Lower levels of Waldorf Astoria hid the ugly and gritty world of maintenance from the guests. Janitors, room service, housekeeping, kitchen, waste disposal… Each and every one of them quite essential in maintaining the façade of luxury, yet something that had to be hidden from delicate eyes of customers. Now they were as abandoned as the upper levels. Machines were still silently humming.
“Generators. I don’t know how long they’ll last, but at least for now we can get a warm meal,” Logan said.
“Is it safe to stay here?” Marie asked.
“Probably not. But we really have no choice. You need to get better before we can get going. If we stay out of sight and try not to spike up energy consumption we should be okay. They’re tapping in to main grid, there’s still enough juice left. They’re probably not going to bother with generators before the last power station falls. Probably.”
“So if we’re lucky they’re not going to find us? I like those odds,” Marie said, then turned to look at the doors that lead to kitchen.
“Hungry?” Logan asked. She nodded.
“Do you know how to cook?” Logan asked. She shrugged her shoulders.
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out…”
It soon became apparent that even Logan with his less than stellar skills by the stove was more competent, and they ended up eating slightly burnt eggs and charred bacon. Marie found several cartons of orange juice concentrate, but it was frozen, so they ate it as a dessert.
“That was probably the best meal I have ever had,” Marie said. Logan shook his head.
“Don’t. Don’t go there, kid. You’re acting as if your life is over.”
“It isn’t? Take a look around. There’s nothing left. We’re just running to buy time, but eventually we’re going to get caught.”
“No. We’re going to find out where Stryker is keeping Timmy, and we’re going to make that kid repair everything he broke,” Logan said. Marie looked at him like he just grew second head on his shoulders.
“You’re talking like we’re living on a giant sandbox, and you’re going to seek out the mean boy who broke your sand castle and make him to build a new one.”
“Yeah. That’s the basic plan. All we have to do is to get Timmy free and he’ll be able to twist the reality back on the right tracks.”
“What makes you think that Timmy wants to do it? What makes you think that this isn’t something that he’s wanted to do all along?” Marie asked. For that Logan had no answer. That was the possibility he hadn’t been willing to speak out loud, it wasn’t something that happened. Little ten year old mutants weren’t hell-bent to destroy the world and end the lives of millions of people, right?
“It has to be Stryker. I won’t believe that Timmy’s that skewed. He’s just a kid…” He started.
“Just listen to yourself! What happens if we find Timmy and we aren’t prepared for that possibility? What are you going to do if he’s behind this? Slap him on the wrist and tell him not to do it again? Hope that a lollypop would persuade him to turn back the time? There’s a good chance that I really have to kill him!” Marie interrupted.
“That’s the fever talking, kid. We better get some sleep. We’ve been running for days, it’s no wonder that we’re wound up. I’ll see if there’s a cot in that employee lounge next door…”
There was one bed, surprisingly comfortable couch and a set of chairs and a table. He lid on the couch, giving Marie the opportunity to enjoy sleeping in a real bed. At first she kept complaining that the sheets smelled funny, but she fell asleep quite quickly. That left Logan some free time to mull things over.
She very well could be right. If Stryker had warped Timmy’s mind enough, this all could be Timmy’s doing. He had hard time believing that even Stryker was willing to go this far just to get rid of mutants. Stryker’s agenda was to gain human superiority; he hadn’t been aiming for complete annihilation and apocalypse. Timmy had lashed out and things had spiraled out of hands.
He turned to look at the sleeping girl. Sacrificing her for the good of the world? It perhaps was the wisest strategy, but was he ready to let go of her? He had a distinct feeling that the fragile connection that had formed during passing days they had spent together was just the tip of an iceberg. There was something… Something buried underneath this all, a strong connection. She felt like…
“Soul. Life,” He whispered in to darkness, and then cringed. He was talking about a girl he had met only couple of years back when she was just an awkward and gawky teenager. Truth to be told she hadn’t changed much from that, but there still was that strange connection he felt with her. Like he had been meant to find her.
Rain was still pelting the small windows at the upper part of the wall. Heavy torrents blurred what was visible of the grey and dead world out there. Was she right about that, too? Was this all futile? Last losing battle before the inevitable death? Was he only postponing the end?
“No.” She had to be wrong. Otherwise they could just get up right now and go outside and wait for it all to be over. And that wasn’t an option for him. He wasn’t going to give up. Not when there still was a chance to revert this, when there still was a chance to go back and live a life that he was meant to live. He didn’t know what that life was, but somehow it was connected with the girl.
He turned on his side so he could keep his eyes on her. Darkness veiled the fact that she was ill. She was just a girl, sleeping after long day. His eyes drifted shut, but he could still see her in his mind’s eye…
It was early Sunday morning. Kids were outside; he could hear them through open window. Currently they were trying to dare the youngest of the siblings to eat a bug of sorts as a dare. He closed his ears from their bickering and turned his attention to his wife. She was still asleep. Or at least pretending to be. He wasn’t completely sure. But there was a way to find out. All he had to do was to pull off the cover and…
Loud clap of thunder woke him up. Dream had been strange, but pleasant. He couldn’t remember details of it, but judging from the warm feeling inside of his chest life had been good.
He could hear clatter from the kitchen. Then a string of curses that would have made a crude sailor to blush. Some more clatter, then a loud bang. He stretched his muscles and took a whiff from the scent that was floating in the air. Pancakes? She was baking pancakes? Judging from the instant growl and murmur of his stomach he had actually slept longer than he thought.
When the noise from the kitchen rose to a level where he started to wonder if Techs would hear it he got up and went to investigate. Maybe pancake-breakfast was salvageable after all?
Sight that greeted him when he pushed open the kitchen door made him blink. Twice.
Entire kitchen was covered with thin sheen of flour. Tables were full of pots and pans. Various books lay open here and there. He crouched quickly to avoid lethal projectile, tin can of pineapple that obviously refused to sway under Marie’s command. Tin can exploded to the wall right above his head, spilling the sweet contents all over the kitchen floor.
“What the hell are you doing?” He asked slightly annoyed, grabbing a towel from the rack on the wall and trying to clean up the mess, more out of habit than necessity. They weren’t going to stay long and there really was no need to leave the place pristine. Sooner or later it would be destroyed.
“What does it look like? I’m making breakfast”, Marie said.
“Looks more like the third world war. It’s food. And it’s already dead. No need to kill it again, kid.”
“Yes, chef! Why don’t you give it a try if you’re so great at it?” She hissed and showed a bowl of pancake mix in to his hands.
“I tried making it from the scratch, but all the eggs I found were rotten. I found this from the lobby. But it’s the last package, so be careful with it.”
“You went in to lobby?” Logan asked worried, only now noticing her new clothes.
“I was careful. And I got some new clothes for you, too. And raincoats for us. And…”
“You should have told me. We could have gone together. What would have you done if something happened?” Logan asked, more worried than angry.
“Nothing happened. And we can go there again. There’s tons of stuff just waiting to be picked up. I didn’t know what we need, so I just took the most obvious and…”
“We’re not going anywhere. I’m going alone. You’re going to stay here and finish making these pancakes,” Logan said, handed her the bowl he had been holding and stormed out from the kitchen.
Previously he had been too tired to even think about supplies, but now… This kind of hotels had shops in the lobby. Those shops were prepared to make even strangest requests of the customers true. Marie’s idea of raincoats was a good one. With any luck he’d find a tent and other camping supplies as well and they wouldn’t have to worry over weather anymore.
He tried to be reasonable and gather only the absolute necessities, they’d have to carry everything on their backs and weight was an issue. For reasons unknown to him he added on top of his chosen supplies several packages of chocolate, miniature bottles of quality booze, cigars and several lace and sports bra’s that he believed to be the size that would fit for Marie. Only much later, many hours after they’d left the Waldorf Astoria would he realize that he had forgotten good Cuban cigars that waited for him there at plain sight, still in pristine condition in the humidor near the cashier’s desk.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000