Undercloak: Part Twelve

by queenB

"Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow"

T.S. Eliot, "The Hollow Men"

The sun is setting over China Town and the X-Man known as Wolverine is not in a good mood. When the X-Men split up into smaller groups to search for the missing Psylocke, he volunteered to check out Little Asia. He thinks this is the most likely place Betsy Braddock would be after becoming lost while teleporting between shadows, that she has been once again pursued by the evil machinations of the Crimson Dawn, that anyone involved in the society of the Ebon Vein cannot be trusted. Now or ever.

While it pains him to return here, to make himself think about what almost happened to Betsy months ago, about what has happened to her since, in the back of his mind he is secretly elated. For this is the kind of environment Logan thrives in, the type of place that he's familiar with... Plus, he's looking forward to kicking some major butt. Let's just say that the day has left him more than a tad frustrated and he can't wait to cause a little ruckus, especially if it means roughing up the people, or rather the amorphous mystical entities, that have been playing with his friend's life since he made the mistake of getting her involved with them.

He's spent an hour searching the local tea houses, herb shops and restaurants for a wizened mystic who calls himself Gomurr the Ancient. As he ducks into an open-air market, hoping to find a trace or clue to lead him to the sorcerer, he growls quietly under his breath as he thinks to himself, 'He's gonna be called Gomurr the Extinct when I get ahold of him.

This part of New York City has always seemed like another, more exotic place to Logan. If he closes his eyes, listens to the sounds, and smells the scents of this community, he can almost imagine he is on another continent completely... almost. It's still too new to his seasoned senses to seem real. Yet he has to admit, it's a rather fine facsimile. There's just enough of the old in this New York neighborhood to make it interesting. This is a place where things beyond the imagination can and do happen.

Venturing into the middle of the market, Logan passes silently through assorted vendors and surveys his surroundings for anything extraordinary or too ordinary, understanding the best camouflage is often the most obvious. Just as Logan catches a familiar, musty scent he hopes will lead him to Gomurr, an elderly man pushing a heavy cart filled to brimming with oriental rugs accidently bumps into him. Even though the defenseless man smiles and nods his head in apology, Wolverine is tempted to unleash his bone claws and release all his pent up rage on the innocent man. Instead, he growls angrily and walks away, saving his energy for the battle he tacitly hopes will come as the merchant once again shoulders his heavy burden.

He searches the crowd again for signs of Gomurr and thinks back over Psylocke's situation and the events of the day. For the hundredth time, he mentally kicks himself for letting her fall into the clutches of the Crimson Dawn to begin with. He knew that getting her involved with it and the society it harbors would be nothing but trouble. But still, he knew that he had to do it. He couldn't let Betsy die. She'd been through too much already.

When Psylocke seemed a mystery, an enigma even, to his teammates, Wolverine was able to see clearly what everyone else puzzled themselves over. When he first met the British telepath, he thought her soft, vulnerable and way out of her league. And then she fought Sabretooth one-on-one in an attempt to save the injured survivors of the Morlock Massacre. Sabretooth: the man who always seems to tear his way into Logan's life, the man he still needs to make suffer for what he did to Betsy this time around.

But he was surprised that she held her own as long as she did during their first encounter. When she thought she was sacrificing herself for the good of the group, she really ended up proving what a warrior she was. And though she didn't have to sacrifice herself that day, Wolverine knew that she was willing to. From that moment on, he knew that inside her beat the heart of a hero, and even though she appeared defenseless on the outside, inside her lurked the strength of a tigress.

Logan thinks to himself how ironic it is now that she's hard as nails on the outside, tempered like steel by magic and sorcery; but her mind, her very soul, is more fragile than it's ever been. She still carries the quality he's always admired most in her, the delicate contrast between will and heart. Without even trying to, she's achieved the warrior spirit he's always strived for.

Yes, out of all his teammates, he thinks he understands Psylocke the best. And he thinks she understands him as well. It's probably the sole reason she was able to withstand a mind-link with him years ago when he found her in the clutches of the Hand, perhaps the only reason she was able to withstand his madness. In many ways, he misses the time they spent in Asia, just him, her and Jubilee. During those weeks, not only was he forming a strong bond with Jubilation Lee, who ended up changing his life in innumerable ways, but he was able to truly connect with Psylocke, to forge a deep bond of friendship. Sometimes he misses the psychic rapport they shared during that time. Though their bond became more insubstantial after their experience with the Hand, he still silently enjoyed the fact that someone understood it all, knew just for a while what it was like to be him, to just for a fraction of time share a soul. And even that didn't break her. If anything, it only made her stronger.

And while he's never pursued anything beyond friendship with Betsy, he's jealous of Warren... that she's gone forever from his mind, that her strength is a part of someone else. Every time he looks at her, he hopes that Warren knows exactly how lucky he is.

As his thoughts skim over his and Psylocke's odd history, he catches the scent he found before he encountered the elderly merchant. He begins to follow its trail. Each step he takes toward it makes him more confident that it will lead to Gomurr. It smells of magic and herbs and something very, very old. Something too old for New York, for America, for the "New" world. He quickens his pace, while not trying to appear too obvious, and rounds a corner, slightly craning his neck, expecting to gain a view of his prey.

Instead he is greeted with... "Fish! Fresh fish!"

A merchant holds a large fish by the tail in front of Logan's face and he almost walks into the slimy creature. "Fresh off the boat," he grins at Logan.

Wolverine slaps the silver-scaled fish out of his way as he attempts to track the now diminishing scent he was locked onto only seconds before. As the fish slips out of the vendor's grip and onto the counter beneath him, the Asian man grabs Logan by the shoulder and says, "Ah. You don't like? Maybe something better?"

With hands as fast as any Los Vegas card shark, the man pulls two long eels from beneath the counter and, clutching one in each fist, pushes them aggressively toward the X-Man. "You like these? They are delicacy."

He irritably swats the snake-like fish away and growls, "No thanks, bub."

The man smiles again as he returns the fish to their place under the counter, and Logan squints suspiciously at him while he apologizes. Next to the vendor, another man sinks his knife deep into the belly of a large sea bass, and as the red organs tumble out on the counter-top, a pungent aroma fills the air. As Logan loses the scent he hoped would lead him to Gomurr, the man cleaning the fish grins a crooked smile and Wolverine realizes he's just been set up.

Gomurr knows he's here.

The man with the cart, the seafood vendor: they were both designed to throw him off. Though angry with himself that in his distraction he fell for such a ruse, he can't help but gain a little more respect for the sorcerer. And while he knows he will inevitably find Gomurr, he hopes that his teammates are having better luck getting to the bottom of Psylocke's disappearance than he is.

High in the dusk-streaked sky over Central Park, Warren Worthington, the X-Man known as Angel on a good day, Archangel on a bad one, isn't faring any better than his teammate. While he isn't wading through the crowds of an open-air market, or fighting a fishy battle of wits against an ancient sorcerer, the conflict he finds himself in is no less real... for his enemy on this brisk New York evening is himself and the overflow of emotions he is fighting to keep at bay. He knows that he must stay focused and concentrate all his energies on the task at hand. But all he wants to do is fly keening into the stratosphere and give in to the crippling bout of pessimism which is currently pressing upon his thoughts like a lead weight.

For a fraction of a second he is able to forget that Psylocke is missing, lost who knows where, possibly forever gone from his life, and pretend that this is just another search-and-rescue mission. He circles lower over the park, using his sharp eye- sight to examine more of the lengthening shadows than the average person could. From his vantage point, he sees several joggers, people walking their dogs, teens carousing around portable stereos, hot dog vendors closing up shop for the evening, but no purple-haired ninjas.

As he changes his course, aiming to survey another area of the park, his communicator squawks loudly in his ear. Squinting painfully, he adjusts the frequency and lowers the volume as Storm's melodious voice emerges from the once squealing ear-piece. "Rogue, report."

Warren listens eagerly and intently as Rogue's thick, yet graceful accent broadcasts over the X-Men's comm channel. "Sorry Storm. It's quiet as a church mouse on this end. It's like searchin' for a needle in a haystack. Ah don't think we're evah going to find her."

Reeling from her words, Warren glares blankly in front of him, his pale-blue eyes glazing over like ice. As his jaw tightens and his heart beats loudly against his chest, Storm says over the comm, "Rogue. This is not a two-way channel."

"Ah know. You're coordinating the aerial search. Me, you, Joseph, an'... dear lord. Archangel. I'm so sorry. Ah just know we'll find her. We've got to. She's one of us. She... I'm sorry, Angel."

Warren closes his eyes briefly and swallows before he says, without addressing the comm or anyone in particular, "Don't mention it. Forget it."

Once again circling the park and attempting to focus his thoughts, he barely notices as Rogue apologizes again and Storm politely reassures him that they are doing the best they can, that she is sure that they will find Psylocke soon. He thinks back to the briefing in the War Room, to the suggestion Jean had given to Betsy before she disappeared, that she wanted her to concentrate on something familiar. So he changes course once again, heading for the part of the park the two of them often visit for picnics or early-morning jogs.

Then he sees it: a faint, but unmistakable glint of purple peeking out from the green foliage. His heart threatening to leap out of his chest, he radios to Storm that he has a lead and swoops out of the sky, crashing through a shallow canopy of leaves and landing on a paved walkway.

As he searches his surroundings frantically, calling out Betsy's name, he hears a soft whimpering close by. Expecting the worst, he rounds a cluster of trees preparing himself for any horror that might wait ahead. Instead of finding the love of his life in any sort of disarray or injury, he finds a young child who is obviously lost and frustrated, tugging roughly on a twine of string attached to a very stuck, very purple kite.

Warren sighs heavily in both relief and perturbation, as the boy looks up at him in surprise and awe. Smiling as graciously as possible considering his state of mind, Warren swiftly removes the kite from the tree and returns it to the boy, who then says, his face filled with wonder, "I thought you heroes were all dead... I saw on T.V."

"No, not all of us."

The boy smiles as he asks shyly, "Are you looking for someone, Mister?"

With a sad expression apparent on his face, Warren says, "Yes, someone very close to me."

"Well I sure hope you find them. I just know you will, being a super hero and all."

As he takes to the air again and returns to his search, he says quietly, "I do hope you're right. I truly do."

Back across town, Logan finds himself growing tired of Gomurr's mind games. The sorcerer has managed to evade him for much longer than Wolverine expected he could. His patience is growing thin, as well as his capacity for subtlety and stealth. When he once again catches a hint of Gomurr's trail, his frustration builds to a boiling point and then? Well, then it spills over. Without a thought, he casts aside discretion and tact, instead assuming the mantle he both fears and revels in, falling into a state of berserker rage.

He growls fiercely as he plows through a vending stall, thrashing merchandise out of his path with his sharp, bone claws. He hardly notices the screams he leaves in his wake, though luckily no bystanders are injured in his fury. Bearing his teeth, he thrashes through stall after stall, bulldozing his way toward his prey. The only thoughts that run through his head are how he will make Gomurr pay for what he's done to Betsy, how he will force him to regret playing one too many games.

Finally he tracks the scent to an alley, which is casually hidden from the market by a few carelessly placed vegetable crates. Smiling to himself, Wolverine whispers, "Yer trapped, ya little runt. No place left to go."

Behind the small stack of boxes, he can smell fear, resentment and disappointment intermingling with the perspiration of his prey. He thinks to himself that after he tears Gomurr a new wind- pipe, he'll have to tell him that it really was a good hunt, a very good effort... he just wasn't up for playing games today.

Wolverine nimbly leaps over the boxes, claws bared and ready for a fight. After clearing the obstacle, he softens his fall into a roll and then pins his quarry against the brick wall of the alley all in one synchronous action. No doubt if his prey wasn't so terrified, she would probably be rather impressed by the fluidity of his movement.

That's right, a "she." Trust me, Wolverine's just as surprised as you are.

The Asian girl, who Logan assumes can't be any older than twelve years old, squints at him as he tries to hide the astonishment on his face. Logan can feel her relax and become more confident under his grip as she realizes that he is not going to kill her. Her face suddenly wearing a rather wry grin as he retracts his claws and pulls his fist away from her face, she says with a Chinese accent, "We were wondering when you would finally catch us, Master Logan."

Still gripping one of her arms tightly, Logan snarls, "Where is Gomurr?"

"The Master is busy with many things."

"So he sends a little girl to throw me off?"

"Things are not always what they seem."

Logan releases his hold on her and pushes her away from him, though not hard enough to injure her. "Yeah, yeah. Cut the cryptic talk, will ya? Just tell me where Gomurr is."

"The Master is busy with many things."

As a snarl escapes his lips and he glares angrily at her, Logan seethes, "Ya said that already. Now where is he?!"

The girl smiles to herself and stands silently, even defiantly, obviously not intending to say another word. Pushed beyond the limits of his patience once more on this very long day, he growls loudly, "Where is he?!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Logan sees a bright flashing of light as Gomurr materializes at the other end of the alley. Wolverine releases his bone claws as he walks slowly toward Gomurr, dragging them against the walls of the narrow passageway. He stares coolly at Gomurr who levitates in mid-air above the asphalt, his form crackling with blue energy. The sorcerer returns his harsh gaze in kind, as he says casually, "Leave us, Jing-mei. Logan may not appreciate anyone witnessing his defeat. His pride has already been injured enough this day."

Enraged by Gomurr's words, Wolverine leaps for him growling and gnashing his teeth, so he doesn't notice as the young girl disappears into thin air only a few feet behind him. After she is gone, Gomurr's demeanor changes and he levitates out of harm's way as he says amicably, "Now, Logan, must we continue with this show? What did you come to see me about?"

Leaping again for Gomurr, he seethes, "Ya know why I'm here. And I want her back, now!"

Once again dodging Logan's blow and surrounding himself in a brilliant and forceful show of energy, Gomurr easily repels the next round of claw-packed punches as he says, "I don't know what you speak of."

"Like hell ya don't, ya old coot!"

Gomurr retorts, "Now, now. This is no time to resort to name calling!"

Just as the wizard is about to offer another witty rejoinder, Logan, fueled by his rage, breaks through his defenses and pins him to the wall, threatening to pierce his larynx with the middle claw of his right hand. Smiling slyly at Gomurr, Logan asks, "Now are ya ready to talk, bub?"

Gomurr says quickly, "Yes, yes. I'll talk. Just let me down, you over-violent, hard-headed..."

Logan growls menacingly as the sorcerer corrects himself, "... fine example of a gentleman?"

Wolverine retracts his claws and Gomurr drops to the ground with a thud. As he brushes himself off, he mutters, "It always has to be a fight with you, doesn't it? Always first with the claws and then with the mouth. Geez, you'd think someone as old as you would have some manners."

Relaxing a bit, Logan rebuts, "Ya'd think someone as old as you would have some."

Glaring up at Logan, he says, "I'm a respected elder... I can be as cranky as I want." He then shakes his head, sighs tiredly, and sits on a nearby crate before saying, "Now what was it you wanted?"

"I've come for Psylocke. I need you to tell me what Tar did with her."

Furrowing his brow, Gomurr says, "Tar has done nothing with the young telepath."

Groaning to himself, Logan says, "Bull. Tell me what ya know, Gomurr."

Gomurr honestly appears insulted at Logan's doubts and says as he glares at him, his eyes as cold as stone, "I know that she is not with Tar."

Folding his arms over his chest, Logan looks warily at the wizened little man. He stays silent for a few moments, trying his best to size up Gomurr's sincerity before he shakes his head and says, "Much as I don't want to, I believe ya."

Rolling his eyes and relaxing on his make-shift chair, the sorcerer says, "Surely Psylocke has told you that in regards to matters with her, I no longer play games."

Though Logan begins to feel more comfortable, he still doesn't want to lose the edge he's gained by defeating Gomurr in a battle he's not sure was truly won. He's fully aware that if the sorcerer had wanted to, the fight would have lasted much longer. In fact, though he can hardly admit it to himself, the little devil probably would have won if he really wanted. For all his bluster, Gomurr is not a violent man. In fact, he detests the use of force. He knows that is one of the things that may actually get Psylocke through this whole ordeal.

He leans menacingly over the small man, allowing Gomurr to retain his illusion and playing his scripted part within it, knowing full well that Gomurr is mentally laughing at his supposed arrogance all the while. So what if the old guy gets his kicks by secretly laughing at the folly of those around him? To Logan, it's a small price to pay for getting the answers he wants, so he says angrily, "Then why did yer girl lead me on the wild goose chase?"

"Feh. She needed the practice. She's not bad is she?"

Logan pulls a cigarette out of his jacket and lights it while he leans against a wall, his eyes cool and steady against Gomurr's inquiring ones. "No, she ain't bad at all."

Under normal circumstances, Logan might inquire into the history of the girl. But these are hardly normal circumstances, in fact, no meeting with Gomurr the Ancient could be called normal. So instead he cuts to the chase, as he knows Gomurr expects of him and asks curtly, letting a large puff of smoke surround the two of them, "Where is Betsy?"

"Safe."

Logan snarls, genuinely frustrated with the sorcerer's evasion. Obviously amused by Wolverine's flash of temper, Gomurr smiles, "Wait. I'll show you."

He touches a finger lightly on the top of a barrel next to him, creating a ripple effect across the rain water which has pooled in its shallow lid. Wolverine then sees Psylocke's image floating on the surface. He breathes a sigh of relief as he sees Betsy hugging a large, blonde man, who he realizes is her brother, Brian.

Logan's expression softens and his lips curl into the faint resemblance of a smile as Gomurr says, "See I told you she was safe."

Watching the image until it fades from the water's surface, Logan nods slowly as he asks, "Can she..."

Finishing his words for him, Gomurr says matter-of-factly, "Teleport back? Yes. She has too much waiting for her here to stay away. She will find the strength."

Keeping his eyes locked on Gomurr, Logan brings the collar of his coat close to his face and speaks into his communicator, "Beast? I got a status report."

Logan adjusts his tiny ear-piece, as Hank says boisterously over the comm channel, "Why Wolverine, we were beginning to think you'd gone AWOL. You know how it chagrins our fearless leader when you don't check in as scheduled."

"Yeah, yeah. Look, I've found Gomurr. Psylocke's safe."

"And is our erstwhile teammate there with you now?"

Logan drops his cigarette to the ground and steps on it as the butt hisses on the wet asphalt, all the while maintaining eye- contact with Gomurr. "No. She's with her brother, in England."

"England?! She teleported all the way..."

"Yeah, Beast. She did."

"Oh, my stars and garters... we never even thought of trying to locate her that far away."

Growing frustrated with Hank's penchant for chattiness during such a time, Logan says gruffly, "Yeah, well. Gomurr tells me she's on her way back soon."

At the mention of his name, the wizard smiles and does a little bow, and Wolverine rolls his eyes as he continues, looking up at the darkening sky, "Tell Angel to leave the light on... that she's coming home soon. Tell him I said he better take good care of her, too. She's had one helluva day. I'll check in with her tomorrow... first me and Gomurr have to talk. Wolverine out."

Logan takes his communicator out of his ear and stuffs it into his shirt pocket as he turns and says, "Now Gomurr, about that little talk..." to a completely empty alley.

[next part]

back to queenB's stories | Cyke and Logan archive | X-Men archive | comicfic.net