“So why not just give him back to me, huh? He's of no use to you anymore, and he can only hurt you -"

“No one can hurt us in our realms."

“Okay then, why not let me in?"

His black, expressionless gaze never wavered. "Because we hate you."

Bob smirked, trying to will away a laugh. At least the Senior Partners never bullshitted about this kind of thing. "Fair enough. But if I can't hurt you, there's no harm in it."

“Have you ever been given the idea that we want to make you happy?"

“He's one creature. He can't mean anything to you."

“I assure you no lower creature ever has. But the answer remains no."

Bob stared back at Buzz, trying to read the expression he was hiding behind his strangely neutral face. "You have plans for him."

He scoffed, attempting a smirk that came off as a painful grimace (maybe because he wasn't used to having a face)?  "I don't even know who you're talking about."

“Bullshit. You know who and where he is - you're hiding him from me."

“These delusions of importance, do they give you a will to keep existing?"

“Stop fucking around with him. I guarantee he is no good to you anymore."

He chuckled without any obvious humor. "None of you are any good to us. The lower realms are becoming a solid waste of our time. The creatures are -"

He paused as two of the Manuels suddenly came over to the table, bussing it like they'd just eaten a large meal. After an annoyed glance, Buzz continued. " - doing a great job of spreading evil and irrelevance all by themselves. They don't need us. They're killing themselves off for no reason at a very rapid clip. Soon that plane will be a wasteland and -"

The very last Manuel bundled up the tablecloth and took it with him, and then two more came in, grabbed the table, and walked off with it, leaving them sitting in their chairs facing each other, with nothing in between.

“Is it seven already?" Bob asked, looking at his watch.  Time was irrelevant here, so he wondered how they knew. Maybe seven was an arbitrary number.

“- we are not slumlords. What's the point of owning a world that's a smoldering ember?" Buzz stood up, straightening his suit. "That plane is past tense. You of all beings should know that."

“I don't give up that easily."

"More's the pity. There are some things that should be given up on, before they destroy you.  Now, don't summon me again."

He started to walk away, gliding across the restaurant with inhuman grace, and Bob slowly unfolded himself from his chair, in no hurry as he stood and said, "I'm not giving up on him.  Just remember, I tried to do this the easy way."

Buzz stopped and looked back at him over his shoulder, his black eyes narrowing to slits, as black veins of energy writhed under the fake skin of his face like hungry maggots. "You do not threaten me, Power."

“And you do not play games with me, or beings I happen to know.  Don't forget who you're dealing with here."

“A divine asshole?"

“Exactly."

“Try to breach one of our higher realms, and we will obliterate you."

Bob held his hands apart, a gesture of supplication and invitation. "Feel free."  He got a sense of Buzz's power questing, trying to feel out his mind or at least his intentions, but he couldn't get through, and the Senior wasn't about to force the issue.  Not only was it a violation of the few rules of this dimension, but it would leave him open to Bob's energy.  He was not powerful enough, on his own, to overwhelm him; at best, it would be a stalemate.

Bob knew that, as he turned away and strode out of the restaurant, disappearing into a nimbus of bright black energy that seemed to collapse after him, like an explosion run in reverse.

Boy, when Angel got himself into the shit, he went head first, didn't he?

7

From a half mile away, the munitions depot looked so innocuous as to be boring. The banality of evil and all that jazz, although Marc had rarely encountered evil that mundane; mostly it was just evil that camouflaged itself very well.

As soon as he got a steady look at it, though, beyond its high tension fence and safety barricade, it started to glow like a casino in Vegas. "Holy shit," he gasped, keeping his voice low.

They had covered the last few hundred feet on foot, using the somewhat meager cover of the sprawling, scrawny "woods" to hide their approach.  It may have been night, but the crescent moon and the hundreds of stars were bright enough that they couldn't count on “cover of darkness".  (Well, that wasn't true of the Sisters, who seemed to carry their own darkness with them like a shroud, but Logan claimed that was a "vampire thing".)

“What is it?" Scott hissed, apparently deciding he was talking to him again.

“Full infrared spectrum coverage, from a half inch off the ground to about ten feet above it.  Jesus Christ, these fuckers are completely paranoid."

“Inside the fence?" Logan asked.

“Yeah. Christ, you should see it; it's making my eyes water." To his eyes, it was a virtual cat's cradle of bloody red lines, vivid living hatch marks that nearly obscured everything beyond the perimeter fence. To see infrared was bad enough in itself, but when someone was using infrared beams of such quantity and intensity, it was like staring at the sun.

“What kind of infrared beams?" Helga asked. "Motion sensitive, heat sensitive?  Can you tell the difference?"

“Of course I can tell the difference." He didn't mean to snap at her, but that was the equivalent of asking Logan if he could smell the difference between a Human and a bear. "We got heat from just inside the fence to about ten meters within the building, then it's heat and motion, giving way to full-on motion by the time you hit the wall."

Scott sighed. "So even if we manage not to break the heat beams, they'll register us?"

“Exactomundo."

“Okay girls," Logan said. "That's your cue."

Saddiq looked confused. “Why?”

“Vampires have no body heat,” Marc told him, assuming he didn’t know that factoid. The Sisters were like dark voids in his vision, cold indigo spots often darker (colder) than the surrounding air and the ground itself, which was more disconcerting than he’d ever admit. “The sensors will never pick them up.”

“The motions sensors will,” Scott pointed out.

“Not if they have a bloody card reader in there, and they haven’t invalidated it yet,” Srina said, producing a white key card that she held out to the nearest Sister.  The Sister - whichever one she was - took it.

“If it works,” Logan continued. “If it’s still valid, it should shut down the security system, and we can just walk in.”

“And if it’s not,” Srina admitted. “All hell will break loose.”

“That’s -”

“-cool-”

“-we like-”

“-hell.”

Saddiq edged slightly closer to Rogue.

“We need a soldier alive,” Logan reminded them. “Not mostly dead, not beaten to a pulp, alive and in pretty good shape, so Rogue can pull the info we need.  Understood?”

“Aye-”

“-aye-”

“-Captain,” they replied, with synchronized mocking salutes. Then, they turned and seemed to blend into the shadows of the scraggly forest, disappearing into the dark almost soundlessly, like they had been nothing but shadows themselves.

Scott sighed wearily, and crossed his arms over his chest. Although clearly unhappy to be here, he seemed more tired than annoyed. Marc felt kind of bad for being so blunt about Jean earlier, but hell; it was clear from his reaction that the guy had been thinking all the same things, he just didn’t want to admit it. “Why do you trust them?” He was talking to Logan, and ironically, in a ragtag group like this, he was probably the only one Scott actually trusted.  How funny was that?  Did Logan know? “They’re lunatics.”

“Yeah, but they’ve never failed us so far.”

Scott shrugged. “Why do I get the feeling they’re biding their time?”

“’Cause they like to keep people off-balance, even people they like.  I think they think it’s funny.”

“You have the weirdest friends.”

For some reason, that made Srina smirk.

After a long moment, Rogue asked quietly, “Where are they?”

“In by now, I imagine,” Helga said.

She was right. Marc suddenly saw two cold, dead spots in that painful glow of bright lights, and commented aloud, “How the hell did they do that?”

“They can do that jumping thing, right?” Rogue said.

She must have been addressing Logan, because he answered. “Yeah, it’s a vamp ability.”

The fence was what, twenty feet high, and topped by razor wire?  Quite a leap. Vampires must have been the kangaroos of demons.

Logan, who had been frowning in thought and not paying attention at all to the depot, turned to Saddiq and asked, “You have above average stamina and metabolic processes, right?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I was thinkin’ it would be better for Rogue to “borrow” your powers once we go in.  Near invulnerability is better than a healing factor, and we all know you can fight.”

“Unless they have adamantium weapons,” Scott countered. “We know they’ve used them before, and they can penetrate your skin, Saddiq. I really think it would be better - oh, I can’t believe I’m saying this - if she borrowed your powers again, Logan.”

Rogue just shrugged. “I’m cool with that.”

Then Logan shrugged, and the body language was so identical it was almost funny. “Fine, whatever.”  He looked over at Marc, asking, “How the girls doing?”

It was as if he'd asked on cue, because a beat later, the compound went dark - or, at least, infrared dark. It was disorienting, like he’d suddenly gone blind. “They must have found a working card reader, and it must have been cool, because the sensors just died.”

“Great, we’re in,” Helga said, starting through the woods towards the depot. Perhaps in deference to the more covert nature of this, she was wearing a long sleeved black shirt, black pants, and black boots, covering most of her green skin. But it was a skin tight shirt, and her green tail still hung out the back, twitching ever so slightly. It wasn’t like he’d ever seen any other green-skinned chicks before, but of them all, Logan knew that Helga had to be the hottest one. And, again, you had to love a girl with her own flamethrower (although why she hadn’t brought it along, he had no idea).

“I really don’t like this half-assed planning on the fly,” Scott grumbled. He and Logan were following after Helga, and Srina trailed Logan, clearly still unsure about the rest of his “friends”.  Srina seemed nice enough, and just eccentric enough that he could see why she and Logan were probably an ideal couple, but she certainly had some trust issues.

“Neither do I,” Logan admitted, “But hey, you gotta adapt.”

They trailed out basically single file, with Saddiq willingly bringing up the rear, watching their backs. Cute and quiet kid, certainly alert if not paranoid, but then again, he'd been “built” to be some kind of super-soldier, right?  A certain level of paranoia was probably programmed into his genes.

By the time they reached the clearing before the depot, one of the Sisters (again, they had no idea which one) opened the massive gates, and the other came out carrying a khaki clad man over her shoulder, like he was nothing more than a sack of potatoes. It was especially funny because the guy looked to be about a foot taller than her and about a hundred pounds heavier, but how did you quantify vampire strength? All Logan could tell was they were all much stronger than they looked, no matter the appearance of their Human shell, and if you got in a fight with one without a handy piece of wood, you were in for a world of hurt.

The Sister dropped the soldier on the ground in front of them like he was a sack of mail, and it seemed like he wasn’t unconscious at all, just badly dazed and possibly paralyzed with fear. He looked up at them with wide, glazed eyes, and had two pinholes bites in the side of his neck, where thin trickles of blood dribbled out. Scott scowled at the Sisters. “Did you have to bite him?”

They grinned with an enthusiasm that still seemed cold somehow. “We-”

“-didn’t-”

“-beat him-”

“-up.”

Logan pointed down at him, and asked, “Is he critical?”

“We-”

“-hardly-”

“-took any-”

“-just enough-”

“-to make him-”

“-compliant.”

“As long as he ain’t dying, I should be fine,” Rogue said, pulling off her right glove with her teeth and knelt  down beside the guy, who was looking up at them somewhat uncomprehendingly, like he couldn’t quite believe any of this was happening. Presumably, he had never encountered vampires before.

Logan put a foot on his chest to keep him down, and a cursory glance showed his holster was empty, and equipment belt was missing; the Sisters must have stripped them and left them behind, or possibly crushed them to a pulp. Either was possible.

Rogue planted her bare hand on the side of the guy’s face, like she was some kind of bogus faith healer trying to shove the “demons” out, and his eyes got even bigger, like he was being electrocuted. His face turned a sickly whey color, and it seemed like capillaries were just starting to surface beneath the skin, like a spider web of blood vessels breaking out across his cheeks.

Then Rogue let go, and the soldier’s head dropped back hard, like he had been kicked in the face. He was certainly unconscious now.

“Ugh,” Rogue said, sitting back on her haunches and holding her face in her hands. “You don’t wanna know what he was thinking about the Sisters before they turned vamp on him.”

“We-”

“-know-”

“-men think-”

“-things like-”

“-that about us-”

“-all the time-”

“-until they learn what-”

“-we are. Then they-”

“-aren’t so eager for that-”

“-ménage a trois.”

Scott shuddered, maybe because the thought had not honestly occurred to him before, and now that it had, he was completely grossed out. What, he’d never had that “twins” fantasy before?  Okay, maybe the Sisters weren’t the ones you wanted to fantasize about, unless it included two girls ripping your throat out and drinking your blood at the exact same time.

Rogue just sat there a moment, possibly gathering her thoughts or just blocking out the bad ones. Finally, she said, “There’s four levels, but he’s only ever seen two.  The lower two are restricted access only, and his clearance level was never high enough.  Man, I feel really weak.”

Logan stepped off the soldier since he wouldn’t be getting up any time soon (and when he did, he’d probably run screaming for the hills), and shot the Sisters a dirty look, possibly because they'd deliberately underestimated the amount of blood they took from the guy.  They just grinned back at him, stereo parasites.

“Are there any mutants in there?” Scott asked.

Rogue rubbed her eyes, and Marc noticed she looked more pale than she had before. Was that just from using her power, or was that a consequence of the soldier’s weakened, anemic state?  “Not that he knew of, not on the upper two levels. Peters said they have ‘em on the lower two levels, but D’Agastino told him that’s bullshit, it’s just experimental equipment down there.”

“Sometimes they call mutants ‘equipment’,” Logan noted bitterly.  Scott nodded in grim agreement.

“But are they just prisoners, or are they going to be totally psycho loony, like Chimera?” Srina asked.

“Chimera?” Scott repeated.

Logan made a dismissive hand gesture, and said, “Long story, doesn’t matter now.”

“ But that is going to be a problem - determining enemy from victim,” Scott noted.

“We’ll know when they attack us,” Marc interjected.  Not only was that true, but it seemed the simplest test.

“What if they have some scary power, like spitting acid or causing spontaneous bleeding?” Srina said, crossing her arms over her chest and looking annoyed, mostly to cover her fear.  He couldn’t blame her, she wasn’t really a fighter, but he suspected there was something he was missing here, subtext that she and Logan had both left out. Still, she was here, and even if that was out of some concern for Logan or a need to prove herself to him, she shown up and hadn‘t bailed, and she at least deserved credit for that.

“We’ll deal with it,” Scott assured her, slipping subtly into his element. Here was a problem that could use a concrete resolution - after all the weird shit that had caused upheaval in is life lately, he probably relished the black and white, the stuff that could be handled easily with reason or force. The stuff that couldn’t - the girlfriend turned slightly mad god, for example - had probably been driving him slowly crazy.  And who wouldn’t it drive completely around the bend?  He could think of several exes who - if given god like powers - would have smote him down to the ground by now.

Helga searched the pockets of the soldier’s coat, and coming up empty, checked his shirt.  His key card was on a chain around his neck, along with a photo I.D., and she yanked on the chain hard enough to make it snap, coming away with both. “These will get us legally through the first two levels?”

Rogue nodded, looking remarkably tired.  One of her eyes had changed color, becoming the same cornflower blue that the soldier’s eyes had been, but the other was her usual color - she'd just taken enough from him to change one? “Unless we get noticed on the security camera, which could happen. Reynolds and Washington are on camera duty tonight, and they’re pretty good.”

“What security protocols will come on if we kill the power?” Logan asked.

“Complete lockdown; internal generators will keep most security functions active.”

“Lockdown, though - will that keep people from getting out?” Logan pressed.

She had to think about that for a moment. “Only in the high security areas.  The main egress will be reinforced by a blast door, so everyone inside the base will be stuck there until the power comes back on, or a Commander enters a general release code.”

Scott made a negative noise and shook his head. “Too risky.  How many people are inside right now?”

She stared blankly at her hand for a moment, and Marc heard Logan take a deep breath - was he parsing smells? “He … uh, he’s not aware of an exact number, but it should be about twelve people, six per floor. He doesn’t know about the lower two levels.”

“Shit,” Scott muttered, rubbing his jaw in thought and looking back at the depot. “We still have no idea how many people we’ll be facing in there.”

“Get me a higher ranking guy,” Rogue suggested. “I’ll find out.”

“We-”

“-can-”

“-take out-”

“-twelve people-”

“-all by ourselves-”

“-no problem. We-”

“-once took out an-”

“-entire angry mob in-”

“-in Istanbul.”

“No killing,” Scott insisted, giving them a dirty look judging by his frown. “Not … unless it’s self-defense, okay. Maybe. But only as a last resort.”

“Camera observation post,” Helga said suddenly. “It’s in a separate room, right?”

Rogue nodded. “Right.”

“Can we enter the base, and maybe … I don’t know, use the elevator shafts, the ducts, something … and get to that room first?  We take the guys out there, and we have no problems until we try and access the third level.  If a soldier encounters us in the hall, we just knock him cold and stuff him in a closet.”

“Or I can touch ‘em,” Marc suggested, holding up his own gloved hand. “They’ll be paralyzed for an hour.”

Helga nodded. “Works for me.”

“There’s no way to get to the camera room without getting spotted by the cameras,” Rogue replied, sounding disappointed. “Not that he knows of.”

“Oh bollocks,” Srina sighed, and let her hands drop to her side. “That’s my cue, inn’t?”

“You’re sure cameras don’t pick you up?” Scott asked, not sounding skeptical, just trying to make sure.

She scoffed, her magenta eyes wide with anxiety. “Cameras pick me up all the time, mate, but the people looking at them still can’t see me.”

“Can you knock them out?”

Logan groaned just slightly beneath his breath, and said, “She’s not going alone.  No offense, hon.”

“None taken. I really don’t wanna bash some stupid bugger’s brains out unless I have to.”

“I’ll go with you,” Helga volunteered. Yeah, she had no problem bashing anyone’s brains out - another thing you had to love about her.

“No, I will,” Scott insisted, surprising … well, everyone. “I want to see the layout of this camera room anyway.  I’m good with electronics; maybe I’ll be able to figure out something we can do from there, and then I can get a look at the lower levels.”

Marc himself was surprised when Logan just nodded, running a hand through his hair, betraying just a hint of anxiety. “Fine. We’ll give you both five minutes from when you enter the base, then we’re coming in. Okay?”

Scott nodded tersely, and said, “Come on, let’s get this over with.  The suspense is killing me.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a better expression?” Srina snapped, as Helga handed her the soldier’s key card. They walked off toward the base, but Srina waited until they were inside the fence before reaching out to grab Scott’s arm - and then they both just winked out of existence, as if suddenly teleported elsewhere.

“They’re still here, right?” Mark asked, just for confirmation.  Logan nodded, either still smelling them, hearing them, or both.

“Has it gotten real cold?” Rogue asked, visibly shivering. “I’m freezing.”

Logan held his hand down toward her. “Here, I can warm you up.”

She looked up at him quizzically, asking, “You sure you’re ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.  C’mon, let’s go.”

Rogue reached up and grabbed his hand with her own bare hand.  He hauled her up to her feet, even while veins started popping in his arm, coming to the surface in angry relief, like burrowing worms trying to burst through his flesh. They snaked up his arm and webbed across his neck, blooming out across his face.  Logan closed his eyes , and by the way his jaw had set, he was probably gritting his teeth.  Just how much did it hurt when Rogue did her thing?

Conversely, the color had come back to Rogue’s face, her lips seemed flushed with blood in fact, and Marc watched in rapt fascination as her eyes changed back to her normal color, and then started to take on a slightly greenish tinge, like Logan’s eyes. When she let go, he stumbled back a step, but kept on his feet. “You okay?” Helga asked, her tail wrapping around his waste in a protective manner.

Logan nodded, but now he looked a little pale. “Yeah, I just need a minute to recover.”

“Why don’t you two stay here ‘til then?” Rogue said, suddenly stalking off toward the depot, her eyes bright and hard. “I wanna get a better look at this dump.”

Saddiq gave Logan a slightly puzzled look, and Logan jerked his head in Rogue’s direction, indicating he should follow her.  He nodded and scrambled after her without a word, ever the good soldier.

“I’m thinking she took a little too much of you,” Helga commented wryly.

They all agreed with that, but what could they do now except follow, and make sure she didn’t jump the gun and try and enter the base earlier.

Oh boy - two Logans. This was going to be a party, all right.