X-Men by Stuart Moore

Author:Stuart Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JEAN!

That was Scott Summers’s first thought upon waking. Then came pure, claustrophobic terror.

I can’t see!

He whipped his head one way, then the other. Metallic restraints clanked, pulling taut against his throat. He lay on a cold stone floor; a thick glove bound his hands tightly together, holding his arms behind his back. A metal collar and hood covered his entire face and neck, so tightly that he couldn’t even move his mouth to speak. His captors had placed his visor over his eyes, and the hood pressed it painfully against the bridge of his nose. When he tried to use his glove controls to open the visor, the energy flashed briefly and then died. All he could see was a haze of red.

The hood, he realized. It’s infused with ruby quartz. My power is useless!

“Ho!” a rumbling voice said. “He’s awake, Pierce.”

“Watch out for that one, Leland. He’s the leader.” The second voice was higher, silkier. “These others are still out.”

Who? Cyclops wondered. Who else have they captured?

He heard a slam, like a door being thrown open. Heavy footsteps approached, growing louder. Then a large object—a body?—thudded onto the floor, just inches away from him.

“That’s the last of them.” The third voice was deep, commanding. “The Hellfire Club is victorious.”

There was a faint moan from the floor. Cyclops recognized the voice: Storm!

He forced himself to concentrate. As a teenager, he’d learned to adapt to situations where he couldn’t see his surroundings. A necessary skill for a boy who often had to squeeze his eyes shut in order to avoid injuring his fellow students.

The air in the room was cold and dry. Sounds of humming machinery, crackling fires. This must be the Inner Circle’s sanctum… probably somewhere beneath the building itself.

“How’s your arm, Pierce?”

“Just a scratch, Shaw. Easily repaired—I’m fine now.”

Shaw. Emma Frost’s… what? Lover? Master? Partner in her sick games?

“Scratch—ha!”

The new voice sent chills up Cyclops’s spine. He’d only heard it once before—briefly, just before losing consciousness—but he’d felt it, experienced its power secondhand, inside Jean’s mind. On the butte in New Mexico, when he’d opened himself to her thoughts and memories.

Wyngarde.

“Wolverine cut through your precious bionic arm like a stick of butter,” the voice continued.

“Jason, darling.”

No. Oh no.

Jean.

“We’ve just won a splendid victory,” she continued. “Why spoil it with harsh words?”

He knew her voice better than anyone’s, better even than his own, but he’d never heard it like this before. So oily, so full of guile and deception.

“Your Black Queen speaks true, Wyngarde,” Shaw said. “This was a group effort. We all did our part.”

“Did we?” Wyngarde paused. “I believe we’re missing one X-Man.”

“Wolverine is dead,” Leland said.

Wyngarde snorted. “I doubt that.”

“If he lives, I’ll kill him again. With my bare hands.” That was Pierce again, his voice charged with anger. “No man draws blood from me and lives. Especially not some filthy mutant.”

“Take care, old boy,” Leland replied, an edge creeping into his voice. “Remember the company you keep.”

“Gentlemen,” Shaw said. “ If Wolverine survived, he’ll be far away by now.

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