Layla

Chapter Twenty-Six: R.A.F.T.

"Layla? No, no, no! God damnit!" Charles yelled as he threw Cerebro back on its stand. 

The helmet landed on one side of its stand causing it to lazily hang over, while the cords dangled above the ground. Charles lowered his head in agitation, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His nostrils flared as he let out a heavy sigh, trying to quickly come up with a plan on how to extract Layla before they moved her. However, a familiar voice broke through his train of thoughts, forcing him to look up at his intruder. 

"Did you find her?" Peter asked, looking desperate as he patiently waited for a reply. 

"Yes, I did. I don't have time to answer how or where, Peter. What I need you to do right now is gather everyone and suit up. Time is of the essence, Peter and we can't waste a single second. Do you understand?" Charles asked with keen eyes as he wheeled towards Peter. 

Peter nodded his head in reply not bothering to respond as he took off without a moment's hesitation. Heading to the air hanger, Charles's mind raced like a busy intersection trying to devise a plan to rescue Layla. Unfortunately, it was going to be more difficult than he had thought, and Jean was the only one who could lift such an object. There was so much to do, but very little time. He and the others would just have to make the plans as they go. Right now, getting to Layla was dire. Stryker knew he was inside his mind, and now they needed to grab Layla before they moved her to another secure and probably more difficult location. 

"We're coming, Layla. Hold on." Charles muttered to himself, trying not to lose any hope. 

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Stryker's men dragged the still unconscious Layla back to her cell. They gripped her forearms tightly, already bruising her soft skin where their hands were. Her feet dragged behind her against the rough concrete, scraping skin along the tops of her feet. Blood stained the concrete floors as it spilled down the side of her mouth from her split lip Stryker awarded her for the scene she had caused. A fairly large purple bruise covered the left side of her eye. Another reward giving to her by Stryker. Luckily for her, she was unable to feel most of the pain he had caused. It was only when he had slammed the foot of his thick, black boot against her stomach that she jolted awake, screaming out in pain. She was almost certain that he broke a couple ribs as she heard a faint popping sound that greeted her with white hot pain. It was enough to knock her back to the state of unconsciousness. 

After what Layla had done, pissed off was putting it mildly when it came to Stryker's current mood. Livid or volcanic would be more appropriate. The first task, well actually the second task, on his list was getting his scientists to make a stronger serum. She was the second mutant to overcome its abilities, and his mission was almost blown because of it. His top priority at the moment was getting Layla and some of his men moved to another secure location because Charles and his abominations arrived. He could only hope he hadn't got too much information on where R.A.F.T. was located. Timing was everything at the moment. After he had brutally punished Layla, which would later continue once she was moved, he ordered his men to prepare for a quick departure, while he finished gathering his own things. 

Stryker's men weren't careful or gentle as they put Layla back in a cell. They threw her inside, and her body slammed against the solid surfacing with a hard thump. The impact was enough to wake an aggrieved Layla who was greeted with cold, concrete flooring. She didn't bother to move. Instead, she lay there motionless feeling numb and empty. Pain radiated down her side and stomach, causing her stomach muscles to clench at the intensity of pain. The tops of her feet felt warm and throbbed from the skin that had been scraped off, and was currently bleeding. The left side of her face throbbed and ached and she winced at the phantom pains that haunted her. She wanted to cry; it was difficult not too. Her chest ached and squeezed from the emotion that flooded her senses. She wouldn't, though. She would not allow herself to cry in front of these men. Not only that, but there was slim chance of hope that Charles and the others might finally rescue her.