Subject: [OTL]: [Maverick, Kai] [R] From Russia, With . . . 10/Not so many
Date: Wed, 10 May 2000 18:28:10 -0700
From: Jaya Mitai <jaya_gm@hotmail.com>

(See previous posts for disclaimer, or I shall sick upon ye yuir DOOM!)

* * * * * * *

        An hour later saw North safe in the cockpit, still seeping bright red 
life, unconscious.  It also, upon close inspection, found Kai with the headset
over her ears, facing an array of computers, most of them on the floor.

        "Sounds like he was removing them.  You tried switching to manual?"

        Kai grumbled.  "You heard me try, Evan.  Look, I'm pulling out the last
one."

        There was a slight silence.  "Telling you don't wouldn't do any good, would
it."

        Kai smiled sweetly, well aware he couldn't see her, and not caring.
He could hear it. "Nope."  She pulled the board.

        There was the slightest change in engine sound, but other than that,
nothing.

        Kai crawled through the space, banged her knee, swore, and ended up back 
in the cockpit.  The stench of blood was almost overwhelming, particularly with
the hot sun beating down.  But that was about to change.  The sun beating
down, at least.  She had wished for clouds, earlier, before discovering they
were far below her.

        She sat in the pilot's seat, adjusting the headset.  Reception should be
better in here.

        "Evan?  Alright, now what do I do?"

        "See that little dial above you?"

        She snorted.  "About fifty.  Any one in particular?"

        He sighed.  "Look, just turn the damn grips and see if the plane goes
anywhere."

        She did.  "It does."

        "Good.  See the digital readout with the degrees on it?"

        "Uh-huh."

        "Make it say . . . uh . . . lemme check . . ."

        Kai rolled her eyes.  "You _are_ aware I can't land this thing."

        "We'll worry about it later, sweet pea," Evan said distractedly.
She could hear him rustling through papers.  Sweet pea, huh?

        It was going to be a long flight.

        Behind her, she heard the bottle shatter in the back. So much for 
Logan's toy.  She wondered idly if he'd wait back there or decide to keep her
company up here.

* * * * * * *

        Kai paced the halls, stopping now and again to check the rooms.  The
workers were trying their best with Logan.  Nothing.  She would go in there
herself, if Darius would let her.  As it was, she didn't have either the
access codes or the authority, and he hadn't volunteered to give her either.
As a matter of fact, since she'd managed by the skin of her teeth to land
the plane, he'd said less than five words to her.

        The Russians had managed to convince the government that they'd recovered
the weapons shortly before a Three Eyes team had destroyed the base, and now
the entire world was screaming about twenty nuclear missiles disappearing.

        Then Croatia had taken advantage, making wild threats about having
the nukes and demanding impossible grants of land, money, and impunity.  
Panic had ensued, calmed only by the appropriate governments that entered 
into negotiations with each other almost instantly.  Security was almost
neurotic.  Nuclear submarines were being shipped out to the area, most of
the Eastern European countries were amassing huge armies - basically, the
Cuban Missile Crisis, slightly less organized.

        If she'd just made up her goddamn mind and not waited for Maverick to 
get off his ass and decide, she could have known two days in advance where they
were, and the entire thing could have been avoided.

        Her pacing brought her gaze to the opposite side of the hall.  In another
observation room, still unconscious after three days, was North.

        She continued to pace as she heard a door open.  A light, measured stride
approached.

        "Kai."

        She didn't turn, but did stand still, frozen in place as those strides
carried him to her right.

        "They've been dismantled.  We'll wait a few days, until the majority of the
heat has settled down."

        She nodded, once.

        Darius sucked in a great breath, exhaled.  Watched the scene before them.

        Logan had been given free roam of the room, and techs watched from
behind plexiglass, making sure that he could see them. There were holes, as 
well, so he could catch their scent.  Fresh air was pumped into the room, the
entire time trying to make him feel as less confined as possible, given the
circumstances.  They had also left him uncollared, and in baggy,
non-descript clothes, the dark grey that seemed to be the color of Three
Eyes.

        They had tried earlier all the most rudimentary ways to communicate,
with colors, sounds, and shapes.  While at certain, very brief times he displayed
some understanding, most of the time he was unwilling to even pay them any
attention.  He had only made one attack attempt at the glass, and that was
when one of the Russian techs had accidentally fallen into his own language,
swearing in frustration.

        Now there were only Americans working with him.

        At the moment they were trying another tactic that had often worked
with belligerent sentient primates.  In the past, both with female and male
gorillas, giving them something to baby or something to show affection to
had had a great impact on their behavior towards the humans. They were
trying this tactic now, using an orange and white kitten.

        His reaction was quick and surprising.  He roared at the approaching
kitten, making it scuttle back in panic.  Then he immediately fled to the
opposite side of the room and into the corner, drawing his knees up and
hugging them to him in the most humanistic behavior he had displayed since
he'd been there.

        Kai swallowed, watching his eyes, suddenly wide and full of fear, 
glued  on the kitten trembling and cowering in the corner from him.  She turned
abruptly, studying North instead.

        He was in another observation room, still recovering from what they
said was opiate withdrawal, as well as extensive injuries, blood loss, and
malnutrition.  His chest rose and fell gently, without help from the
respirator they'd put in the room, just in case.  Wary of the Russians or
Croats retaliating, Darius had rather grudgingly agreed that turning him
over to the local hospitals before he had woken, even in America, would be
the same as pulling the trigger themselves.

        Despite the injuries he'd suffered, his face looked tranquil.  In sleep, 
he seemed much younger than he was, the muscles around his eyes and mouth
relaxed and the lines not so defined.  It was still a strong face, but
somehow more innocent than the trained killer look that he'd grown into from
his own days in WeaponX, and before.

        Trained killer look. She knew it well.  It had stared at her in the mirror
- when she'd bothered to look - for years.  Cold, expressionless.  A mask.

        She heard voices, turned around.  One of the female techs was gently
removing the kitten from his room.  He watched her, and Kai was startled to
see a brief flash of hope in his eyes, and then it faded just as quickly,
and he violently got to threes and started pacing.  She cocked an ear.  To
his heartbeat.  He was pacing to his heartbeat.

        "Let me go in there."

        "No."

        She finally turned to look at him.  Darius was regarding Logan with
a critical eye, and behind that was the slightest bit of fatigue.  He'd gotten
some decent sleep last night, but the days before had been spent in worry
and tense wakefulness, with the hope of averting a nuclear disaster, and
later, controlling mass world panic.  A lot for a single pair of shoulders,
and his were broad, but not that broad.

        "We'll give him to the X-Men after the missiles have left," Darius
finally rumbled in his curiously deep voice.  "Then this base will be put on 
the dormant list for a while.  No telling how much he remembers.  Or the other
Logan you say he has a connection to."

        Kai just watched Logan, didn't say a word.  She'd never been that bad.
Kincaid had managed to leave her with her sanity, instead of depriving her
of everything and then starting from scratch.  At least she'd retained some
of her humanity --

        If you can call yourself human and commit the atrocities she had, then.  
If being an emotionless slave is humanity.

        "It isn't the same thing," Darius said quietly.

        "Oh yes it is," she muttered.  "Only Kincaid did a slightly more polished
job with me.  Then again, he took it slower."

        "Kai -"

        "No.  I'm right.  And Logan went back there.  He was speaking before, 
when I found him and questioned him.  He was reasonably sane."

        "He was killing people across Europe."

        "That was the other's fault."

        "And the same doesn't apply to you?"

        Kai glared at him.  "I did what I did because I wasn't -"  She broke off
and turned away in fury, still watching Logan.

        "Strong enough to fight," he finished.  "Neither, apparently, was he.  
Yet you don't blame him for what he's done in the past weeks."

        "He didn't have a choice," she grated.

        "And you did?"

        Her gaze shifted to Maverick.  Still unconscious, she watched the
rising and falling of his chest, tried to follow that calm, steady breathing
pattern. It didn't help.

        It came out a hushed whisper.  "Yes."

        "Kai, that isn't-"

        Her voice was vicious, spat through clenched teeth.  "I broke conditioning,
didn't I?  I finally said no. Coulda done it years before -"

        "And Kincaid would have done a better job the next time around." 
Darius  was quiet a moment, merely staring at Logan, still pacing.  "And maybe 
he wouldn't have been satisfied with merely commanding complete control over
your physical actions."

        It took Kai a second to realize that she was about to hit him, her
hand flying toward him of its own accord.  She then turned the motion into
irritably yanking hair from her eyes.  Darius hadn't missed it.

        "When are you going to accept the fact that you've changed, Kai?
You aren't KI-5.  You never were.  You have always been Kai."

        A minute went by, perfectly silent save North's steady rhythm and Logan's
equally steady rumble.

        Then she turned on her heels and strode out of the room, barely getting 
the "Excuse me" past her choked throat.

* * * * * * *

        Something was wrong.

It stopped, standing absolutely still, and sniffed, pink nose twitching.  It
turned its ears toward the left.  Came forward a length or two.  Looked
towards the Home.

        There was something there.

        It blinked large, wide eyes at this thing that had taken up residence 
near the Home.

        The thing was a Man.  A tall Man, quiet.  Still.  Leaning against the 
tree, nearly the same color.

        The Man turned, and looked.  And it opened it's mouth, and a strange,
lilting grumble came from it.

        "Don' happen t'have a smoke on y', eh?"

        The rabbit had finally had enough of an inspection, decided it didn't 
like him, and hopped off to the other side of the tree, waiting about a minute
and a half before diving into its den.

        Remy sighed, and wished for the millionth time he wasn't sitting at
the base of a tree on his numb butt with no smokes watching the world's wackiest
office building.  People went in that never came out, and people that had
never gone in walked out and took the cars of those that went in and didn't
leave.

        Very smooth, though.  No cars were there overnight.  You'd have to
be a paranoid, obsessive, deadly bored man to notice the difference in car
owners.

        Then again, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to recall that the old 
lady did NOT own the bright red Camero with a Kiss sticker in the back window.
And after that, things sort of fell into place.

        Pros.  Place stank of it.  Security was top-notch.  They had some sort 
of underground tunnel system he hadn't yet managed to find a way into.  Windows
were non-openable and rigged to the max.  Three doors in.  Vents small and
secure.  Utilities hidden.

        Place was a fortress, for an innocent toy manufacturing company.

        He sighed and shifted again, wondering what it was about the root system 
of the tree that kept putting his butt to sleep.  Not only did he have a numb
butt, but it was cold, and he was tired, and hungry, and most of all, worried.

        Logan was getting worse.

        The longer they stayed, the worse the dreams.  He'd calmed down before 
he woke up this morning, allowing Remy to remove the restraints he now put on
him nightly, but he was it cutting close.  And Remy wasn't at all sure he
could continue to go without sleep -- and the restraints would hold.

        And the physical part was the least of his worries.

        Remy mused aloud.  "No, can't . . . Jubi . . ."

        He thought back to the mansion.  She'd been behaving her usual way,
babysitting Logan as if he were a small child, and her charge alone.  Not
unusually obsessive, given what he'd gone through, and the reception he'd
gotten from his supposed 'family.'  Remy shivered at the thought, and shoved
it firmly out of his mind.  Stick to the topic.  Jubilee.  Nothing had
seemed odd between them.

        But it isn't Logan, he reminded himself pointedly.  It isn't Logan.

        It's just someone that acts like him, talks like him, remembers things 
like him, moves like him, cheats at poker like him --

        And the eyes give away what Hank can't explain.

        It isn't Logan.  Because the thing that made Logan so dangerous -- is
absent.

        The Logan he followed halfway around the world was sane.

        Completely.  In thought, in action.  The gleam was gone.  The
constant struggle was gone.  And something very, very worthwhile was showing up.
Something that Logan the martial artist could be proud of.  Something that
he had struggled to attain for all of his remembered life.  No more fighting
the animal.  No more fighting for his mind.

        Except at night.  Particularly now.  Particularly when they were staying 
so close to this place.

        He shifted again, grumbling.  He'd only been here twenty minutes.
It wasn't so cold that his butt should be that numb --

        Oh, merde.

        Remy rolled to the right, and still didn't avoid the entire blow.
The heel of the foot struck glancingly on a jaw that would have shattered had he 
not moved it.  Remy rolled and ducked behind a tree as three shots were fired
off in rapid succession.

        "You're not going anywhere, pal.  Come out and keep your hands where
I can see them."

        "Fake tree, or do you always boobytrap the foliage?"  Remy was quite
proud of the lack of accent.  He'd been practicing for almost a week.

        "Step out now."  Quite a lot of threat in that tone.  And eagerness
underlying.  Remy was almost certain that voice did _ not _ want him to
obey.

        Remy reached into his sleeve, took out two cards.  Charged them.
Decided against it, and put them away.

        Then he stepped out.

        The man opposite him was no more than a boy, really.  Clean-cut, young.
Arrogant.  Cocky.  And very well armed.  He held the gun in one hand, the
other loosely at his side.

        And he had piss-poor taste in jogging suits.

        Remy raised an eyebrow.  "Quite a place you people run here."

        The man's eyes narrowed.  "French, huh."

        Remy feigned pretending to hide disappointment.  Regardless of who the 
man that looked like Logan was, there was another Logan in there.  And Logan's
ex-X-buddy, Maverick.  Didn't need to piss around with these people.

        "Came for a friend of mine.  Seems you're keeping more than teddy bears
boxed up, yes?"

        The face didn't belie anything.  "On the ground.  Hands on your head."

        Remy moved to comply after a moment, and the guy approached him.

        The security guard didn't even have time to move as Remy used the
forward motion of leaning forward to flip, hands gripping the fake 'roots' of 
the tree, and both his feet connected solidly with the man's chest.  As the man
flew back, still managing to keep his feet under him, Remy completed the
flip, landing on his feet and stepping forward.  A quick sweep failed to
take the man down, and Remy walked in for a backfist which connected.

        He pinned the man to a tree.

        "What y'done wid m'friend?"

        The man's eyes widened, flashing.  "You're an X-Man, aren't you."

        Remy smiled unpleasantly.  "Not right now I don' be.  Answer de question,
pup, else I get tired o'y'an' ask someone else."

        The man didn't move.

        "Y'know," Remy said conversationally, "I could just kill y' an' take y' ID
and check de place out m'self.  Unless, dat is, y'willin' t'tell me
somethin' useful?"

        The man struggled only once, brought out a knife that Remy didn't even see.
Blade didn't penetrate the Kevlar.

        Remy grinned and disarmed him by breaking his wrist.

        "Don't take kindly t'y'lockin' up friends o' mine."

        The eyes flashed angrily.  "You don't know what you're talking about.  They
haven't been harmed."

        Remy grinned companionably.  "So den dere no problem wid me seein' 'em, eh?"

        The man didn't speak a word.

        Remy narrowed his eyes, trying for the Demon from the Seventh Level of 
the Abyss look that would send lesser men running with empty bladders.  The kid
looked vaguely startled, but not particularly impressed.

        This was not going well.  There was no place for him to stash the kid, 
and no time.  Let alone showing him another Logan.  If he let him go, the place
would be literally crawling with security and that might bring some very
unpleasant folk to the mansion.  Assuming they knew that the X-Men lived there.

        And that was pretty much given.

        The guy leaned right into Remy's face.

        "I can't let you in, and you know it."

        "Y'boss, den."

        He sneered.  "And you'd waltz right in if invited?"

        Point.

        Remy sighed.  "Sorry 'bout dis."  And he used a technique Bella had taught
him when she was twelve.

        The man slumped lifelessly to the ground, neck broken so cleanly that 
death had been instantaneous.  Remy dragged the body into some bushes and grabbed
the ID and what appeared to be standard weapons.  Then he paused, inspecting
the charcoal grey jumpsuit.

* * * * * * *

        It was late that night when the electric eye parted the doors.  Daniel
Riggs looked up from a particularly good play to see an agent accompanied by
another man - at gunpoint.

        The surprise came when he realized who it was the agent had captured.  
He grabbed for the phone, the basketball game forgotten, tipping a plastic cup
of pens in his haste.

        The agent shook his head.  "Don' bother.  I got it."

        Daniel slowly replaced the receiver.  "And you are?"

        The agent pulled out his ID, his eyes hidden with sunglasses, but obviously
never leaving his prisoner, who looked bored with the whole affair.

        The ID cleared - Evan McGuier.  Name rang a bell, though he'd never seen
the guy.  Supposed to be one of the best agents they had.  Seeing who he'd
brought with him, Daniel had to agree.

        "Yes, sir.  Do you need assistance?"

        Evan shrugged.  "Nah.  Says he wan' t'talk t'de boss.  T'ink I can handle
dat."  He grinned.

        Daniel nodded.  He liked this guy.

        "Sure thing.  I take it you want me to keep this quiet?"

        Evan nodded.  "Yeah, no need t'start a fan mob."

        The man known internationally as the X-Man Wolverine grunted.  "Quit jawin'
already.  I don't got all night."

        Evan rolled his head on his shoulders tiredly, working out some of
the stiffness, and Daniel buzzed him through.  He watched them disappear towards
the elevator.  Wow.  Wolverine of the X-Men.  Unbelievable.

        Then again, he'd seen a lot of unbelievable things, being a tech for
Three Eyes.  His eyes wandered over the security videos, the outside parking lot,
and the lobby with its fake plants and fake toys.  Toddler Toy Co.  Their
Eastern North American base.

        And Wolverine was seeing Mr. Toddler himself.  Apparently Evan had given
the Boss that name.  Which meant . . . he'd seen all the high agents - Kai,
Evan, Bret  . . .

        Daniel rearranged the pens he'd knocked over, reached for his bottle
of water - and the phone.  Just one call wouldn't hurt . . . Amy'd be ecstatic
to know an X-Man was in the building.

* * * * * * *

        Once in the elevator, thankfully minus cameras, Remy inspected the keypad
critically.  He grinned in relief as he noted the credit-card like slot, and
slid the ID through.  The elevator began to move.

        "T'ought I was gonna have t'hotwire de t'ing," he admitted with a sheepish
grin.  Logan snorted.

        "Pretty soon someone's gonna recognize you, too, yah know."

        Remy shrugged.  "Eh, den t'ings get messy.  Y'got any idea which floor?"

        Logan glared.  "Yer lucky I got the right state."

        Remy shrugged, looking uncomfortable in the dark grey jumpsuit.
"Pro'bly de most secure floors - de ones we going down to, 'stead o' up.  Can' be 
too hard t'find."

        Logan tensed as the elevator slowed.

        "Showtime."

* * * * * * *

        Kai rubbed the knots out of the back of her neck, trying yet another
combination of numbers.  Despite her good ears, there were eight digits, and
she was beginning to think Darius had switched the keypad to soundless
_just_ to keep her out.  Logan, for the most part, ignored her, trying to
get comfortable enough to sleep.  He kept shifting, as though he was
restless.

        He still wouldn't use the bed.  In fact, he avoided it like the plague.

        Another failed code.  She'd have to wait two minutes for the three failed
access code message to disappear.  If she entered another wrong combination,
she'd set off every alarm in the place.

        And Darius would be even more unhappy with her than he already was.

        She heard voices, and footsteps.  Didn't sound like Darius.  She ignored
them, for the most part.  Only people running around down here at this time
of night would be the techs and a janitor, and none of them posed a threat
to her.  She wondered at her guilty, defensive thoughts feelings.  She had
every right to be here.  She might not be an official agent, but that was
more a favor on Darius's part, not keeping her under contract.  Giving her
the leeway to leave when she liked, and take the ops she wanted.

        A favor.

        The footsteps continued to approach, and she resumed her pacing, looking
for all the world like she was merely waiting, most likely for Maverick to
wake up. Twice today he'd stirred, neither time gaining consciousness.  It
was only a matter of time, now.

        The door hissed open, the weight resisting loudly, and she glanced up as
the strong scent of aftershave hit her nose.  Wasn't Evan's brand --

        Or his scent.

        Her eyes opened wider as she stared into a pair nearly as startled as 
she was.  The tall one wasted no time in covering the distance between them as
Logan held her gaze, and she didn't quite get out of the way of the punch he
threw, stumbling back but not dazed.  She snagged the gun from behind her,
leveled it at his head.

        The tall guy reached out with a grin and touched it.

        And it started to glow.

        Kai really contemplated shooting him anyway, but common sense said toss 
the gun away.  It also murmured that an explosion would get them all caught, and
here was the other Logan, right in front of her, to be questions at her leisure.

        So she tossed the gun to the man.

        He caught it, uncharged it, and held it casually, to the side slightly.
Logan just shook his head.

        "Give it back to her, Cajun. She ain't gonna give us any trouble."

        "The hell I won't," she growled.  More quietly, "And you won't be able to
get in there.  I've been trying all night."

        The Cajun? - hadda be Remy LeBeau, then - regarded her before handing her
back the gun with a charming grin.

        "We'll see about dat, eh, chere?"  And then he peered in the glass quietly
for a moment, before crouching before the pad.

        She knew his reputation.  Hell, they could have hired him to get the
missiles, now that she thought about it. Though he didn't usually steal
things too large to be carried.  If anyone could get in there, it'd be him.

        She then returned her gaze to Logan, who hadn't yet looked at his other
self.

        This was the one she'd left back in the snow. The one that had attacked
her.

        He seemed to sense her thoughts.  "Take it easy.  Don't remember much 
about the last time we met.  Seen what yah done for him, though."  He nodded,
again without looking.  Pervading his scent was anxiousness . . . and fear.
And a strange, musky scent she couldn't quite identify.

        "You have a lot of explaining to do," she told him quietly.  He chuckled.

        "I know. I ain't Logan.  Never was.  Don't remember why this happened.  
I have his thoughts, his memories.  Hell, if it weren't for the DNA and the
adamantium, and these damn dreams, I'd never know I wasn't who I look like."
Light as his tone was, touched with humor, the undertones were anything
but happy.

        Of course.  The X-Men had Logan, now what would they do with him?

        She studies his eyes as she listened to Remy's singsong French swearing.
Same dark, same brightness - but none of the glitter.  These eyes were sane.

        "You have his memories?"

        The impostor shrugged.  "Much as he remembers, they tell me.  What's yer
name?"

        "Kai," she said offhand, and was startled to hear Remy stop swearing for 
a moment, then resume as if he had never stopped. She wondered how much a man
in his business knew about her.  Hopefully little; KI-5 had done little
thieving.

        Unless you counted lives, that is.

        "He's a little wound up at the moment," she called over her shoulder, 
still casual, but a warning nonetheless.  What would they do with him?  And how
had they gotten in?

        Remy chuckled.  "Eh, maybe.  Still pissed 'bout dat pool game, I s'ppose . . ."

        She glanced at him, then returned her gaze to Logan.

        And then she smelled it.

        He must have seen something in her eyes, because he started forward, but
not before she grabbed the knife out of her belt -- and threw.

        Unfortunately, not only did the knife not penetrate Remy's shoulder,
Logan also moved far faster than she'd anticipated, and she was neatly pinned
before she could so much as yell.

        Remy jumped, turning to regard the knife on the floor.  "Kevlar under," he
said by way of explanation.  Then he looked at Logan.

        "No trouble, eh?"

        Logan cursed suddenly.  Kai just regarded LeBeau with an icy stare.

        "You killed him, didn't you," she said flatly.  Emotionlessly.  And she
hated herself for it.

        Remy hid his surprise well.  "Eh?  Oh, de ID?  Nah.  Gambit be in . . .
asset requisition, chere."

        Logan spoke before she could start screaming at him.  "Gumbo -- she can
smell it on yah."  He turned to look at Kai, not more than two inches from
her face.  "He's sleepin' off some tranq in a hotel room, darlin'.  He'll be
fine."

        For a brief moment, she considered if he was lying.  There was nothing 
but sincerity in those eyes.  After a moment, he nodded to her, and let her up,
dragging her to her feet with him.  She freed herself roughly and stared at
the two.  How did he know about her senses . . ?

        Evan?  Getting tranqed?  Then again, if anyone could do it . . .

        "What are you going to do with Logan?"

        The Logan before her turned away suddenly, and the fear came off him
stronger.  Remy didn't say a word.

        Kai cleared her throat.  "Don't make me repeat myself, boys . . ."

        "Take him t'de X-Men," Remy said finally.  "See if we c'n get a telepath
t'straighten out dis mess."

        Kai didn't ask the next question.  She didn't need to.

        "And find out who I am," Logan said quietly.

        On the other side of the Plexiglas, Logan continued to stare at Logan, not
growling.  Just staring.

        And Remy cracked his knuckles, and started to press buttons.

* * * * * * *