
      had not idea where it would lead him, but he knew it was somewhere
      that had never meant to be found.

      It was late morning, nearly noon, and the sounds of life around her
      were active and awake, despite the late winter cold. Over the past
      few days of his trek, it had snowed only lightly and he hoped his
      luck with the weather would continue until this evening. He had a
      feeling he would find what he was looking for very soon.

      After another hour or so, the clearing around the tracks became
      wider and he could feel old gravel crunching underneath his boots.
      The tall trees became sparser, and Logan finally stepped out into a
      large clearing.

      From the air, the space would have simply looked like an old camp
      ground, abandoned and left to disappear again into the woods. Logan
      knew by experience, however, that the look of a place could be

      Cautiously, Logan moved toward an old metal building that stood
      roughly in the center of the clearing. The dull gray of the outer
      walls were aged and stained with rust. On the left side, a door
      blew slowly back and forth, held ajar by two weakening hinges.

      He walked quickly and quietly around and peered inside. There were
      no windows and the only light shone in from the open door. Logan
      dropped his duffle bag roughly to the ground and dug through to find
      a large flashlight.

      As he stepped into the dark room, his light cut through the gloom
      harshly, shining dully off the metallic walls. The room was bare
      and as weathered as the outside, and completely empty. After
      exploring for a few moments, Logan found a cracked hatchway in the
      floor. It was about four-feet-square and closed flush with the
      ground. The hatch screamed in protest as he yanked up on the
      handle, and the noise reverberated painfully in his ears.

      Logan shoved the hatch open and coughed as twenty years worth of
      dust filled the air. He squinted and shone the light down the
      hole. There was a staircase, going down at least two stories from
      where he stood.

      He descended them slowly, taking each step with care. Despite the
      age of the place, it had obviously been maintained with great care
      before being abandoned. The walls were even and squared, the stairs
      lined with a non-slip covering. The remains of security cameras and
      fire alarms hung loosely from the ceiling, all covered with a heavy
      layer of dust.

      When he reached the final step, Logan walked forward into a long,
      narrow hallway, which grew wider as he moved on. After a couple
      hundred feet, he reached an old security door made of steel and
      glass. The two halves of the door had been wrenched open, leaving
      several of the glass panels shattered and the inner beams bent.

      Logan frowned deeply as he examined the remnants, and looked around
      carefully. Whatever had happened to the door had happened
      recently. The broken glass and frame had been shaken free of the
      years of dust that covered everything else. Logan sniffed the air,
      but could not make out a clear scent.

      He moved past the entrance, deeper into the empty facility. The
      hall continued on, breaking off into other identical passageways.
      Each new hall was lined with multiple doors, each marked by a dingy

      SECURITY, read the first, a solid metal door with no handle, only a
      swipe card activated mechanical lock.

      LOUNGE, reach the next, and a short wall of windows revealed a
      deserted lunchroom. The chairs were all stacked neatly against one
      wall, the table clear of any dishes or leftover food.

      Whoever had worked here before had not left in a great hurry.

      The list of rooms went on much like this, conference rooms,
      bathrooms, big and small offices…nothing that would have been out
      of the ordinary if this place were a few stories above ground.

      However, at the end of the main hall, a second door lay in ruin.
      Logan examined the broken door carefully, making out the words,
      Second Level Clearance ONLY.

      After passing through, the hall turned sharply left, and stretched
      on to another series of security checkpoints. Finally, Logan came
      across a large open room, filled with rows of filing cabinets and
      dark computer screens.

      At one terminal, the keyboard lay open and the monitor had been
      cleaned off. Logan walked over to it and pressed the power button
      experimentally. The screen stayed black.

      With a grunt of frustration, Logan shone the flashlight along the
      wall of files. Several drawers had been pulled open and ransacked.
      He looked at the front of each open cabinet and made a mental note
      of the recurring topic.

      Lot Program – Data Files, they each read, followed by a
      progressing series of numbers. Most of the open drawers had been
      emptied of all the information they had contained. Logan searched
      through the remaining papers and read each briefly before folding
      them and sticking them inside his coat.

      Most were headlined with the words, FOR OFFICIAL EYES ONLY, or,

      Logan did not bother with the details. He had Charles Xavier and
      his team to handle that.

      Before continuing on, Logan noticed one other curious item in the
      far corner. There was a pile of broken video equipment, which
      looked as if it had been slashed by several sharp knives.

      Logan ran his fingers along the cuts with sudden conjecture. Each
      machine had been destroyed by five evenly lined slashes. He noticed
      the same slashes ran along the wall and floor in places and he felt
      strangely disquieted. He recognized those marks, the pattern of the
      cuts…so very similar to the damage his adamantium claws could

      But that's impossible, he thought quickly and shoved the broken
      VCR away. He watched it settle among the ruin and then stared at it
      curiously. From the rectangular door on the front hung the torn
      remains of videotape.

      Logan picked up the machine and examined the tattered filmstrip. He
      made a fist with one hand, and one long claw shot out from in
      between his first two fingers. He used it to carefully carve away
      the top cover of the VCR and removed a square black videotape.

      The tape's innards had been partially pulled out, leaving most of
      the film to the mercy of the elements. Logan carefully wrapped the
      exposed tape around the case and stowed it away with the rescued

      He stood and returned to the long hallway. The rest of the facility
      had been heavily damaged by small explosives, and the power to the
      computers had been cut by the same slashing cuts as the video

      Logan began to head back towards the entrance, when one last room
      caught his attention. The door had also been broken open but the
      room within had not been touched. Logan circled inside and felt a
      cold anger rise in his chest.

      The room was filled with a variety of medical equipment, as well as
      a large lighting fixture hanging uncertainly over a long metal
      table. Next to the table was a machine for monitoring heart rate
      and respiration, aw well as brain waves. On one far wall was a dark
      panel, lined with clips that would have held x-rays and other

      Logan recognized what the room was all too well. It was a room for
      medical study, for experimentation. He pulled his arms in around
      the files hidden against his chest and ground his teeth.

      He was suddenly very sorry the facility was abandoned. He would
      have liked to `discuss' with its former staff what had been
      going on in this little hidden room…and why the restraints on that
      surgical table seemed to have been made for someone very small.

      Logan walked quickly out of the room and down the hall. He paused
      and took several deep breaths to help contain his anger. He needed
      to get back to the Professor. He wanted someone to examine at what
      he had found in this place, and see if these documents had any of
      the answers he was looking for.

      His thoughts strayed back to the surgical room one last time, and
      Logan closed his eyes. An angry roar tore from his lungs and echoed
      through the empty halls. Almost without thinking, he slammed one
      clawed fist into the wall and slashed downward in fury.

      Logan drew his arm back, and felt some bit of self-control fighting
      through his anger. He stormed out of the facility into the cold air
      and left the ruined underground facility to rot.

      Had he taken a moment to examine the marks he had made in the wall,
      Logan may have found a similar mark, also made in rage, but with the
      cuts of five blades instead of three.
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