Note: Oh my god, lol, I wrote another chapter! Only took me like half a year, hehe. Truth is its been sitting on my computer for a while now, and its un-betad, so all mistakes are mine. Anyways, thanks to the people that reviewed the first part! Who knows, I might even write another chapter ^_^
Violent: Part 2
Somewhere, out in the secluded parts of southern Arkansas near the ruined city of Corset lie safe guarded plains. The place does not contain heavy barracks or any known important military standing, but standing tall, obvious in the sparsely wooded area there stands a 50 foot wall, shielding the fort within from prying enemy eyes. And Scott Summers stood, staring out, remembering as he watched human decency decay from the beginning.
It was the resistance's first stronghold in the south, after a sickening battle in the city where hundreds of civilians were lost, both mutant and non. It was always how battles were fought, no regard for human life or civility. If you were not with them, you were against them. And to become a prisoner… Scott shuddered at the thought. He had been a member of a liberation team before; he had seen the way these people were treated. It was disgusting. And Scott could not help but think that Magneto was right, it was Auschwitz all over again.
Scott couldn't remember who struck first, it seemed like so long ago, and as he climbed down from the lookout, roaming the fort and watching young men and women become soldiers of a war they never asked to be a part of, he couldn't help feel filthy. Dirty for tainting them with war.
Summers paced in deep thought, his face haggard with too much of it, eyes seeking out the familiar faces of what once were the X-men.
Had there even been a time of hope? He damned himself for starting to forget what it was like, fighting for Charles Xavier's cause, for his dream with the hopes that this day would never come. When it did, the former leader of the X-men felt embittered, the irony of fighting along side his once enemy not lost on him. But he could not deny that Magnus was a brilliant tactician, and without him they would have never stood a chance. He would not deny it, but he didn't have to like the man.
A flash of red within the sea of faces, and even through his crimson tinted view, Scott would always recognize that particular shade. The color of his only sanity, Jean smiled at him when he caught her eye and some of the weariness lifted off Scott's face.
"Scott." Jean Grey-Summers smiled warmly at him, though not quite reaching her blue eyes. "I needed to talk to you."
Nodding, Scott gestured Jean to walk to him.
"How are you holding up?" Her voice is concerned, and Scott couldn't help the smile that crosses his face.
"When you're near me, it doesn't matter how I feel."
Jean rolled her eyes, "Avoiding the question as usual," Her eyes then begin to smile, and Scott decided he liked it better. But as soon as it comes, the moment is gone and they are back in reality. "We have a problem."
Rubbing his eyes beneath his frames, Scott couldn't help but sigh. "We always have a problem."
Jean doesn't say anything to that, but continues on. "We're starting to run low on food. The supplies coming from north were disrupted by a surprise attack and they had to retreat. I guess we're only lucky they didn't follow them here. But at this rate, I don't think we'll last another month."
Scott frowned. "Xavier mentioned some mutant out in Mississippi that can grow plants. Perhaps when Logan's team returns, they can go scout for her."
Jean nodded; it's all he has to say. They would think of something, and satisfied, Jean reached up to place a soft kiss on Scott's lips. "Don't worry." She whispered as she turns to walk away, and Scott shakes his head. It's the last thing she can ask of him.
"She is too thin," Scott thought with a frown. They all were. After the battle at Corset, the "norms" realized they could not defeat them with brute force, they turned to other tactics as a last ditch effort. Germ warfare.
No one was un-affected. It was just not an approach they had anticipated, and all the survivors of the city had died horribly, painfully. Even the non-mutants….even the enemies.
It had been a last ditch effort for the last remaining norms and many of their own were caught and infected. They were abandoned.
Scott and the others had tried to save whom they could, Henry McCoy working feverously to quell the disease but it spread like the plague. Too many were lost. Even now there lay a heavy layer of virus within the city, and they fled, taking hold out in the plains.
The fort housed the few who did live, and re-enforcements from the resistance were sent to man it. The children were the first to die, and now they only had two who young ones that lived, returning to health quickly. Scott caught a glimpse of Sara and Bobby fighting as they usually did. Another rare smile graced his features. There were some enemy soldiers that had survived as well, and they were kept a close watch on. Scott hoped more answers from them would be forthcoming, but those of the resistance were not barbarians, even if some had joined their cause. He would not give the order to kill them.
They were all weak, still recovering. The virus may have been beaten and the area clean, but the side effects were persistent, and Scott felt frustrated that he could not fight with the others, that he had to stay here and recover. Magnus took two teams out into New Orleans, a place under recent attack after important mutant rebels were discovered there. A rescue mission, and though Scott couldn't be there to see it, he knew no one would be spared the horror. Logan headed the second team, and for once Scott believed it was a smart decision. No matter how much that man would continue to irritate him, he couldn't deny Logan was an intelligent commander.
Scott looked up to find the source of the shout.
A sentry looked out into the horizon. "Someone is approaching!"
Scott frowned, his brows furrowed in concern as he climbed up into the sentry tower, squinting out to sight a trail of kicked up dirt. The sentry strained his eyes through the binoculars, then lowered them with surprise.
"Its Logan, sir."
Scott grabbed the binoculars himself, looking through and indeed it was the gruff man with something in front of him that he couldn't make out. "Speak of the devil…what the hell is he doing back so early?" Scott muttered, and his frown deepened.
The boy is so tired, his eyes closed yet not quite asleep. He rides with the gruff man, holding on tight, shivering. He's so cold yet so warm. He wishes he were home in his bed, he wishes this wasn't real.
He remembers voices, many of them all mixed together. He wouldn't let go of the gruff man, and when forced he had started to cry. He wanted his mother, he wanted his father. Then a voice different than the others, and the boy had lifted his eyes, widening when he saw the man with silver hair and ice blue eyes.
He clings now, tired eyes watching the changing scenery, the loud noise of the engine, and the boy lets it all lull him into sleep. This time, he does not dream.
Jean looked away from the probing and undisguised worry her husband sent towards her, out to those who had not given up their fight. It was a harsh world they lived in, and the optimistic expression she had worn fell. She had to be strong for her husband, but sometimes the weariness would be just too much.
Scott was still sick. She knew he was, but he refused to admit it, standing out at the lookout, wishing he could be a part of the team once more. He was a man who could not admit defeat, even when the odds were against him. And she loved him for it.
Jean lived day by day, she hated the bleakness the future had to offer. The war was not to end soon, and she hated the innocents caught in the middle. Eyes glancing up, Jean found Sarah amongst the people, the bony protrusions on her body marking her so different. It wasn't easy for them; Jean often thought that she could have blended in with normal society. Wouldn't have to witness all this hate and destruction. But she knew she couldn't, not with children such as Sarah suffering.
She smiled at the girl as she caught her eye, and received an eye roll. Puberty was always a fun experience, she thought with a smirk. But strangely, Bobby was not beside her. Unusual to be sure, the two were never apart for all they claimed to hate each other.
Faint calls were exchanged, and Jean turned to see the gate being opened to let in an arrival. Furrowing her brows, she walked towards the source, finding the roar of a motorcycle as explanation enough.
Her lip curled up slightly at the sight of the man, but exactly what was he doing back alone? Squinting her eyes, Jean thought she could make out a bundle in his arms. Her husband soon appeared, climbing down from the sentry tower, his face not pleased. Well wasn't that typical. As raised voices approaching argument began, Jean shook her head, deciding to intervene.
Her eyes widened then as the bundle in Logan's arms moved slightly.
"This was not a smart decision! Just imagine what could happen if the boy was sick? There are many still weak here, still recovering. If that boy is infected, the others would have no chance!"
Logan gritted his teeth. "So you want me to leave the kid? Let him die? Is that what you want?"
"Of course not!" Scott's face was strained. "But I'm thinking realistically here, I want the best for these people"
Jean frowned as she drew near. Scott had a valid point, but Logan was getting more aggravated by the moment. Glancing down to look at the small boy, his eyes were shut in sleep or shock, the pallor of his skin terribly pale. Dried blood matted his hair, and dressed only in pajamas, his small fists gripped Logan's shirt with surprising intensity.
There was blood staining his clothes as well, and Logan caught her look.
"Its not his"
She glanced up at him, not exactly liking that response either.
"Where did you find him?" Scott's voice interrupted, and Logan's face hardened.
"Found him during the mission, not many civilians survived that one. Kid was the youngest we found, Magnus ordered him taken back here."
Scott shook his head at that, about to open his mouth to say more, but Jean shot him a look. "It doesn't matter what happened, the boy needs medical attention." Her face turned worried, and her hand reached out to feel the boy's forehead, then tenderly stroked the hair out off his face.
He was the youngest child she had seen for some time. At the beginning, Mutant couples were ordered by law to become sterile. Babies and children were taken from the homes of registered mutants. No one knew what was done to them, but Jean knew they were gone. She had felt it.
After that, they decreased even more from disease and famine. Parents weren't able to protect them, their mutation more physical than of any use. Herded into camps, the adults were tortured and killed, and Jean felt the gut wrenching feeling of being unable to save them. They could only try and save themselves.
She reached out then, taking the boy from Logan. She would not let this one die.
The Medlab was not nearly as fancy or innovative as their previous one. It was more of a room where Henry McCoy almost always stayed, toiling away at a potential cure for almost everything.
It was never easy. Whenever a vaccine for one biological weapon was created, they would use an altogether different form. Hank would use what resources he could, a mass of different salvaged equipment connected together in a labyrinth of wires and metal. A crude solar panel provided the menial source of power, but it was almost always useless to try and grapple with it. Forge probably could have created something more useful, but his time had been short with the terrible virus eating away at him. Hank had found the cure all too late.
Hank's furry blue hide sat perched beside Bobby Drake, holding his wrist as he tenderly probed the tissue to find the break.
"I'm most regretful of your pain, Bobby, but you did do this to yourself." He patiently reminded his patient as he sat squirming. Bobby frowned.
"Well I couldn't back out on a dare. She'd have been so smug if I did."
Hank shook his head, reaching up with one clawed finger to push his glasses back. "We'll have to set it, so this will probably hurt."
"I did warn you."
Bobby glowered at the large blue doctor as he wrapped the wrist around a makeshift brace. It was a normal occurrence for Hank to be patching up the youngest member of their little family, and he simply smiled a toothy grin.
His attention was caught however at the flurry of motion from the door. Jean burst in, holding what looked to be a small child in her arms. Hank's face turned serious, a question on the tip of his tongue. Yet he was Doctor first, and gestured Jean to lay the child down on the cot.
He glanced down to Bobby. "You can go, Bobby. Just keep it easy on that arm."
Bobby nodded slightly, and Hank rushed off to tend to the new arrival. Yet he didn't leave, curiosity winning over as he observed the little kid Jean had brought in. Hank was poking and prodding him like he had to Bobby, and he wondered where the kid came from.
"What happened to your arm, Bobby?"
Not having seen Jean come to his side, he didn't look up, attention still fixed on the happenings of the other cot. "Fell. Sara dared me to hop across the beam on one foot."
"Bobby, that was really stupid! You could have been hurt a lot worse!" Her voice was anxious, and Bobby knew she was more concerned about the other kid, but let it go. They both felt silent, and Jean grasped Bobby's shoulder, watching Hank work.
With a small penlight in his hand, Hank leaned over the child, opening his eye to shine the light. Slowing briefly in what seemed surprise, he let out an interested 'Hmm,' and continued on. "Jean, would you get me some clean water and that roll of bandage next to Bobby."
Jean nodded, complying as Hank continued. "The boy seems to be all right. He has no broken bones, and his pulse and heart rate seem fine. He doesn't have any crust around his eyes or mouth as is normal symptoms of the virus we experienced, but I cant be sure until I analyze his blood. The cut will need stitches though, and he is suffering from malnutrition and shock."
Bobby watched as the cut was cleaned, and a needle sterilized. Turning away, he winced at the groan he heard from the kid as the cut was stitched. No anesthetic.. he was glad that the kid was at least asleep. Bandage having been secured, Hank turned to Jean. "Id like to keep him here to monitor, but if all is well, he should be better in a few days." Hank glanced down at the boy. "Where did he come from?"
"Logan brought him here. The teams sent out to New Orleans caught great resistance."
Bobby was pretty sure the two adults had forgotten he was still here, but he frowned, staring at the kid. He was a little guy for sure but not skin and bones like the other kids Bobby had seen when he was living in the city. That place, it had been bad. Bobby didn't remember much of what happened, just a lot of screaming, a lot of yelling, a lot of noise.
Then he had woken up, and Hank was hovering above him like a big blue bear, and Bobby had laughed at the strangeness of it all. Now as he stared at the new kid, he wondered exactly how much this place would change.