War Crimes, Parts 10-12

by Morgan Lewis

Part 10

Dusk
Forty Miles North of Udine

He hadn't spoken a word for the last half-hour. His silence was not due in any part to a lack of prompting from his captors, however. On the contrary, they had done everything within their capacity to elicit some type of a response from him during the proceedings. Logan's ribs still burned from the repeated beatings that he had received at their hands.

In his mind, he screamed in defiance of the reality that was being paraded before him, yet his voice remained silent. Hardly moving, he staredstraight ahead as each "victim" took the stand and condemned him as theirmurderer. As one after another pointed to him as the man who ended their lives. Still, he refused to acknowledge even one of these accusations. He hardly acknowledged that there was anything going on around him at all.

He could smell their growing anger and frustration at his apparent apathy, which only served to strengthen his resolve. This was a battle of wills that he had no intention of losing. He knew he couldn't afford to make that mistake. However, as if to express the outrage he himself would not, thunder continued to crack and roll with fury outside the building.

"That will be all Professor Klapiz." Venuti was busy dismissing another one of the witnesses that had just finished giving testimony of another of Logan's heinous crimes.

"Does the defense wish to cross-examine?"

Logan didn't need his enhanced senses to catch the amused irony inherent in the man's statement. He hasn't tried to cross-examine anyone so far. Why should he start now? Logan wanted to growl, but maintained his silence instead.

"The defense declines," Shipper responded, equally amused.

True to Logan's expectations, the man had not made even a vague attempt to defend him. He had simply sat behind his desk through the entire proceeding smelling sharply of vindication.

"Very well," Venuti continued, "As our final witness, the prosecution calls to the stand the defendant, Logan Mathison." A peal of thunder responded to the ominous statement yet Logan made no moves to respond himself as his chair was moved to the witness box by Adams and Vanhorn.

Venuti was pacing back and forth with the scent of a predator. He stopped and sat down staring at Logan. Then he brought his hands together, interlacing the fingers, and rested his chin on them as if in deep thought. Logan almost barked a laugh at the show that Venuti was making as if he was trying to decide how to proceed. Wolverine could tell from the man's scent that he knew exactly what was about to happen.

Venuti pinned Logan with a glare over his folded hands. "Logan Mathison, would you please describe, in your own words, the events surrounding the period of time from February six to February twelve nineteen forty-two?"

Logan lifted his head to stare Venuti defiantly in the eyes, and maintained his silence. Venuti simply waited, his rage scent growing stronger and stronger with each passing second. A nervous muscle began to twitch in his right cheek as the veins stood out in stark relief on his neck. Through it all, Logan's gaze never faltered and his silence never broke.

"I repeat," Venuti had risen and was stalking towards him now, his voice rising with each step.

"Will you describe the events surrounding the second week of February, Nineteen forty-two?!" Venuti was close enough that spittle flew from his lips to land on Logan's face. Logan didn't flinch nor did he break eye-contact with Venuti.

They remained there, in tense silence, for several moments, and Logan fully expected another beating to come in response to his continued silence. He could feel Fallon watching. Could smell his pleased scent at the scene before him, but Logan refused to give them the added satisfaction of his participation in this farce no matter what kind of pain they dished out for him. He wasn't going to play their game. It gained him nothing and only increased their enjoyment of this little revenge party.

Venuti suddenly spun on his heal. His scent changing abruptly from near rage to amused satisfaction. Logan had to struggle to keep the look of surprise out of his features. An apprehensive dread was slowly entering his mind. Venuti had obviously decided to change tactics, but what was he going to do now?

"Perhaps I should rephrase the question. Be a little bit more specific." Venuti was resting his chin on his hands again. "Please describe to the court what it felt like as you ruthlessly executed fifteen civilians in cold blood."

Inwardly, Logan was relieved at the high-handed tacit. Venuti wasn't as smart as he thought. He wasn't about to rise to that bait either. He had done what he had been ordered to do. Yes, he had/still hated himself for doing it. Every moment had been agony as he stared into those terrified eyes and pulled the trigger. Somewhere deep inside of him he had known that those men were not the enemy. Many of them had been there against their will, forced into violating many of their own ethical standards to serve the Nazi cause. In some of their eyes, he had even found relief when he had ended it for them, but war was that way.. He couldn't go back and change what was nor what he was required to do to stop it.

As silence once again filled the room, Logan could smell the tension mounting, not only from Venuti, but also from Fallon. After a few precious seconds ticked by, Venuti continued.

"Did you even enjoy it on some level? Did that kind of senseless slaughter appeal to your animal instincts?"

Venuti was looking at him in open disgust now. "Did you feel the urge to just drop your gun and finish the job using your bare hands and teeth to truly revel in the blood?"

Despite himself, Logan's features darkened, but he still refused to respond. This whole proceeding was becoming more and more confusing. He could smell anger and disgust from every one of his teammates over the execution of the fifteen scientists. Their judgment both angered and wounded him. All of them had been sent there to assassinate those men. Admittedly, he hadn't felt completely right about it even then, but they, of all people, didn't have the right to judge him. He had only done what they had been sent there to do. What they would have done. It made no sense for them to hate him for being successful in that particular aspect of the mission and, at the same time, also hate him for having failed in others.

Venuti studied him closely for a moment. He must have decided that it was time to try another approach. His next question caught Logan completely off-guard. "Would you like to describe how you felt as you looked into the eyes of your dying teammates, and then turned your back on them to save your own hide?"

Out of shock this time, Logan didn't respond, and Venuti took that as his cue to continue. "Perhaps you would like to tell us about the smell of their blood as it mingled with sewage. You do have a good nose, don't you? It must have been an almost overpowering scent to you."

Logan couldn't restrain the mild look of confusion that crossed his face. He had never told any of his former teammates about his enhanced senses. How had they found out?

The slip was slight. As quickly as the expression crossed his face, it was gone again. But Venuti had seen it. His scent nearly screamed victory at having scored a hit.

"So you do remember what it smelled like?" acid dripped from his tone. "The pungent smell of blood gushing from the teammates that you were supposed to be guarding. The equally powerful stench of death as their lifeless bodies fell into the murky waters. The bitter scent of fear and despair coming from your comrades when they realized that you weren't coming back for them."

Venuti's grin was growing wider and wider as he watched the rage and confusion grow on Logan's face. How had this man been able to describe the scene so well? He hadn't even been there. How could he have known that the smell of despair was so bitter without ever having enhanced senses of his own? Logan felt a growl rising in the back of his throat.

Venuti's face and scent suddenly turned grim. His next question was spoken in a tone as hard and ungiving as tempered steel. "How long did the scent of betrayal linger in your nose as you fled like a coward through those tunnels?"

Something inside of Logan suddenly snapped. "We were set up!" he roared, lunging futility against his bonds. He also knew that he was probably playing into their hands but had ceased to care at this point.

"From the beginning the whole operation was rigged! That was the smell of the betrayal that lingered in my nose, not my own! The knowledge that we had been sold out by one of our own commanders!"

They all wore grins of satisfaction now and Logan knew that he had lost. This entire farce was just to see how far they could provoke him, and he had let them win. He could smell the scent of triumph and vindication coming from Fallon, mingled with the scents of anger and smugness from his former teammates.

"Well Venuti," Logan knew that his next words weren't going to improve his situation, but that fact didn't stop him. "As long as yer assigning blame ta me, why haven't ya gone ahead and blamed me for yer own death? I've heard ya yell and scream all about their deaths, but ya haven't said boo about yer own."

Venuti's expression was carefully neutral, but he smelled strongly of anger and for some reason, confusion. "What do you mean?"

Logan barked a laugh which served to further enrage Venuti. "Oh come on. That's an easy one ta blame me for. Hell, I even blamed myself for it." He met Venuti's gaze once again and could see uncertainty in those eyes. "I practically told General Heiner to blow yer brains out."

Venuti blinked and reeled back in shock. For a brief moment anger warred with confusion on his face and in his scent. Then, anger won out and with a wordless cry Venuti lunged at him. Restrained as he was, Logan could offer no resistance as blow after blow rained down on his face and chest. No one else moved to interfere as Venuti continued to howl in harmony with the crashing thunder. In fact, Logan could smell the approval from all of them as they casually watched Venuti's fists pummel him.

The beating lasted for a few minutes more, then stopped abruptly. Logan gingerly raised his head to pear through the one eye that wasn't swelling shut. Blood leaked out of a badly broken nose to join another rivulet trailing from a busted lip. His ribs ached painfully were a few more had been fractured. Logan gritted his teeth to prevent a grunt of pain from escaping his lips.

The scent of rage was slowly draining out of Venuti as he regained his composure, though the confusion remained,. Logan still half-expected the man to leap back on him any second. Instead, he simply turned to face Fallon and stated. "Nothing further your honor. The prosecution rests."

Logan almost let out a sigh of relief as Venuti turned on his heel and returned to his desk. That relief was tempered, however, by his own confusion.

*What had just happened?* Venuti had reacted as if that was the first time he had ever been told of his own demise. How was it that these people could remember the most intimate details of his own mind, his thoughts and emotions, but didn't even seem to have basic knowledge of other pivotal events they were actually involved in. This strange combination of ignorance and knowledge served to accentuate Logan's earlier premonitions of his teammates being hollow.

"Does the defense wish to cross-examine?" Logan didn't even know why Fallon continued to ask.

"No your honor." Logan bit down another laugh, wincing as it jarred his damaged ribs.

"Does the defense have anything to add?" Logan looked expectantly at Shipper. Logan's wounds were healing quickly now, and he could almost see through both eyes again. Did the man intend to prolong this mockery or was he just going to end it here and now.

"No your honor, the defense rests." Apparently, Shipper was opting for the latter.

"In that case, I move to..."

"The defense calls Robert Adams to the stand," Stunned silence greeted Logan's last minute statement. He knew that it was a long shot, but he desperately wanted to find some kind of an answers to his questions if nothing else. And as he didn't imagine that this Fallon character was going to be exactly forthcoming which left him with precious few options.

His former teammates all glared at him with open animosity, and Logan fully expected his request to be ignored. However to his surprise, Fallon smelled intrigued and more than a little curious. "Granted," he finally responded, and Logan let out a sigh of both shock and relief.

George and Hopper moved his chair out of the way while Adams situated himself on the stand. Logan could smell the suspicion coming off of the other man like a bad stench. He probably wasn't going to have much luck with direct questions. Thus, if he wanted his answers, he was going to have to be more subtle and crafty.

Logan drew a deep breath as he faced the man that he had once called friend. "Sergeant Adams, could you please describe the events of yer own death?"

Logan saw the other man stiffen visibly at the question while his scent turned cold. "Certainly," came the even response. "It happened in the sewage tunnels underneath this very citadel." Adam's gaze was bitter as he glared at Logan. "After you abandoned the others to be cut down by enemy fire, you watched me take bullet in the back like it meant nothing to you."

Logan grimaced. That part was true, if a little bit warped by the other man's perception. His theory about his former teammates not being able to clearly remember their own deaths had now been proven wrong. Perhaps, he should try a slightly different slant.

"What about Vanhorn. Do ya remember how he died?"

Adams seemed to be a little bit confused by this line of questioning, but it did not dim his anger any. "Of coarse I remember. He died on the docks when we were trying to escape from the cargo ship."

Logan's mind whirled furiously. Death in general didn't seem to cause any specific lack in memory for him either. Maybe it was just a case unique to Venuti. Still, there had to be something there for him to find.

"Ya ever had a girlfriend, Adams?" this question completely took the other man off-guard. Just the way Logan had hoped that it would.

Adams paused, considering his words carefully before finally responding. "Yes."

"What happened to her?"

"She left me," bitterness echoed in his words as anger re-entered his scent. "While I was at boot camp."

Logan smiled grimly. Hopefully making Adams angry would put him off-balance enough to make a few mistakes. "Yeah, real shame. What was her name, again?"

Logan had expected belligerence in response to his question, instead he received a blank confused stare. Adam's eyes blinked as he searched for an answer. "...Sherry...I think..."

"Sherry, was Landen's girlfriend, bub." Sherry had been a nickname actually. Her real name had been Shyla, but Landen always called her Sherry. "If yer gonna lie, ya could at least use some imagination."

Adam's face hardened as the barb struck home. "Her name was Sherry. The name was popular at the time and a lot of girls had it."

Logan smiled smugly. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, bub." It was time for him to press his position. "What color was her hair?"

Adam's face was reflecting confusion again. Logan wasn't about to let up. "Or her eyes? When was the first time that ya kissed her, held hands. Do ya at least remember the guy that stole her from ya"

Adams was practically reeling on the stand now. Confusion and denial raged across his face. "These are basic questions bub. Ya want ta tell me why you don't know the answers?"

Logan could smell the impatience growing on Fallon. He knew that he would have to do something fast before the man ended everything. This might be his only chance.

"What about the rest of you?" Logans voice rang out in the room and was accented by a clap of lightning. "How many memories are the rest of you missing? How many of you can't remember yer families. See what ya actually have in yer heads besides memories from that mission, and you'll probably find that its pretty damn shallow."

"Enough!" Fallon's voice rang through the chamber. He pinned Logan with a glare that would have made a lesser man wither. "Intriguing defense tactic and well executed. My compliments." Fallon's voice actually did have a touch of respect. "But then, you always were skilled at negotiating when your back was to the wall. It changes nothing, however."

Logan tried to fight down a growing sense of dread as Fallon arose in imperious majesty. "Logan Mathison, this court finds you guilty of all charges."

Logan's temper snapped as his small victory was summarily discarded. He wondered why Fallon bothered to listen to it at all since his mind had obviously been made up from the start. If not for the information gained, he would have felt cheated. "Ya didn't have ta deliberate very long on that one, boob. Obviously ya never planned to put a lot of thought into it."

"Silence!" Fallon thundered.

Logan glared back at Fallon in impotent fury. "Ya' gonna' at least tell me who ya' are, how I know you, and why yer so pissed off at me?"

Dark thunderclouds that dwarfed the ones raging outside warred on Fallon's face. So much hate was rolling off of him now that it made Logan want to plug his nose. Whoever this man was, he obviously believed that Logan had done him a great injustice. Logan had rarely smelled hatred that intense from anyone. It was on a level such that Logan seriously questioned this man's sanity. No one could hate that intensely for that long and keep his head on straight.

When Fallon finally responded, his tone was brittle. "Some in the course of history have foolishly endeavored to claim that ignorance is bliss. They could not be more incorrect. Ignorance can be, quite possibly, one of the greatest punishments inflicted on another human being." Fallon was slowly seating himself again. "Thus Logan, ignorance, which you have already allowed to blind your mind, will be a part of your punishment as well. It is only fitting."

Logan's brow knitted in frustration. Why was it that he had to have a tormentor with a poetic sense of justice. That was the one thing that he actually appreciated about Sabretooth. No complex self-righteous judgmental crap. He forced himself to look at Fallon once again. "Ya said part. What's the rest?"

Fallon's smile was a brittle as his tone had been. "You have been convicted of a capital offense. There is only one punishment available."

Logan summoned an impudent smile. "Geez, if ya just planned ta kill me, ya could have told me at the beginning of all of this, and I could have taken a nap."

"Oh no, Logan. It's not that simple." Venuti's voice broke in. "You see, for a hardened criminal such as yourself, ordinary death just isn't good enough."

Logan felt the hairs rising on the back of his neck as Venuti continued.

"You, my friend, and I use that term loosely, require a more specialized form of execution."

Hopps now joined them at Logan's left side. "And with that handy healing factor of yours, we are going to be free to let our imaginations run wild."

Logan gritted his teeth. He had faced torture before. Some of the meanest in the world had done their worst to him, and he was still reasonably sane and healthy. He didn't believe that this Fallon could ever top that things that the Genoshans had done to him. That didn't mean he was looking forward to it, though.

"And to start things off, there is something that I have been wanting to do for a long time."

The statement came from Vanhorn, who now joined the tight circle around him. "You remember how much of a big hunter I was back home?" As he spoke, Vanhorn withdrew a wicked six inch blade.

"I once nailed a twelve point buck. You wouldn't believe how nice that thing looked mounted on my wall."

Vanhorn was advancing on him now, his wicked grin reflecting on the surface of the blade. "Well, you're considerably smaller, and you only have six points as opposed to twelve," Vanhorn paused to let the implications sink in. "But I intend to have those six points so I can mount them as well. Its always important to have memories of your best hunts."

Logan had no way of defending himself as Vanhorn slammed the blade into his forearm and began carving up flesh. The other eight soon joined in. Each doing their own part in the gruesome task. Outside the citadel the storm continued in all of its fury. Peals of thunder accompanied by the sounds of howls from within.

Part 11

1942

Fifteen Miles Northwest of Monfalcone

Logan stalked silently through the grass alongside Adams, trying to make as little noise as possible. Hopps had officially assigned the two of them as partners seeing as both of their respective partners had recently been eliminated. Other than the fact that it was precipitated by the death of two of their teammates, the present arrangement suited Logan just fine. During training, he had gotten along way better with Adams than he ever had with Chancer.

Another big plus was the fact that Adams knew how to effectively move through heavy foliage without making any noticeable tracks. Most likely the result of Adams having grown up on the farm and spending a lot of time out in the woods. Most of the others were all city boys.

Their combined stealth was the primary reason that he and Adams were also given point duty. Presently, they were using those skills to quickly and quietly crawl under a rough section of bramble.

Ahead of them, Logan could see that the sun had already crested the jagged horizon. The increasing daylight meant that they had to exercise even more caution. Especially when you considered the fact that common sense would tell you there had to be probably half a dozen platoons deployed to search for them by now.

It had been a combination of skill and luck that had allowed them to evade the roaming soldiers thus far. However, the closer they got to their target, the more and more soldiers that they would have to circumvent.

"Hey Logan," Adams whispered quietly, "he won't admit it, but I'll lay you three to one odds that Hopps had us lost out here."

Logan almost snorted at the assessment. Hopps was a good leader, but he didn't have the greatest sense of direction in the world. Coupled with the fact that Allied intelligence hadn't been able to give them an exact location on this citadel that they were supposed to be attacking, they had been wandering somewhat aimlessly for the past two days. Of course, Logan had to admit, he doubted that anyone of them could really have done much better given the circumstances. They had been given nearly a thirty square mile swath to search.

"Yeah, we're probably not any closer to that citadel today than we were yesterday," Logan replied softly as he snaked around a brittle twig. "It's not like Wilcox was a great help in giving us the location though."

"That's an understatement," Adams grumbled. "Sometimes I wonder how serious they were about us completing this mission."

Logan could commiserate with that sentiment. "I know. I know."

"No, I'm serious."

Logan could tell from the man's scent that he was thinking about something that was obviously disturbing him. Logan halted his movements to look at the other soldier.

"What do ya mean?"

Adams sighed softly as he pushed his way carefully around some brambles. "I don't pretend to understand all of George's explanation about a familiar form and respectful form or the law that states that all Italians have to use respectful form." Adams shook his head before continuing. "But it just didn't seem to me that it should have been enough to give us away. Maybe it would have raise a few eyebrows and earned those Sicilians some fines or something like... like..." Adams trailed off hopelessly.

"But it shouldn't have been enough for them to figure out that we were on board."

Logan finished for him. A corner of his mind had been tugging at the same thoughts for a time. However, between trying to survive from one minute to the next and concentrating on the completion of the mission, he really hadn't had the time to dedicate a great deal of thought to the subject.

"It's almost as if they were waiting for us and just didn't know which ship we were coming in on." Suspicion and dread were rolling off Adams now as he considered the implications of his statement.

Logan just shook his head. "Do ya know what yer suggesting?"

Adams nodded glumly, "Maybe I was just around Vanhorn for too long, all of his government conspiracies have started to rub off on me a little. It's just that..." He met Logan's eyes and his expression hardened.

"Logan, there was another platoon waiting to ambush us on that dock. That's when Vanhorn lost it."

Logan took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. If what Adams was suggesting was true, it easily destroyed any chances of their surviving this mission. However, as much as he wanted to, Logan couldn't completely dismiss the idea. And he was certain that every one of his teammates had also secretly been asking themselves the same questions. The problem was, they were questions to which he had no ready answers.

"I don't know, Adams," He finally responded. "I just don't know." They sat there, in silence for another moment before he added. "But I do know that just sitting here asking questions that we don't have any answers for isn't going to get us an closer to that citadel."

Adams hesitated for a moment then decided to allow the matter to drop for the moment. Right then, they both had more pressing matters with which to concern themselves. They needed to finish scouting out the area and report back so the rest of the team could move on. Hopps had said that he wanted to find some place to make camp soon and it was their job to find a reasonably secure location.

Once out of the heavy ground covering, they continued their measured walk, senses completely alert. They had gone about another twenty meters when an errant breeze suddenly brought a warning scent to Logan's sensitive nose. He placed his hand on Adams' arm, in a universal signal, then indicated the crest of a small hill thirty meters to their left. Adams simply nodded in understanding. In their time together he had become accustomed to the shorter man's seemingly uncanny ability to detect enemy troops even at great distances and now just accepted it as a highly developed sixth sense. Together both men again dropped silently to the ground and began to slither towards the crest of the hill.

From the rise, the area opened up into a low valley walled in on both sides by jagged rock faces. Logan immediately spotted the enemy forces, which were situated about a mile and half away from their present location. A quick count revealed approximately two enemy vehicles and thirty soldiers. Curiosity and confusion filtered through Logan's mind. Why would this many troops be gathered in one area?

Beside him Adams silently drew a pair of binoculars from his pack and began to intently study the scene. "Looks like...thirty troops... all well armed... can't figure out what the jeeps are for though." Adams handed his binoculars to Logan, a speculative expression on his face. "It doesn't look like they are searching for us. Just waiting. But for what?"

Logan accepted the binoculars without response. He had no clue as to why this many troops were just waiting in a location like this. Being in the valley definitely put them at a tactical disadvantage if they were planning on engaging enemy forces. Logan peered through the lens at the forces below. He knew from experience that his range of vision was far better than that of a normal man's, but at this distance even he couldn't make out the individual details of the enemy troops. They did indeed appear to be waiting. However, Logan couldn't even begin to fathom why.

"We'll have to slant our course a little bit more east, but we should be able to avoid them fairly easily." Adams whispered nonchalantly. After all, this was what they had been doing all day.

"I'm not so sure," was Logan's reply. "That's too many troops for just one unit. More likely, its several different units meeting to coordinate or something." Logan laid the binoculars down in the damp grass as his mind whirred with different possibilities. "Whenever they finish whatever it is that they're here to do, they'll probably split into several different directions. We need to stay long enough to find where each group will go when they finish here."

Adams nodded in agreement with the logic of Logan's proposal and both men settled in to wait. Logan used the opportunity to study the German soldiers more closely and review what he knew thus far about their present mission. They still didn't know exactly what kind of project the Nazis were working on. The only response that had been given them was that it could have potentially devastating ramifications on the war if successful. Judging from the amount of effort that the Nazis were using to keep it protected, Logan certainly believed that part of their information was correct and surely knowing more would have made this much easier. Logan idly wondered why Allied intelligence hadn't selected an option that would have yielded a greater chance of success if this project was truly such a great danger.

Adams interrupted his reverie by indicating a flurry of activity on the far side of the troops. "I think that this is what they are waiting for."

Logan was inclined to agree. The murmur of activity slowly spread throughout the entire gathering. Logan raised the binoculars to his face for a better view. One group of soldiers was unloading something from the one of the Jeeps, but he couldn't tell what it was. In the distance he could hear the faint rumble of another vehicle approaching.

All of the soldiers gathered snapped to attention at the new arrival. Whoever this guy was, he must have had a pretty high rank. Logan focused the binoculars on the three figures in the approaching jeep trying to make out features. The old jeep pulled around a large tree stump before grinding to a halt. Almost immediately afterwards, a man stepped down from it and spoke something to the troops that put them at ease.

"Well I'll be..." Logan muttered softly as he recognized the new arrival. "It looks like fortune may have dealt us a lucky hand after all."

"What is it?" Adams asked as Logan handed the binoculars back to him. Logan waited until Adams had a moment to focus on the new group.

"Unless I'm mistaken, that's General Heiner. The photos that they showed us during briefing were pretty old, but he is still recognizable. According to Allied intelligence, this is the guy in charge of the entire project. In fact, his elimination is even a secondary objective."

Adams scent turned cold as his features hardened. "Well, that's one thing that we can take care of right now." The man began to reach for his gun.

"Hold on," Logan laid a retraining hand on Adams' arm. "Let's think this through." Adams hesitated, and Logan took that as his incentive to continue. "If we take him out now, we still haven't really accomplished our main objective. They'll just find someone else to head up the project. The key is finding and eliminating the scientists."

Adams reluctantly released his hold on the gun. "I'm listening."

"This guy is in charge of everything. He oversees the operation personally. I'll bet that the only reason that he is out here is to beef up security a little." Logan could see that Adams was beginning to understand now. "As soon as he's done here, he'll head straight back to the citadel and that Jeep will leave a perfect trail for us to follow."

"We could kill him anyway. The driver would probably head back to the citadel even without him," Adams suggested.

"Yeah, but if we shoot him now, we are going to spend at least the next three hours avoiding scouting parties from these guys as they try to find were that bullet came from," Logan explained. "By the time that we could get back here to the clearing, all three of those jeeps would be gone and we wouldn't know which trail to follow." Logan scratched his chin in thought. "The trail would probably be cold by then to."

Adams smelled of bitter disappointment but nodded his head in agreement. He continued staring intently at the General with something akin to wistfulness.

"Hey something's going on down there. I don't think this is just him checking out the surrounding patrols." Adams adjusted his grip on the binoculars and grunted in frustration. "They're carrying something over to him from the other trucks, but I can't make out what it is."

"Let me. I've got better vision,"

Adams grunted in protest, but didn't argue as Logan snatched the binoculars away from him. In a few seconds he was focused on the General and the men hauling the large bundles.

There were two bundles. Both wrapped in some type of coarse cloth. Thus, Logan still had no clue as to what they possibly could be as each were dropped in front of Heiner.

At a signal from Heiner, the cloth was thrown back on both bundles and Logan nearly gasped in surprise. The lifeless eyes of Chancer and Vanhorn met Heiner's own probing gaze. Logan shifted his line of vision to the General to see what his reaction would be. Heiner studied the bodies for a bit longer then nodded in satisfaction. He shouted orders to two of his men, who immediately recovered the bodies, then proceeded to load them into the back of Heiner's Jeep. He continued shouting more orders that Logan could only guess at, but he had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He numbly allowed the binoculars to fall from his hands as his mind reeled from what he had just seen.

"What? What was it?" Adams eagerly snatched the binoculars and strained to catch a glimpse of Heiner as he boarded his Jeep to depart.

"The bundles they were carrying," Logan whispered hoarsely. "they were Chancer and Vanhorn."

Adams' scent became bitter and pungent with anger and resentment.

"They'll probably give the bodies to those scientists to carve up."

Logan could feel his own anger growing to replace the numbness. "Adams, answer me this. Why would the General in command of a Nazi research project come out here to retrieve a couple of bodies of American soldiers?"

Adams stared back at him, resentment fading to be replaced by confusion. "I don't know. Why?"

Logan tried to keep his voice from becoming a growl. "He was there to identify the bodies."

Adams' face drained of color as he realized what Logan was saying. "You mean... that he..."

"He knew that we were coming. He probably even has photos of us if he is trying to confirm the identity of the bodies," Logan's eyes narrowed angrily. "We've been set up."

"So that's it, huh," Hopps was pacing angrily back and forth. "Well boys, we just want you to infiltrate deep into enemy territory, attempt an incursion into a heavily guarded fortress and assassinate fifteen civilians." There was such bitterness in his voice.

"Oh, and were not going to tell you this, but just to make things even more interesting, we're going to go ahead and tell the enemy that you're coming so they can make sure that they have everything ready for you."

Hopps stopped abruptly and began to tremble in suppressed rage. "Those bastards." His trembling increased until he could no longer contain himself. "Those bastards!!" he howled hoarsely as he slammed his fist into a nearby tree.

"Too bad Vanhorn isn't still here." George grumbled darkly. "He would just love to tell us how he knew this was coming."

The others had been equally shocked and angered by the news when he and Adams had returned. Mclenn and Landen were just registering shock disbelief thus far, but Hopps had gotten well beyond that stage. However, if Logan were going to lay odds on Hopps chances of being able to physically destroy the tree that he was currently pounding on, they would probably go in favor of the tree.

Logan stepped forward and seized Hopps fist before he could strike another blow. His hand was already bruised and bloody. "Let it go Hopps. It ain't worth it."

Hopps stared back at him darkly and jerked his hand free savagely. For a moment, Logan wondered if he intended to resume pummeling the tree. Self-control returned, however, as Hopps continued his pacing. Logan let out a pent-up sigh of frustration. Every one of them was attempting to come to grips with the betrayal privately. Most of them felt anger, bitterness, confusion, but most of all, frustration. Frustration, because they didn't know who to blame for the betrayal. It could have been Wilcox, tactical command. Or maybe even Allied intelligence had set them up. There was no one person that they could assign the focus of their hate.

"So, what do we do now?" Logan noted that Shipper's ears were flushed darkly as he spoke. Apparently that happened when he was angry.

"I'll tell you what we do." George declared. "We make our way back to a port. Preferably one that isn't heavily guarded. Then we steal a boat..."

"George," Hopps began tiredly.

"...And we get out of here. That's what we do."

Hopps dropped heavily onto a stump looking suddenly old. "George, none of us are sailors. We wouldn't even make it out of the Adriatic."

"We could head North." Venuti suggested. "Try and make our way out through France."

Logan just shook his head. "We don't have enough supplies ta last us that long."

A heavy silence blanketed the group for the next few minutes. "We could just head to the extraction point and wait until our ride shows up," Adams finally blurted with a level of desperation.

George snorted. "If they were planning on selling us out like this, then I wouldn't place much hope on an extraction."

"I don't know." Landen interjected. "Call me the trusting type, but I don't think that this whole mission was just a set up."

"Why is that?" Logan asked.

"Because it wouldn't make any sense for it to be." Landen gestured emphatically with his hands. "I mean, think about it. Why go to the trouble of gathering a group of soldiers, training them for two months, and supplying them with tactical information just to send us to an execution. I don't know how much of an ego that you guys have, but I know that I'm not important enough to go to all of this trouble to kill."

"He's right." Logan agreed. "If they had wanted me dead, they could have just executed me with no questions asked. There was no need for an entire charade."

"So what does this mean to us?" George still didn't sound or smell entirely convinced.

"It means that there was probably only one localized leak in intelligence as opposed to the whole thing," Landen replied. "And if the whole mission isn't a set up, then there should still be an extraction at the designated site for us."

"There's still no point," Hopps muttered from where he sat. "What do you think they're going to do with us when we show up at that extraction point after having aborted the mission?"

"Well, they'll... they'll..." Landen stammered.

"I don't know about the rest of you," Hopps rose slowly from his seat, "but my pardon was contingent on the successful completion of this mission. If I show up without having seen this thing through to the end, its back to the brig for me."

Logan watched as this thought took hold in all of their minds. All of them had been facing prison time, and a couple of them were even facing possible death sentences when they had been forced into this operation. Returning to a fate like that wasn't really an attractive option. A heavy scent of despair began to permeate the air.

Finally, Logan broke the silence. "Well, this may sound insane, but we could complete the mission."

"What!?" George yelped in shock. The others wore twin expressions of incredulity. "Are you crazy?"

"Look." Logan hurried to explain. "If it only is one person like Landen said, then they'll probably be expecting us to use the original plan to break into the citadel."

"Which means that they'll have all of their forces concentrated on the north ridge." Hopps completed the thought.

"Right."

The citadel itself was situated on the side of a small mountain with the north side placed right on top of the cliff-face. The original plan had been to scale the cliff-face during the night and thus gain access to the less heavily guarded north side.

"So all we have ta do is find another way ta get inside. They'll already have all of their forces deployed to the north face leaving them wide open to an attack from another source."

Silence reigned for a few moments as they all considered the possibilities. Finally George broke the silence. "I may know of another way inside."

All focused their attention on him as he continued. "This citadel was built in the mid-fourteen-hundreds. If it follows standard design for the time, the dungeons would have been built to partially flood during high rains and act as a type of drainage system. From the dungeons, the flood water drains out with the sewage into underground grottos."

George scratched his chin speculatively.

"I imagine that there is an entire system of underground streams and tunnels carved into that mountain. With a compass and a healthy dose of luck, we might be able to find an underground entrance."

"So we go through the sewers and come up in the dungeons," Venuti's voice dripped with sarcasm. "That sounds like it will give us a really good tactical position."

"Those old dungeons are dark and moldy and probably rarely used anymore," George countered. "I doubt that anyone even thinks to go down there."

Hopps seemed to be thinking deeply. "Adams, Mathison, do you think you can find the trail of Heiner's jeep and follow it back to the citadel?"

Logan nodded in reply. "Yeah, after the group broke up we made sure that we knew which trail was his. It's probably a little faded now, but I think that we could still follow it back to the source."

Hopps nodded in satisfaction then continued. "Well then, the big question now is: ... What do we want to do?" He stared at all of them waiting for a response. He knew, of course, that they really didn't have much of a choice. They had never really had a choice in any of this.

Part 12

The Present
Forty Miles North of Udine

The spectacular storm had finally calmed somewhat. The turbulent clouds that had born the brunt of the electrical display continued in their path eastward. Even the winds were dying down leaving in their wake only endless torrents of rain.

In a distant corner of his mind, Logan wondered if that meant that the dungeon area was flooding again. It was an errant thought. One that passed fleetingly over his consciousness before his entire mind was once again consumed by an overwhelming wave of pain.

He reflexively curled into a tighter ball against the pain and waited for the wave to slowly pass. In a few moments, the sharp stabs did began to ebb slightly, leaving the aching and tender feeling he had come to expect. His entire body screamed in agony continually, begging for some kind of relief. His torso and legs still throbbed unmercifully though most of his broken bones had managed to knit once again. His head felt like it was stuffed with iron spikes that jarred painfully against one another every time that he moved it.

All these pains, however, were only minor discomforts when compared to the agony that radiated outward from his arms.

They had simply been numb for the longest time. At first, that had actually worried him. He knew that serious nerve damage had been inflicted when Vanhorn and the others had physically torn his bone claws out of his forearms. For a time, he had wondered if even his healing factor had been overwhelmed by the shear amount of damage that had been done to him.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, the numbness eventually faded only to be replaced by a near paralyzing fire shooting up and down each limb. It felt as if hot pokers had been shoved into his arms, crunching bone and slashing tendons, then exploding to embed the still burning fragments deep into delicate nerve endings. It was a pain that radiated outward from his arms until he could almost feel it throughout his entire frame.

Once again, Logan had to remind himself that the pain meant that he was healing.

Using slow movements, he gently uncurled from the fetal position and managed a half-reclined posture. When his former teammates had finished with their torments, they had simply dragged him back to the holding chamber not even bothering with restraints. They obviously considered him more than manageable in his present state and didn't deem it necessary to use more than a simple room to contain him. Logan just hoped that they weren't right. Right now he felt more like curling up into a ball again rather than trying to make an attempt at escape.

Still, he hoped to have one last wild card up his sleeve. His current captures had known about his healing factor as well as his other capabilities. They had done their homework well. The manacles had been perfect to counteract his claws, the repeated beatings were undoubtedly tools to keep his healing factor occupied, and the entire complex had been sprayed with an extremely pungent pepper spray to interfere with his heightened sense of smell. The precautions had been well thought out. However, they were all somewhat dated.

Ever since he had lost his adamantium in that fateful battle with Magneto, Logan had undergone several physical and sometimes disturbing changes. As far as he knew, Moira Mactaggert and Professor Xavier were the only people that had ever documented and kept files on these changes to his system.

If his present captures had access to those particular files they would have known that the pepper spray in use was no longer sufficient to block his sense of smell, that the beating weren't coming regularly enough to keep him in a weakened condition, and the claws that they had forcefully removed were already likely regrowing.

That fact had been a mild surprise even to Logan. It would still be a great deal of time before he would be able to consider them a viable weapon, but they were slowly regenerating. Certainly, it was a small advantage to say the least; however, it was the only one he had left and would have to suffice. Logan didn't allow himself to consider the alternative.

At that moment, another wave of nausea and pain chose to strike, forcing him back onto the cold stone floor from where he had been kneeling. Thankfully, the waves were gradually becoming less in frequency and intensity. For Logan, they couldn't pass quickly enough because not long after his ears detected the heavy sound of boots striking the stone floor in the hall.

The individual wasn't close enough for Logan to get his specific scent, but he could tell from the sound of the steps that it was Hopps, Mclenn, or Chancer. The footsteps sounded far too heavy for any of the others.

Logan drew a deep breath as the steps approached. He was going to have to be a convincing actor if he intended to pull this off. Saying a quick prayer, he started to tremble and breathe erratically. The footsteps in the hall stopped in front of the cell door as his captor unlatched the small window and peered inside, probably to hurl insults and torments at him. Logan had the other man's scent now. It was Mclenn, and he reeked of that continuous mixture of hatred, satisfaction, and vindication.

"Hey, Logan," he started mockingly, "I'm just making the customary courtesy call to make sure that everything is satisfactory with your arrangements. You know how we pride ourselves in guest satisfaction." Logan didn't respond. He just continued to tremble violently, while taking only shallow frantic breaths.

Mclenn's scent remained mostly unchanged, but now a small hint of uncertainty entered into the mix. However, his tone remained taunting.

"You know Mathison, I'm getting the distinct impression that you're not enjoying your stay with us."

The X-man failed to respond once again. His trembling was now approaching the level of convulsions.

The uncertainty was growing in Mclenn's scent and was newly joined by anger. "Listen, Mathison, I'm not falling for your crap. So you better just stop it right now."

Again, Logan's continued convulsing was the only response.

"Logan! I'm warning you!" The sharp smell of uncertainty was full blown now. Logan heard him swear violently then take off down the hall, his steps echoing heavily though the stone.

Logan allowed a brief smile to pass his features. He was certainly no thespian, but apparently he was good enough. Now, the hard part was about to come. So much of his plan, not that he could really even call it a plan, still relied on luck and the idea of them continuing to underestimate his healing factor. So much could easily go wrong.

Logan's head jerked towards the door slightly as the sounds of three sets of running footsteps grew louder. Mclenn had found someone quickly. They must have been in the same general area or something. He could now pick up the three scents, Mclenn's and two others that he recognized as scientists from the trial. Logan's hopes soared. Mclenn hadn't brought any of the other soldiers with him.

Logan resumed his convulsions as he heard the ancient lock mechanism turn and the door open, rusted hinges protesting the entire time. The three men entered the room cautiously.

Once they reached him, Logan could see that Mclenn was armed. A Heckler and Koch MP5 submachine gun hung from a shoulder strap at his side and he had drawn a 9mm Beretta, which was currently leveled at Logan's head. The scientists hesitated awaiting some kind of signal from the soldier. The four of them remained fixed in that position for what seemed like an eternity to Logan.

Finally, Mclenn broke the silence.

"Fallon doesn't want him to die yet. He still has other plans for him. I don't care what kind of condition he is in just make sure that he stays alive."

The scientists took that as their cue and moved swiftly forward just as Mclenn added. "And remember to be sure that you never step or move between him and me."

Logan cursed mentally. Mclenn wasn't completely fooled. He was still playing it safe; holding back with his gun steadily trained on Logan. The scientists knelt on either side of him and began their examination. They were especially cautious to stay well out of the line of fire.

"His heart rate is weak and erratic."

That was a little trick that he had picked up from an old friend in Japan some ten years ago.

The other scientist thumbed back one of his eyelids to shine a pocket light in his eye. "His pupils are dilated."

"We may have to give him a stimulant injection to make his heart start pumping again."

Mclenn simply nodded. "Do it."

One of the doctors moved away slightly and began rummaging through a small black bag that he had brought with him. From that bag, the man withdrew a syringe and a bottle filled with a pale yellow liquid. The needle was inserted into the tip of the bottle and with a pull on the plunger, the syringe filled with the pale fluid. The scientists tapped it slightly, bringing a few drops to the tip of the needle and ensuring that there were no air bubbles, then moved to place the syringe at the junction between Logan's neck and shoulder.

For a brief moment, while moving into position, the doctor accidentally placed himself between Logan and Mclenn's gun. It was only for an instant, but it was all the time that Logan needed. His hand snaked out and slapped the syringe from the man's hand. He completed the motion by delivering a backhand slap, which stunned the scientist and knocked him to the floor.

Mclenn was howling for the men to get out of the way, but Logan was simply too fast for them. In his next movement he grabbed the other doctor in a choke hold and positioned the scientist in front of him to block any shots from Mclenn. Mclenn had both hands gripped tightly on his 9mm Beretta, desperately looking for a shot.

Out of the corner of his eye Logan saw the scientist that he had struck regain his feet and begin to move towards them. Thinking quickly, Logan snatched the syringe off of the ground were it had fallen and shoved it into the man's torso as he charged them. The scientist's eyes went wide in shock then in horror as Logan jammed down on the plunger, pumping all of the fluid into the other man's body.

Apparently what could be considered a safe dosage for him was positively lethal to anyone else. His opponent immediately dropped to the ground with an inarticulate cry and began to convulse.

Mclenn howled in rage as the scientist fell to the ground and opened fire on Logan and the remaining doctor. Logan felt the man stiffen in his arms in pain, then go completely limp as three bullets impacted in his chest and face.

Those bullets were striking closer and closer to Logan now as holding the limp scientist was dragging him down. He needed to do something and quick.

In one smooth movement, he dropped the scientist and rolled. He retrieved the syringe from the other scientist's slowly quivering frame and hurled it directly at Mclenn's left hand. The throw had the desired effect as Mclenn yelped in pain and reflexively dropped his weapon. Logan saw his chance and quickly disengaged himself from his protective stance behind the now still corpse. Stumbling to his feet, he closed in on Mclenn as quickly as his weakened body would permit.

Mclenn yanked the syringe from his wrist using his right hand, then whipped his MP5 submachine gun up from his side to target Logan. The taller man was only a split second too slow.

Logan slammed into him full force, knocking the muzzle of the gun vertically where it sent a spray of machine gun fire into the stone ceiling. Logan could feel the chips of stone and mortar rain down on them as they both tumbled through the door frame of his cell, smacking the partially open door as they fell.

Logan landed on top of his opponent and attempted to wrestle the submachine gun away from him. The MP5, however, was still hooked to a strap that wrapped over Mclenn's left shoulder. Still in possession of the weapon, Mclenn was able to thwart the opportunity of Logan's momentary distraction and slammed his elbow directly into the smaller man's face.

Logan felt his head snap backward at the blow but managed to maintain his grip on the gun. Mclenn followed through, heaving Logan off of his body; then trying to pin the him to the floor. Logan barely managed to escape being pinned as both men struggled to their feet, still locked in a tug-of-war over the submachine gun.

Logan suddenly changed his grip on the weapon and used the leverage to slam Mclenn into the stone wall. Grimly, he grinned with satisfaction as he heard the air escape from Mclenn's lungs in a whoosh. The victory was short-lived, however, as Mclenn drove his knee into Logan's unprotected abdomen, causing him to retreat backwards.

This fight was taking too long. He needed to finish grappling with Mclenn and move on before the others arrived to end this little party. Mclenn charged him again looking to capitalize of the previous blow. Logan ducked and used the man's momentum to finally wrench the sub-machine gun from his hands. With another quick twist he had the shoulder strap wrapped tightly around Mclenn's neck.

Mclenn clawed desperately at the strap as Logan continued to apply pressure to both the strap and Mclenn's neck. His arms burned in agony, but he didn't let up until he heard the confirming snap in Mclenn's neck. Logan hesitantly backed away as he watched the body of his one-time teammate slowly sink to the ground. Logan's own knees gave out on him as the enormity of what he had just done flooded his mind. He stared numbly at the now still form of Mclenn and felt the urge to retch as his eyes took in the horrified death mask that now covered Mclenn's face. Idly, Logan wondered if the man would rise from the dead again right in front of him.

"It wasn't really Mclenn," he whispered repeatedly to himself. "It wasn't really him."

A few more times and he might even start believing it. With a groan, he forced himself to his feet once again. He was positive that their struggle hadn't gone unnoticed, and it was only a matter of time before others arrived.

He quickly untangled the shoulder strap from Mclenn's neck and retrieved some spare cartridges for the weapon. Moving swiftly now, he returned to the cell to collect the 9mm Beretta that Mclenn had dropped during the onset of their struggle. Without his claws, he was going to need every offensive weapon that he could find. The X-Man checked the clip to find that Mclenn had shot off half of it. There weren't any cartridges for the Beretta on Mclenn's body either.

Logan sighed. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

He shoved the handgun into the waistband of his jeans and tossed the strap of the sub-machine gun over his shoulder before re-entering the hall. The most viable option for him right now was to make it down into the sewer system and then escape into the underground maze of grottos. He just hoped that from that point, he would eventually be able to find his way out. Those caves went on for miles and miles.

Logan began moving down the hall at the pace of a slow jog. His entire frame ached with every painful step, but he maintained his self-imposed pace. It was just fast enough to outrun anyone that might have been trying to follow his trail, and just slow enough that he would have some small amount of reaction time if some one was waiting for him around the next corner.

However, he hadn't counted on a wave of pain hitting him at that moment. It wasn't nearly as intense as the ones that he had suffered while in his cell, but it was enough to cause him to halt and lean against the wall, oblivious to his surroundings for a moment.

When awareness returned, the first thing that he noticed were the sounds of loud cries and running footsteps in front of him. The next thing that he became aware of was the scent of Chancer, Vanhorn, and Adams, who were currently charging in his direction. And the third thing that he became aware of was the roar of three automatic weapons leading to the whistle of bullets and chips of mortar flying past his face.

Logan ducked back around the corner as the three men let out another burst of gunfire. He began a mad dash back down the hallway in the direction that he had come from. Just then, his eyes caught a side hall that he hadn't noticed before. He managed to stop his momentum and head down it just as another hail of bullets was sent chasing after him. He quickly scanned his new location and found that he must have entered into some sort of landing for the stairs A railing was on his right while a couple of small tables decorated with candelabras rested to his left. In front of him, beyond the tables, he spotted a stairwell but didn't even waste time with the stairs.

With a running bound, he cleared the railing just as the entire hall seemed to explode around him in a conflagration of flaming wood chips, mortar and stone fragments. Behind him, the tables seemed to disintegrate under the combine firepower of the three soldiers currently chasing him.

Logan fell the twenty plus feet and landed with a painful grunt, immediately going down on his hands and knees. The sound of running footsteps on the landing above him reminded the X-Man that he didn't have time now to worry about his pain.

Forcing himself back into action, Logan rolled out of the center of the floor to underneath the landing from which he had just jumped. Bullets scarred the place where he had been only moments before. He pulled himself back to his feet and took stock of his situation now that he was momentarily out of their line of fire. He knew that they weren't going to try his method of descending to the lower lever, so that gave him a few seconds to decide where he wanted to go from here.

"Did we get him?" a voice, probably Chancer's, called out after the spray of bullets had ceased.

"Don't think so."

Logan heard a click, which he assumed was the sound of one of them changing to a new clip. "He slid out from sight under the landing. Let's take it nice and slow. Vanhorn, you're on point. Me and Chancer will cover."

Logan glanced down the next corridor and nearly gave a start as he recognized it as the chamber that led to the lower level dungeons. Finally a little luck.

Logan glanced back up to the stairs were the sound of booted steps signaled the imminent arrival of his captors. He began to slowly work his way to the corridor entrance, keeping to the shadows as much as possible.

He tried to gage the distance between the three soldiers and himself. He knew that he didn't have a great deal of time left. He settled back into a crouch beside a large stone pillar. Ten feet of open space still separated him and the corridor, and he was pretty sure that they would be down the stairs before he was across the distance. Unless he slowed them down.

Vanhorn came into view first. Logan lifted the MP5 to his shoulder and set it on single shot. His angle on the other man was lousy, and he hadn't seriously used a gun in a combat situation in years. These combined factors weren't going to make it an easy shot but Logan slowly lined up the crosshairs.

However, just as he was about to pull the trigger, Vanhorn spotted him. "There he is!" Vanhorn cried as he brought to bear his own gun, an M-16 that Logan easily identified at this range.

Logan wasn't a man to hesitate. He squeezed off a shot and watched only for a split second to see Vanhorn recoil, clutching his bleeding shoulder where the bullet had nicked him. Then Logan was off, sprinting as fast as his legs would take him.

Behind him he could here Vanhorn yelling that he was fine and to just worry about the target. However, the other two men hovered over Vanhorn long enough to buy Logan the time he needed. The X-Man breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the entrance to the corridor. Already the sounds of his pursuers were distant although still continuous.

He knew that it was only a momentary reprise. He still needed to make good his escape, and this was his best chance. He ran for all he was worth. Two halls and another flight of stairs later, he was standing before the door to the dungeon area. It was locked, but a few solid kicks soon convinced the old wooden frame to splinter and remove itself along with the the door from his path.

Logan descended down another set of stairs. These ones roughhewn, and slick with mold and water, but he still took them at a break neck pace.

He was somewhat surprised when he plunged into already chest-high waters as he entered the darkened sublevels. He knew that it was raining heavily outside, but it seemed that the waters shouldn't have reached this level yet.

Logan shook his head to discard the errant thought as he waded through the darkened chambers.

What did it matter how high the flood waters were?

He quickly navigated to the point were he remembered entering the citadel over fifty years ago. He knew that up ahead he would find the sewage drainage system that would allow him to reach the underground caves. From there, it would be nearly impossible for his captors to locate him. With a little luck, they would spend nearly a week searching those caves before they finally realized that he was long gone. However, fate, it seemed, had other plans. When he reached the sewage drain, he found that it had been completely sealed up. Logan swore silently to himself.

No wonder the floodwater's so high. he thought. *It doesn't have anyway to drain out.* Then another terrifying thought struck him. I'm pinned down in here.

As if to confirm that fear, Logan's sensitive nose suddenly caught the scents of Chancer, Vanhorn, and Adams, who had just entered the dungeon area. The trio hesitantly descended into the murky waters and began systematically searching the dark recesses of the dungeon using maglights mounted on the barrels of their weapons.

Logan could see that Chancer had taken point, while Vanhorn had fallen back with Adams and was still favoring his left shoulder.

"We know you're down here Logan," Adams called out tauntingly. "We also know that you're trapped. The drains have all been sealed off. So, why don't you make this easier on yourself and just come out?"

Logan sank slowly down until only his eyes remained above the waterline. In the dark shadows of the prison walls, he was virtually invisible. He wasn't about to make the mistake of giving away his position by responding to the taunts this time. That mistake was what had placed him here in the first place.

"Come on Logan." Chancer sounded almost exasperated. "It's just a matter of time until we find you. You know that."

Logan briefly considered the possibility of being able to sneak by them and return into the higher levels of the citadel, but he quickly discarded the idea when he noticed that Adams was deliberately holding back to guard the entrance against that contingency. He would need to find some other alternative or he would be forced to fight his way out of this dead end.

Chancer was slowly but surely closing in on his position. Logan ducked his head completely under the surface of the water for a moment as Chancer shined a search beam in his direction. When the X-Man resurfaced a few moments later he found Chancer only five meters away, but turned in the other direction.

Looking at Chancer again and specifically noting the variety of weaponry the man had brought along just to stop him or hurt him with, another idea slowly began to form in Logan' mind. It was risky, but it was also his only chance. Logan would have snorted in irony if not for his current situation.

Gonna take a chance on Chancer.

Logan used his hand to disturb the surface of the water, nothing big, just enough to attract Chancer's attention.

"That you Logan?"

Logan once again ducked under the surface to avoid Chancer's probe. Under the surface all sounds were muted and garbled, but he could still make out Chancer as the large man slowly began to move in his direction. Logan silently prayed for the luck of the Cajun for once in his life as his opponent continued to approach.

The soldier was moving cautiously, pausing every two or three steps to check the area and watch for an ambush. Logan just hoped that the man didn't take too long. Even with a mutant healing factor, he couldn't hold his breath indefinitely.

The seconds ticked by slowly and Logan's lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen. Come on Chancer he thought desperately. Get over here. Moment after tortuous moment passed while Chancer continued to inch his way forward. When he finally arrived just a yard away from the Canadian's position, Logan knew that it was time to act.

Logan lunged at Chancer with every ounce of speed he possessed. He would have to move quickly for his plan to have any possibility of success.

The assault rifle with its mounted flashlight was the first thing that Logan knocked out of a very surprised Chancer's hands. In a flash, Logan pinned the man's arm behind his back, placing stress on all the crucial joints. As Chancer cursed and struggled, his other hand snaked to the weapons belt he had eyed before. There, it retrieved a hand grenade.

Adams and Vanhorn had both heard the sounds of the struggle and had begun to open fire; the sound of gunfire ringing disproportionately loudly through the subterranean levels. The light-beams from their mounted flashlights desperately roamed the tunnel, searching for them. Fortunately, they hadn't been able to pin down the exact location yet, something that Logan knew would change rather quickly, and the bullets continued to harmlessly cut the surface of the water.

Logan brought the grenade to his mouth and used his teeth to pull the pin. He released the lever and shoved the grenade into the slime-encrusted surface in back of him.

Logan tightened his grip on Chancer's arm as he spun the man around. Using his last reserves of strength, Logan managed to grapple the man between him and the grenade just before it exploded. Chancer's final scream was cut off abruptly by the roar of the explosion that echoed through the dungeon. The man's body had absorbed the brunt of the impact and even, in a small way, redirected some of the force back at the wall.

Logan didn't know whether to laugh or cry. His plan had worked. The seal placed on the drainage system had been destroyed in the blast and now the flood waters were forming a whirlpool as they rushed to the opening. Logan knew that he didn't have nearly enough strength to fight the current, thus, he just let it pull him into its embrace as he and the body of a man that had died fifty years ago were drawn into its murky depths.

[next part]

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