Chapter2
“Crystal clear”
Rating: NC17

PART1

Logan got caught early in the evening. Fucking Prof
with fucking missions! He had to get to Christopher
Synch, an ugly guy with criminal record so long it’d
get from NYC to Missippi river if rolled out.
They were debating about how to get him to face the
law, when One-eye came up with a nice thought – at
least some profit from the jerk. All Logan should do
was to get into his quarters and steal the files Synch
was hiding so desperately – the dirty stuff in them
should have shut the man up forever. Then they had an
alternative: either to really imprison him, sending
the files to police department (what One-eye voted
for), or (this way Logan liked more) leave the files
to themselves and use Synch…
~…As flying fuck he is~ Wolverine thought, jumping
inside the room through the window. The security
system was off, and he was just rooting through the
folders when the door slammed open and a dozen of cops
burst in, all furious and armed.
The ways Logan had from now on were either to play
fool or to play dead. Playing dead, though bullet
wounds usually hurt like hell, could have been good
option if not a huge chance of cops seeing his wounds
heal and him waking up in chains with a claim ‘mutie’
on his forehead. Playing fool… Wolverine grinned
mentally and faced the cops with utterly shocked look.

“…and I burst in, since Mr. Synch is well known
wealthy men, sir. That’s where you caught me.” He
finished his I’m-just-a-robber-don’t-sue-me tale and
glanced into officer’s eyes like an innocence itself.
Officer rubbed his chin, then nodded to the cops to
take the guy away, when a man in official navy-blue
suit sneaked into the department and paced nervously
right to their desk. ~Here we come~ Logan chuckled, as
Mr. Synch approached. “Is it him?” his voice was cold,
though his face was contorted with fury that would
envy the hurricane. Officer nodded.
The man stood there for a moment, observing the
‘robber’, then leaned closer, two inches from Logan’s
face, angry dark-hazel eyes staring into almost
laughing baby-blue. “What were you looking for,
jerk?!” he hissed, quite enough so only the mutant
will hear. Wolverine smirked and tittled his head to
the side, reaching to man’s ear. “Your future, Synch.
Nothing more. Nothing less.”
The man stepped back, his features furious. “It’s your
last day alive, jerk!” he exclaimed. “Cool down, bub”
Wolverine smirked under his breath while the cops led
him to the car.
###
The cuffs were finally taken off, and the collar was
snapped on his neck. Damn, they knew he was a mutant?!
He liked this place less in minutes. Moreover, the
soldier in gray uniform (just like the one he
remembered from his nightmares – and it was giving him
creeps) brought something and tossed it in front of
him on the metal desk.
The gloves, so to say. Made of dark glittering metal,
with cuff around the wrist and a metal strap going to
the circle that ended up with four small hole
cylinders – definitely for fingers. The metal circle
should go right over his knuckles… Did he say he
didn’t like the place? Now he hated it.
“Take them on” the soldier said, and Logan shook is
head. Next several seconds it was all too fast:
SNIKT!, screams, shooting, yelling, growling and
complete mess around.
When finally gotten to senses, Logan found himself on
the floor of what looked like a bathroom corridor,
metal gloves on his hands. Fuck… He pulled himself up
and listened. Only a few people around – his hearing
told him. Then his nose added it were only two of them
and what they were doing. Several steps – and the
sight confirmed what his nose said, about one of the
persons in the bathroom.
Without thinking, Wolverine leaped at his enemy, claws
shooting out, and kicked him in the side while he was
caught up in the dirty deed of his. A moment later,
when no blood flew, Logan remembered his claws were
blocked. It didn’t push him into slightest hesitation
though.

Creed growled, his hand pressing to the huge already
forming bruise on his side – the metal plate over
runt’s knuckles hurt pretty bad. “Our Wolvie is
clawless, I see?”
The runt pulled his upper lip baring his fangs. “Can
still kick your ass without them.” “We’ll see…” Creed
growled back, then spotted Logan’s occasional glances
behind Victor’s back and the expression of shock
glimpsing on his face.
With a sly grin, Sabertooth took several steps back to
the object of Wolverine’s hidden observation. “Like
him?” Creed grinned, running his hand over kid’s
outstretched and completely exposed body. “Nice
example of hungry faggot.” he talked as if he was
selling him a car “Soft skin…” to prove it he traced
his claw over Cajun’s side, drawing blood “… and
pretty face” he lifted Remy’s chin, giving his
opponent a better look. Kid’s eyes were half-closed,
his face carried blank expression of total oblivion.
“If you’re good boy, I even may share.”

“Stop it” Logan spat. From what he could see, the kid
needed help, and fast. From the signs on his body he
could assume he had been in Sabertooth’s hands (claws)
for at least several days, and from the way Creed used
him, kid could (did) have internal bleeding. How did
he manage to survive was a miracle. The fact Creed got
a thing for him was no miracle though. In spite of the
kid obviously not initiating the whole thing, still he
looked attractive and… slutty.
Logan flinched as Victor traced his claw over kid’s
side again. “You leave him alone, you worthless rat.
Can’t deal with someone as strong as you, so getting
off at small kids?” Logan spat on the floor between
them. “You’re pathetic, Creed.”
The hint was right, and Sabertooth stepped forward,
forgetting about maiming his captive and concentrating
on his enemy. “I’ll get you down, runt.” He rumbled
lowly, the voice resonation in his chest. “And then
I’ll fuck you just like I’ve fucked this swamp rat.”
“You’ll fuck me?” Logan rolled his eyes. “Damn, Creed,
get a girlfriend!”
That was more than enough, and Sabertooth leaped at
his foe, claws out and ready to slice and dice. ~He’s
got his claws?! Fuck, how unfair!~ Logan thought,
dodging the sharp weapons and delivering several blows
in Creed’s torso. Though the ‘gloves’ were blocking
the claws, they still were nice in a fight by their
own, working as steel plates.
Despite of all dodging, Wolverine still got a set of
long though shallow slashes across his ribs and arms,
before he managed to grasp both Sabertooth’s wrists
and give him a series of hard knee kicks in stomach.
A moment later he was pressed to the far wall with all
Creed’s weight, as the killer tried to smash him or at
least cut off his breath while his wrists whirled in
Logan’s vise grisp.
Normally, Logan would have let his hands go, however
under the circumstances, as their healing factors were
blocked, Sabertooth’s claws were deadly weapons.
Wolverine had to finish the fight, and fast, as there
was not only his health depending on it, but also the
kid’s.
Realizing it, he resorted to several knee kicks in
Creed’s groin area. That made an immediate effect –
Sabertooth’s eyes widened and watered, as he exhaled
sharply and sank on the floor, not managing to breath,
his hands grasping his maimed privacies.
Logan clenched and unclenched his fists, renewing the
circulation after he eased his vice-grisp on Victor,
letting him fall on the floor. Making a half-circle
around the defeated foe, not trusting his visibly
hurting state a single bit, he finally made sure Creed
wasn’t gonna make it up any soon, and finally turned
his attention to the limp body hanging from the water
pipe.
Not being able to cut the ropes (which looked much
like a bootlace), he had to untie the both knots. As
he did, the kid simply collapsed over him in a
half-life heap. The moment Logan caught him in his
arms to keep him from falling, he realized what did
Creed mean, talking about the soft skin. He frowned,
his hand absently brushing over kid’s back, as he laid
the fellow down on the floor for further examination.
The kid was breathing deep, though harsh, the pulse
was steady, though overracing. Logan quickly eyed the
cuts for any infected ones, when their form reminded
him of something. He leaned closer, squinting his eyes
to make the sense out, when it hit him, that some of
the cuts formed letters. There was “MY TOY” carved on
kid’s chest. Wolverine growled, and if the kid wasn’t
in such bad conditions, he’d have gone and kicked
Creed but hard.
Still, he turned his attention back to the slender
fellow. Switching on the shower, he gathered water in
his cupped palms to wash the dirt and gore away, not
risking to put the kid under the direct stream not to
disturb the wounds. As the chest was clean, he
proceeded to his face, gently washing off the dust
that covered it, leaving several clean lines on his
cheeks. The kid must have been crying.
A sharp guilt seared through Logan. How could he let
it happen? What he and all the damn X-men were worth,
if a kid such as this had been so throughoutly maimed
in their own damn town, right under their damn noses!
The kid as nice looking as this one shouldn’t have
been put in those cruel paws, he wasn’t made for that.
No way. So gorgeous and so fragile…
Logan turned to Creed’s squirming form. “You touch him
again – you’re dead.” He growled darkly, and he meant
it. Then the kid totally attracted his attention, as
he stroked the dirt off his face, mesmerized by what
was hidden under the mug. Gentle features, almost
girlish, still with a shade of firmness, smooth,
begging to be touched. As made for prison as gothic
statue for bear cave.
That was when the kid squirmed in his hands. Long
lashes flickered, and kid opened his red eyes.
~Exotic~ the thought came, when he spotted the kid was
shivering.
“It’s all over, kiddo.” He whispered, stroking his
silky auburn hair. “He won’t touch you again, you’re
safe.” He leaned closer, gathering kid in his huge
arms, giving him the feel of protection he seemed to
need.

Remy felt he was hanging no more, as the hurt in his
wrists was gone. Struggling to open his eyes, he felt
someone’s hands stroking him, and he was ready to
sneak back into blissful oblivion, when he realized
the touches didn’t belong to the tormentor.
Still firm and confident, they weren’t sick as
Creed’s, they weren’t maiming. The hands, rough as
those of his captor, were gently spreading water over
his chest, visibly trying not to hurt. Trying to help.
LeBeau opened his eyes.
The man over him had his hand under the back of
Cajun’s head, while the other smoothed the dirt off
his face with slow careful motions. Hallucination?
Remy blinked and stirred slightly, looking for
Sabertooth.
With the corner of his eye he spotted his huge form,
laying on the floor squirming and groaning in pain. He
glanced back at the man, noticing shallow slashed all
over him. He had to be the one who fought with the
blond, the one who was stronger, making once cruel
tormentor crumple on the floor in defenceless pathetic
heap.
Remy didn’t realize when he started shivering from the
realization. There would be no more hurt, the man
said, holding him in his strong arms. No more maim and
no more humiliation. It was all over now. Remy pulled
his hand to his chest, encircling man’s waits with the
other to know he was still there. Burying his face in
man’s muscled stomach, he let the cry of relief shake
his shoulders.

Logan felt his skin getting damp from kid’s tears, and
he pulled him closer, tangling his fingers into that
silky hair and stroking kid’s head, as no words were
needed now – nothing but calming touch.
The soft cry echoed in the deafing silence of the
bathroom, along with splashing of weak water stream
and stiffed groans of beaten up Creed.