"LITTLE STAR"

WOLFSBANE #1

Brought to you by: James Carman: Plot, Script, Lettering, Editor.

Wolfsbane(TM) created by Christopher Claremont and Bob McLeod

DISCLAIMER: Wolfsbane, Excalibur and all featured characters are copyright to Marvel Comics. They are used without permission, and no profit is being obtained from their usage.

Welcome to WOLFSBANE #1! This is the first in a series of fanfics, meant to form some kind of a continuity in a comic-book style. I'll be including a list of reasons why I made the decisions I did.

Continuity-wise, this fits in just before Excalibur #107. It is also before X-Factor #132 (i.e. they have not broken from the government yet - important next issue). The other titles haven't had enough major changes to warrant listing. We can assume that it is after the X-Men's return from Shi'ar space.

I decided to set it _before_ Excalibur #107 because it stated that the media has been not too forgiving of Excalibur and their role in the London fiasco (Excal. #100). What part? They solved the whole thing and the media knows it! Furthermore, in Excal #102, the newspaper says that the government was praising Excalibur for their role in the scenario, that it would have been much worse without them. Does this meld? No! So I decided to go with the earlier statement, as it makes much more sense.

A little warning: this story has some casual nudity, references to rape and some torture scenes. Anyone truly weak of heart should read no further.

It wasn't often that women came into `The Duck and Swan'. Its entertainment didn't really appeal to most of them. But what troubled Esmerelda was that the new arrival was almost certainly underage. She was quite short, with long red hair and a very pretty face, quite pale. Probably a local. Ordinarily, she would have thrown her out instantly. But something about the girl's face...

The girl stood in the doorway for a few moments, looking around the bar - she seemed almost scared by it. There weren't too many people here - it was still too early. There was the normal Ullapool crowd around, and a few sailors. Already the girl was picking up eyeballers. She was dressed in black slacks, with white runners and a voluminous green jumper. Shortly, she locked eyes with Esmerelda, and looked away, embarrassed by the sight of the topless barmaid. "Look here, miss. Are ye going tae do something here, or are ye jes' going tae stand in th' doorway and let all the heat out?" she asked, trying her best to sound friendly rather than angry. "Sorry." She came up to the bar, keeping her eyes carefully on Esmerelda's face. "Now, if yui're here tae drink, I probably won't be able to give ye anythin'. What are ye after?"

"I'm nae here tae drink." A lovely young voice, an local accent. "I'm here to try to find something about a woman who used to work here."

Esmerelda's eyes narrowed. She was certain she recognised this girl. "Aye. And who would you be?"

"Muh name's Rahne Sinclair. Muh mother's name was Evelyn - she died nigh on eighteen years ago." The effect this had on Esmerelda was startling.

"Sweet Mary mother of God - I knew I recognised ye. Aye, I knew yuir mother. I didnae think I'd ever hear of her ever again, though." She reached under the bar and pulled out a handkerchief, began dabbing at her eyes which promptly turned wet with tears.

Rahne couldn't believe her ears. "I've been all over town - but no-one wanted tae talk about her. It's like there's some kind of wall in people's minds that they cannae see through. I finally managed tae get into the police records and found that she'd been arrested once - and this is where she worked. But I never thought I'd find someone who knew her!" Her eyes brimmed with tears too, and she took the offered handkerchief.

"Aye, after what happened to her, women get blamed as much as the men around these parts. It's an evil way."

Rahne knelt on the frozen ground of the Ullapool cemetery, in front of the grave. It was small, just a plot on the ground and a small plaque bearing the name `EVELYN SINCLAIR' and her dates. A small inscription in Latin was beneath it: `Ars longa, Vita brevis'. Esmerelda waited a short distance away, now sporting a jumper and woollen coat.

"Hello, mother. I don't know much about ye, but I'm starting tae learn more. Esmerelda tells me I've got yuir nose - yuir hair. Ye looked like such a beautiful woman in the photo. I wish I could have known ye.

"Och, it sound like such a stupid thing tae say, tha' does. I don't know really what I mean by it. Maybe, just maybe, I would ha' been happier with ye around. But maybe I wouldn't ha' met Moira, or the New Mutants. I'm happy now, more so than I've ever been. Is that selfish? I want ye tae know that I'm not sorry you died - I don't blame ye.

"Now I'm talkin' around in circles. I guess what I'm trying tae say is tha' I want tae do right by ye - tha' I'll always remember what I know of ye and carry on in yuir memory even though everyone in this godforsaken town seems to ha' forgotten ye. Tha's muh promise, mother. And I'll come here every week, put new flowers on yuir grave. Like this one." With that, she placed a large red rose on her mother's grave, near the plaque. "I'm going now, but I'm nae gonna say g'bye, because I'll be back, okay? I'll see you next week."

She rose and walked the few metres to Esmerelda. "Thank ye for showing me that."

"Och, it was nothin', lass. The least I could do for muh old friend. But we've got to get inside now, it's getting dark and cold, and ye've got tae tell me everything ye've done." That's a long story, Rahne thought. I wish I could tell her all of it.

"Aye, and I want ye to tell me about a man - Reverend Craig."

"Are ye sure tha's true? I cannae believe it."

They were inside Esmerelda's room in the Duck and Swan. She had just made them a coffee each and had launched into her story about the Reverend.

"Aye - he was so dashing in his day. Wore a beret all the time. Yuir mother fell in love wit' him instantly - but she was so afraid of him because he was a clergyman and she was jus' a topless barmaid."

"What was he doing inside the bar, then?"

"Och, it wasnae there tha' she saw him. It was in church. She always went, every Sunday - and he was new there - gave the best sermon ye ever did hear. Why are ye looking at me so funny?"

"I jus' cannae see the Reverend being so ... different from the man that I knew! It's like he just changed overnight."

The older woman got a little more serious, the dreamy smile faded from her face. "It was nae overnight. He always had a terrible temper - and he drank. He'd get into fits of rage at night, begin tae throw things around th' room. We didn't know this until much later, it was all kept very quiet by th' church.

"But Evelyn was determined tae get him. So she found out where he ate out. Had funny habits, he did. Ate out every Thursday. Never did find out why. But as he left home one Thursday, young Evelyn ambushed him and he ended up inviting her wit' him. It all went on from there.

"It was seven months before the Reverend found out that Evelyn was what she was. By that time she'd already gotten her hooks into him but good - he was in love. So he was able tae forgive her anything. But it showed on him - he forgave her, but never forgave himself. He started drinking more heavily, got more violent when he was drunk. Yuir mother came tae visit him one night, an' found him sitting in th' middle of a destroyed room. He was dead drunk and started to shout at her - tell her she was a whore of Satan. She didn't take too kindly to tha', so she hit him. He hit her back - and no-one really knows what happened after tha', but she turned up on muh doorstep later tha' night, wit' her dress torn and she was bleedin' from places that ye should never bleed." She shut her eyes, trying to forget the anger. "Everyone knew, of course, and later th' Reverend was posted tae Kinross. Evelyn ran away, away from him. She never saw him again. It was terrible - her last memory of the man she loved was one of violence. And she found out she was pregnant - all the other times, they'd done things to make sure it didn't happen, but he was too drunk, and ... other things.

"He found her later, managed tae track her down. He'd just been given his orders tae move tha' morning, and he wanted tae say goodbye and tell her how sorry he was. But she'd just died giving birth tae a beautiful redhead." She ran her hand through Rahne's hair, thinking how genes bred true. She sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "She just started bleeding, and no-one could stop it. They may have been able to, but she didn't want tae go tae hospital. The Reverend may ha' found her there. Anyway, when he came in, no-one wanted tae know him. I told him what happened, and he broke down in tears. It was his worst nightmare - he was prepared for rejection, but not fer tha'. It ended up, he took you and left fer Kinross that morning. We never heard o' anything after tha'. He came tae Ullapool a few times, but no-one wanted tae talk tae him."

"Aye, I saw him here a couple o' times. He was nae happy tae see me. Och, I don't know what tae think of him now - he was so horrible to me that I thought he hated me."

"I dinnae ken wha' he thought, I've learned better than tae out-think the clergy."

"Aye. Esmerelda, thank ye for telling me all of this. I don't know what tae say. I thought he was muh real father, but I couldnae be sure. No-one wanted tae say."

"No-one wanted tae be reminded of what Craig did. And when tha' happens, the woman often gets blamed as much as the man. Sometimes more. But that's enough of all of that. I want to know more about ye. A girl like ye would ha' seen a lot."

Later, running through the heather, Rahne admonished herself for lying to Esmerelda. She hadn't told her anything about mutants, or Craig chasing her down after her manifestation. Just that she ran away and met her foster mother, who paid for her to go to a private school in America, but came back when her foster mother fell sick. She didn't say who her mother was. MacTaggart was too well-known a name around these parts.

Things were so much easier to deal with as a wolf. She had always found it so. Everything was boiled down into simple terms as the wolf's instincts took over. She hardly had to concentrate as he powerful body leaped through the heather, racing for places unknown, leaving her mind free to mull over what was important.

It felt good, running as a wolf through these lands. Once, a long time ago, other wolves would have been found around those parts, but the Scottish wolf had long since been hunted into extinction. It was easy to think of herself as the wolf and the Reverend as the evil hunters, trying to destroy her and all her kind. A little too easy. She could still hate the man - he had committed an evil act, and she had been the product of violence. That was something that she would have to try to clear her head of. But she could no longer hate him as she had. He had always seemed to be a man who was fundamentally evil and hate-filled. But he had actually loved Evelyn, he had actually cared truly about her, enough even to take on a child that he didn't want. He cried when she died. Did that absolve him of guilt? That he was truly sorry?

No. It didn't explain thirteen years of pain and misery, of insults. It didn't explain his attempt to burn her at the stake when she manifested. It didn't explain the persecution she suffered when she came back twice to Ullapool. And most of all, it didn't explain him repeating his crimes with the little mutant girl Bridgit Shane. He had her completely brainwashed, so she thought it was evil to be a mutant. That is the most terrible crime imaginable - to make a girl hate herself what she is.

She realised she was getting angry - her teeth were growing longer, her claws sharper as the rage manifested itself through her shapeshifting powers. She shifted back to human and sat down on the frozen ground, grateful for the uniform of unstable molecules she wore and the light layer of fur that were keeping the cold out. She had left her clothes near the town before she went on her run. She was panting huge gouts of steamy breath - on her skin was a light sweat. How long had she been running? A look at the sky told her that it was probably somewhere around three hours. Where was she? She didn't know where her wolf form had taken her, but she - recognised - the landscape.

There were people to the (a quick glance at the moon) East. Angry voices. She shifted to her changeform and could smell the acrid smoke of torches. Beginning to panic, she shifted to full wolf and ran to the sound.

A girl screaming - judging from the smell, Bridgit Shane. Townspeople, sweaty, excited. Angry shouts mixed with excited yells. Three men and one woman instrange-smelling clothes. She got closer and reined in her anger and fear, begansurveying the scene. The four strangers were dressed in blue uniforms, with no patchesor identifying marks. They spoke to each other in American accents, although there was too much interference for Rahne to make out the words. Bridgit had been caught, a power-damper applied. Her power had gone out of control - there were some badly burned bodies on the ground. Then her blood froze - they were dragging her semi-conscious form to a stake - with a pile of wood at the bottom. As she watched, two villagers poured gasoline on the woodpile.

Standing next to the stake was the Devil incarnate, dressed in full clerical regalia and carrying a huge copy of the Bible.

Rahne shouted, shifted to her attack changeform, and charged Reverend Craig, feet propelling her at ungodly speeds toward the man whom she was just thinking about forgiving. At once the four people in blue shouted orders to unseen newcomers. Gunfire started and the villagers scattered. From nowhere came men carrying assault rifles, all unloading them at full automatic in Rahne's direction. There were four of them in front of the Reverend.

A sound, louder and more vicious than any she had ever before heard, started up. Magnesium flares landed in the heather, began to smoulder - but the frozen bushes did not ignite.

It was a trap, meant for her. Questions could wait until later - for now there was only survival. The Reverend was no longer her target - to charge him would be suicide, anyway. She was strong and tough, but not bulletproof. She had to take out all of the gunmen - she could not leave Bridgit here.

Ignoring the pain and the blood that was trickling from her ears, Rahne leapt high into the air, twisting as the did so to avoid the fire. She landed away from most of the gunmen and began running towards the villagers, who were carrying Bridgit.

They were easy to catch up to, burdened as they were by the girl. Additionally, the fire had stopped when she got too close to the villagers. She was also beyond the range of the sonic cannon and the flares. Soon, she would be able to hear again. She could hardly see, but he could still smell the acrid odour of Bridgit's clothing. Another jump landed her square in the middle of the mob - there were six of them, Bridgit unceremoniously carried on one's shoulder. As she landed, three of them started to run even faster - away from her. That's fine, she thought. A swift kick to the guts of one and a knuckle punch to the face of another took two out of the fight. There was a sickening crunch as her hand connected - but she didn't care that she might have just killed him. The last, the one carrying Bridgit, dropped her and ran back towards the soldiers, screaming in fear. She had seen the look in his face - it was fear, pure fear. Good

Bridgit over her shoulder slowed her down somewhat, but she didn't care, even when the guns started up again. Even when a bullet slammed into her shoulder - it didn't hurt much. Just stung a little. "Scored her!" came the shout from behind, as the magnesium flare thudded down and burst into life only a few feet in front of her. Braving her fear, she leapt over it. In between her and the soldiers now, they probably won't be able to see past the glare.

She was running for the woods - she could lose them there. They were only a hundred yards away ... eighty yards ... more bursts of fire, but none hit.

Exploding into the woods, she heard the distant sound of jeeps. Och, how badly do they want me? Starting to get worried, she climbed a tree, placing the little girl in the branches and pried off the power damper. Bridgit stirred, seeming to recognise Rahne - but she was too woozy. Rahne noticed that she too had taken a bullet. It wasn't a bullet. It was the right size, but it was a dart - inside was a clear liquid. It smelled like some kind of knockout drug. It was fairly slow-working, likely designed to be used in conjunction with harrying techniques to tire the prey down until it couldn't fight. She hoped her healing factor, mild as it was, could cope. Probably not. Then she clambered down again, running from tree to tree, taking care to take frequent rests - she could feel the drug working away at her, sapping her vitality.

A patrol was coming. She climbed a tree and waited for them to go past. They never knew what hit them as she came barrelling down, landing on one, bearing him tot he ground. Using him as a platform, she slapped the gun out of one's hand. Swivelling, using the motion of the first attack, she slammed a foot into the second man's temple. Blood flowed thick. The disarmed man pulled out a knife and lunged, but couldn't hit the rapidly moving wolfwoman. The man underneath her was starting to recover, so she picked him up, throwing him at the knife-wielder. They both slumped, badly hurt and barely conscious. A radio crackled. She picked it up.

"Unit gamma, we heard fighting. Are you there? What's going on?"

"Aye, they're here. And I'm gonna kill every single bleedin' one of ye until ye get wise and leave me alone!"

"All units converge on signal. Full sonics. Flares on my mark."

Rahne started to run.

"Mark."

The night exploded into a cacophony of noise and light again. Holding her ears and yelping in pain, she ran for the source of the noise. It was hard to find - she couldn't see and couldn't hear, but she smelled electrical machinery. Getting out of the light circle of the flare, she charged up into a tree and made her way rapidly to the machine. One guard notice her. Too late. All four fell in as many seconds, but not before two shots were fired from one guard's sidearm. One hit her squarely in the chest, unleashing its powerful chemical directly into her bloodstream. She only noticed now how badly she was hurting. A furry paw destroyed the sonic cannon, but already a team was converging on her position. Half-blind and numb from pain and intoxication, she half-ran, half-stumbled toward them, but was hit twice more. The shooting stopped, and they simply side-stepped her clumsy claw-strikes. It took a long time, but she could hardly feel the power damper being placed on her neck.

Hours seemed like days to her during the questioning. Tied down to a chair and unable to change form, she endured the punches, slaps and insults as long as she could. Who is staying at Muir Isle? What are the defences like? Where are the weak points? What is their surveillance system? Who stays there full-time?

Why do you want to know? she would ask. But they never told her, just hit her if she asked any questions.

"I'm going to kill Moira, you know," one told her. He brandished a knife. "I'm going to gut her like a sheep with this knife, and strangle her with her entrails." Tears streaming down her cheeks, she cursed him and tried to hit him, but only cut herself on the rough rope.

Finally she was dumped into a cell. It was bare, with a rug for a bed and a bed-pan in the corner. She didn't care. She hurt too much, her whole world was hurt. There were no more tears - only pain and rage. The rage was the worst. She usually expressed it by changing forms to cope, but she couldn't, and the collar gave her electric shocks whenever she tried. Slowly, she drifted off to what passed for sleep.

She woke to the sound of crying, and the feeling of warm water on her face. Hands were on her, and her head was in someone's lap. Tried to open her eyes - bad idea. She tried to talk, but her mouth was dry. The other person put her head down and a moment later water was poured into her mouth. Most spilled, but some hit home.

"Yui're awake. Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to get you involved.They made me! I'm so sorry." It was Bridgit Shane. Rahne opened her mouth a couple of times as if learning how to use it again, then spoke. "It's alright, we'll lick this one yet. Not tae worry." She half-believed what she said. "Where are we?"

"Some Americans want to destroy Excalibur. They want ye as a hostage, get some of them tae surrender. They know about ye, knew ye were in Ullapool and saw ye heading to Kinross. So they set up th' trap.Th' Reverend, he was only too happy. He's an evil man."

"Aye, t'would seem so. How bad do I look?"

"Yui're ... yui're hurt bad. I saw a movie once, and ye look worse. I dinnae ken if ye'll ever be able to use yuir arm again." Rahne grimaced, bit her lip to hold back the tears. "We're both wearing collars?"

"Aye. I tried to take them off, but I'm nae strong enough. We're going to have to wait."

"Someone will come, someone will come." And she drifted back to sleep.

When she woke up, she was able to open her eyes. Bridgit was gone, but there was someone else there. The door was open, light was streaming in, so the man's face was obscured. But she had no trouble identifying him. It was the Reverend. The walls were stone - judging by the door, she was being held in the cells of the Church.

"Aye, we're finally goin tae be able tae burn ye, witch." His voice was as deep and grumbling as ever, still full of power and foreboding.

"Nae if I ha' anythin' to do wit' it. Ye'll pay fer what ye've done."

"`This is muh torch - I know about ye.' Ye told me that, last time we met. But now I know about ye, Wolfsbane of X-Factor and Excalibur. Scotland's finally goin' tae be free o' mutants and that MacTaggart witch."

Rahne pulled herself into a sitting position, propped up against the wall. She felt better - may even be able to walk, but one eye was swollen shut. She felt her hair - it was short and red again, without her power there to make it grow.

"I cannae b'lieve tha' any girl who I raised could grow to be so ... proud of what she is."

"And what am I, Reverend?"

He lunched forward, his finger poking into her cracked ribs. "A demon, a witch, a servant of the devil. A.. a..."

"A product of an unholy union of violence!" she shouted at him. "An unspeakable, vile act with which ye betrayed all the love and devotion that muh mother had for ye! Ye look me in the eye, and tell me who the monster here is; muhself, with the ugly body, or yuirself, with the ugly soul."

"Ye dare! Ye really dare tae challenge me within muh own house! Yui're an unspeakable woman, Rahne Sinclair - truly yuir mother's daughter."

"I have yuir mouth."

The powerful, almighty Reverend Craig froze. Rahne smiled with cracked lips - his lips. "Aye, ye do," he said at long last.

"Is that why ye hate me, because I remind ye of Evelyn? Maybe because I killed her coming out, before ye had a chance to be forgiven for the unforgivable?"

He was kneeling now, staring at the ground. His strength was gone, his aura of power vanished. "Nae, I never asked tae be forgiven. I wanted her tae know that I knew her for what she was - a harlot of Satan, a dock-workers' whore."

"Liar! Yui're tryin' to justify yuirself when ye know that ye cannae truly do tha'! Yui're worse than trash, father. Now I know why ye know evil so well. It's because ye look at it every mornin' in the mirror - inside yuirself. Ye need to let go, tae accept what ye've done and move on, to do some penance. Instead, ye ferget to repent. Imagine, a clergyman who cannae even give a confession!

"And fer yuir information, I had a God-awful childhood. I'm proud of what I am because ye hate it. I enjoy being a mutant because it annoys ye. So yui're a failure as a parent as well as a clergyman and lover. Nae a good record."

Craig pulled himself slowly to his feet, brimstone burning behind the moist eyes. Rahne flinched slighty, thought he was going to hit her. But he turned and slowly walked out the door, closing it on the way out.

An hour later she was called in for another "interview". She was made to stand on the one spot. Hardly able to stand, it was painful after the first five minutes, agony after fifteen. The wasn't allowed to stand on one leg at all, and was hit whenever she stepped out of the small circle on the floor. Hard, with the butt of a pistol. Her tormentor was an American - short black hair, with a goatee. He looked like a killer, with an athletic frame and a psychotic glare behind his eyes. She knew that a man had accosted Kitty and Wisdom two weeks before - this man matched the description. Was it him? He had a plaster over his nose. There were four guards, one in each corner of the room.

Thirty minutes later, she was brought a coffee, which she gulped greedily - her first food or drink for at least a day - it was night outside.

The cup was whisked away quickly though, and she was left with the pain again.

Ten minutes later, she was willing to do anything to make the pain stop. They let her sit down, gave her a coffee and a cigarette - she'd never smoked before, but it seemed like a good thing to do - and sheets of paper with a pen. She began writing out everything she knew about Muir Isle's defences. It didn't feel like she was betraying anyone. She knew it was bad, but anything to make the pain stop.

She was crying so hard, she didn't even notice the brimstone stench and popping sound until the American man fell over her table, arm twisted behind his back by a blue-furred, two-fingered hand.

"Kurt?" she whispered.

"Ja, liebchen. We will have you out of here in no time. I cannot teleport you - you are too hurt, but we will get Amanda to." His matter-of-fact tone, underlined with caring, was exactly what she needed. She began to cry, hugged Kurt and held on for dear life as he undid her collar. Shifting partially, she hardly noticed Amanda's teleport taking her to the medical room.

She had visitors soon after she came out of the anaesthetic. He arm was broken, and two of her ribs as well as her nose and one eyebrow. The ribs required surgery - there were bits of bone in the lung that had had to be removed.

Kurt was first. In fact, he was there when she came out - it was his watch.

"Ach, liebchen. You have surely seen better days."

"What happened?"

"Just like you, you want to go straight to the important questions. Very wise. Now - to what happened.

"We got worried about you when you were late to come back. We reasoned that you should be able to account for yourself quite well, but with the Americans' attack on Kitty and Wisdom, we were afraid of the worst. As it turns out, we were justified. But we couldn't find you. Our cerebro unit can only detect power activation - it takes a telepath to detect a mutant's psionic signature if their powers are not in use."

"So how did ye find me?"

"Ach, well. I wish I could say it was good detective work, but in the end we got a phone call, saying that you were being held in the church in Kinross. The man even told us which cell you would be in, and how many guards there were. He hung up before we could trace the number exactly, but it was somewhere in the Kinross area. So, we turned up and saved the maiden!"

"Something ye do like doing so much. How long was I missing?"

"Around three days. They really did work you over. Fortunately, your healing factor, as slight as it is, seems to have saved your arm. But had we arrived a day later, Moira says we would probably have had to amputate it."

"I was afraid that tha' could happen. I'm glad it didn't. Bridgit told me ..." She sat bolt upright. "Bridgit! Where is she!"

"Calm down, liebchen, Moira will crucify me if I let you hurt yourself. Bridgit is safe. We kept her overnight for observation, but returned her home. She wanted to go there. We spoke to her father, and they are moving to Ullapool, away from the Reverend. She is safe now. Her parents are very nice people - they had no idea what was going on." "Are ye sure about tha'?"

"Ja. Even verdammte Wisdom was convinced. Oh, he tells me that the men who took you were agents of the CIA who were officially on leave'."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, according to Wisdom, if they're on leave but still performing active service, it's most ikely that they were seconded to another agency. He thinks Operation: Zero Tolerance."

“Och, that dinnae sound too good."

"Nein. They have decided to declare war upon us. So, what do we do?" "We make sure tha' they know tha' they cannae do anythin' to us. Scare them off the Isles."

"Ja! That is exactly it. Moira says that you will be healthy in two days. We will begin to watch their movements. Find their agents. Move slowly and quietly, try to look like a more slow-moving team. After that," He smiled, with an evil gleam in his eyes, "we send them to the devil."

To be continued in "It'll Chew you Up and Spit you Out", where Rahne is contacted by her old pals at X-Factor. Meanwhile, Excalibur begins their operations.