Free Sanctuary by Christopher Golden Page B

or had the Sentinels been given specific programming to keep them out? They'd know in a minute, Wolverine thought. Some part of him hoped the answer was yes. If they were attacked upon entering Manhattan, they'd get down to the nitty gritty all the quicker.
    That's what he was here for. To fight. To win. The politics of it just bored him. It didn't matter to Wolverine whether the government sanctioned their presence or not—and so far they'd had no word one way or the other. In any case, there was a job to be done, and the faster they got around to this latest fracas with Magneto, the better.
    After what happened in Colorado, Wolverine was looking forward to throwing down with the Acolytes again. He didn't want to think about the combined resources of Magneto and the Sentinels—one thing at a time.
    There was no way he was going to let Magneto win. New York would turn into the tyrant's private playground only over Wolverine's dead body. If that was what it took, that's what it took. As the tension grew aboard the Blackbird , he could feel the low growl building in his throat. Not loud enough for the others to hear, but loud enough for him to feel it in every fiber of his being.
    "Well?" Iceman finally broke the silence. "Any sign of them?"
    "No visuals," the Beast said from the cockpit. "Bishop, have you got anything on radar?"
    "Nothing," Bishop answered. "Apparently we're as welcome as the next mutant."
    "Let's not get carried away," Storm cautioned.
    "Simply because we were not stopped at the 'door' doesn't mean we are welcome. It could very well be that Magneto would rather have us in here, where he can keep an eye on us."
    "Then he's a hell of a lot dumber than I gave 'im credit for up 'til now," Wolverine snarled. "Magneto oughta know better than to think he can cage the X-Men. I ain't exactly a domesticated beast."
    "I, on the other hand, am entirely house-broken, thank you very much," the Beast said from up front.
    "Laugh it up, McCoy," Wolverine said grimly. "It ain't gonna be a party down there, though."
    "True enough, Logan," the Beast acknowledged.
    "But humor is oftimes all that distinguishes man from savage animal. It serves me well as a reminder that I am, head to toe, human first. Mutant, second."
    "Ah, Hank," Storm said wistfully, "if only the world could see that."
    They were quiet again, then, and Wolverine could not help thinking of Hank's words. He was not without a sense of humor. In fact, he could be quite a practical joker in his own right, given the chance. But there was a time for that kind of thing, and as far as Wolverine was concerned, this wasn't it. Still, if that was what the Beast needed to deal with the scenario, Logan figured he'd best leave his teammate to it. There were things he needed, ways he had to feel, to get by as well.
    But for Wolverine, those feelings were quite a bit more hostile.
    "Central Park below, team," Bishop said quietly.
    "Bobby, is that mini-Cerebro tracker functioning properly?" Storm asked.
    Iceman picked up a small black metal and plastic unit that looked more like a hand held video game to Wolverine than any useful technology. Looks could be deceiving, however. In truth, it was a much smaller version of Cerebro, the computer that Professor Xavier used in the Institute's efforts to find developing mutants and keep track of those they were already aware of.
    "It's lit up like a Christmas tree," Iceman said, then turned the tracker unit so both Wolverine and Storm could see the green dots that filled the grid on its face. At the bottom of the grid were a group of dots that were enveloped in a red, warning glow.
    "It can't pinpoint Magneto specifically," Iceman explained, "but it can point us in the right direction. From here, we go south."
    "The ol' Canucklehead is right on your tail, Bobby," Wolverine said, his voice even more guttural than usual.
    "Time to take Magneto down a peg. He's gone way over the line this time."
    Retro-thrusters on the VTOL unit kicked in,