A\N: This is me abusing the X-Men universe. I have crazy hots for Hugh Jackman as Wolverine and I need to let it out.

Chapter 1: The Great Escape

Medea woke up with a start. Cold sweat covered her skin, her breath hitched and her heart was beating with abandon. She appeared as if she was awoken from a horrid nightmare, except for the tiny, dangerous curve of her lips. In her dream, she was in Iraq again with her old crew. Her family. Almost dying in a dream was far less terrifying than almost dying in real life, on a mission, but she was not so scared to face death in either. To be honest, she actually missed it. Missed the thrill, missed her friends. Especially Goose. She really missed him. Shrugging off her memories, Medea went about her daily routine, checking the control room for any technical issues that could have raised during the night shift. Then she proceeded to her office, and spent a few hours reviewing and refactoring some of the code for the cameras surveillance software.

Medea attended lunch, sitting with two of her colleagues, and tried to shove food down her throat even though her body was threatening to reject it. She needed to keep casual appearance for less than 12 hours. And then, over 20 years of work would come to fruition. Whoever said revenge was a dish better served cold was definitely right, and tonight she was about to taste the nectar of the gods. Tonight, was fucking pay day. Medea thought of her mother, dead, and her brother, in a cryogenic cell. She remembered them young and happy. They were still young. Forever young.

Everything she needed was secure in a server thousands of miles away, and she could reach it through her phone. The facility was infected with malware for months without anyone noticing, partially because she was a member of the cyber-security team, and tonight it was about to unlock the cells of each and every mutant that was held forcefully. Medea took a deep inhale. Her father tended to over-drink lately, and she was hoping tonight would be one of those nights were he would drown himself in liquor. Having him out of the picture would significantly increase the chances of success.

Medea looked at her father with slightly hollow eyes, an expression she adopted to strengthen his belief that she was utterly unremarkable and plain. She nodded at the right timing, signaling that she was indeed listening, but did not contribute any valuable opinion or intelligent commentary. Medea inwardly cringed at the thought that her greatest talent was pretending to be tragically bleak.

Medea let her expression naturally morph to apologetic, while searching her pockets frantically. "I think I forgot my phone in lab 13. I'll be right back."

Her father gave her a prolonged stare that said everything. Medea would like to think she could spot there disdain and disappointment, but her father was far too apathetic and detached when it came to her, to feel such strong emotions. Medea quickly made her way to the lab, where she intentionally left her phone, not risking being caught lying. It was lunch break, so the lab should be empty, but she had a plan for distracting whoever was in there. Fortunately, it was empty when she arrived.

Medea picked her phone from one of the metal desks, and grinned at the camera that was nearest. How unfortunate it was that most cameras in the lab were currently dysfunctional. It would take them an awful lot of time to realize it was her doing, and by then, she would be someone else, somewhere else, far far away. Medea averted her eyes to the Adamantium cage, holding their most deadly and uncontrollable mutant. He arrived just a few weeks ago and he fit into her plan perfectly.

The other mutants had spent way too long in the facility. Medea suspected they were too accustomed to being imprisoned and that their reaction will be slow, or they might even stay in their cages out of fear and hopelessness. But that mutant in the cage, he was a fighter, a survivor. Her father had been trying to break him into submission since the operation, but to no avail. Medea might had something to do with it. The was nothing like reminding a man what he once was, to inspire him to fight for what he might become.

His name was Logan. He kept holding onto that thought. Despite whatever lies Stryker tried to sell him. He could not remember anything past the last few weeks, maybe snippets of memories here and there. But not enough to contradict anything Stryker said. And yet, his name was Logan. He was not created in that lab, he was not called the Wolverine, he was not an animal. His name was Logan.

A week after he woke up in that cage, he found a dog-tag in one of the corners. He kept it hidden under a piece of concrete he clawed out from the cell's floor. Later on, there was a photo of two young men. He stared at it for hours, trying to figure out what it was. He recognized the taller man in the picture. It was the same beefy guy who hang around Stryker, and occasionally teased him. That man, Victor, took exceptional pleasure in tormenting him, as if he was personally and emotionally invested in it. And then one time when they took him out of his cage, in chains, to wash him with a hose, like a dog, he managed to steal a quick look at his reflection in the glass. And he realized with horror, that the second man in the photo was him.

He did not have much time to ponder on it. They were experimenting on him every day. Or at least, every day he was conscious. His claws could pierce through nearly anything, except for the metal they were made of. And Stryker very efficiently insured that Logan's powers were useless. Chains, cuffs, ropes, cages, all from Adamantium. His meals and his showers were handled by machines, executed by moving metal parts that he could not subdue. When he was awake he was either in his cage, or in a fighting ring, or strapped to an operating table. He did his best to memorize how he got to any of these places, but he was only partially successful in doing so.

The only people that interacted with him were Stryker and Victor. The staff was ordered not to speak to him. The others mutants in the lab were held in tanks, unconscious. There was young girl in uniform that came from time to time to fix things, and she would steal a glance at him when no one was looking, but she never said a word. He saw her with Stryker more than once, and rumor among the staff said they were related. When she came alone, she would stare at one of the cryogenic cells, her fists clenched and body rigid, before proceeding with her work. She would usually peek at him just before leaving, and what he saw in her eyes puzzled him. A spark of defiance and hope and determination that he could not find in himself anymore.

There was pain. Daily. Fights, on weekly basis. Constant abuse, degradation. Calling him a filthy animal, a test subject, a failed experiment. And Logan would have believed it eventually, if it was not for the tiny hints that were dropped from time to time, reminding him that he was more. A week ago, it was hard to estimate the time, there was that note. The hand writing was clear, beautifully curved. Girly.

"Your name is Logan. You were born a free man. And soon, you will be a free man once again."

He destroyed the note immediately. For whatever reason, these few words awoken something dormant deep inside of him. He had dreams every night afterwards, slivers of his possible past. He woke up a few days ago and knew Victor was his brother. Logan was smart enough to know he should keep that knowledge to himself. But it became harder and harder when more visions of his brother pieced together. There was also a woman, he could not recall much about her, but those thoughts, unlike all the others, were tender.

The young technician returned to the lab. He saw her earlier that day. She picked up her phone from one of the desks, and then she started walking in his direction. Up close, he could see her eyes were green, bright with something that was borderline crazy. She always seemed meek, almost spineless, especially around Stryker where she appeared even smaller than she already was. But when she positioned herself right in front of him, curling her fingers around the Adamantium bars, Logan wondered if he misjudged her.

Baring his teeth, his expression feral by default, he snarled at her. "What do you want, kid?"

She did not seem impressed by his intimidating behavior, she actually had the guts to roll her eyes at him. Logan growled at the impudent girl. If she was not in uniform, he would assume she was a teenager, with her short military haircut and the amorphous figure under the baggy uniform.

"Your cage will be opened at midnight. Three minutes later, the others, in the east wing, will be released." She said very quietly, knowing full well he can still hear her. "You'll have about 5 minutes while the guard changes. Someone should be waiting for you outside."

His eyes narrowed as she spoke, doubting her integrity. When she averted her gaze momentarily to that cryogenic cell again, Logan could not tell if she picked up his suspicion from his features, or if it was an action performed out of habit. It was hosting a boy who seemed no older than kindergarten, with pale skin and dark hair. Her blank expression flattered for a second, and Logan could tell that whoever that boy was, he was awfully significant to her. She turned around and left without another word.

Logan stared into the space where the girl had been a few moments ago. He had seen her around quite often, and by now, he knew who she was - Stryker's daughter. He would have never guessed, with Stryker's indifferent and impersonal treatment of her and the lack of resemblance in their features, but the staff talked. After their little chat, and assuming she did not deceive him, he could definitely see the similarity. She was cunning, cold-blooded and clever. And cute too, but it was besides the point and had nothing to do with her father.

Logan unsheathed his claws and leisurely sharpened them against each other. He was locked here for quite some time, and despite his impatient temper, he decided he could wait a few more hours. When the digital clock on the wall opposite to him showed four glowing zeros, he heard a soft click. As he pushed the bars, they slid with no resistance, and he was out. The only scientist in the lab was not quick enough to scream before Logan slit his throat, and as promised, the heavy metal doors at the lab's entrance were unlocked as well.

He had two more minutes to reach the east wing, and considering he was facing no resistance since the guards were in briefing, he would make it just on time. He was conscious enough when they dragged him around from one lab to the other, to memorize a good portion of the facility. Logan heard the simultaneous clicks of dozen locks when he stepped into the east wing. A blond woman tentatively pushed the bars, and her cage was opened. The rest followed quickly, their heads turning to stare at him.

"Let's get moving." He growled, and began leading them outside, guided by fractured memories.

And then, naturally, Victor showed up. "Are you leaving without saying goodbye, little brother?"

Logan groaned. "Take the others and get out." He told the blond woman behind him, while his claws came protruding between his knuckles. In the background, he could hear soldiers yelling and a steady thumping rhythm of running.

Victor launched himself at him, in a movement Logan's muscles remembered too well, and was able to evade easily. He could hear the soldiers getting closer, just as a siren began, and the door behind him, leading further into the facility, locked down. Narrowing his eyes at his older brother, Logan was going for the kill this time. Victor made another attempt at him, which Logan blocked and slashed Victor across his chest, drawing blood. Victor crouched on the ground, preparing for his next attack.

"That's a nice upgrade, Jimmy." Victor said, pointing at his Adamantium claws.

Logan lunged forward, taking Victor to the ground and rolling around in fight for dominance. Victor was just as skilled in hand to hand as Logan was, and he threw Logan off, managing a proper kick to his stomach. Enraged, Logan attacked again. This time, Victor did not foresee the maneuver, and Logan had thrown him against the wall, and with a quick motion his left hand claws were embedded in Victor's chest. His other hand was at Victor's throat, claws scrapping his skin.

"Do it." Victor whispered, teasing.

Logan hesitated. And then a shot was heard. Logan winced as it hit his shoulder, and punched Victor with his unhurt arm, sending him into unconsciousness. Turning around, he saw Stryker, standing between him and the large metal doors that led to his freedom. Stryker pulled the trigger again and the next shot got him in the chest, bringing him to his knees. Logan moaned in pain, these bullets were different. Stryker took long, confident strides towards him, pointing the gun at Logan's head.

"Say goodbye to your memory, Logan, again." Stryker said gleefully.

Logan heard the shot, but did not feel the hit. Instead, Stryker, eyes wide with surprise, was staring at someone slightly to his left. Blood stained his uniform, as he brought a disbelieving hand to his chest.

"It was all you..." Stryker whispered, before collapsing to the ground, motionless.

Stryker's daughter seemed eerily calm with her gun still pointed at her father's corpse. The loud noises of soldiers banging on the door behind him reminded Logan he still had to get out of there. The girl remained frozen and Logan realized her restrained expression was actually shock. Jumping to his legs, he grabbed her by the waist and ran out of the facility.

A few hundred meters from the facility's exit, an aerial vehicle awaited, while the mutants boarded. Without looking back, Logan jumped in, just as it was taking off.

"What the hell are you doing?" A young boy exclaimed. "She is the daughter of that monster Stryker!"

Logan gave him a scathing glare. "She can be the daughter of Lucifer for all I care. She is the one who unlocked all the cages."

A few gasps were heard and a wave of whispering began, with everyone watching the young girl still in his arms. He placed her on the bench besides him, watching her carefully. She looked pale as a ghost, and she shaking.

"Are you alright, kid?" Logan asked, although it was quite clear she was not.

"I don't know. I just killed my father. Should I be?" She replied with a hoarse voice. She closed her eyes for a long moment, leaning her elbows on her knees, trying to control her breathing.

"So, you were our inside contact." Said a young man, shuffling his cards. "The infamous Medea Stryker."

"Medea Andersen. I don't go by Stryker anymore." The girl replied quietly. Her breath hitched suddenly, and she grasped her head in her hands. Logan could hear the softest whimper come out of her.

He placed his hand on her shoulder, awkwardly. "I'm fine. I just get these headaches..." She said in a small voice.

Logan noticed everyone was still staring at them. "Show's over, let the girl rest." He growled, glaring at the lot of them. He noticed how she gripped her head tighter, making the veins visible in her hands. He could smell the cold sweat on her skin, and feel the light tremor of her shoulders. Logan knew pain too well, and it was easy for him to spot it in others. And this girl was agonizing.

"Hi, poker boy. Do you have any pain relievers?" Logan asked the hatted guy that addressed Medea before.

"Nope. But we would arrive in about an hour. Jean will take care of her then." The card master replied.

Logan noticed how her breathing became more shallow, but was frustratingly unable to help her. A young girl, not much older than 10, stepped forward. "I...I can put her to sleep, if you'd like." She offered shyly.

"Do it."

The tinny brunette raised her hand, letting it hover right above Medea's head. In a split second Medea's body became limp, and had his reflexes not forced him to act, she would have collapsed to the floor. Logan caught her just in time, pulling her upper body to rest on his lap, with her legs stretched on the bench. Unconsciously, his fingers soothingly ran through her short hair.