Ok. So we found out about the crisis a few weeks later, in a bar just outside of Chicago. Logan and I walked into the bar and sit down in the corner. I was dressed in leather and chains, and I attracted more than a little attention when I walked in. Logan blended in a bit more, with his windblown hair and his faded riding jacket. He stood and walked to the bar, to get us something to drink. Coke for me, beer for him. Same as always. I inspected my nails, which were painted a bright red. One of the bikers eyeballed me, then walked over and slid into the booth next to me. Here we go again. "Hey, baby, how's about me and yous ditch your friend and head on over to my place?"

I didn't want to get in a fight again, I really didn't. I shot him a cold glare. "You wish."

He leaned in closer, his breath smelled of cheep beer. His hand came to rest on my thigh. I stiffened, and my hands curled into tight fists. I was wearing jeans, sure, but they had a tear in them just there and I could feel him running his fingers along my skin. His hand moved up and in. I decided to stop him before Logan killed him. "If you are planning on keeping that hand, you had better get it off of me."

He grinned. "Make me, hon."

What is it with idiots and calling me hon? I smiled, and placed one hand on his shoulder. I give him a shove, and he went flying off the end of the seat, crashing onto the floor. I went back to looking at my nails. Two of his friends rushed over and helped him up. He started to come back at me. "Bitch!"

I stood, took off my jacket, and handed it to Logan, who had just walked back over with our drinks. He sighed. "Again, Maia?"

Apparently, my friend and his colleagues, dumber and dumbest, don't seem to find me a threat. One of them sneered. "That's right, girly; go get your boyfriend to protect you. Can't finish your own fights, huh?"

Logan slid into the booth and yawned. "Kick his ass so we can go."

I winked at him, and then turned to the three guys. I shift my feet apart slightly, and puts my hands up in front of me in loose fists. "Bring it."

The three guys charged me. I dropped the first one with a roundhouse kick to the face. The second gets a kick in the crotch, and then a knee slammed into his face when he doubles over. The third gets clothes lined as he runs at me, but stands back up and pulls out a knife. I grabbed his wrist and twisted it sharply, causing him to drop the knife and, without letting go of his wrist, I kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying backwards into the bar. One of his friends helped him up, and they wobble out. The third one staggers toward the door. "Psychotic bitch."

I took three running steps, jumped, and kicked him the last few steps out the door. The bar attendees cheer. I looked around, spotted Logan in our booth, and strutted over. I slid in across from him and accepted my jacket and the Coke he offers me. He grinned as I take a drink. "You could try not to fight every time we stop."

"I do try!"

Logan scoffed. I smiled and slipped my jacket back on. A man walks into the bar and shouts, "They finally passed that law against mutants! Turn on the news!"

The bartender adjusted the TV behind him. A reporter comes on "….. As a surprise to some, but in an astonishing piece of legislation, the President has announced a required registration of mutants! To quote his earlier speech…"

The screen changed to a plain white with a quote from the president's speech in black letters. The reporter reads it aloud."... all mutants must come to Washington D.C. by May first. All of those deemed dangerous will be taken into custody or have their powers neutralized."

Logan and I turned to each other. "Wow."

"Yeah. Now what?"