I don't usually incorporate songs into my fics, but I couldn't pass this one up.
(Barenaked Ladies "When I Fall")
I look straight in the window,
Try not to look below Pretend I'm not up here,
Try counting sheep
But the sheep seem to shower,
Off this office tower It's nine point eight straight down
Can't stop my knees
I wish I could fly
From this building, from this wall And if I should try,
Would you catch me if I fall?
"It was quite a sight for New Yorkers, who get their fair share of 'sights.' Less than fifteen minutes ago, a large, blonde mutant with claws had decimated two unknown mutants, believed to be members of the outlaw X- Men. Upon realizing they may have been outmatched, the purported X-Men disappeared, prompting their antagonist to give chase. To a city that once played host to Galactus, this might seem like a slow news day, but apparently the drama continues as the clawed mutant, now confirmed to be the wanted murderer Sabretooth, has confronted his attackers on a roof not too far from the site of the original battle. We go now, live, to our Eye- In-The-Sky—"
When the television screen switched to an aerial view, Charles Xavier tensed. But as appalling a sight as he witnessed, he could not bear to remove his gaze from the horror before him. One by one, Sabretooth was mauling his students. Miles from the action, Xavier, along with all of New York, had the best seat in the house.
Henry McCoy had been in his lab since debriefing the X-Men and sending them into the field. His was the unenviable task of confirming that the rather large quantities of blood found in the Summers' boathouse did, in fact, belong to Mrs. Grey-Summers. He entered the Professor's ready room cleaning his bifocals. "Well, Professor," Beast began, "we've never had reason to doubt Logan before—Stars and Garters! Bobby!" He hurried to the television to watch in horror as his best friend had large chucks of ice ripped and clawed away from his body.
("Logan?"), called the Professor. ("Where the devil are you?!")
("Elevator was taking to flamin' long. If certain people wouldn't BOTHER me, I could get there faster!")
("Logan, you should know he's on the roof, tearing your fellow X-Men to pieces—quite literally, I'm afraid.")
("Don't gimme that tone, Chuck! I TOLD YOU they had no business going up against Creed! He's—")
("And does knowing this help you in any way right now, Logan?")
("It could'a. Now, git outta my head, Chuck. You ain't gonna like the next few minutes.")
Logan's words ran through Charles' thoughts for a few moments. He was right. This could have been avoided had they merely listened to Logan, and he didn't like it. It isn't often the man belittles his teammates, at least not recently. His gruff nature was a warning, but interpreted as mistrust of his compatriot's abilities. How had this all gone sour so swiftly?
"OH MY GOD!"
Xavier had been too distracted by his thoughts. "What is it, Hank?" he questioned.
Hank never responded. Indeed, he needn't have bothered. For there it was, plain as day, on the television screen. Logan had apparently tackled Creed off the roof of an office building in downtown New York.
"Hank, prepare the med lab," Xavier commanded. When Beast remained still, he continued ", NOW! We haven't much time!"
The Beast bounded out of the ready room, clearly shocked, leaving the Professor alone with his thoughts. Unable to help himself, he pulled his hoverchair closer to the monitor. He watched closely as his student—his friend—locked himself in battle with his greatest enemy while gravity, cruel mistress that she is, called them down.
Back in New York, Logan and Creed did not make a single offensive move towards each other. They each held tight to the other's costume. Logan, despite his healing factor, wanted to make sure Creed landed first. Creed, on the other hand, merely wanted to make certain that Nightcrawler never had a chance to teleport Logan away.
"WHERE'S JEAN?!?" Logan interrogated. Nine-inch Adamantium claws erupted from his forearms, piercing Creed's upper torso.
"Last time we tried this," Creed taunted, "I was the first to my feet."
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER??" Logan kept stabbing at Creed's neck and head.
Oblivious to Logan's questions, Creed continued, "'Course, that was only, what, five stories? This building here is about twelve times that height!"
Logan pulled his arm back for a thunderous blow. "I'M GONNA KILL YO—"
CHINK!
Logan looked down at the entry wound his claws made, just at the base of Victor Creed's neck. Creed's new Adamantium skeleton now blocked Logan's claws from delivering the killing blow.
"You can't kill me, runt," Creed mocked. "You had plenty 'a chances though, didn'cha?" He tightened his grip on Logan's wrist, pulled him closer, and sneered, "but now, we're even..."
As they continued to fall, Logan unintentionally pondered Creed's words. Victor was right. He had so many missed opportunities to kill Creed, and there were so many lives that could have been saved if Logan had done so; Janice, Mariko, Silver Fox, even the Morelocks, arguably, if only he hadn't heeded Xavier's insistence that he not kill his enemies. All those people dead because he listened to Chuck and—
ZARK!!!!!
A flash of crimson erupted from beneath the streets of New York. A large chasm now lay right below Logan and Creed. The debris, caused by the eruption of the pavement, flew upward at the two enemies. Unwavering in their grip, the duo was finally separated by a chunk of asphalt roughly the size of the Juggernaut.
BAMF!
Immediately, Nightcrawler teleported into the fray, determined to save his drinking buddy. After a few strategic jumps, he found his quarry, and together they found refuge on the rooftop above.
"Damnit, Elf!" Logan growled. "I had 'im!"
"Right vere you vanted him, ja?" Kurt shot back. "And vhat did you plan to do vith him, other than prove zat you are still better than he?"
"Just git me down there, Kurt," Logan replied, and with that, Nightcrawler teleported them down into the dusty cavern below the street.
BAMF!
SNIKT! SNIKT!
The dense cloud of dirt came from all angles confusing Logan's sight and sense of smell. Remembering that Kurt was with him, he ordered the young German to check on their fellow X-Men above.
BAMF!
When Kurt teleported, the familiar smell of brimstone entered Logan's nose. However, when the smell subsided, Logan was surprised to find another familiar scent.
"Summers?"
"You see what we're dealing with Ororo," pleaded Forge. "Sabretooth has already taken out most of the active team of X-Men!"
Ororo Munroe stood silent and vigilante. With her hips thrust to one side, she made not one movement throughout the course of the CNN broadcast of Sabretooth's rampage in New York City. Leaning her head forward, her face was clouded by shadow, but the bright whites of her eyes seemed to glow with rage at the screen before her.
Rogue turned her head into Gambit's chest and buried her face. "We gotta do somethin', Remy," she whispered.
Remy caressed her head and whispered back, "I know, chere. Dat ole Canucklehead pro'lly land on Vic's head. You see, chere. He be alright."
Bishop was already pacing. Granted, he preferred to think of it as "scanning the perimeter", but to his fellow X-Men he was merely pacing. If the New York-based X-Men were under attack, at their own home no less, then it was conceivable, at least to Bishop, that anyone wearing an "X" could suffer the same fate. "Have you room enough in your X-Copter, Forge?" questioned Bishop.
"Are you going alone, Lucas?"
All eyes in the room turned to Storm. (All except Jubilee, who sat transfixed in front of the television screen waiting for any sign that Logan was alright.) Forge turned to her with a look of desperation and remorse. Her fellow X-Men, however, were growing frustrated with her indecisiveness-turned-apathy. Storm had worked very hard over the last few years to sever all those ties to the great mansion in Westchester that had sired them all. She bore no animus to their patriarch, Charles Xavier, or the opportunities she was given as a member of the X-Men. Years ago, when both Charles and Scott had left the X-Men for various reasons, she reluctantly stepped into a new role of leadership. In a very short time, she began to revel in the role that she so nearly passed up. And when Scott and Charles both returned to the fold, Storm had to adjust to sharing the mantle of leadership; and members of her team; and having her actions questioned.
In summation, Ororo Munroe had been given control of the X-Men. And when that control was in danger of being rescinded, she too felt threatened. All her life, Ororo has held an iron grip on control of her mutant abilities, her fears, her emotions, and most recently her command status. She now felt the reigns of that leadership fading away. Again.
"Why, Ororo?" pleaded Forge. "We need you. This isn't just me asking. Nor is it Charles. You've seen the news. Even Logan may—" Forge caught himself before going any further. He turned towards Jubilee, who knelt in front of the television, tears streaming down her face. "Without Scott and Jean, you're—"
"The third-runner up?" snapped Storm. "The professor wishes for me to help, so he sends you, of all people, down here into the swamp to 'fetch' me?"
"Gambit can't believe dis," lamented Remy. He threw his hands into the air and rolled his eyes.
"With all due respect, Gambit," said Storm. "The idea of you being so attached to those fallen is a bit hard to swallow."
Gambit stopped dead in his tracks. He could not believe his leader, his friend, had even dared to go there. Though he could not understand what Storm's reasons for denial were, he could not hold his tongue any longer. "Stormy," he began. "Don' know whas up wit' you right now, don' know why you don' wanna go to help find Jeannie, or Scotty for dat matter. But 'with all due respect', now you just being a bitch." And with that comment, he stormed out of the room, with Rogue in tow.
"If I must go alone," Bishop interjected. "I will do so. The professor is in danger. As are many of my friends. If you cannot make a sound tactical decision, Storm, then so be it."
Storm shot a look back towards the bald, ebony man behind her. "So, my decision's are being question—"
Before anyone could continue, Sage shot up. "Security breach! Basement!! Identity: Unknown."
No one said another word. Indeed, they didn't have time. Microseconds later, a fiery explosion disintegrated the lower levels of the southern mansion, engulfing all those wearing an "X" in it's fatal embrace.
(Barenaked Ladies "When I Fall")
I look straight in the window,
Try not to look below Pretend I'm not up here,
Try counting sheep
But the sheep seem to shower,
Off this office tower It's nine point eight straight down
Can't stop my knees
I wish I could fly
From this building, from this wall And if I should try,
Would you catch me if I fall?
"It was quite a sight for New Yorkers, who get their fair share of 'sights.' Less than fifteen minutes ago, a large, blonde mutant with claws had decimated two unknown mutants, believed to be members of the outlaw X- Men. Upon realizing they may have been outmatched, the purported X-Men disappeared, prompting their antagonist to give chase. To a city that once played host to Galactus, this might seem like a slow news day, but apparently the drama continues as the clawed mutant, now confirmed to be the wanted murderer Sabretooth, has confronted his attackers on a roof not too far from the site of the original battle. We go now, live, to our Eye- In-The-Sky—"
When the television screen switched to an aerial view, Charles Xavier tensed. But as appalling a sight as he witnessed, he could not bear to remove his gaze from the horror before him. One by one, Sabretooth was mauling his students. Miles from the action, Xavier, along with all of New York, had the best seat in the house.
Henry McCoy had been in his lab since debriefing the X-Men and sending them into the field. His was the unenviable task of confirming that the rather large quantities of blood found in the Summers' boathouse did, in fact, belong to Mrs. Grey-Summers. He entered the Professor's ready room cleaning his bifocals. "Well, Professor," Beast began, "we've never had reason to doubt Logan before—Stars and Garters! Bobby!" He hurried to the television to watch in horror as his best friend had large chucks of ice ripped and clawed away from his body.
("Logan?"), called the Professor. ("Where the devil are you?!")
("Elevator was taking to flamin' long. If certain people wouldn't BOTHER me, I could get there faster!")
("Logan, you should know he's on the roof, tearing your fellow X-Men to pieces—quite literally, I'm afraid.")
("Don't gimme that tone, Chuck! I TOLD YOU they had no business going up against Creed! He's—")
("And does knowing this help you in any way right now, Logan?")
("It could'a. Now, git outta my head, Chuck. You ain't gonna like the next few minutes.")
Logan's words ran through Charles' thoughts for a few moments. He was right. This could have been avoided had they merely listened to Logan, and he didn't like it. It isn't often the man belittles his teammates, at least not recently. His gruff nature was a warning, but interpreted as mistrust of his compatriot's abilities. How had this all gone sour so swiftly?
"OH MY GOD!"
Xavier had been too distracted by his thoughts. "What is it, Hank?" he questioned.
Hank never responded. Indeed, he needn't have bothered. For there it was, plain as day, on the television screen. Logan had apparently tackled Creed off the roof of an office building in downtown New York.
"Hank, prepare the med lab," Xavier commanded. When Beast remained still, he continued ", NOW! We haven't much time!"
The Beast bounded out of the ready room, clearly shocked, leaving the Professor alone with his thoughts. Unable to help himself, he pulled his hoverchair closer to the monitor. He watched closely as his student—his friend—locked himself in battle with his greatest enemy while gravity, cruel mistress that she is, called them down.
Back in New York, Logan and Creed did not make a single offensive move towards each other. They each held tight to the other's costume. Logan, despite his healing factor, wanted to make sure Creed landed first. Creed, on the other hand, merely wanted to make certain that Nightcrawler never had a chance to teleport Logan away.
"WHERE'S JEAN?!?" Logan interrogated. Nine-inch Adamantium claws erupted from his forearms, piercing Creed's upper torso.
"Last time we tried this," Creed taunted, "I was the first to my feet."
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER??" Logan kept stabbing at Creed's neck and head.
Oblivious to Logan's questions, Creed continued, "'Course, that was only, what, five stories? This building here is about twelve times that height!"
Logan pulled his arm back for a thunderous blow. "I'M GONNA KILL YO—"
CHINK!
Logan looked down at the entry wound his claws made, just at the base of Victor Creed's neck. Creed's new Adamantium skeleton now blocked Logan's claws from delivering the killing blow.
"You can't kill me, runt," Creed mocked. "You had plenty 'a chances though, didn'cha?" He tightened his grip on Logan's wrist, pulled him closer, and sneered, "but now, we're even..."
As they continued to fall, Logan unintentionally pondered Creed's words. Victor was right. He had so many missed opportunities to kill Creed, and there were so many lives that could have been saved if Logan had done so; Janice, Mariko, Silver Fox, even the Morelocks, arguably, if only he hadn't heeded Xavier's insistence that he not kill his enemies. All those people dead because he listened to Chuck and—
ZARK!!!!!
A flash of crimson erupted from beneath the streets of New York. A large chasm now lay right below Logan and Creed. The debris, caused by the eruption of the pavement, flew upward at the two enemies. Unwavering in their grip, the duo was finally separated by a chunk of asphalt roughly the size of the Juggernaut.
BAMF!
Immediately, Nightcrawler teleported into the fray, determined to save his drinking buddy. After a few strategic jumps, he found his quarry, and together they found refuge on the rooftop above.
"Damnit, Elf!" Logan growled. "I had 'im!"
"Right vere you vanted him, ja?" Kurt shot back. "And vhat did you plan to do vith him, other than prove zat you are still better than he?"
"Just git me down there, Kurt," Logan replied, and with that, Nightcrawler teleported them down into the dusty cavern below the street.
BAMF!
SNIKT! SNIKT!
The dense cloud of dirt came from all angles confusing Logan's sight and sense of smell. Remembering that Kurt was with him, he ordered the young German to check on their fellow X-Men above.
BAMF!
When Kurt teleported, the familiar smell of brimstone entered Logan's nose. However, when the smell subsided, Logan was surprised to find another familiar scent.
"Summers?"
"You see what we're dealing with Ororo," pleaded Forge. "Sabretooth has already taken out most of the active team of X-Men!"
Ororo Munroe stood silent and vigilante. With her hips thrust to one side, she made not one movement throughout the course of the CNN broadcast of Sabretooth's rampage in New York City. Leaning her head forward, her face was clouded by shadow, but the bright whites of her eyes seemed to glow with rage at the screen before her.
Rogue turned her head into Gambit's chest and buried her face. "We gotta do somethin', Remy," she whispered.
Remy caressed her head and whispered back, "I know, chere. Dat ole Canucklehead pro'lly land on Vic's head. You see, chere. He be alright."
Bishop was already pacing. Granted, he preferred to think of it as "scanning the perimeter", but to his fellow X-Men he was merely pacing. If the New York-based X-Men were under attack, at their own home no less, then it was conceivable, at least to Bishop, that anyone wearing an "X" could suffer the same fate. "Have you room enough in your X-Copter, Forge?" questioned Bishop.
"Are you going alone, Lucas?"
All eyes in the room turned to Storm. (All except Jubilee, who sat transfixed in front of the television screen waiting for any sign that Logan was alright.) Forge turned to her with a look of desperation and remorse. Her fellow X-Men, however, were growing frustrated with her indecisiveness-turned-apathy. Storm had worked very hard over the last few years to sever all those ties to the great mansion in Westchester that had sired them all. She bore no animus to their patriarch, Charles Xavier, or the opportunities she was given as a member of the X-Men. Years ago, when both Charles and Scott had left the X-Men for various reasons, she reluctantly stepped into a new role of leadership. In a very short time, she began to revel in the role that she so nearly passed up. And when Scott and Charles both returned to the fold, Storm had to adjust to sharing the mantle of leadership; and members of her team; and having her actions questioned.
In summation, Ororo Munroe had been given control of the X-Men. And when that control was in danger of being rescinded, she too felt threatened. All her life, Ororo has held an iron grip on control of her mutant abilities, her fears, her emotions, and most recently her command status. She now felt the reigns of that leadership fading away. Again.
"Why, Ororo?" pleaded Forge. "We need you. This isn't just me asking. Nor is it Charles. You've seen the news. Even Logan may—" Forge caught himself before going any further. He turned towards Jubilee, who knelt in front of the television, tears streaming down her face. "Without Scott and Jean, you're—"
"The third-runner up?" snapped Storm. "The professor wishes for me to help, so he sends you, of all people, down here into the swamp to 'fetch' me?"
"Gambit can't believe dis," lamented Remy. He threw his hands into the air and rolled his eyes.
"With all due respect, Gambit," said Storm. "The idea of you being so attached to those fallen is a bit hard to swallow."
Gambit stopped dead in his tracks. He could not believe his leader, his friend, had even dared to go there. Though he could not understand what Storm's reasons for denial were, he could not hold his tongue any longer. "Stormy," he began. "Don' know whas up wit' you right now, don' know why you don' wanna go to help find Jeannie, or Scotty for dat matter. But 'with all due respect', now you just being a bitch." And with that comment, he stormed out of the room, with Rogue in tow.
"If I must go alone," Bishop interjected. "I will do so. The professor is in danger. As are many of my friends. If you cannot make a sound tactical decision, Storm, then so be it."
Storm shot a look back towards the bald, ebony man behind her. "So, my decision's are being question—"
Before anyone could continue, Sage shot up. "Security breach! Basement!! Identity: Unknown."
No one said another word. Indeed, they didn't have time. Microseconds later, a fiery explosion disintegrated the lower levels of the southern mansion, engulfing all those wearing an "X" in it's fatal embrace.