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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm going to be away for a couple of weeks. And while I'll probably have limited net access *crosses fingers*, I won't be able to post any fic. So as this chapter's a bit shorter anyway, I'll make you a deal. I'll post one chapter tonight, and the next in a couple of days, in return for a couple of weeks off. Sound ok?

Also - the title from this one is from the White Stripes song of the same name. It was good fic inspiration!

A heart beat thuds in my ears and pulses sluggishly through my body. Slow and heavy. The sharpness of each breath I take, dulled by it.

Numb.

I blink back the guttering neon lights. Eyes glazing over the flickering shadows as my mind struggles to grip reality; sounds and screams in my head like distant cries that threaten to rip me apart.

Logan?

He’s...he’s...

Fragments of voices reach me. "Is it dead?" A sigh. "Christ what a mess. Take it with the others. No use to us now. Burn it."

I can’t... I ...

What did they do?

Not him.

My fingers twitch.

Not him. Not here.

Not like that.

The voices carry on regardless; sliding under the door to reach me, slick like oil between shreds of thoughts. "Where’s Mason? Damn it. This one was on a capture order as well. Not supposed to finish it."

The words slice through me. Ringing cold in my ears.

"Wasn’t my fault."

"Do you think they care whose fault it was?"

I care.

I fucking care.

I clench my jaw. Refusing to let it tremble. Refusing to let the tears leak out of my eyes. Not him. Knees locking as I slide my shoulders slowly back up the wall, neck scraping on the lab-coat hooks that hang there. I don’t flinch. The pain wakes me. Not him. Upwards until I’m standing. Blankly noticing the cold sweat that trickles down my back. Hair a cloying mesh that sticks to my face. Eyes flickering like the lights as they try to focus on something. Wall. Floor. Broken mirror. Anything. Anything but him. And I breathe, and my heartbeats, and I do everything in my power not to think.

Not him.

My mind struggles with realisation. The thud of a body over and over again in my head. Hand fumbles loosely along the wall. Eyes finally fixing on the door. The one they took him through. The one they that swung shut as they... as they... they...

Oh, God.

It didn’t happen, it didn’t happen. It didn’t. It couldn’t have done. Not like that. Not to him. Not so easily. He wouldn’t let it. He wouldn't FUCKING LET IT!

I choke, struggling desperately to remain upright. Somewhere in the distance a door slams and it jolts right through me. And then I’m trembling, shivering so hard that I feel like I could shatter at any moment, coldness rushing through my head as something roars to life inside me, clawing its way free. Not fear, but something else. Something I can’t control.

Fury.

Cold, hard rage.

It eats everything. It burns through me.

Fumbling hands find the smooth wood of a handle. Leaden as they heft it in front of my face. Re-grip. Test out the balance. Heavy lidded eyes blink, focus.

Smell of warm metal and ashes. Incinerator axe.

Weapon.

I fight to breathe. Fight to slow it down. To slow everything down until the pounding in my ears becomes an occasional thud. To grip the handle. Press my fingers down against the rough and bitten edge until it runs slick with blood and the sting clears my head. To draw in one long deep gasp of air...

Then I stop. Straighten my shoulders.

I hate them.

I. Hate.

They took everything from me.

I’m gonna fucking take it back.



Three long strides get me across the room. One hell of a kick slams the door open on its hinges. One fucking massive swing and ....ooops... poor evil fucked up neat little scientist. I’m armed and you’re not. Did my axe hurt the spine in your back?

The man twitches in surprise as his breath gargles out of him in a bloody foam, dribbling down his chin as he crumples to the floor. He tries to mouth out his last words to me, but I don’t care. There is nothing left in this world for me to care about. Instead I slam the blunt head down again, then I wipe off the blood that’s spattered across my face and I hate them. I hate every last fucking one of them.

I follow the corridors. Sounds jar my ears, but I ignore them. Raw lights blind my eyes, but I don’t blink. I walk with purpose, though I have none. I walk with direction, though I have none of that either. All I have is my fury, and I am gonna ride it until there’s nothing left, or I’m dead. Whatever comes first.

Whitecoats.

I hiss.

They come at me, then one loses an arm and the others scatter. Maybe they think losing an arm is contagious. Could be, y’know. Muscles tense and bunched, I swing again and again, ignoring the chaos. Re-focus. Keep walking. Echoes of training sessions coming in to play. Body remembering techniques and moves. Eyes dilating with new knowledge. The stench of death. The spasms of the dying. Slickness of blood. The handle gripped by white knuckles is slippery with a smearing darkness, but I don’t stop. Not until the hallways grow older. Less sterile. Barred with gates and locks.

Cells.

They keep people here?

My mind flickers back to the room I was hiding in. Rows of preserved bodies. Slices of flesh. So this is where they keep their live test subjects...

Mistake. Big mistake.

Because now I have direction.

I push through the first gate and my boots clatter on the metal walkway. Those that get in my way don’t stay there very long, and when I reach the first of the cages, my axe sparks as it bites through the rusty lock and bar.

The mutant inside looks sickly and pale, huddled in a corner. Part of me, the distant part looking down on all of this with a strange sense of detachment wants to tell them not to worry. The whitecoats won’t be poking around her any more. The whitecoats won’t be poking around anyone anymore.

But it’s not the whitecoats she’s afraid of, is it?

It’s me.

My axe swings again and steel bends with a shriek. I lean my hand casually against the gap I’ve created, sliding it up and down the broken bar. "You want out, sugar?"

The snivelling mess in the corner nods. Barely.

"Well, come here then."

I wait until she’s close enough, ‘till she’s half way between the bars, then I pounce, reaching out with a bare hand, stealing power, stealing energy. Not enough to harm her, no, I’m not like them. But enough to damn well harm them.

I let go quickly. She struggles to breathe for a moment, glacier blue eyes widening in shock. But she’s still standing.

"Payment," I tell her. My voice flat. "You okay?"

She nods briefly, clutching the remnants of her cage for support.

I can already feel the new energy running through me. "Night vision?"

Again. She nods.

"Excellent."

My next axe strike kills the lights.

Next one is much easier. The lock’s so old, it’s almost broken. It’s not exactly functional anyway. The occupant of the cell is well and truly chained against the far wall. It snarls. Blunt red hair a tangled mess down its muscled back.

I heft the axe up onto one shoulder. "Yeah, growl all you like, big boy. The only way you’re getting out of those? Is through me."

I reach out and touch. Suck in the life-force until stolen power swims giddily around my mind. Heightened senses. Increased strength. Filthy temper. I roar as I slam my axe down through the chain binding him, smirk as he charges off to hunt down his captors.

Go. Get them.

Next is a telepath. He knows what I want before I even get there and holds a hand outside the cage for payment. A bargain. I take as much of him in as I can manage, before setting him after the others.

After that the prisoners all blur into one. Water-breather, earth-mover, shield, teleporter, pyro, shifter, conductor. They’re all the same. They’re all ragged lumps of people that scrabble away in fear and awe. That scream when I steal from them. That hobble away as fast as their pathetic legs can carry them when I let them go. Before they get mixed up in the next wave of whitecoats and guards. Before I turn them to dust.

Axe bites into sinew and bone, and I leave it behind. I don’t need it any more. Instead I use my hands. They bend, they break. They burn. And no matter what they throw at me they can’t fucking stop me. Ha! No one can fucking stop me!

"Ya HEAR THAT!" I snarl, flicking my stolen shields up. "You can’t fucking STOP ME!"

I don’t even need to fight them with my hands anymore. I fight with my mind. Bodies crumpling soundlessly. Walls collapse. Blood and dust breathe the thick air and they run. Those that are left. They all fucking run.

"Cowards!" I yell at their backs. But it’s not them that interests me. Instead, I move on to the next cage, sliding the lock with my mind. It opens with an oiled clunk, and the girl inside’s ready.

"You the last?" I say, as I grip her hand.

She winces, struggles with it. "No," she manages through her teeth. "One more. At the end."

I cut short by way of thanks. "Good. Follow the others." I don’t wait to see if she does as I say.

Cages are empty this end. If she hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have bothered looking this far, but I read her mind, she was telling the truth.

I listen for signs of life. Instincts ruling. Picking up scent. Yes, one more. I can smell it from here. Faint heartbeat too. Weak. Pathetic.

My eyes slide off the thick metal bars of the final cage. I blink and the lock's crushed like paper. The door flung open. "Come on." I don’t bother being nice. No time.

But the pile of rags huddled in the corner doesn’t move. I would think it dead if my senses didn’t know better.

"I know you’re still alive. You want out? This is your one chance. Not coming back for you, sugar." I glance over my shoulder as I say it. Eyes seeking out the exit, judging my next move, planning ahead.

It’s only when they fall back to the pathetic heap in front of me that I falter.

The head lifts up to look at me. Only he can’t see. His eyes are stitched shut.

For a moment my energy falters, and I feel like all the breath’s been kicked out of me.

"Scott?"
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