He should have killed him. He should have rammed his claws so deep into the bastard’s chest Jeanie got heartburn. The imagery of that brought a slanted grin to his face. So much for Storm’s sales pitch that Summer’s didn’t still blame him for Xavier’s death. Hell, he was already geared up to blame him for this Rogue’s cold body too. Why he just drove off and let the little twerp get away with talking to him like that he had no clue. Maybe all that whiskey finally started to rot his brain. Or maybe his age was just starting to catch up with him. Whatever the reason he didn’t want to go a round with the tight-ass. Again, too many memories. A problem he never thought he would have.
But he had to push One-Eye’s up coming form of agonizing death away for now and concentrate on finding this kid since he was going to have to get creative. The instant he first stepped out onto the wet soil he realized his mistake. He had no clue what the girl smelled like. Didn’t grab a damn thing from her room like he meant to, fucking Summers. He spent at least an hour just pacing the paved bike trail near the lake, trying to pick up a scent. There were twenty or so, all fairly fresh, and none that screamed out, “Hey! I’m a mutant!”
So the trail was out. The glow in the dark motor mouth said she liked the sunrise over the lake. The closer he moved to the soggy bank the deeper his boots sunk down into the mud. He was a heavy man and his weight was working against him like everything else.
“God damn---” He muttered, trying to pull his boot out of the vacuum sealed mud. The sooner he got back up North the better. A few more choice words were about to come out when a distinct smell wafted past his nose a stopped him. Sewage. Another sniff. Sewage and clovers. A scent he could tract for miles.
“Toad,” he growled.
**
That didn’t go as planned. In fact, it pretty much had to go right up there with that time her and Jubilee tried to liven up the Macy’s Fourth of July fireworks show. Really, it should have worked. It was classic captive maneuver. Play dead until the guard comes to check on you then attack when they get close enough. Scott would have given her at least a B- for effort. Alright, who was she kidding she’d been lucky to get out with a D+ and a fifteen minute lecture.
The problem was this was not a danger room simulation and she had very little moveable body to attack with. And Toad was not getting anywhere close to her. She loved her Sunday morning jogs because she could go out in little shorts and a sports bra—like a normal girl—and feel the cool morning air chill the sweat on her skin.
Backfire. Instead of coming within reach of her poisonous display the scaly bastard poked her relentlessly in the thigh with a fucking stick. There’s only so long a person can pretend to be out while being poked. She’d been tied up for what she guessed was three days, probably closer to four now. Hell it could have been a month. No water since a few days ago after she made some comment about his mother. No food ever. And Rogue was famous for nothing if not her healthy appetite and her short temper.
So when the stick mistakenly poked at her hands she grabbed it and pulled. She was a strong girl and he was very small so Toad went flying over her, crashing somewhere in the darkness. She didn’t particularly care, besides hopefully on his head. Getting to her knees was easy, pushing to her feet from there not so much, but she managed. Standing she could get a better look at where she was. A warehouse or something? Of course, it was the Brotherhood. They liked warehouses for some reason. Directly in front of her was a short wall she could see over. A few hops closer to it and she could see down. A loft. Not too high. Maybe. Six feet give or take a small child.
Toad’s screeching voice yelled “Hey!” in the distance. Sure, there was probably a better way down. But her damn thighs and feet were tied together so it wasn’t like she was ladder worthy or anything anyway. What was six little feet? A couple more hops got her to the wall. And a short prayer and a rolling leap got her over it.
The plan could have worked had there been anything softer than railroad ties under the loft. And there are a lot of things softer than railroad ties so statistics should have been on her side. But she hated math and it obviously hated her too as she was fairly sure she heard at least one bone break. Going by feel was out because her whole body basically felt like a still vibrating gong. She started to celebrate the small victory that her head hadn’t taken a direct hit. It wasn’t until she heard Toad’s God awful laughter that it official became the worse idea ever.
**
He had to give Toad credit. He was making things easier for him than he originally thought. The little snot was either moving in some kind of open air vehicle or he drove with the window down the whole way because he left a blazing trail down the wooden New York back roads. It was just a little too easy. It could be a trap set up just for him or it could just be that Toad really was one hell of an idiot. But he didn’t let his usual paranoia set too far in. It didn’t make since for the Brotherhood to set up a trap that would only work on him when he hadn’t been an X-Man in five years. And Toad was a moron. At least he hadn’t caught a whiff of Creed so far. If it was for him Creed would be involved.
He’d been driving for just over forty-eight hours, only stopping at a questionable looking burger place to grab something to eat and a short nap in the bed in the back that was really nothing more than a cot with a blanket. The van might not have been much of a looker but he gave it credit, it was a much more comfortable ride than his bike. With the window down he could lean against the door and get plenty of the oncoming air by without having to worry about bugs. The thing didn’t have any of the standard X-Tech on it, though. He’d already pressed all of the buttons and pulled all of the levers- no super charger or radar. Just an average of piece of shit with a crappy radio.
It looked like he had a while to drive yet, still nothing but trees lining the roadside. In the distance he heard a train horn. At least that was something.
**
“Real genius you are,” Toad giggled.
Rogue squirming as he dragged her across the cold concrete floor. The rope tied around her foot chaffed (how damn ropes did the freak have on him?) and her ankle didn’t appreciate having to haul her whole weight but at least the manphibian didn’t tie it around her broken leg. Besides, it’s not like she could disagree with him.
“Sooner or later ya slimy little ass is gonna be mine,” she hissed at him anyway. There was no point being mad at her when he was still lurking around.
A yellow, toothy grin spread across his face. “Yeah? I’d like to see that, girly. You’re going to kill yourself before Magneto even gets to you.”
She sat up then, considering it a challenge. Her butt scooting hurt more than being dragged but she quickly grabbed the rope and pulled it to her chest before she thought better of that plan too. He gasped and lost his balance, tripping up on her feet and falling backwards. His slight frame landing on her chest wasn’t enough to knock the air out of her but his memories quickly flashing past her eyes was more than uncomfortable enough. She managed to roll him off of her and then further away herself.
“Aw…gross,” Rogue whined, looking down at the large amount of green skin she had on display. Both her and her captor laid on their backs in the middle of the floor, an exciting party to be sure. As she studied the corrugated steel of the roof she tried to come up with a plan B before her temporary twin woke up. There was a reason she was a front-line fighter, not a strategist.
**
“Fuck!” He swore, slamming the car into park. He’d lost Toad’s distinctive stench. The whole van rocked against the force of the slamming door. The few people walking around the small town main street sent him a collective cult glare but he had bigger issues.
Toads scent didn’t just disappear. If the road cut straight through the tiny town like it was suppose to he wouldn’t have a problem. But of course it had to split into a four way at the town square. His trail was being covered by the typical small town scents and a heavy blanket of coal and soot. Enough of it that he wagered the entire population had lung cancer. On top of everything the sun was dropping on his third official day of tracking. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it probably meant town activity would drop and some of the blocking scents would move on. But mostly it just made him want to head into the little bar across the street with half the light blubs burnt out on their sign.
He felt in his pocket for his cigar. He lit it and enjoyed the first long drag, soothing smoke filling his lungs. Blowing out the smoke he made his way across the street. If the girl survived this long a few more hours wouldn’t hurt.
**
She had to get out of there. There had to be something on the wall or the floor she could use to cut the ropes. She was an X-Man. She was resourceful. She was totally screwed if she didn’t figure out something by Friday. According to the lump of frog still comatose beside her that’s when Sabretooth was coming to ‘collect’ her. Whatever the hell that meant. Nothing good was a safe guess.
Her neck was cramping from straining it in an attempt to look around her surroundings so she let it fall back onto the ground. Yeah, she was pretty screwed. At least her skin wasn’t green anymore.
**
“Beer. Molsen’s. Whiskey chaser.” The bartender immediately jumped to fetch his order as he settled onto the stool. It was a decent place, all and all. More high class than he was use to, considering the place had more than two lights hanging from the ceiling. The music was too loud for his taste and the locals were playing just a little too much attention to him but they kept to themselves beside that. And the bartender was fast.
He nodded his thanks and downed the whiskey first. The cool mouth of the beer bottle touched his lips when his ears picked up “seen that freak around here lately?” in a hushed whisper at the far end of the bar.
“No. Got my handgun on me just in case, though.”
The amber liquid slid easily down his throat as he tried to listen to filter the conversation from the increasing background noise.
“Mutants. I swear they’re getting more disgusting by the day. Did you see its skin?”
“Skin? What about those yellow eyes half popped out of his head?”
Gotcha, Wolverine thought setting the empty bottle down. Another reason why he always followed his instincts. Just because they usually led him to a stool didn’t mean they weren’t as sharp as ever. The bartender came over but he shook him off and moved down the bar to the two men. They were both young, mid-twenties he figured. The age of trigger happy idiots.
“Boys,” he greeted, gaining their attention.
One of them shot him a searching look. “Something we can do for you, man?”
Logan smirked. “No. But there’s something I can do for you.” Confusion danced across their faces as he leaned closer. “I hear you got a mutant problem.”
One of the boy’s eyes went wide as the color dripped from his face. It was just the reaction he was looking for. But his companion—typical, the one carrying a gun—just leaned back on his stool and glared at him.
“And how would you hear a thing like that?”
Smartass little prick, Logan thought. He shrugged though, leaning back again against the bar. “My hearing’s good. I happen to be a mutant hunter, heard rumors there was one running around these parts. You two got any good information?”
Rambo’s face only got more skeptical, but his buddy took the bait. “One started showing up about a week ago. Ugly son of a bitch.”
Logan grinned. “Aren’t they all?”
“This one takes the cake. Like the swamp thing or something.”
The other one snorted and looked Logan up and down, sizing him up. It was all he could do to suppress the growl. “And you’re going go after him?” He asked skeptically.
“You got it, bub.” Just a rumble low in his chest. “It’s what I do.”
“There’s an old lumber yard to the east, about thirty miles outside of town,” his buddy offered up, completely oblivious of the tension between the other two. “A few guys think he’s hiding out there.”
Logan grunted in some semblance of a thanks. Really it was just a dismissal of them now that he had what he needed. He’d start heading east. His nose should be able to pick up Toad’s scent again to get a better pinpoint.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
There's probably one too many typos but I wanted to make sure I got this up today.