InsaneJournal

In retrospect, perhaps separating from everyone else consciously hadn't been the wisest move on his part. To make matters worse, the fact that he had dashed back up from the underground levels of the school for, of all things, a book was nothing short of idiotic of him. They had all figured out that something was happening to make people disappear, it had been going on for weeks now, and why exactly Luka had gotten it in his head to head back upstairs -- alone -- away from the very epitome of safety in numbers was beyond him, especially now that he stood in the faculty wing of the mansion with that book in his hands just outside his door. Trying to remember why he had wanted this book was impossible, the answer wouldn't come, and he looked left and right up the extent of the hallway on either side of him as though expecting a great big monster to come bounding around the corner here or there and lunge for him, jaws gaping hungrily.

That didn't happen, of course, but the fact that Luka could have sworn he'd heard something didn't exactly put his mind at ease. Standing there by himself, more than a little intimidated by so much empty space, he couldn't bring himself to move. It was a lose-lose situation, one of those classic conundrums that might have made for interesting discussions in his class. But this wasn't a class, he wasn't a character in a movie, and there were no two ways about it: if he did not actively move from the spot where he was standing, then he would not get back downstairs to the Danger Room. He had to start putting one foot in front of the other and actually get himself underway. There was no way he could magically go from Point A to Point B, no matter how much he wished it was possible. Unfortunately his mutation was nowhere near that useful, and so, taking in a deep breath and reminding himself that he was not five years old and therefore not afraid of being by himself, he finally stepped away from his closed door and started walking down the hallway.

It was as he rounded the corner out of the faculty wing that he stopped again, his feet planting as if invisible roots had grown up out of the floor and encased his shoes, trapping him in place. For several seconds he didn't move at all, just stood there staring with eyes slightly wider than normal down the stretch of corridor ahead of him, not even so much as breathing. There, standing at the other end of that next hallway down which he needed to walk in order to reach the staircase to head down to the lobby, stood the unmistakeable figure of Logan. Too clearly Luka remembered the last time he had been in close quarters with Logan, exactly what had happened, and despite the fact that the other man hadn't been in control of his own actions at the time it did nothing to assuage the fear brewing and bubbling away in the pit of the Englishman's stomach. His chest ached in remembrance of the day of the Cure Attacks, a completely psychosomatic sensation but one that Luka felt all the same.

"Um." His throat felt like sandpaper all of a sudden. "I--I was just heading back downstairs."

Logan said nothing, just stood there, arms at his sides, muscular frame motionless as though he were not even breathing, eyes staring straight at Luka. Unsettling to say the least, but Luka told himself there was nothing to worry about. Logan was merely waiting for him, impatient and annoyed that the other man had come back upstairs alone when there was an unknown threat stealing people away without a trace. Understandable. "O-okay, I--" Before Luka could step forward sheepishly, three flawless smooth claws popped out from each of Logan's hands, emerging from between the knuckles without warning. Despite himself, Luka started physically, every muscle tightening in alarm. His hands gripped the book fiercely, reflexively. A tremor ran up his spine.

Everything was fine. Everything was fine.

Logan started walking towards him. His pace quickened. Luka tensed even more, every nerve seeming to coil with that tension, like springs.

Logan started running. Right at him. He snarled.

The book hit the floor with a dull thump and Luka turned and ran, a shapeless cry of terror falling out of his mouth as he moved as fast as his legs could carry him, knowing even as he started running that he didn't stand a chance. Everyone knew that Logan was stronger, faster, better than most mutants at the school, it was part of what made him so formidable, such an invaluable member of the X-Men. Luka was no superior athlete despite being in shape, he was far from the fastest runner, but he had his fear on his side if nothing else. He could hear the rhythmic thud-thud-thud-thud of his pursuer's feet behind him, drawing ever closer, and a risky glance back over one shoulder confirmed what he already knew. Logan was not far behind him, giving chase, six lethal claws exposed and catching the light menacingly.

The hallway down which they ran seemed to drag out forever, impossibly long, but finally Luka reached the corner of it. There would be a hiding place around that corner, somewhere, surely, and that small glimmer of hope drove Luka on, kept him running full-pelt towards the promising bend. When he finally reached it, he careened around it recklessly, hoping beyond hope that his pursuer might slip or skid at the very least, perhaps even crash into the wall; unlikely but that didn't stop Luka from praying it would happen.

Again he was stopped by the unexpected. As soon as he darted around that corner his brakes activated and he came to an awkward, panicked halt with his heart dropping down into his stomach, hair thrown wildly over his brow and temples and into his wide green eyes, mouth dropped open in the middle of an exclamation of surprise that never truly formed. Everything internal seemed to stop working, his lungs blocking up, his throat closing off. There before him, impossibly, stood Logan, eyes locked on Luka's. A ghost of a triumphant smile touched his grim features. The sound of swiftly moving metal sang through the air and then everything froze in the next instant, a single moment dragging out to eternity.

Shock overwhelmed everything else at first, Luka standing there, having barely reacted, almost calm, his eyes still fixed on Logan's. Only when the other man glanced down did Luka do the same, staring at where Logan's fist met his chest. Red blossomed outward from the other man's knuckles, soaking the front of Luka's shirt, spreading in every direction. He felt it mirrored against his back. The sickening familiarity of the moment struck him with disturbing clarity before the pain hit and his lungs screamed against the intrusion, every nerve-ending seeming to blaze white-hot. Luka tried and failed to gasp, clutched awkwardly at Logan's wrist but it pulled away before his hand could meet its mark, claws sliding out of his chest like hot knives carving through butter. The analogy was disturbingly accurate, Luka thought, a strange moment where his brain seemed wholly detached from the situation, it had to be in order to form such musings. That same empty hand rose towards his chest and the three precise wounds beneath his saturated shirt but before he could even touch the wet fabric his knees buckled and he dropped to the floor. Everything went dark before he even felt his back strike the ground.

When his eyes opened and he sucked in a gasp desperately, Luka was certain he could still feel gaping holes in his body, agony radiating from three identical wounds that carved clean through from front to back. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only lay there in the dark of the room trying to fathom what had happened, what was going on, why he was awake at all when he was sure he had felt his heart stop. All he could do was lie there, shaking and completely beyond comprehending, unable to move and seek understanding.