Logan lay in the darkness beating on his com badge. All his energy was focused on not going feral. <Come on. Hold it together. You have to be able to help the kid. You can't do that if you're foaming.> Sweat poured from his face, mixing with his blood on the street.
It seemed like hours but was probably only about twenty minutes before the black van pulled up beside him. Hank jumped out, med kit ready, Scott close behind.
"Logan? Logan what happened? Where's Remy?"
"Sinister." Logan managed, and then Hank touched the needle to his arm and he tumbled into darkness.
Back at the mansion Logan kept jumping off of the lab table. Hank pushed him down.
"Let me go. I gotta go help."
"Ororo and Scott are working on finding Remy's location now. If you want to go with them when they do you need to be completely healed." That quieted Logan down quick.
But it turned out not to matter anyway. A week passed and they still couldn't get a lock on Remy. The stress took its toll on everyone in the team, making them edgy and wild eyed, desperate for a fight they couldn't find. But no one took the wait as hard as Logan.
Warren came upon him one night sitting on the back steps. Logan was staring into space, his eyes bleak. There was an empty bottle of Hank�s whisky near his feet. <Scott going to go bug-shit.> thought Warren. Then Logan spoke, in such a low voice Warren had to bend over to hear him.
�I keep seeing his face. It�s all I can see. His fice the night I�.� He broke off unable to go on.
Warren put a hand on Logan�s shoulder. He didn�t know what to say.
"I said... I said he�. I said such terrible things to him.� Logan hung his head. �What if we never get him back? What if those are the last words I ever say to him?"
"They won't be." said Warren firmly. "We�ll find him."
Scott came to the door. "Suit up." He said. "We've got a lock."
It was an old warehouse on the edge of the city. The team fanned out carefully, eyes and ears wide open, but the place appeared to be deserted.
�Let�s do this by the books people.� said Scott, and he raised his foot to kick the door in.
But he didn�t get a chance. The door was off its hinges, propped loosely against its frame. At the slightest touch it fell inwards, revealing nothing but darkness beyond.
On edge, the X-men spread out in a ring around Hank who directed them with the GPS.
�We�re heading towards the center of the building.� he said.
�Put away your machine, Blue.� said Bobby quietly. �We can see it from here.�
The large room was empty, in the center, framed eerily by their flashlights, was a metal trash can.
�The signals coming from in there?� asked Storm quietly. Logan could hear the emotion in her voice. The can was small. No one would be able to fit in there, not if they came out looking like anything recognizable as a person. Hank nodded, he wondered if he were going to be sick.
They gathered in a circle around the can. Slowly Scott lifted the lid.
The can was filled with rags.
�What the hell?�
�It�s the clothes Remy was wearing the night he was taken.� said Logan. He could hear his voice shaking.
�There�s something in here.� said Hank. He held up a small box. �It�s addressed to you Logan.�
Logan picked up the box, it was light, barely a pound. There was an envelope attached with his name on it in neat type face. He opened it, read the contents and passed it to Scott.
�Dear Sir,
I felt it was appropriate to return the personal effects to you. Additionally, during a recent bout of housekeeping I found something I though might interested you and have enclosed if for you to review at your pleasure.
Regards,
Sinister�
The box contained two items. The first was a small bloody piece of metal.
�The tracker,� breathed Hank. �He must have dug it out of Remy�s shoulder.�
The second was an unlabeled VHS tape.
The rest of the warehouse was empty. They gathered the items and took them home.
�I don�t want you watching the tape.� said Scott.
�The hell I�m not.� said Logan. �There could be a clue on there.�
�I didn�t say I didn�t want anyone watching it.� said Scott. �I said you in particular.�
�The tape was addressed to me.�
�Yeah, addressed to you by Sinister, which is a pretty good reason why you shouldn�t be the one to see it. I somehow doubt he has your best interests at heart.�
�So what? Everyone will get to see it but me? Is that your great idea?�
�No. We don�t know what�s on it. Sinister implied that it was from something long ago. It could have nothing to do with Remy�s kidnapping. Warren and Hank will watch it.�
�Why them?�
Scott looked at him levelly. �I think you know why them.�
Sometimes Logan was reminded strongly why it was Scott who was the team leader. He had a mysterious capacity to know everything that happened in the mansion.
Logan had to admit that if Remy had had to choose he probably would have chosen Hank and Warren to see the tape. <Seeing as how they seem to know all kinds of stuff �bout the Cajun I don�t.> Then he laughed bitterly. He�d proven Remy right about not trusting him with the truth about his past. Would he really want to know more?
Yes. Actually he didn�t have a choice.
He <had> to know, one way or another. He caught up with Hank as the doctor was coming out of the media room after watching the tape. Hank was shaking visibly.
�Give me the tape Hank.� said Logan quietly.
�No.� said Hank.
�Yes.�
Hank looked at him for a long moment. �It doesn�t matter what I say, does it?� He asked. �Even if I promise you, even if I swear you would do better having never seeing it, you�ll still watch it won�t you?�
�Yes.�
�Logan, I�m going to let you make your own decision about this. It is only just. But I am asking you, as a friend, don�t watch it. Let the past stay buried. What�s on that tape that can nothing but pain.�
�I am sorry Hank, as a friend.� said Logan. �But I need to know.� Hank slowly handed him the tape and stood away from the door.
**************************
<The picture was remarkably clear, less a grainy surveillance tape than a high quality home video, or perhaps a digital film. There was a small readout in the corner of the screen indicating the time, and the date, about sixteen years earlier. The cameras had been well placed too. High enough so that the viewer could see the room, but far enough down so that the people�s expressions were clear.
For the first few seconds the room was empty. Then a man entered, tall and thin, with long prematurely grey hair. He busied himself making little adjustments in the room, which looked like a room in any four star hotel, but for a few rings bolted into the walls at odd places. Then two figures entered carrying a bundle wrapped in cloth between them. They tossed the bundle on the bed.
�He�s all yours Samson.� said one of the men. �Careful, he�s a wild one.�
�Thanks.� said the man called Samson. When the men had closed the door behind him he crossed to the bed and unwrapped the bundle.>
In the control room of that mansion Logan drew a breath. The bundle contained a boy, young, maybe nine, naked, tightly bound and unmistakably Remy. He was pale, and impossibly fragile looking, a tangle of long white arms and legs.
<The boy raised his head and looked at Samson from huge crimson eyes. Samson ran his hands over the boy�s pale skin consideringly. �Not bad, not bad at all.� He reached the boys face and twisted it up until it was inches from his own. �Good.� he murmured to himself. �You�ll go far small one, once I�m done with you.� The boy jerked away from his touch, snapping at Samson�s hands, his teeth catching one of them enough to draw blood.
Samson calmly dragged the boy off the bed onto the floor. He pulled out a thin black rod and pushed it against the boy�s ribs. There was a faint sizzling noise. The boy screamed. Samson held the rod there while he spoke on a soft voice.
�One of the things you must learn, is that while a little struggle will add to the excitement for the client, too much of a struggle will be seen as impertinent, ill-bred, and worst, unattractive.�
Beneath him the boy whimpered. Samson poked the stick in a little harder. �Therefore, the most important task for you, upon meeting a new client will be to assess him and match your own behavior to suit his needs, whether they be for a struggle, or a passive receptacle. In this sense you must know the client better than he knows himself. Do I make myself clear?� He removed the rod. The boy snapped at his face again.
Samson smiled coldly. �I think I�m going to enjoy training you.� he said, then he raised his voice. �You�ll find that disobedience is repaid in various unpleasant ways. My advice to you is to give in quickly. It will go easier for you. I�ll see you in a few days.� He turned and left the room. The picture faded.
It reappeared a moment later, but the boy�s position had changed, he was curled up against the wall. The date on the screen indicated three days had passed.
Samson reentered the room. �There you are.� he said brightly. �Did you enjoy your rest?� The boy didn�t stir. �Ah well, you�re thirsty I bet.� He pulled out a large green glass bottle. �Italian. No sense drinking if you can�t have the best.�
The boy barely responded as Samson tenderly raised him up and leaned him against his chest. �Drink a little now. You�ll feel better.� Gently he coaxed the boy into swallowing most of the bottle. �I�ll bring you more in a moment. In the meantime I bet you�re stiff.�
Returning the boy to the bed he untied the bonds and began massaging the blood back into the white limbs. �You�ll have bruising,� he said conversationally. �They�ll be deep and last a long time, for a few weeks at least. But no permanent scars. Our boys are very careful about that. It�s one of the reasons why they�re the best.� The boy gave a little moan. �I think it�s time for some more water.� He helped the boy drink again. �Now I�ll just leave you to sleep.�
He was back three hours later. He came to the side of the bed and stood beside the bed. �I�m going to call you Lucius.� He said. He pulled down his pants and took a hold of his dick. �Lucius, to begin your training, I would like you to come over here and stroke my cock.�
The boy didn�t move. �Come on.� said Samson. �I know it�s only natural to be hesitant, but you�ll have to get over it eventually.� When the boy still didn�t move Samson lashed out quick as a viper and grabbed a hold of the boy�s wrist. �You�ll learn to obey me, boy,� he said in a much crueler tone, then thrust the boy hand against his hardening penis and beginning to rub it up and down.
�There that�s right.� he said, beginning to grunt. �Nice and easy.� He rubbed the boys hand along his cock faster, pulling him closer and closer until in the end, when he came he was more or less rubbing the boy�s body into his crotch. When he was finished he pulled up his pants.
�You must learn to obey be Lucius.� he said. �Things will be very painful for you if you don�t.� Then he pulled out the black stick and went to work again, this time dragging it across the boys back, his head, his tiny penis until the boy had stopped screaming and just lay there limply. All along his body deep red welts began to form.
�I�ll be back in two days Lucius.� Said Samson. �If you are a good boy I will give you food.� The picture faded again.
Two days later Samson entered carrying a plate full of steaming food. The boy�s eye�s lit up. He hadn�t eaten in at least five days.
�Come here, Lucius.� Said Samson. �Come here and suck my cock.� The boy didn�t move.
�Hmm.� said Samson. �Are you sure?� The boy still didn�t move. �Ah well. It seems a shame. Such lovely food.� Samson upended the tray on the floor. He pulled down his pants and urinated all over the food, then ground it into the carpet with his shoes.
�Now Lucius, come here and suck my cock.� When the boy still didn�t move Lucius grabbed him by the back of the neck and forced him to his knees. �I gave you fair warning boy.� He said and thrust himself up to the hilt into the boy�s small mouth. The boy struggled, unable to move, but Samson pinned him back against the wall and began fucking hard.
It seemed to go on forever. When Samson came his come erupted out of the boy�s mouth and nose. Samson pulled out and the boy flopped to the floor, unconscious from the pain and the lack of oxygen. Samson wiped himself on the bed and stalked out of the room.
Late that night the boy woke up and wiped himself off the best he could. Then he got down on his hands and knees where Samson had dropped the food. It was dirty and soaked in urine, but he picked it out of the carpet and ate every bite.
Samson didn�t come back for three days. The boy spent most of the time curled up in the fetal position. It was clear he was starving to death, impossible to say how long he would last. Wasn�t it supposed to take a month to die from malnutrition? But the boy had been skinny before and now he was skeletal. His ribs stuck out, his eyes were huge and flat. He already looked half dead as it was.
Then finally Samson came back. If he noticed the food was gone from the carpet he didn�t say anything. �Today boy I want you to suck my cock. But before you do I need to deliver your punishment from before. Passing out is not allowed.�
Samson pulled out the black stick. He placed it against the edge of the boys teeth and shoved hard. The stick slid in and the boy began to convulse. �Passing out is not allowed.� Samson repeated. �Remember that.�
When he finally pulled the stick free the boy collapsed on the ground, all but unconscious. Samson picked him up and carried him to the bed, cradling the small body against him.
�Oh Lucius,� Samson said, stroking the boy�s head. �Why are you making this so difficult. Don�t you see how hard you make this for me? I don�t want to hurt you. You force me into it.� He unzipped his fly. �Please Lucius. Do us both a favor. Please?�
The boy raised his head slowly off the pillow. Hesitantly he reached over to Samson�s crotch lowered his head and began to suck. Above him Samson smiled. �Good boy.� he said, and stroked Lucius�s hair.
The next day Lucius got a full meal and a bath. �We�re making progress.� said Samson. But the food revived Lucius�s spirit. He began fighting back again. Samson used the black stick harder and harder. �You�re a tough case Lucius, � he said. �That�s good. The hard cases are always the best whores in the end.� Lucius spat at him. Samson pulled out his stick.
But finally even Samson got frustrated. Lucius was as starved as he could be without permanent damage. He was in such pain that he screamed himself hoarse at night when Samson had left. But it was always the same, every time Samson let him recover a little of his strength he would be as intractable as ever.
�There is some hope in you.� said Samson. �Some hope I have not killed. I must find it to succeed I think.�
The next day when he entered the room he was not alone. A man was with him, tall with auburn hair. Lucius stared. �Papa.� he whispered. It was the first word he had spoken. Lucius smiled coldly and left the room.
�You little bastard,� said the man. �I always knew this was where my son the freak would wind up. Couldn�t you have done me a favor and gotten yourself killed?� Lucius turned even paler.
�You shouldn�t have run away. I had a buyer all lined up for you. You lost me a fair amount of money. Now I hear you�ve been giving this man trouble. I want none of that now. I�ve sold you to him. We signed the papers this morning. So I want you to be obedient.�
He advanced and pulled down his pants. �And I told Mr. Samson I�d teach you how to swallow.�
Lucius screamed as the man dragged him over to the bed and bent him backwards upon it. He unzipped his pants and thrust his cock brutally inside his son�s mouth. �Swallow you little bitch.� he said. �I want you to swallow.� When he finally pulled out, Lucius slumped against the bed dazed. His father towered over him, panting hard.
The man�s face turned purple with rage. �Look at what you made me do.� he screamed. �You little cunt. You freak. You made me do it. You�re disgusting. You poison everything you touch.� He whipped out his belt and brought it down against Lucius�s head and shoulders.
Lucius screamed as the leather bit into his skin. Over and over again the leather band whistled through the air. Finally Lucius stopped screaming, he lay quiet in a puddle of his own blood and still the blows rained down.
Then suddenly Samson was back in the room and grabbed the man. �That�s enough.� he said. �You�ll kill him. He�s my property now and I order you to stop.�
The man did stop. He tucked in his shirt. He wiped his belt free of the blood and crept away.
Samson picked up the boy and cradled him against his chest. �It�s okay.� he said. �It�s okay. He�s gone now. From today on, I�ll be you father.� He gently washed the boy and lay him out on the bed.
Something broke inside the boy that day. He stopped struggling. He stopped fighting back. He learned his lesson without the smallest complaint. Samson barely had to use the stick at all. He used it a little anyway though, just to keep things fresh he said.
When the time came the boy began taking clients. Just blow jobs at first, and soon a lot of those, he was popular, talented and exotic as he was.
Then one day Samson came in with a coil of rope. He tied the silent boy spread eagle to the bed. Then an old fat man came in and fucked the kid hard from behind. The kid move, He didn�t make the smallest sound, as the man ripped into him, though it must have been unbearable, slender and young as he was. When he had been untied he crawled off the bed and curled up in the corner. But he didn�t cry, just stared blankly at the wall.
After that it was more fucking than blowjobs. Men came and went, famous senators and strung out drug dealers. Some of them beat him, some cut him, some just wanted him to run from them, or laugh like he was enjoying it, or play dead. What ever they wanted the kid gave them, and did it well. Time passed, a year, then two years. The kid grew taller, and more beautiful, but there was something dead about his gaze.
Then one day another fat man came in. He insisted on fucking the kid doggie style and while Lucius�s back was turned he wrapped a cord around the boy�s neck. The boy struggled but it was no good. His hands gripped the bedsheets the man�s pant�s anything. He began to convulse, then to lose consciousness, dying as the man came inside him.
�Yes!� screamed the fat man. �Yes!� Then he screamed again, a different sort of scream. He dropped off the boy, a look of shock on his face. Sticking out of the side of his neck was a ball point pen, the one he had been carrying in his pocket just moments before.
The boy watched him impassively, until he was quite sure the fat man was dead. Then he walked over to the body and pulled out the man�s wallet, taking the cash and the credit cards. He found something else in the jacket, a deck of cards. He took those too.
He calmly picked up a chair and smashed it through a window. The window had bars on the outside, but that didn�t seem to phase the kid. He slipped under the bed just as a guard rushed into the room.
�Oh shit.� yelled the guard, looking from the body to the window and the empty room. �How the hell? Oh shit.� He ran back out of the room leaving the door open and the kid quietly made his escape.>
***********************************************
The tape ended. Logan was shaking. He wondered if he would ever stop. He could barely stand. He stumbled out of the door, his vision blurring. <Oh kid, oh kid. God you never told me. You never said...>
Beast was sitting in the hallway waiting for him. He didn�t say anything as he saw Logan emerge. He didn�t reach out to touch him. He just got up and followed the shorter man down the hall determined that wherever his friend went tonight he would not be alone.