Entry tags:

friends of humanity, iceman, pyro, rogue, wolverine

Log: Iceman, Pyro, Rogue, and Wolverine
Who: John Allerdyce, Marie Allerdyce, Bobby Drake, and Logan
When: February 10/11th, 2008; late, late evening/early, early morning
Where: the FOH’s torture chamber thing
What: Logan to the rescue! Because that’s what he does. He rescues people.



Bobby had been gone too long... and Rogue might have been batshit crazy but he was worried about her, too. And maybe even a little worried about Pyro. Maybe part of him was concerned that Rogue had snapped and killed them both and then ran off----he didn't know. The last time he saw her, he was ordering her to explain to him why she'd sent him her hand in a box. He didn't know what she'd do. Still, he'd kept that part to himself and let everyone else blame the Friends of Humanity, because that was probably what was going on. He was allowed to have his suspicions, anyway.

The trail was cold, but that didn't stop Logan and other X-Men from scouring the landscape trying to find out what the fuck had happened. Logan was just out alone this time. He was wandering the woods outside the school for what seemed like the longest time, scouring the outermost areas of the grounds and really knowing he wouldn't find anything... he just wasn't willing to admit that he needed the time to be alone and not really do anything.

That was, of course, until a sudden pain hit him in the shoulder, he tripped over a tree root, and he fell flat on his face.

Logan could feel the needle pushing out of him just before the wound it made closed up, felt the drug in his blood before it was neutralized. Tranquilizer. He knew that feeling. His vision doubled for several moments before he found himself clear-headed again, ears perked and senses paying keen attention to the footsteps that were approaching.

"Hey----!" Female voice. He didn't think he knew it. Calling off in the opposite direction. "Got him in one!"

That was, however, before Logan growled under his breath and drew himself up to his feet, claws sliding out from between his knuckles with their signature snikt. The girl shrieked, jumping back in terror. A handgun was drawn from her belt and bullets were fired into Logan's stomach. He staggered, he stumbled back, but the bullets were slowly pushing themselves out of the wounds before the wounds were knitting. He approached her like she'd only tapped him.

The girl stumbled back and then turned to break in a pure run. "He's a motherfucking healer!" she called. "Get back! Get the fuck back! Ronnie didn't say he was a goddamn healer! That woulda been damn good info----!"

Logan let her go. He didn't need her. Her scent was all over the place----a man, too. A man that seemed oddly familiar. He knew that scent even if he didn't know the man. His scent had been all over Rogue the last time Logan had seen her, and now he swore he could smell a little bit of Rogue with him.

He'd found them. He hadn't found the three missing mutants but he was sure he'd found their kidnappers... and they were leaving a fresh trail. All Logan had to do was follow it.

________________


John was in bad shape. Hell, they were all in bad shape. Beaten, bruised, barely looking like themselves, they had sustained god knows how many days living in a veritable torture chamber for three sick fucks who wanted revenge. Max wanted Rogue for what she'd done to him. Ronnie wanted revenge on his brother. Liz wanted Pyro for stabbing Cody Robbins... and it was all tangled up in some sick web that Ronnie had dealt with the entire trio fucking with his family. The only person who wasn't there who should have been there was Wolverine, and.. well. Fuck all if someone was going to catch him.

They'd come after John with ice, freezing him and damaging skin. They would have burned him but they didn't want to risk him controlling the fire. So they'd iced him. Iced him and beaten him, doing more damage to his dislocated shoulder and broken right hand. The room was filthy and stank, particularly because John had just thrown up in a corner, spitting vomit and blood out of his mouth and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"I am so over this," he muttered.

There was a sound of slicing, clanging metal, and then the door was kicked open. John leaped back in a panic, expecting more pain----he certainly was not expecting who greeted them.

"Well, fuck me."

Rogue didn’t even open her eyes when John spoke --- or even when he’d started retching. For the first few days, there’d been some comfort in the fact that he was here, even in the fact that Bobby was here, though she would have preferred that they weren’t here for obvious reasons. But after a couple of beatings, bloody lips, black eyes, and what she suspected was, at best, a sprained ankle and, at worst, a badly broken one, she’d kept her distance from both of them, huddled up as comfortably as she possibly could be. Which wasn’t very, given the circumstances.

She was terrified, being acutely aware of how bad this could get before it ended thanks to her inside look at Max’s mind. And ‘before it ended’ didn’t mean some merciful release; it meant a long, drawn-out, painful death. Which sort of made it difficult for her to have anything but a bleak outlook on things.

Not reacting to the sound of the door opening, except for a soft whimpering noise in the back of her throat and her breath speeding up, Rogue was caught between not wanting either John or Bobby to be on the receiving end of another round of torture and not wanting to be on the receiving end herself. Finally, she forced her eyes open --- no easy feat, considering how swollen the sockets were --- and was convinced, for a moment, that she was hallucinating.

“Logan?” She’d all but forgotten the circumstances of their last meeting and felt stupid for not realizing that Logan would find and save them. Of course he would; he always did.

Bobby had lost count of how many days they had been there. Had tried to keep count the first three days, and had even tried to do probability problems in his head. They mostly consisted of how likely they were to get rescued before they died, and the end result was never a good one. He had also silently hoped after taking the gunshot wound to the shoulder that they were finished with them. He had heard plenty of what the Friends of Humanity were capable of, but he didn't want to believe it. Things like that weren't going to happen to them.

Unfortunately, he had been wrong and he had watched them take John and Rogue, and return them hours later completely battered, bruised, broken and bloody. It never sat well with him. Like the other two, Bobby kept his distance, trying his best to ignore the sounds of John throwing up or the screaming when one of them was taken away. He couldn't physicall cover his ears due to his own injuries, but he did what he could, which was little to nothing.

He wasn't sure what the other two were thinking, but he was hoping, at one point after his "session" with his brother that they would just kill them and get it over with; take their victory and be done with it.

That would be the easy way out for them, though. They never did anything the easy way from what Bobby knew of the organization.

Bobby flinched at the sounds of the door, like he had begun to since their "sessions" began, and simply waited to see which one they would take next. Though he didn't want either John or Rogue to continue to endure more torture, he silently prayed it wouldn't be him. But when there was only one person entering and he heard Rogue, distantly, mention a familiar name, Bobby also turned his attention to the door and let out a pained sigh of relief.

"Thank God..."

"God ain't got nothin' to do with it," grunted Logan, looking sharply over his shoulder to check to see if anyone was coming and trying not to keel over from the disgusting smell assaulting his heightened senses. "S'just me. C'mon."

Although Rogue was concerned that she was imagining this whole thing and that the pain had made her delusional enough to think that Logan had shown up to rescue them, she was determined to get up and at least try to follow no matter how much it hurt. Even if it meant she haven if it meant she had to hop on one foot or crawl her way out. She managed to get to her good foot with a groan of sheer agony, breathing heavily and leaning against the wall. “They’re still here? Are they still here?” She was almost frantic about it, expecting Max or Liz or Ronnie to show up with backup at any second.

Then: “Bobby was shot. Someone needs to look at his shoulder.”

"It's fine..." Bobby groaned, already on his feet. He was moving a bit more quickly than Rogue, of course, and without a second thought, slid his better arm under her's and against her back. He wasn't sure how much help he would be, but he wasn't going to watch her try and stumble out of wherever the hell they were. And, while his shoulder had gone numb quite some time ago, within the last few hours, he was more concerned about her and John.

"John, get the other side." Of Rogue, of course, since Logan needed his hands free to fight whoever and whatever may come after them as they made their daring escape

John didn't really have the chance to glare at Bobby. Dragging himself upright, he made sure Rogue was leaning on his left arm and shoulder----his right hand and arm and shoulder were useless. "Is there anyone out there? You better say you motherfucking killed 'em all," he rasped.

Logan snorted, pushing the door open wider and standing to let them through. "Place is deserted-----don't hear or smell a damn soul except you three. Looks like they keep you here but don't live here."

Wincing, Rogue managed to hobble-shuffle, nearly biting through her lip to keep from shrieking in response to the pain. “No one in their right mind would live here,” she muttered with a brief hiss of pain as they managed to get through the open door --- no easy feat at three in a row.

"Let's just get out of here and back to the school." Bobby just wanted to get home and if they didn't run in to anyone, that was all the better. He tried his best to move quickly since moving slowly tended to make the paint a bit worse, but he didn't want to cause Rogue, or John, any more pain than they were already in. He just wished the serum would wear off -- it would certainly make his life much easier and he could, at least, try and help Logan out if they did run in to anything. Or carry Rogue so she wouldn't have to walk.

Logan really wasn't in the mood for chatting. They weren't moving quick enough to his liking, so he reached in between Bobby and John, scooped Rogue up, and slung her over his shoulder. "If you can't walk, lean on each other," he said gruffly as he lead them off, one hand supporting Rogue and the other with claws extended, ready to strike at anything.

John glanced at Bobby, looked him over. "I can make it on my own," he said, grinning a little and wiping up blood from his lip. He smacked Bobby on the back----gently----and limped behind Logan. "Let's go, Icebox. I dunno about you, but I stopped digging this place the moment they said we wouldn't get clean towels every day... but the room service was kickass."