Part One: The Devil You Know
Tagline: The laws of physics need not apply.
Disclaimer: The characters used are property of their respective owners. I do not claim any rights to them. This is just for fun, and no profit is made.
A/N: This story is AU to both verses, roughly coinciding during/after season six of Stargate and more of a comic/movieverse fusion on the X-side. The pointing out of any mistakes, as well as constructive criticism is always much appreciated.
Part One: The Devil You Know
Four people sat together in the back of a military transport, listening to the sounds of the passing road outside. Based on outward appearance, three of them were human, two men and one woman, and the fourth was most obviously not. One of the men, a muscular twenty-something, had his arm around the woman, helping to brace her against the shocks. The other man, older, more grizzled-looking, sat there cracking his knuckles.
The fourth person was the true oddity. To start off, he was covered in blue fur, with only three fingers on each hand. He didn't sit as the others did, but rather crouched, a long, pointed tail extended, twitching every so often, as if by reflex. The creature's appearance would have been downright demonic, if not for the expression of serenity on his face. One hand held onto a support pillar, under the canvas covering that shielded the four from view, either on the ground, or by satellites, the other was thumbing the beads on a rosary, as his lips twitched in silent prayer.
"What do you think they want us for?" the woman asked.
"Security," the older man growled. "Probably cleaning up somebody else's manure. Farmboy over there should be good at that."
"Logan," the woman warned.
He held up his hands, a mocking surrender. The other man shifted slightly, adjusting his position. "It is no shame to be good at one's work, Katya," he said, looking down at her.
"I just think we should act like a team," she said. "Show a united front."
She closed her eyes, leaning into the man beside her. "I just wish I knew why we were here."
General George Hammond was sitting behind his desk as the intercom on his desk phone activated.
"Sir, the party you were expecting is upstairs at the security checkpoint," came the voice of Sergeant Walter Harriman.
"By all means, send them down," Hammond replied.
"Sir, you don't understand. They're being held by security."
"Why in God's name are they doing that?"
"It appears that one of them set off the metal detectors, and is refusing to cooperate with further investigation of his person."
"Tell them I'll be right up," the general said, raising himself from his chair with a weary sigh. "Hammond out."
Upstairs at the security checkpoint, things were rapidly getting out of hand as Logan's temper turned from heated to scalding. "I am not carrying any explosives," he growled at the SF who was looking at the detecting wand with puzzlement.
Kitty and Peter were watching from inside the checkpoint, trying to hide their amusement at the situation, while the fourth member of the group, who now resembled a young Cary Grant, leaned nonchalantly against a wall.
Suddenly, a ripple of movement as all the soldiers went to attention announced the arrival of a senior officer. The man arriving had salt-and-pepper hair and the self-confident, almost careless walk of someone who had seen trouble and lived to tell the tale more times than he could talk about in a year.
"Ok, boys, you've had your fun, but babysitting's over," the officer, a full bird colonel by his uniform, announced. "I'm here to escort this group downstairs."
The guard with the handheld metal detector was about to protest, but the officer raised a finger and made a noise that could only be transcribed as "Aht." He then turned his attention to the others, giving only a cursory examination, and turned his back to them, heading towards the elevator he had arrived in. "All right, campers, let's go."
Inside the elevator, the officer swiped a card, and punched one of the buttons before they descended into the depths of the mountain. When they exited at another checkpoint, he ran the same interference, getting them past the security without a problem, and hurrying towards a second elevator.
"Sorry about that," he offered. "But the briefing room is located on sublevel 27, and the first shaft only goes down to 11. There shouldn't have been a problem, considering who cleared you."
Logan snorted at that. "His idea of a joke."
"Still, Mister, uh…"
"Logan. Just Logan."
The officer turned to face him, starting to offer his hand automatically. "Colonel Jack O'Neill," he began, then something crossed his face and the hand dropped back to his side. "It's you…"