Layla

Chapter Twenty: Vanished

Two Weeks Earlier

"No!" She screamed.

He should have seen this coming. What a damn fool he was. He made a mistake, but now it was too late. He was helpless, and could only watch as they dragged a kicking and screaming Layla away. She looked back at him with pity, and sorrow. Could she really pity him, even after all he had done to her? Give it two days, and any sign of pity she had for him would be gone. That's what living in Stryker's hell was like.

What had he done!

Xander cast a stoic look to the ceiling above. He had to do something, but the gunshot wound unfortunately stopped him, along with him bleeding out. Slowly, he could feel himself slipping away. Once the heavy, steel doors to the room had shut, he listened as heavy footsteps approached him. Mentally, he went through a list of things he could do. Obviously, beating the hell out of these men was out of the question. The only option he had was to teleport himself out of this room, but with him being wounded the action could be lethal. He could potentially damage himself more or die in the process. Trying, however, seemed better than lying on the cold floor doing nothing. If he teleported now then his men would know, and that would only raise Stryker's alarms. He could only wait and see what came next.

"What do we do with him?" A man with short chestnut hair asked.

The man was semi-tall, and had little to no muscle at all. He looked rather young, perhaps early twenties, and Xander could only assume he was a new recruit. A flicker of fear flashed across his hazel eyes when he looked down at Xander. The young man tried to look fearful, and intimidating, but Xander could see right through him. He would smile since he knew one opponent could easily be taken down, but pain laced through his abdomen.

"There's a tunnel down at the end of this facility that leads outside, and down to the waters below. We'll throw him out there where he'll drown like all the others who were helpless, filthy mutants. The fall alone should be enough to kill you." The other man sneered, spitting on him in the process of speaking.

This man was taller, and more built. His dark black hair was shaved on the sides, and he looked ready to drop kick anyone who stood in his way. His blue eyes flashed malice, and a wicked grin pulled one side of his mouth up. Xander shut his eyes in agony while he wished this man were more like the wimpier one. Of course they had to send the brute who looked ready to break Xander in half. Not that the man could. He may have been bleeding out, but he could still be quick on his feet. Being in that hell hole for years, Xander learned many things.

Before the man who spit all over his face could grab him, Xander reached out taking hold of his ankle. The man's face turned red with anger and became bunged up as he attempted to swing his meaty leg at Xander's head. Luckily for him, he was able to stop the man before his leg connected with his head.

"Stop!" He ordered while the man's thick black boot hung mere inches from his temple.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The young man demanded , marching over as he tried to look intimidating.
"I said stop!" Xander commanded in a more forceful tone.
Both men listened to which Xander was relieved. He loosened his grip on the man's ankle, dropping his hand as he quickly tried to gather his thoughts. He needed to be quick before he fell unconscious from the loss of blood.
"I am dead. You threw me out of the tunnel, and watched as my body was consumed by the harsh waters below. Leave. Go back to work." Xander ordered.

Both men had glazed looks, and followed each other out of the door as instructed. As soon as the door was shut, he breathed a sigh of relief. Know came the hard part which was teleporting out of this facility without dying. Very slowly, Xander rolled on his stomach. White hot pain, laced through his abdomen, spreading down his legs. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and he grit his teeth. With shaky hands he lifted himself off the cold, concrete floor, and stood on weak legs. His head spun, and he shut his eyes as he focused on regaining on his balance. Once he was stable, he prepared himself for the painful trip back to that mansion. They were his only hope to help save Layla. He just needed to get there alive first. Xander closed his eyes, placed one hand over his wound, inhaled slowly, and vanished.

_________________________________________