Title: Journey Through Hell

Author: Sorcieré ([email protected])

Rating: R

Summary: In an alternative, darker universe where the X-Men and the Brotherhood never existed, two groups of mutants fight to get safely through the country that was once the United States, down to the safety they will hopefully find south of the border.

Warnings: This is a darker universe. This means that characters can (and will) have sex, get wounded or be killed. If you can't handle that, buzz off.

A/N: This is the revised version of chapter 1 - around chapter 30, I realized that my style had changed a bit, and it might be a good idea to go back later and re-write the first 10-15 chapters. But as things would have it, it took me an additional 4 months before I actually got around to start on this. I'll take the chapters one at a time, until we reach a point where the styles fit together again. After all the time I've spent on this story, this is the least I can do ^^

Italics indicates thoughts

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Chapter One: The Shadow Alliance

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Mention the word 'smuggler' and most people will get a mental image of an Asian or Arabian guy with a thick accent. Add the word 'weapons' and some might think of a nonchalant, Sicilian Mafiosi.

The man in front of Blade was neither. If anything, he looked like he'd just stepped out of the Wall Street Journal – stylish haircut, expensive suit, and a smile that was deceptively pleasant. His three companions, all males in their early thirties, appeared much the same way.

But as Blade was well aware of, appearances could – and did - deceive. He didn't doubt for a second that the men were all armed underneath the business attire. In fact, he had expected it. They were armed, he was armed, the whole fucking world was armed. That was all part of the game.

But no matter how often Blade had been through this, he always felt a rush of adrenaline. There was always something that could go wrong – the customer could turn on him, the cops could show up, the guards outside could decide that their bribe was too small to keep their eyes closed, and they could call for their colleagues. The adrenaline, the uncertainty was always there, but Blade was careful to keep it well hidden. He could not - and would not - allow himself to show any weaknesses.

"Well, Mr. Heron?" the man asked, still with the pleasant smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Shall we get on with this?"

Yeah, let's do that. I don't trust you, you don't trust me...this is a fucking bottle of nitroglycerine. One kick in the wrong place... Blade thought, but kept those observations to himself.

"Sure," Blade replied and snapped his fingers.

He'd always thought it was a rather melodramatic gesture, but this was the way things were supposed to be handled. He had to show his customer that he had loyal men, too, and that he shouldn't be messed with. Otherwise, people might get crazy ideas like trying to take the merchandise without paying. Ideas like that would usually end up with some very messy deaths, and cleaning up after that was expensive, both in time and money.

Behind him, two figures appeared from the shadows, carrying a heavy box. Blade didn't have to turn around to know who it was – after months of practice, they knew exactly who was supposed to do what.

They all had their parts to play: he negotiated with the customer, Zachary and Jordane carried the box and looked dangerous, and Aaron and Pheonix kept watch at the entrance to the large warehouse. With a strong body and an even stronger mutant power, Zach was perfect for this part of the game, as Blade sometimes called it. Jordane, while smaller and more fragile-looking, still had an attitude that more than made up for that, and as her teammates were well aware, her body hid a potentially devastating power.

And then there were the last two members of the group, neither of whom could actually be seen from the floor. Laetitia and Hal stayed on the first floor, hidden among the shadows, and watched every move through the scopes of two sniper-rifles. Laetitia was extraordinarily talented with weapons, and while Hal was nowhere near her level, her ability to manipulate luck more than made up for that.

Those rifles were Blade's lifeline. Sure, because of his mutation, he could see an attack coming before it actually happened, but it would only buy him a few seconds at most – not enough time to draw his own gun and defend himself. If he were faced with a heavily armed customer who was determined to kill him, only the two rifles and their capable owners would be able to save him.

If those rifles failed...well, at least the attackers would never get out alive – the Shadow Alliance protected its own, and neither Zachary nor Jordane would let anyone get away with murdering their leader.

Blade heard his two teammates walk across the room and silently urged them to hurry. He didn't mind dealing with cold-blooded assassins or arrogant crime-lords, but this guy...this guy was just plain creepy.

He frowned mentally at his choice of words. Creepy? Perhaps Jordane was right - perhaps he really was starting to adapt to constantly being around the younger members of the team. He certainly wouldn't have used a word like that a year ago, that much was sure.

His thoughts were interrupted when Jordane and Zachary reached the table and placed the box between the two men.

"Well, Mr. Cain," Blade said, mimicking the man's earlier words, "why don't you take a look at the merchandise?"

Cain nodded to his escorts, and one of the men opened the box. He pushed away the cheap packets of crayons that hid the real cargo, then lifted a heavy, dark gray thing out of the box.

"An infrared-guided missile. Directly from the production line. Eight of them, like you ordered," Blade confirmed. The weapons hadn't been easy to get, not even for him, but the price he had been offered had been more than high enough to make it worth it.

Cain took the missile and examined it carefully. Satisfied with what he saw, he quickly checked the rest of the cargo.

"Excellent," Cain finally said.

One of his men placed a metal suitcase on the table and opened it, and Jordane took her cue. With the ease that comes only with practice, she counted the money, occasionally picking up a random bill to check it. Although her looks were far from what you would expect from the second in command of a criminal organization, Blade knew that she would do her job well - if there were anything wrong with the money, she'd notice it.

They all waited in uncomfortable silence while Jordane counted and recounted the money. Finally she nodded to Blade and stepped back.

Cain motioned to his men, and they grabbed the heavy box.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Heron," he said.

Blade nodded slightly, and Cain sent him another eerie smile before walking away, followed by his men. At the sound of footsteps walking away, Blade felt some the tenseness leave his muscles, and he was surprised that he had reacted that strongly to Cain - he was used to this life, and by now it took a lot to affect him.

More footsteps echoed through the room, this time behind Blade as Jordane walked up behind him and followed Cain with suspicious eyes.

"He gives me the creeps," she said and toyed absently with her small pocketknife.

Blade nodded, knowing exactly how she felt. He couldn't help but feel that something was wrong...he just couldn't quite tell what it was.

"Yeah. But he pays good money for the merchandise, and that's enough to make anyone seem likable," he pointed out.

They watched as Cain and his escorts loaded the box into a large van, then got into the vehicle themselves. Four car doors slammed in almost perfect synchronization, and the van drove away.

Blade turned around and headed back to the others.

"Melee? You coming?" he asked, without turning around.

"Sure," Jordane said. She watched for a moment until Cain's car was completely out of sight, then shook her head and followed Blade back to their teammates.

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