Obligatory warnings and disclaimers:
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If reading this is in any way illegal where you are or at your age, or you don't want to read about male/male relationships, go away. You shouldn't be here.
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The X-Men and any related characters are property of Marvel Comics, trademarked and registered and copyrighted and all that. I'm using them without permission.
For those who read the comics and worry about such things, this story takes place in the (much simpler and easier to follow) Ultimate X-Men universe, and starts right around issue 54. If you don't want to dig out your copy, the team at that time is Jean Grey, Cyclops, Iceman, Kitty Pryde, Nightcrawler, Colossus, Angel, and Dazzler.
Comments can be sent to "dustyh75@hotmail.com"
Thanks.
Seth figured they had five, maybe ten more seconds before there was a loud bang and a wet splat, and he ended up with Bobby's brains all over his shirt. At this range there was probably a decent chance that the bullet would just keep going into Seth and maybe kill him, too, giving the Weapon X commando guy with his rifle barrel leveled at Bobby's eye a "two birds with one stone" special, and leaving Warren with nothing to do but sit in the basement and watch them get closer and closer on the cameras until they cut through the door or blew it out with explosives and then took him down, too.
All of this raced through Seth's mind in about a second, along with the thought that none of that was really his life, and that's what he was pretty sure he was supposed to see at this particular moment. Bobby was about to get shot in the head, Seth would follow right behind him into an early grave, and he had no idea what they were supposed to do to stop it.
Fortunately Bobby, taking a deep breath and hoping he didn't end up with a sudden terminal case of lead on the brain, did. He knew that Seth wasn't trained in anything, really, and figured that him taking out Sabretooth, the fight Kitty just wouldn't shut up about, was blind luck more than anything else. Sure, Seth was telling people it was, too, but he kept saying it in that fawning, "Aw, shucks" way that reeked of false modesty. Of course, the rest of them just ate it up, like they ate up everything Seth did, spending all their time making sure he fit in and he was ok and he felt welcome here when they should be spending it out finding the rest of their team, the people who had proven that they deserved to be here by watching their backs and standing by their side and not just taking up space and moping around the kitchen.
Bobby had listened when Warren insisted Seth come with him, and now that he was here Bobby was hoping that Seth would be smart enough to move and actually do something when Bobby needed him to. Otherwise they were both going to die in about ten more seconds.
"If either one of you mutie freaks makes a move, any move at all, the one in front goes first," the commando said. He was a big guy, over six feet tall, and thick, bulging with muscles under his black bodysuit. It covered him from head to toe, including the gloves and boots, and a black knit cap on his head covered his hair. His face was streaked with black paint that left his eyes standing out like a pair of headlights, and they narrowed as they stared Bobby and Seth down. Somehow he managed to look like he was staring them both in the eyes at once, and all three of them watched to figure out what the others were about to do.
Seth had almost collided with Bobby when he'd stopped in the stairwell door, and now he was close enough that Bobby's back was almost touching Seth's chest as Bobby continued that long inhale. Seth wondered if Bobby might be hyperventilating or something but then realized that Bobby's back felt cold, extremely cold. Waves of chill were radiating out from Bobby's lungs, and Seth tensed as Bobby exhaled finally, blowing all that cold air out in a rush that went right up the gun barrel. The soldier's eyes went wide.
"What the hell are you," he began, and Seth saw his finger tense, squeezing.
They were dead.
Except that nothing happened.
Bobby sprang forward as the solider took a step back, confusion visible for a second before his mouth set in a hard line. Bobby grabbed the rifle barrel as the soldier continued squeezing the trigger, the gun inexplicably refusing to fire, and swung to the side, pulling it with him.
"Seth!" Bobby yelled, tugging the rifle out of the way as he started to ice up, shifting into the gleaming human ice sculpture that was his namesake. He didn't know how much longer the ice inside the chamber would keep the hammer from falling on the bullet, but even if it held out all night the soldier undoubtedly had other ways of taking care of them.
Seth leaned forward, over Bobby, and grabbed the soldier's face with one hand, squeezing as hard as he could. He felt a fast wave of hate from the soldier ("Fucking-muties-scum-filth-kill-them-kill-them-all") and redirected it right back, pushing as hard as he could with his power, feeling it flare up inside him. Any other time he'd have been worried that it wouldn't work, that it might not be there when he needed it because he hadn't ever really had any control over it, but he was so upset now, so filled with fear and frustration, egged on by the same fear and hate coming from the soldier, that he knew this would work. He knew it would work because it had to. They had no other option, no other chance, and Seth shoved everything he was feeling through his hand and into the soldier, skin to skin.
The soldier froze, his eyes rolling up in his head as Bobby jerked the gun out of his suddenly slackened hands, and Seth pushed again, thinking hard about how much he wanted the commando to just pass out and fall down. With a soft gasp, he did, his head thumping hard onto the hallway floor, and Seth and Bobby stood over him, both panting. The commando showed no signs on moving, but at least he was breathing. Bobby looked as surprised as Seth did, his face just as expressive even though it now appeared to be carved entirely out of ice.
"Jesus," Seth panted, staring at the commando.
"Is he dead?" Bobby asked, looking at Seth's hands. He'd heard from Kitty about the fight at the bus station, and the woman that Seth had put in a coma, but he'd thought it was kind of a one time deal, one of those moments when they were so keyed up that their powers went completely out of control and they did things that they wouldn't normally do. Sure, Seth had knocked out him and Kurt when he met them, but he'd passed out right after, and now here he was still standing over the soldier that was sprawled at their feet.
"No," Seth answered, and then Bobby was tackling him into the classroom across the hall from them, dropping the useless, jammed rifle. For a second Seth thought that the rifle was clattering unusually loudly to the floor, but realized it was the sound of gunfire. A spray of bullets pierced the wall behind where they're just been standing, chips of wood and chunks of plaster flying everywhere. "Jesus Christ!"
Bobby rolled off of him and shoved him toward the front of the room, and Seth half ran, half crawled toward the lab table at the front. This was the science classroom, where they had biology, earth science, and chemistry lessons when they weren't working in one of the laboratories downstairs or out in the field somewhere, and that meant there was a large lab bench built into the floor next to the lectern, right in front of the dry erase boards mounted on the front wall. Seth figured he could take cover behind it, although it didn't look nearly thick enough to stop bullets. Bobby slid the other way, behind the door they'd come in through, and quickly gestured to the front corner of the room. Behind them, in the hallway, they heard footsteps rapidly approaching, and Seth watched, grudgingly impressed with Bobby's quick thinking, as Bobby built a crude ice decoy in the corner, giving it the appearance of crouching behind a desk.
"Murphy's down," a male voice said from the hallway.
Bobby and Seth couldn't hear the response, but they both jumped as the gun, some sort of automatic, went off again. There was a series of meaty thumps as the man they'd taken out, the one Seth had knocked unconscious, was shot by his partner, and Seth felt the popcorn and candy he'd been eating less than an hour before rising acidly in his throat. He knew they weren't responsible, and that these guys would do the same to them, but for a second all he could think was that he and Bobby had killed that man. Even though it wasn't their fault and Seth hadn't imagined they would kill their own, he should have known it from the story that Bobby told earlier, about the commander who had shot all the men on her team. These guys wouldn't hesitate to kill them, because failure meant death.
The soldier burst into the doorway, rifle leveled, and opened fire on Bobby's ice decoy. Seth tried to make himself as small as possible behind the lab bench, curling into the fetal position, fighting the urge to pee his pants and vomit all over himself at the same time, ignoring the panicked impulse to jump up and run, knowing that doing so would mean instant death. The ice decoy exploded into a thousand tiny pieces, chips and cubes spraying everywhere as the walls behind it rattled and vibrated, and then the room was filled with sudden silence.
"Come on out, little freak," the man's voice called softly. It was scratchy and deeply rasping, the gruff tone of a heavy smoker, and Seth heard it move closer as the man spoke, stepping fully into the room. Bobby was still behind the door, but couldn't swing it closed without slamming it into the guy, and Seth looked frantically at the closed cabinets on the back of the lab bench, wondering if there was something inside that could help him. "Ice freak is down, and I have the unknown cornered."
"Take him out," the radio strapped to his chest blurted, and the soldier leveled his rifle at the lab bench, preparing to spray it from one side to the other and then back again.
"Wait!" Warren's voice yelled from the hallway, and the soldier's head jerked toward it, his whole body turning.
Bobby shoved the door as hard as he could, smashing the soldier between the door and the frame, and then pulled it open and jerked the guy inside. The soldier spun on his heel, smashing the butt of the rifle into Bobby's midsection, and Bobby slumped as the air went out of him. The commando jerked the rifle butt up, catching Bobby's jaw and knocking him backward, and then the soldier shifted the gun, bringing it down to fire at Bobby. Seth threw a beaker into his face as hard as he could, watching it smash, and the rifle swung away as the soldier reached for his eyes. Jumping to his feet, Seth threw another, and another, but they both missed, and the soldier glared as he swung the rifle around again, opening fire blindly even as Seth dropped behind the bench again.
Bobby swung a giant fist of ice into the soldier's face, knocking him off his feet as his head rocked back and the gun fell to the floor. The soldier fell back into the wall and Bobby froze him against it, pouring the ice on as it covered the man's torso, locking his arms in place. The soldier struggled against it, and Bobby punched him again and again, raining blows on him with his heavy, ice block fists until the man stopped moving.
"He's out," Bobby said finally, panting, and the heavy casings of ice around his hands, like thick clear boxing gloves, slid off and fell to the floor. "Nice work with the speakers, War."
"Thanks," Warren's voice sounded. "Go back in the stairwell and cut through the second floor, now. There are two guys heading toward you inside, and one of the guys outside is coming up to the back door you were going to use."
"Shit," Bobby said, shaking his head. "Seth, come on."
"I'm bleeding," Seth said, standing up. He was holding his arm with his other hand, and Bobby could see in the dim light that Seth's fingers were red. Seth started toward Bobby, pale and a little unsteady on his feet, and Bobby hurried toward him, grabbing his other arm.
"Seth!" Warren said urgently.
"Let me see," Bobby said, peeling Seth's fingers away. "Did he shoot you?"
"I don't think so," Seth answered, pulling his sleeve up. "I think a piece of the wall or something cut me."
"Hold still," Bobby said, grabbing Seth's sleeve where the cut had ripped it. He pulled hard, tearing the sleeve off. "Hold out your arm."
"You guys might want to hurry," Warren said quietly. On the screens, the two men on the first floor carefully checked each room before they passed it, making sure no ambushes would burst out from behind them. "They're still heading toward you, but really slowly. They're closing off rooms."
"We're almost done," Bobby said, tying the sleeve tightly around Seth's arm.
"We'll have to clean that out later."
"Assuming there is a later," Seth said quietly, staring at the soldier pinned to the wall, his head hanging limply over the thick bands of ice around his chest. "You know, if I touch him I might be able to read him a little, maybe figure out what they're doing or something."
Bobby thought about it for a second, but then they both heard a door slamming further down the hall.
"I don't think we have time," he said, swallowing hard. "Come on."
"Right behind you," Seth said, following Bobby back into the stairwell. They sprinted up the stairs onto the second floor, and then began to hurry down the hallway. "Where's the next closest door outside?"
"I think we can use the side doors that open onto the back lawn," Bobby said. Seth knew the doors he meant. It was the set he and Jean had used to go out the day that Seth met Warren, the morning after he'd arrived at the mansion. "We can cut back down the main staircase into the foyer."
Warren's voice broke in on them as they heard gunfire chattering on the first floor.
"That was the guy from the backyard," Warren said. "I locked the back door on him, and he just shot it open. Now he's, oh, shit."
"Warren?" Seth asked the air, he and Bobby stopping in the middle of the hallway. There was another burst of gunfire, shorter and more controlled. "War!"
"Sorry," Warren said. His voice was hollow and trembling a little. "I'm sorry. They just, he shot the guy that you stuck to the wall."
"Jesus Christ," Seth said again. These people were monsters. They had to find a way to get away from these guys before they caught up with them. "War, lock down the stairway doors."
"On it," Warren said, trying to collect himself. It was one thing to watch people get shot on television, but this was real. It might look like TV, but three floor above him one man had just killed another while Warren watched, and the guy was going to do his best to kill Bobby and Seth, too.
Seth grabbed Bobby's shoulder.
"Bobby, we can't go out the side doors," he said quickly.
"Why not?" Bobby asked. They were halfway to the main stairs.
"Because there's no cover that way," Seth answered. "If we go out that way, we're sitting ducks. We won't even get near the force field machine, much less shut it down."
"So what do we do?" Bobby asked, his tone a little harsh again. "Surrender?
I don't think they're really going to let us."
Seth frowned.
"No, dumbass, but is there anything in the house we could use? Some rockets or guns or something?" he asked.
"What the hell would we have rockets or guns in the house for?" Bobby asked, shaking his head.
"I don't know!" Seth snapped back. "But we have all this other fancy shit."
"If we had something that could stop these guys, don't you think we'd be using it instead of you and me running up and down the hall getting shot at?" Bobby asked. His voice was laced with contempt.
"We don't need to stop them," Seth clarified. "We need to stop that machine."
"You wanna throw some more beakers at it?" Bobby asked, crossing his arms. Seth thought again about punching him. If they were going to die anyway, he'd at least like to die happy.
"No, but I was thinking maybe about something bigger," Seth answered. "Warren, are there any cars left in the garage?"
Bobby's face lit up, too, before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to like Seth and that all of Seth's ideas were stupid, just like him.
"No, they're all out," Warren answered, and Seth frowned as Bobby grinned wider. Warren squashed that grin right out of him, though. "The jet's here, though."
"Let's go," Bobby said, starting quickly down the hallway. Seth followed, and Warren's voice burst in on them again.
"They're heading back to the foyer!" Warren said sharply.
"We're going for the garage," Bobby said. Seth's plan was a good one, and a much better shot than just getting outside and hoping they could do something.
"Can we point the jet at it on autopilot or something?" Seth asked. His feet almost skidded out from under him as they turned quickly toward the staircase, and he and Bobby ran down to the first floor at full speed, almost falling.
"One of us has to pilot it," Bobby said. They charged through the foyer and into the hallway on the other side.
"Cycling up the jet," Warren reported.
"Turn on the sprinklers in this hallway!" Bobby said quickly.
"What?" Warren asked.
"Sprinklers! Now!" Bobby snapped, and Warren flicked them on. Seth gasped as the cold water burst from the ceiling, drenching them.
"What the hell are you doing?" Seth asked, slipping. Bobby grabbed his arm and pulled him along.
"Will you fucking trust me for a second?" Bobby snapped.
The garage door was right in front of them, and Seth twisted the knob open and fell inside as Bobby stopped in the doorway, turning back. Bobby held out his arms, his face set in concentration, and the hallway behind them filled with ice, starting from the floor and working its way up, coating the walls and the doors, thickening and filling. The sprinklers continued spraying, fueling it, and after a minute the entire hallway was one thick ice block. Bobby dropped to his knees, panting.
"Let's see them shoot through that," he said, trying to catch his breath. He'd never made that much ice before, and definitely never that fast, but he'd bought them some time.
"Nice," Seth said, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."
"Whatever," Bobby said, turning toward the jet.
"Oh my fucking God, Bobby, will you knock it off?" Seth snapped. "I'm so fucking tired of your shit. We've been shot at, chased through the house, and now we're cornered in the garage and you can't even accept my apology? When are you going to get the fuck over whatever is wrong with you?"
Bobby glared at him, his hands clenched into fists.
"We don't have time for this now," he said finally. "I need you to pilot the jet."
"Me?" Seth asked, following Bobby toward the jet. It was long and sleek and black, and Seth had no idea of how to get it out of the garage, much less how to pilot it. "I have no idea how to fly that thing."
"You don't have to fly it," Bobby said. This close, they could feel the warmth of the engines, and Bobby walked quickly up the open back ramp and inside as Seth followed him. "All you have to do is steer it across the lawn and smash it into the generator."
"Why can't you do that?" Seth asked.
"Because they still have whatever they used to blow up the gate," Bobby answered. "I'm going to stand on top of the jet and throw down some cover, in case they shoot whatever that was at you. Now strap yourself in here. Warren, get ready to open the doors."
"Ready," Warren said. "Those guys are back outside, heading toward the guys at the trucks."
Seth sat down in the pilot seat and buckled himself in. The plane had a lot of switches and gauges, and he had no idea what any of them were for. In front of him was the curvy, H-shaped steering wheel, like something attached to an arcade game, and Bobby pointed at it.
"Use this to steer," he said, and then pointed at a lever next to the seat. "Push this forward to speed up, and when you're about to hit the machine, press this button to eject yourself out of the cockpit."
"We're on the ground," Seth said, glancing up at Bobby. "The parachute won't do me any good."
"I'll catch you," Bobby said, walking quickly toward the door. "Warren, open the doors."
"Right," Warren said. "Good luck, guys."
Bobby hopped out of the plane, and Seth found himself in the cockpit alone. He flexed his hands on the steering wheel, and then grabbed the speed lever.
They'd have to do this as quickly as possible, and he hoped like hell that the windshield was bulletproof. The lights on the plane illuminated the lawn, falling on the black trucks at the end of the driveway, and for a second Seth wondered if this was a bad idea after all. He saw the men in black start to raise their guns and realized it was too late for second thoughts, and it was now or never. Swallowing hard, he pushed the lever for speed forward, feeling the plane surge like the strongest car ever.
"Holy shit," Bobby whispered, holding on to the edge of the wing with one hand.
It was a lot harder to stay on than he'd thought it would be when he suggested this, and the wind was whipping so hard in his eyes that he could barely see the men in front of them. He could see well enough to spot one of them raising a large tube to shoulder height, and he raised his free hand. Just as the man by the truck fired, Bobby built a thick wall of ice in its path, hoping it was enough. There was another bright orange explosion, rocking the plane, but they were still in one piece. In the cockpit, Seth saw the explosion, close enough to spray the windshield with ice chips, and then the trucks and the machine, a strange squarish collection of tubes and metal, were right in front of him, the soldiers in black lined up in front of it. Seth expected them to jump out of the way, but they raised their rifles and began to fire at the plane.
"This better fucking work," Seth whispered, speeding up.
There was a metal, steel drum band kind of sound as bullets rained off of the hull, and then the trucks and the men and the machine were right up next to him, smack in front of him, filling the windshield, and Seth flicked the eject button. There was a hissing noise, and then the air was rushing around him as he flew upward. Glancing down, a large orange flower of fire lit up the night, the deafening boom seeming to thrust him even higher into the air, and Seth had a second to hope that Bobby had managed to jump off the wing before he realized he was falling back down, toward the explosion and the burning wreckage. Something glistened to his right, out of the corner of his eye, and then Bobby's ice cold arm was around his waist, dragging him along toward the ground on an ice ramp.
There was another explosion from below, a much larger one, as the fuel tanks on the jet went up, and Bobby's ice ramp shattered. The two of them crashed to the ground, Bobby wrapping them in a cocoon of ice to protect them, and the wave of superheated air bounced them across the grass like a stone skipping across a lake. Seth felt himself banging and crashing uncomfortably, and they finally skidded to a stop as Bobby's shield collapsed around them. Seth lay on his back, gasping, and Bobby rolled off of him, melting back down to human form and panting.
"You all right?" Seth asked finally, sitting up. The end of the driveway was a flaming mass of wreckage, but there wasn't a soldier in sight.
"That was fucking awesome," Bobby said finally, standing. "My whole body hurts."
"Mine, too," Seth winced, standing. "That was kind of a rough landing."
"At least we're not dead," Bobby pointed out. They sat down on the front porch, watching the flames. When Bobby spoke again, his voice was even, missing that sharp, teasing tone that he so often used with Seth. "I'm not going to apologize, you know."
"Yeah, I know," Seth said, nodding.
"And I'm not going to just magically become your friend," Bobby continued, not looking at Seth.
"We don't have to be friends to work together," Seth said, shrugging. "I'm not leaving, though."
"I know," Bobby said sullenly. "Maybe we can just agree to stay out of each other's way?"
"I'm fine with that," Seth sighed. This was probably the closest thing to an apology that Bobby could muster.
"Unless you still want to do that fight thing in the Danger Room," Bobby suggested. Seth turned, smirking.
"Bobby, Sabretooth ran away from me, and I put Vertigo in a coma," he pointed out. "You think I couldn't kick your ass, too?"
"Not on your best day," Bobby said, turning back to the lawn. "You did good today, though."
"So did you," Seth said. They sat in silence for a moment, and then the front door opened behind them and Warren stepped out, running a hand through his hair.
"Everybody's on their way back," he said, staring across the lawn.
"Great," Seth said, shrugging.
"Better late than never," Bobby agreed. He stood, walking into the house. "I'm going to jump in the shower. They can clean up the lawn themselves."
Seth and Warren watched him walk away, Warren shivering a little outside without a shirt.
"Thanks for saving my ass," Warren said finally. Seth smiled at him.
"Friends do that for each other."
To be continued.
I've gotten some feedback that there isn't enough sex. That's coming up, but I wanted to take some time to focus on the characters a little after being away from them for so long.