Back again for hopefully one of the most adventerous parts. I'm losing my
e-mail account in ten weeks and I don't think I'll ever finish this story.
However, during the 2 month hiatus at the end of the year I'll have alot of
free time to actually make some of the deadlines I give myself.

Disclaimer:You know 'em. You love 'em so more than likely there not mine.

In case you missed any part you can easily find them on the web at:

www.geocities.com/SoHo/6329
www.spydernet.com/lori/index
www.ici.net/cust_pages/darqstar/ffindex    (Hope you had a good birthday!)

With stuff that puts mine to shame.

Winds of Change
Part XII

   
  Roger's eyes cleared only enough to make out the stopped convertible
getting closer. "BRAKE!" He tried to reach over and pull the wheel away from
the inevitable collision but the drivers flailing arms prevented him from
saving their lives. He let out a loud scream and threw up his hands to
protect his face from the imploding windshield as the cars collided.


      The sound of metal grinding on metal and glass shattering echoed
around the two X-Men. "Go, go, go," Gambit yelled, grabbing Wolverine's
shirt and pulling him along.
     Beast's car rocked and slid forward, tearing out chunks of grass and
sending peddles rolling down the hill after them. The weight of the car
shifted and tipped the front end over the edge again. Unable to withstand
it's weight, the ground gave away. The convertible's headlights cast their
beams erratically as the car picked up speed down the hill.
     Gambit looked over his shoulder while Wolverine ran in front of him.
The back end of the convertible got hung up on a rock for only a split
second and the momentum shifted. Now instead of going straight forward, it
hit every rock, reeling the car around sideways.
     Gambit reached inside his trench coat's pocket for his folded staff. He
pushed a button and the one foot weapon extended to it's useful six feet.
     The roof of the car buckled as it rolled over and continued it's
destructive path. As it gained momentum, it bounced end over end, leaking
gas and spraying shards of glass everywhere.
     Wolverine yanked the cajun to the side hoping to get out of the path of
the convertible turned into an engine of destruction. Another loud bang
signaled a change in it's course. "Beast's car is determined to kill us.
What ever you did to him gumbo, you better make amends quickly because
Christine behind us is looking for revenge."
     "Funny," Gambit replied and began charging his staff with as much
kinetic energy as it could contain.
     Both men leaped over a small boulder. In mid flight Gambit grabbed
Wolverine's shirt and pulled him down to the ground with one hand,
simultaneously shoving his staff into the ground, behind the rock, a few
inches with the other hand. It was feat even the most flexible of gymnasts
would have envied but since he was gifted with amazing agility along with
his other power.
     Wolverine's first instinct was to get up and keep moving but Gambit
held on forcing him flat on the ground. Without a chance to offer an
explanation, the rolling car hit the charged imbedded staff and catapulted
the vehicle over their heads. The gas leaking from the tank burst into a
stream of flames. The energy from both of the explosion was enough to
detonate the car like a bomb, spraying them with a sheet of scorching fire.
Wolverine dove on top of the prone Gambit. Crazy cajun doesn't have a
healing factor. When the immediate danger had subsided, he rolled off Gambit
to smother the flames developing in his hair and back.
     The arms of Gambit's trench caught on fire. Though he regretted losing
the jacket, he spun and whipped it off his back, smacking it on the ground
in case it could be saved.
     A line of blazing fury scorched the hillside from the gas that leaked
from the car. Small, dead shrubbery followed suit, quickly forming a wall of
heat between them and the road.
     Wolverine finished dousing the flames and stood up. "Next time you have
one of your wild plans, remind me to get the hell out of the way," he said.
Even though he possessed a healing factor, nothing could prevent to the pain
and it was obvious in the tone of his words that his was intense.
     "It worked, didn't it. Now are we goin' back up dere or are we goin' to
stand around waitin' for dem to get away."
     Schluck! Wolverine's claws popped out making the sickening tearing
flesh sound they made since Magneto tore the adamantium from his bones.
"You're lucky I like you gumbo." His body was a network of scars and burns
that were slowly and painful knitting themselves back to normal skin tissue.
     Gambit picked up his jacket as a shield ran through the wall of fire.
He managed to only singe his hair slightly before making it to the road.
Wolverine had beat him to the top and was rummaging through the wreckage of
one of the cars.
     "They're both dead," he announced and headed for the second car. 
     Gambit reached it first and looked inside. Glass littered the seats and
the dashboard from the imploded windshield. The driver was still breathing
but rapidly and very shallow. From the looks of it, his chest had caved in,
from impacting the steering column, and his fractured ribs punctured his
lung. Without medical attention, the pneumothorax would kill him in moments.
The passenger was not beside the driver. "Logan, one of dem has flown de coop."
     Wolverine sniffed the night air. Traces of gasoline, blood, sweat and
ash hid any distinct direction the fourth man might have taken. "See what
you can do for him, while I look around." The ground by his feet was
speckled with blood droplets. It was too easy of a trail to follow.
     Gambit braced the man's head, preventing any movement, and carefully
pulled the man out of the vehicle. He dragged him a dozen feet from the car
and sat him on the ground to change his grip. Hoping to prevent any further
injury, such as paralyzation, Gambit slowly brought the man down until he
was supine and released him.
     He stood up and looked around to see if anyone lived nearby but no
lights were visible. He sighed and knelt back down with a man who had just
tried to kill him and nearly succeed. "Hod on for a little bit. Someone
boun' to come by here any minute now."
     The man lying on the ground, who couldn't even remember his name or his
wife's through the pain that radiated from every square inch of his body.
One thing stood out though. The memory of what had just happened. That
damned mutie deserved to be the one bleeding to death, with his lungs
filling with blood. Now he was adding insult to injury by trying to help him
live longer, suffering the whole time.
     Blood frothed at his mouth and he weakly reached for Gambit's shirt.
"You may haf beaten us mut.. but we will win." It took the last of his
strength to say those melodramatic words. His eyes glazed over and stared
vacantly at Gambit.
     "Dere be no end to de hatred." Gambit loosened the man's fingers and
dropped them to the ground. His shirt was wet and sticky with blood. "What
kind o' hate group after us now," he said to the empty space next to him.
     Wolverine stalked the fourth man's trail off the road and onto the
incline. At his feet were a series crushed plants, signs that he had fallen
and dragged himself away.
     Less then ten seconds later, he heard the labored breathing of the man
over the crackle of the fires behind him. He paused and peered into the
darkness. His prey was pushing himself along the ground with his legs. His
arms were twisted at obscure angles obviously broken. "Listen bub. You can
stop right now and tell me why you were following me and I may help you or I
can leave you here alone, in the dark, with a fire burning out of control
just across the road."
     Roger Fullbright rolled on his back and spat towards the mutie. He
wanted to curse him, beat him till he was dead and keep beating him. It was
his fault he was bleeding to death. During his efforts to get away, he had
tripped over a small stone and tried to brace himself with his arms. What
had once been two neat closed fractures turned into two messy compound and
open ones. His right arm felt the worse off. He was loosing all sensation,
even the pain, and figured he'd severed his radial artery. "Mutie. You have
no idea what's in store for you," he said with aline of blood working its
way dawn from his mouth.
     "That intent on dying, huh. I could make it a whole lot worse for ya
until you do." Wolverine's claws were already extended but he retracted them
one by one and then brought them out all together. Not too long ago, he
might have gone through with his threat but recently, his feral side had
been tucked away in a corner and he didn't want it to come forth again. It
had been hard enough the first time.
     He watched as fear riddled Roger's eyes. Not wanting to wait too long
and lose his chance Wolverine growled and pounced, bringing his claws a mere
inch from the man's face.
     What to do, Roger asked himself. Maybe he could work in a revenge of
sorts from this mutant. That bastard Lance had sent him on this fools errand
and now he was going to die. There was no way he would accept aid from the
mutie so what could it hurt. And even if they succeeded in killing Lance,
that would just spur his fellow FOH members into a greater frenzy. I just
have to sound convincing. "Okay... jus' back away and give me some room."
     "Not until you supply me with something as a sign of good faith."
     "We were hired by the Friends of Humanity to track you. We were never
supposed to start a conflict. They just wanted information."
     A low guttural rumble shook Wolverine's body. Inside he was glad Creed
was no longer a threat but the ramifications were now becoming disastrous.
The number of FOH houses was impossible to count since they popped up all
over the place and advertised their locations with public displays and
posters. This scumbag hadn't provided anything usable but he had promised to
help. He knelt next to him and ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt to use
as a bandage. The ulna of his left arm had a jagged edge protruding from his
forearm. There was no way he could properly set it without taking the chance
of tearing apart more blood vessels. At least he could try to stem the flow
of blood.
     "Wait," Roger gasped. "I know I'm going to die from shock before an
ambulance arrives. The man who sent us is named Lance Preston. He's now in
Atlanta-" His body convulsed as a series of frothy coughs rocked his chest.
It took nearly a minute for the attack to subside and his breathing to slow
to a normal rate. "I hate you muties but I hate him too, which is the only
reason I'm telling you. Perhaps the two of you will kill each other now that
I've told you. Or you can sit around and wait until the next- Uhh-hmgh. Now
get the hell out of my face. The last thing I want to see when I die is one
of you!"
     Wolverine stood and turned his back on the man, whose name he didn't
even care to know. Hate was a terrible emotion to control your actions.
     Gambit was leaning against a tree, smoking a cigarette. "Find 'im?"
     "Yeah. It seems our Friends of Humanity buddies are getting antsy. They
organized this attack from Atlanta where Creed was assassinated. I even got
a name from him, but it was way too convenient. Because of their failure, I
think they he wanted me to go off on a person vendetta for him."
     "Maybe we should take a looksee."
     "It has trap written all over it."
     "Der aint no trap dis t'ief can't escape," he said, exhaling a large
cloud of grey smoke.
     "The fire looks like it's burning itself out. Well it looks like we
have a long walk ahead of us. We oughta get moving. Cyke's gonna throw a fit
that we were out past the curfew."
     "I believe we are grown boys." Gambit took the last drag of his
cigarette and ground it against the tree. "Shall we mon ami."
     A smug smile crept across Roger's face. Of all the freaks at Xavier's,
he had managed to set the wheels spinning in the mutant who was the most
unstable of the group. His body was going numb and beginning to freeze but
he no longer cared. His boy's cherubic face glowed incandescently above him.
He was dyeing for him and though he hadn't taken down any mutants, he
hopefully had set the ball rolling towards a massacre.

End Part X11