Hi folks.
This is based on the events in UXM 343, as you possibly can tell by the openly plagerized dialogue. What can I say? I have no shame. This may very well suck, partly because I wrote it after waking up at 4:00 am and partly because this week's issue of Generation X may render this whole thing a lie. Plus, it's not really a story so much as a...well, it ain't a character sketch, it don't exactly have a plotline or anything so it's a....Oh damn and blast, just read the stupid thing and if you hate it, bite your tongue. If you like it, kindly shower me with praise and ego boo. That's a hint.

Harper glanced up at the sound of the engines and groaned inwardly when he saw what was landing.

"Bastion's private transport? Never a cause for celebration." He glumly observed the plane settle onto the pad while workers dropped what they were doing and ran towards it. Bastion did not like to be kept waiting; at anytime. The door opened and Bastion stepped out, his eyes seeming to glow in the shadow as he fixed them on Harper; his lips stretched in a cold smile of satisfaction. Behind him, several workers unloaded a stasis chamber, handling it with almost absurd care; a neat trick since they kept a nervous eye on the tall bearded figure stepping down the stairs. Bastion, Harper had noticed, had that effect on people.

"Instruct processing to work quickly, Harper. I want to be airborne with this hot cargo with the hour."

Harper blinked in surprise. "'Hot Cargo', sir?" If this cargo was still "hot" as opposed to the usual cold cargo Bastion brought in, it must be special indeed. "You're saying you have a live one?"

"For the moment, Harper....For the moment." Bastion rested his hands possessively on the chamber and gazed inside. Harper peered through the clear glass, and for the briefest of moments, fell in love. Resting quietly in the viscous fluid was one of the most beautiful little girls he had ever seen. She looked to be around 12 perhaps 13, blessed with one of those baby faces that would have kept her looking young and unlined long into old age. Her hair was a silky blue-black, her fragile body was slender and fine boned; Harper guessed she stood at five feet maximum , and weighed maybe 96 pounds soaking wet. Her body was curled in sleep, with her hands pulled so close to her face that for a second, Harper thought she was sucking her thumb. She was dressed in a yellow trenchcoat excepting her legs, one of which bore scratches and the battered remants of a crimson pants leg which ended in a bare foot, the other of which was clad in a metallic, yellow boot. She looked, he thought irrelevently, like an angel.

"Her name is Jubilation Lee." Bastion's smooth voice interrupted. "I came across her while investigating Emma Frost's connection to Charles Xavier's mutant underground. After she's processed, I'll be taking her to the lab." He fingers stroked the chamber lovingly, and Harper felt his heart twist with pity.

"And may heaven help her." The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he froze with fear, knowing Bastion had heard them. He glanced up and noticed with relief that the icy smile was still there.

"I have on the highest authority, old man, that if heaven wanted anything to do with her..they never would have made her a mutant." He turned to the workers. "Take her to processing."

Bastion stood in a corner watching the girl being processed; his wintery presence insuring terrified efficiency from the crew. The container was opened and two technician's reached into the goo to pull the youngster out and place her onto a stainless steel table. Of the men lost his grip on her shoulder and her head banged down with a clanging noise.

"Be careful, you idiot! The girl is not to be injured!"

The man cringed at the sound of Bastion's angry voice, wishing the child was already processed and gone; he did not want to be responsible for Bastion's pet mutant. The girl on the table began coughing and heaving, and the two technicians rolled her onto her stomach, slapping her back as she began throwing up the liquid oxygen stasis fluid in her lungs and stomach. After several minutes of vomiting, she let out a final cough and began inhaling. Her eyelids fluttered briefly and then a scarcely audible whisper came from her lips.

"Wolvie?"

Jubilation became vaguely aware of her raw, painful throat and a bright light shining in, first her left eye, then her right eye. There was an incomprehensible murmur of voices and she foggily thought she was not where she was supposed to be. Snowing. It had been snowing, and she' d been running...was it to meet someone? She'd met someone; but who? The thoughts were only half formed and they drifted away before she could get hold of them.

They checked her pupil response; normal for someone who'd been drugged. A pair of scissors were produced and the child's clothes were neatly cut off her body; first her jacket and uniform, then her bra and underwear, until she lay naked upon the table. The garments were carefully stored in a sealed, labeled, sterile plastic bag. They would be minutely analyzed at the lab for information of any kind. The yellow jacket was folded and placed on top. Like the rest of her clothing, it was now mutilated beyond repair.

Jubilee heard a soft "snikt" and felt her clothes fall away. Must be Wolvie. Cool air struck her skin and she felt her back laying on a cold surface. Why was Logan undressing her? She wanted to ask him but couldn't form the words. Her chilled body shivered against the stainless steel.

The men continued to work in silence; pulling a nozzle from the ceiling and washing stasis fluid off her slender form, before taking soap and covering her skin with suds in brisk circular motions. Bastion watched his underlings, pleased at their lack of response to the nude body. He had had these workers chosen carefully; tested and examined to make certain they would keep the correct degree of professionalism with his precious cargo. He wanted his specimen's undamaged, either physically or emotionally, by sexual assaults of any kind. It might interfere with his interrogations. Or his tests.

Warm, soapy water washed over her body, removing the sticky feeling fluid that had been coating her skin. I can bathe myself. She couldn't summon the will to voice the words. A question only vaguely recognized as such whispered in her mind: Where was she?

The two men dried off the damp torso with towels that also were placed in sealed bags; they too, would be analyzed for evidence. They carefully lifted the girl and placed her on a stretcher, relieved to have her out of their care. Now she was someone else's problem. Two more workers eyed her unenthusiastically as she was wheeled under an examination light.

Blood was with drawn, skin and hair samples taken, her body measurements carefully recorded. An X-ray machine was lowered, and for several minutes her form was adjusted and moved to allow for different angles of her head and body. A final sample was drawn, and she whimpered in pain as the bone marrow was taken.

"Get the dental casts ready."

Her jaws were forced open and the molds fitted inside before a low charge of electricity was run through her body. Not enough to cause harm, but it did kick in a reflexive clenching of the jaws. The workers patiently waited for the molds to harden.

Painfully bright lights again, this time shining through her eyelids, then a sharp pinprick in elbow. Hank must be taking a blood sample; only Hank was strangely silent. She felt another set of chilly, impersonal hands arranging her body, moving her head this way and that; then a burning, jabbing, painful intrusion in her lower back. A flicker of betrayal rose in her heart: Why was Hank hurting her? The thought vanished as she felt something forced between her jaws before a white hot pain lashed through her body, sending her mind edging back towards the oblivion she had been in before.

Bastion watched with a frosty smile as a portable MRI machine was wheeled over. He glanced at his watch: 30 minutes so far. The processing was proceeding as smoothly and quickly as he might have wished. With luck, he would be leaving with his cargo in another quarter of an hour. He allowed himself a rare tingle of excitement. Soon, the mutant child would be in the lab and the interrogation would begin. A technician entered information into the mainframe computer and another piece of equipment was lowered from the ceiling. It was hovered over her left forearm and a laser shot out, burning a bar code into her skin. The girl moaned in pain, and Bastion smiled again.

More pain; this time on her arm, seeming to go right down to the bone. Jubilee heard her scream of pain come out as a soft whisper of agony. More thoughts wisped through her head too quickly for her drugged mind to follow. This wasn't Wolvie, or Hank, or the Academy. Where ever she was, she wasn't safe and she wasn't with friends. That was the only thought that stayed with her. She was alone.

A fresh, sterilized stasis chamber was wheeled over, and Jubilation was carefully placed inside.

"What percentage of sedative, sir?"

Bastion thought for a moment.

"Three percent. I want her completely under."

There was a soft whir as the sedative was blended into the fluid, then it was poured in the chamber, covering the teenager's body, then her head until it reached the top of the container.

Jubilee felt the cold, sticky liquid surrounding her body, then her mouth and nose. There was a sluggish rush of panic as she began inhaling it, and she jerked spasmodically but was unable to do anything else. The sedative in the fluid began taking effect again; and the last thought that she held onto before being dragged into sleep, was that she was scared. So very, very scared.

The stasis chamber was closed and carefully returned to the transport, then loaded with Bastion keeping a gloating eye on the whole proceedings. He paused in the plane door.

"There's a technician in the processing department. Around 5'10, 180 pounds, brown eyes, blond hair, light brown wrist watch. He handled the mutant carelessly. Get rid of him. Permanently."

Harper nodded and the door slammed shut. The transport rose into the air and left the processing center, headed for the lab. Harper thought of the frail child in the cargo hold and shuddered.

"May God have mercy on her," he thought, sadly "For Bastion never will."