Blood Ties

by squeekness

Book three of my Children of the Gods series. Secrets are revealed when Logan finally gets to meet the ones who took him. They aren't who he expects.

1. Chapter 1

Summary: Book three of my Children of the Gods series. Secrets are revealed when Logan finally gets to meet the ones who took him. They aren't who he expects.

Rated M for language and some minor sexual content.

Disclaimer : I do not own the X-men or any of their associated villains, but all of the Siskans, the members of the Red Team besides Kyle, any of the characters that are involved with the Twilight dimension are mine. Please do not use them without my permission. Thanks. :)

This is an illustrated work and the art is or will be available soon on my website which you can get to by clicking on my profile. This book will have four chapters, a new one each week if all goes well. The updates to this and the rest of the series will come faster as I get the polishing work on the last book completed.

(One)

Daken Akihiro, second in command to one of the most powerful men on the planet, walked through the halls of The Diamond Complex quite at ease with himself. And why shouldn't he be? He might have been born an orphan but he now had wealth of all imaginable kinds at the ready. He was free of those things that could paralyze normal men – mortality, poverty, the need for long term relationships. He was the most unencumbered person he knew and it sat very well on him indeed.

While most men might have found the Spartan design of the mainly underground complex to be bleak and uninviting with its cold, barren walls and never ending floors and levels, it suited him just fine. Aesthetics had never been much of a concern to him in the past nor in the present. Why decorate when you might be sent out the next day on a mission never to return back here again? If any outsider happened to discover this place it would be burned by its powerful owner and the crew would simply move on to the next place and then the place after that. Daken, being a high end agent and enforcer for his Master was more mobile than many of the others here as it was so there was nothing in the boring decor here to rob him of his current high spirits.

This day's work had gone quite well, he was thinking. It hadn't been an easy request his Master had made of him - to collect not only one of the most notorious and dangerous X-men of all time, the infamous Wolverine, but also Remy's whole team as well. But that was okay, Daken loved challenges. He thrived on them in fact.

He had been trained for this kind of life from the moment of his tumultuous birth. Orphaned from the moment he had been cut from his dying mother's body, his new Master had collected him quickly. Daken had spent every day since either training in military style camps or, once his education had been completed, out in the world doing his Master's bidding. He had traveled far and wide and seen a great many things.

The man who had come to claim Daken for his own was unlike any other the lad had ever known. His name was Romulus and he was powerful both physically and in world wide influence. He had always been so and he carried himself with the authority of the truly untouchable. If anyone who had ever dared to challenge him survived to talk about it, it was a well kept secret. So far as Daken knew, his great champion had never fallen. Romulus was everything Daken aspired to be – intelligent, wealthy, and the fear of many.

Romulus had grand plans and kept them as no secret from Daken. Romulus believed that even among mutants there was a master race, that there was a mutant trait to be cherished above all others. Forget telekinesis, telepathy, the ability to fly, or even the mastery of magnetism. No, feral healers like Logan and Daken had been around longer than all of them and of those healers, Romulus was by far the oldest surviving one. Romulus believed that these particular ferals were the most special – he admired their toughness and durability – and he, being the eldest, felt he had the right to not only name his kin as Lupine, but also to manage these Lupine as he saw fit. He would be the one to guide them through history to their collective destiny. He was well suited to do this in his eyes because for him the rise and fall of Roman Empire had been but a blip in his own personal time line. He was older than Troy, Nero, Jesus Christ and the Vikings. Who could possibly possess more wisdom? That most of the Lupine had no actual or personal knowledge of his guidance meant nothing to him. He preferred his anonymous power mongering, it was safer that way.

To do this of course Romulus had be organized and so over the years the clandestine training camps he favored had been created. It was here that Daken was raised. The camps at first had been rough for young Daken. They hadn't been much better than any prison full of rowdy, snarling convicts thirsty for blood with each man looking out only for himself, but it had made him a scrapper, wilful and strong. Suffering was dished out in regular helpings, all the better to cull the weak from the strong. Starvation, thirst, cold and intense pain were nothing now to Daken and they had only fueled the fires burning deep inside of him. He was if anything, a survivor.

He did have Romulus'personal favor on his side but even that came with a price. Any personal attention the man gave him always came with lessons. As a teacher of the fighting arts, Romulus was strong and powerful and he never held back. When they sparred, Daken would often limp away or crawl into bed that night, hurting from head to toe in spite of being a healer. The blows came heavy and the words harsher still but Daken walked away from it harder than he had been the day before. He was tempered steel, hard as nails.

Even with Romulus giving him extra attention, Daken still had to earn his place amongst the others who had been there with him. He won more fights than he lost and was quick to punish his betters in any clever way that might present itself. Romulus collected these men and women of feral predispositions and instilled in them an enjoyment of the fight for place and prestige. Competition for standing had been bred into them from the beginning and so it was at the camps. Romulus had endless years of entertainment watching them. Everyone was clawing and fighting for the best food, the best rooms, and the best mates.

Best mates indeed. Romulus took his control of the collective Lupine so seriously he at times engineered who might breed with whom amongst the best Lupine males and females in his possession. He had of course insisted that Daken do his duty as it were, once Daken had gained proper age and high enough position, and the man had complied without much fuss. He was no father, though, and he wouldn't think twice about killing his own progeny if he or she stood in his way of something he wanted. Daken simply plowed the fields his Master had commanded him to and moved on, taking as many missions as Romulus could provide whatever they might be.

Romulus had plenty of those. There was always an assassination or serious injury to be performed, data collection to make and pass on to the relevant parties, money transfers, compromising photos to be taken. Romulus was all about politics, the manipulation of men and governments. He had proven talented at manipulation and at gathering the wealth it took to fund this vast empire he had created. He wanted for nothing and more often than not, got his way in anything he desired politically or financially.

Over the years Daken proved himself well suited to Romulus' demands of this life as super spy and assassin as were many of his similarly talented compatriots, but he had been especially gifted. Not all the ferals that had been collected by his Master possessed the prized secondary mutation of rapid healing as he had. It gave him an edge he had been sure to exploit as he had clawed and chewed his way all the way to the top.

Playtime and sports were for other lads. As soon as Daken could properly hold a gun he had been taught to shoot. Knifeplay and archery soon followed and then the sword. The sly delivery of various poisons came next and hand to hand combat. Whatever he was miserable at he kept working on, doing it again and again in endless drills and drills until he was the undisputed master at the craft. Imperfection of any kind was not allowed, not in his own mind. He wasn't satisfied until he got it absolutely right.

Ferals came in many shapes and sizes. Their talents varied. Daken had been lucky that the heavy fur and clawed fingered mutations had passed him by while leaving the much more generous traits intact. The bone claws in his arms were the perfect carry on weapons, easily concealed. His sense of smell and hearing were sharp and clear. He could track and hunt with the best of them. He could move silently, circling around his prey until it was too late. He was no clumsy random killer, he was the ghost you never saw until the last second before you died. He could read a person's body language and reveal their secrets without them ever having to share a word.

The camps Romulus had devised for his purposes were located in many diverse locations, allowing for training in various climates and terrains. Desert, mountains and beaches, all were made to serve. In the early years, the hardest locations for Daken to train in had been forested areas. They called to him, you see, the trees and the snow. He would sometimes sneak out of his cabin into the still and quiet, hearing the very land sing to him in words no normal human could ever possibly hear.

It wasn't long before Romulus had noticed this tendency, in fact it had been the point. "That is not for the likes of you," the powerful man had advised him. But Daken had known of others of his kind who had simply vanished in the night to be rarely seen again. He had been repeatedly sent to collect more than one of them, including John in particular who was a frequent offender. Daken had found the crazy old man strangely fascinating, but Romulus had much to say about him. "John is weak. Look at his white skin, his white hair. That is weakness. That is frailty. That is separation from the world which holds everything truly worth having. That will never be you if you are truly strong enough to grab your destiny with both hands. I keep him around so that you and the others can see what true weakness is."

It was a lesson Daken had taken to heart. The training he had received over the years had paid off. He rarely felt the tug of the trees these days, he only vanished when he chose not to be found by the authorities and then most often into the more readily available urban environments. He also didn't suffer from red feral blackouts caused by pain or pure rage as other Lupine did. The camps had done a good job of training that out of him, a definite advantage.

The camps had also taught him how to be properly emotionally detached. It had been drilled into him that friends and family were a liability that enemies could exploit and Daken took that notion very seriously. He held great respect for his Master, but as for the rest of his Lupine kin, he could care less. He could see any of them fall by his own hand or another's and not lose one wink of sleep over it. He wore that lack of empathy like a badge of honor and it wouldn't have been hugely surprising to any of his kin if he were to go out on a mission and simply never come home again. There was nothing in this Complex or any other that Romulus might own to force him back against his will.

That separation carried over into his personal relationships, or lack thereof. Not that he was denied sexual pleasure, no of that he had his fill. He just looked at the other humans around him as single serving meals to be enjoyed and then discarded. True love was something he had never experienced and now after so many long years, was most likely emotionally impossible for him. If taking sexual advantage of someone helped out on a mission, then so be it and well, it was all gravy for him. That sentiment carried over to partners of either gender. The women were fun, but the men were prey of another sort. While he wasn't physically cruel, it gave him a certain pleasure to use their fear of being outed against his victims. It was the best form of manipulation he had in his arsenal and he never failed to use it if the opportunity presented itself.

Weapons training, physical skills, sexual exploitation – he had mastered them all and added those cards to his deck of tricks. He was also a great forger. It was he who had planted the note in Logan's cabin for Remy to find. He had been given samples of Logan's handwriting and he had practiced them enough that writing in Logan's hand was as familiar as writing in his own. It had certainly worked, Remy had returned with his team in record time. Everything had gone according to plan.

In the here and now, Daken moved past the checkpoints of the Diamond, inwardly pleased as all he passed bowed in submissive deference to his much higher rank. Most of the workers here were male as the Lupine were most definitely a male dominated society. Few women ever rose in rank and those that did were most often out in the field doing similar work as Daken. Many of the men here on watch duty were of a lesser quality Lupine than himself and Daken barely paid them any mind. They were beneath him. Men of his caliber were the ones who did the real work and reaped the real rewards. The rest were lazy slobs and unfit for more than their meager lot.

The men he had passed had also been for the most part faceless to him. The Lupine under Romulus' direct control, like most military forces, had most of their individualism trained out of them. The team came first and all orders must be obeyed. Conformity was everything and to that end they all had the same short haircuts and wore the same uniforms. Only the highest ranking field workers were allowed any kind of personalized clothing or fashion. Daken, always one to push boundaries, had taken it as far as any could, choosing for himself the wild haircut and extreme tribal tattoos. It had been his value to Romulus that had allowed him to get away with it. They were supposed to blend in, not stand out in a crowd. Daken, when he chose to reveal himself, got noticed easily.

Daken made his way to his living quarters and used an electronic keycard to open his door. There were no keys here, security was too tight to allow for anything that could be stolen and copied so easily. His rooms were as spare as the rest of the place. Inside was a simple double bed (he did like to sprawl in his sleep), a desk and a closet to hang what few clothes he had brought here. Everything was disposable to a man like him. He was a light traveler - moving a lot will do that to you - there was nothing in particular that was personal to him here except for a small laminated poster with these words on it, "I swear by my life and my love of it, that I will never live for the sake of another man, nor ask another to live for mine," a nod to Ayn Rand, the author of Atlas Shrugged and the anthem for the Objectivity movement. It fit him well for he cared about no one besides himself.

Here at the Diamond and the other Complexes like it that Romulus used, there was only disposable clothing and boots, nothing personal. He never took anything with him when he traveled, it could all be acquired on the run, paid for by Romulus' endless wallet. One never knew when you had to drop everything and bolt, fleeing the scene of an assassination or if he might spot a juicier target. He was quite adept at a sudden change in plans.

This was not to say that he didn't enjoy the finer things in life. Camp life had been tough but it had been worth it once the missions had been given to him. Travel came with real rewards – money at first and then high class accommodations. The lack of supervision allowed him to wander and he discovered a love for loud music clubs filled with crowds of humans to exploit as he saw fit. How he loved the pretty women and the men as well. He soon grew a weakness for fast cars, expensive hotels, those throw away sexual partners, and gourmet food. But that was for Outside, for when he was Working. For that he had several nice apartments scattered around the country and the world.

There was only one thing Daken wanted in this world that he could not currently acquire with ease – to step up and take the Master's place at the helm when the time came. It wouldn't be soon, but then the Master was lately starting to show signs of his extreme age. The walk was slower, the hair growing whiter without the help of his long ago dalliances with going Bree. There would be some intense competition for that highest position but Daken had little doubt he would eventually win. The challenge would be so worth it.

Daken wasn't here in his quarters for rest though he was a little tired from the day's exertions. Instead he stripped off his bloodied clothing, tossed them into the trash, and stepped into a large shower, the only true amenity to these rooms. It was a cavern, big enough for six people and all gleaming white tile and glass. He was almost obsessively fastidious when he wasn't bloodied by work, something Romulus had also drilled into him. A clean body left no evidence of itself for others to find. Like most ferals his skin was especially sensitive to touch and the steaming warm water felt like an old lover caressing his body as it sluiced down his sides, coming down around his feet tinged slightly red as it cleansed him. What a glorious day this had been.

The soap and warm water brightened the ink he had decorated his body with. There were the tribal stripes yes, but keeping them company on his back was a large elaborate, snarling dragon. Daken could at times be willful when out from under Romulus' thumb and like John was known to disappear for a day or two. He wouldn't take to the woods, he preferred more urban distractions and a few years back, one especially drunken and rebellious weekend in Madripoor had resulted in this bright new decoration. While he was a healer, it wasn't impossible for him to get fully intoxicated. It required a great many bottles of well aged Scotch, maybe a snort or two of heroin or cocaine, with a bed full of high paid hookers as a chaser. He woke the next morning partially inked with no clue how it had even gotten there. He might have been embarrassed at his lapse, but when Romulus scowled at it in deep disapproval, it only encouraged the younger man to get what had been so hastily and clumsily applied improved and finally completed by someone a bit more professional. Since then Daken added on to it whenever he had the opportunity. At the moment he had almost one half of his body covered but he guessed that it was only a matter of time before he had the rest treated as well.

Truth be told, the large dragon tattoo was the one and only possession of his that he truly treasured. It fed his vanity, making him feel powerful and invinclible. That one sign of rebellion spoke of more to come, he had every intention of challenging Romulus for power in the future. Daken had the idea that Romulus not only expected this, he actually encouraged it in subtle ways. Romulus wanted strong men in his command, not simpering suck ups. These small signs of independence hadn't gone punished, an unspoken approval.

As he washed, he mused over the new and interesting friends he had made this day. Logan had been a particular challenge though it had gone much easier than he had thought it might. Mighty X-man indeed. When Daken had first been told of Logan's existence he had expected to find a powerful alpha male, a distinct and noteworthy challenge. How Romulus had gone on and on about what a mighty warrior Logan was. His skill was without measure, his stubbornness, his unwillingness to give up any fight. These were no mere recitations from confiscated files, Romulus claimed to have known the man personally in the distant past and couldn't stop from letting his admiration seep through his words. It had been a privilege to be the one finally tasked with bringing Logan in.

Daken was very interested in what challenges Logan might present to him and he had done his due diligence, watching film and reading whatever he could find on the man. He and Logan had never met face to face in spite of being active out in the world at the same time. Daken had glimpsed them man from afar once and had certainly seen the damage he was capable of, the blood and mayhem. This wasn't going to be that easy. Daken had been bored at the time Romulus had asked him to do this, not finding any recent missions to be memorable at all and he was ready for some real action, something he might actually savor for a while. A real fight, something he would have to plan and work at.

To Daken's shock and surprise, what he had gotten instead was a tired old man. Logan's lingering sadness over his disastrous mission had made it easy for Daken to spur him to fight and lure him out into the woods. He was easy enough for Daken to track, the stink of old booze and spent cigars had nearly been overpowering. The man had been half Bree judging by the scent of his inner distress, struggling with the need to run and yet, he had stayed. Daken was aware the man had a family, but Daken's jaded spirit simply couldn't understand why it would be enough to anchor anyone. All it did was make them weak and it showed - once Daken had Logan out in the woods and alone it had been all too easy to drug him by darts and take him down.

Remy's team had been more of a handful. The team had been larger than he had expected and the Siskans had been a surprise. Zander's unexpected tactic of swordplay had at least been a welcome distraction from the banality of Kyle's feral slashfest. Kyle had fought like most of the other low class Lupine had at the camps –- growl, swipe with the claws, bite - wash, rinse, repeat - the reason why they were so easily bested. Kyle had left no more impression on Daken than yesterday's dirty socks. One had to be unpredictable to excel in this place.

But Zander, well, the sword fight had been something out of the ordinary. So few people even knew the art, though clearly Zander still needed some real training to ever match his own well honed talent. Romulus had once laughed at Daken for wanting to learn the weapon but Daken was one who wanted to know as much as he could about any sort of martial art. So few people took the time to know it and well, it had paid off for him. It had made him a better fighter, giving him a new level of grace and poise. Daken couldn't help but wonder if the Master would benefit from keeping the pair of Siskans around, if only to discover the full range of their uses.

Zander hadn't been the only surprise. Gryfon had been something unexpected as well. Daken thought back on that one kiss they had shared and felt a familiar heat warm him. Sure, the kiss had come about under his own powerful influence, but he had liked the taste of it, of the wildness of the man. Ferals just tasted better, it was the simple truth. They were all kindred spirits to Daken's own inner beast and they knew each other in so many secret ways that words could never hope to express. Too bad he had been so easy to take down in the end.

Daken was so much more than simply a feral healer who had enhanced senses. He had another hidden talent. It was similar to Remy's empathy but instead of being a mental ability, Daken's was chemical. He could use his body's own pheromones to influence the emotions of others. It wasn't without limits, his power was best used skin on skin for sexual coercion or to spike the rage in unstable people. The weaker the will of the victim, the more easily they could fall under his spell. This was a latent talent that he first discovered while a teenager in the camps. It had come on with puberty. The camps had been divided by gender and while unauthorized breeding was forbidden (violators were severely punished), whatever the kids did to get by with themselves was overlooked. There could be nothing worse than a bunch of hormonally challenged teenagers that fought for position within the ranks, it was inevitable that certain weak willed boys got targeted at night for more than just sleeping. Daken learned quick that he had no desire to be the one overpowered and while he wasn't the strongest lad, he had that ace up his sleeve to make sure that he was always the one on top and not the one being forced. He could ensnare and persuade his victims to do as he pleased, humiliate and humble them at will, the sense of empowerment the bigger draw and thrill than the sexual release that would follow.

Romulus, ever watchful, found himself fascinated by this unexpected secondary mutation. He had wanted to test this skill in labs and with doctors but in that one thing Daken was most unwilling. He could tolerate a lot, but being probed and prodded? No way. That was for the lesser Lupines his Master might toy with. He was valuable enough that Romulus didn't push the issue, he just sat back and watched. Watched and catalogued this knowledge for later.

Daken himself enjoyed watching his victims fall under his sway. It made certain aspects of his covert work so much easier. Daken wasn't primarily homosexual, but he wasn't that picky about his pleasure either. As was mentioned earlier, if he could seduce and then blackmail a more reluctant fellow after an unfortunate sexual slip that the guy had never known he might be capable of, so much the better. Amazing what some fellows would do to keep that sort of thing hidden. They would lie to their bosses, steal confidential files Daken wanted, even hand over large sums of money. What a wonderful and glorious thing this skill was and well, if Daken happened to get his own pleasure out of it, so much the better.

Of course it didn't always work. Daken had found it odd how the pheromones that had played so well with the emotionally unstable Gryfon hadn't worked on Aiden or Zander at all though he certainly had tried. All attempts to anger them during their fights or to seduce them had had no ill effect on the pair though there had been a sort of willingness to play along on Aiden's part, at least as far as wordplay went. There was something interesting going on with those guys that he was eager to discover. He couldn't wait to find out more, especially since Aiden at least was willing to play along. Daken liked puzzles and challenges.

These Siskans, so very different. They fascinated him so they did. His Master had some intel on them courtesy of his multitude of spies, but it hadn't done them justice once seen in person. Daken couldn't help but be fascinated. He had never met artificial people before - at least that was what the spies had claimed they were - and it could explain why his organic persuasions hadn't worked on them. This pair had seemed so lifelike and real he would have questioned that assessment had it not been for their lack of heartbeat and smell. Their blood hadn't been like blood either, more like syrup or the lubricating oils used in cars. Sabretooth had written a small dossier on them for Romulus that Daken had read. It pertained to Kimble in particular, since he was the Siskan Creed had known best, so Daken couldn't help but wonder how accurate it was. Sabretooth was such a simple brute that he simply couldn't be trusted to do anything right.

Daken would get his chance to find out more about all the day's captives, he had orders to clean up and then join his Master for the interrogations to follow. It was going to be great fun getting to know Logan and Kyle that much better. Their short time spent together during this chase had been far too little for Daken to get the true measure of either man. Daken wanted to see why his Master was so interested in them, they certainly hadn't impressed him much with their easy capture. He had expected a much harder fight.

Daken had no sooner left the steamy comforts of his shower when he heard his intercom chime. He was in no rush as he made his way over and answered it. "Yes?"

"I want you downstairs in the detention in ten minutes," Romulus ordered in his gruff low growl. "Our guests will soon be waking."

"On my way," he answered, already smiling. This was going to be entertaining at the least and he didn't want to miss it.

(break)

Once again Remy came awake slowly, coming out of some deep dark cloud to hazy reality. This time he didn't get the benefit of a lovely happy dream to raise his spirits along the way. This was just all fog and sickness, his stomach not having enjoyed this particular ride one bit. With waking came the ironic yet pleasant knowledge that he was in fact still alive, but then he also remembered that he was still a captive and that he had to do something about it and fast. This was beyond ridiculous already. The longer they were held prisoner, the greater the chance that some of them wouldn't make it back at all. This was no fairy tale reality where all things ended nice and neatly, this was the real world where children died as easily and messily as grown men.

Remy was pissed, he didn't like not having control of his situation. He thought back on his responsibilities to the team, on keeping them alive. He was failing them, he couldn't help but think. They weren't even on the train anymore, this should never have gotten this far. Who knew where they hell they were now? What a nightmare.

Remy had been advised by his betters that since he was now an official team leader it was his primary job to keep the team alive when they were out in the field. He had to keep constantly focused. He might even have to make that agonizing decision that could lead someone to their death. Logan had spelled it out in his usual blunt and sometimes overly dramatic fashion by saying – "You may have to sacrifice one of your team – even one of your precious Siskans– to save the rest. If you can't do that, then you can't lead." To avoid that from ever coming to pass, Remy had his team drill and drill, honing their skills. Not that he had told the kids any of that, of course. But it never hurt to be over prepared.

Logan had also counseled Remy about getting too emotionally attached to his team, something else the Thief had failed miserably at. He couldn't help it, they were all such a great bunch of kids. He couldn't bear the thought of losing any one of them. Now that they were in the shit, Remy knew with all seriousness that this was not a game.

Still Remy shouldn't have been all that surprised that today's events had happened. This was the job he had signed up for, new team or not. You could go months without incident and then without warning crap just happened. Normally, there was a certain junkie thrill that came with this job (though you might as well call it community service, since he wasn't exactly paid big money for risking life and limb doing this) that he was hopelessly addicted to, that first rush of adrenaline that came when there was work to be done. It was different when it wasn't practice or drills, when he got to go out and maybe save some lives for real, the only real payoff to what he did. That rush hadn't come today because that first moment of joy -"Yay, I Get To Go Out and Legally Bash The Skulls Of A Few Deserving Bad Guys!" - had been so rudely bypassed, sending him directly to "Having To Get The Kids Out Of Trouble". It had been a while since he was in any real danger, not since that mission to Twilight, and even then he had been still largely in control of his own fate. It hadn't been a life or death situation. Not like this.

Gambit forced his eyes open and was grateful that this go around there was more light to see by. He was on a cold cement floor with no vibrations to indicate they were still moving. He could make out that there were people sized lumps all around him in this room, he wasn't alone. Their shines told him that he was still with his team. To his great relief, wherever they were now, they had been moved together.

Practicalities called for him to be happy that they were all still here, but it was fatherhood that got him up on his elbows, all the better to make sure that Julien was close by. He was right beside him in fact, as though their captors had known they were in some way related and needed to remain close to one another. Remy couldn't stop himself from running his hands over the lad, checking for injuries that might have occurred during this latest chemically induced blackout. There were none and realizing that Julien was still fast asleep, he couldn't help but pull him up close and hold him tightly for a moment, his ear to Julien's chest. He wanted to hear the heartbeat, proof that all was still well. Julien would never have allowed so tight an embrace if he had been awake, he never let Remy touch him without a fuss.

"I cain't waits.. fer the day.. when he lets ya do that fer reals..." Remy heard Kimble say in a hoarse, tired whisper from somewhere nearby.

Relief again flooded Remy's mind to hear his favorite Siskan's voice and he looked up and around, trying to figure out where it had come from. Some of his happiness faded when he realized that while the shines of most of his team were close, they hadn't all been placed in the same cell together as he had first supposed.

Remy and his team had been removed from the train and placed in a large detention room with cells that faced one another across a narrow hallway. He wasn't sure just how many cells there were in this area but the ones he could see were offset in such a way that Remy could see into the two cells across from him. He could see now that the Siskans were in one cell and what looked like all the girls from his team in the other. The team had been separated by gender and origin, it seemed. Whoever had taken them had spotted the difference between the humans and the Siskans, something that Remy hadn't liked. The Siskans were fragile in ways humans weren't and easily exploited by anyone with the smarts to figure out their particular weaknesses.

"I ain't given up on dat," Remy promised to Kimble, trying not to show how much it worried him to hear Kimble's voice so weak. Something was wrong.

Remy's promise prompted him to give Julien just one more going over and this time his search came up with something new. A plastic laminated photo tumbled out of one pocket.

The picture showed a pretty blond haired girl, her face smiling and fresh, the opposite of Julien's own which still held so much pain and anger. Remy knew who this was. Her name was Kiden and she was a girl that had been rescued from Jason Frost's camp the same day Julien had been. Julien had at first insisted that Kiden had in some way belonged to him but it had been a false hope. While they had known each other from even before the camp, Kiden had loved another and once the pair had been reunited, poor Julien was back on the outside again. It seemed he hadn't yet given up on that crush. It broke Remy's heart a little. Julien showed love so rarely that it was a shame when such a beautiful object of it didn't even return that affection. Of course Remy knew a certain truth even if Julien did not – you can't force people to love you. Forcing it only made things worse. Remy wasn't sure what Kiden felt for Julien if anything, but at least she wasn't currently publically condemning or despising him like so many others. The photo Julien carried was a reprint of her Complex badge photo - she had been drafted for a team, just not the same one Julien was on.

Remy put the photo back into Julien's pocket, not wanting the boy to be upset that his pockets had been half picked. He checked the boy's pulse, growing vaguely angry that he had been drugged twice now and wasn't yet awake. He was so frail and weak compared to the others. Would this damage him permanently? Remy feared anything that might force him to bump Julien from the team, having the boy so close was the only real opportunity they had for working out just where they stood with each other. Losing this might make their reconciliation impossible.

Gambit did consider that while their captors had no doubt discovered the boy's restraining collar, they had possibly overlooked the additional tracking anklet that Julien had been forced to wear as part of his probation. Kyle, also being on probation and living in the Complex's prison, had one as well. The anklets had a certain amount of range so when the other X-men teams noticed their absence and came looking for them, Remy hoped the others could find them by it. The anklets were thin when compared to Julien's restraining collar, but were stronger than they looked and easy to miss.

"I am getting so fuckin' sick of this crap..." came a nearby complaint. Hercules, the largest kid on the team was again one of the first to wake.

"Not fair, these losers cheating like this instead of a straight up fight," one of the girls from across the way chimed in. It was Grace of course, quick with her unfailing sense of humor.

"Ze fightin' not alwaysz work out szo well," Aiden complained, prompting Remy to give him a closer look. The first thing his overly perceptive eyes noticed was the pair of shock collars, then those same eyes widened in alarm when he caught sight of Kimble's poor ruined hands. Kimble was lying on his back with his upper body comfortable in Aiden's lap, an odd reversal of how the pair had been when Remy had previously woken on the train. Kimble's hands were out in front of him though, raised up off of the floor so they wouldn't touch anything.

"What de 'ell 'appen dere?" Remy questioned sharply. The injury had happened while Remy was unconscious though he could easily guess that it was probably from Zander's attempt to break down the energy fields back on the train.

Zander proved Remy's assumption right by returning to the fore. "Leastways... I put up some kind of fight. Them fellers... is gonna knows now... they ain't gonner be takin' us easy." Zander's deep growly voice, powerful as it was, was still just as exhausted as Kimble's had been. Their injury was serious and had left them low on power. It was going to take a long time for them to recover. More time than they had here.

Aiden just shook his head and lovingly ran a hand over the pilot's cheeks, trying to coax the gentler Kimble to return. "Time for you to go, Zandair. Aiden can handle disz, me."

Zander just snorted at that. "Oh? Like ya did... back there in the woods? That was brilliant ... just brilliant, son."

Remy frowned, feeling Hercules shift from beside him. One of the things that Remy had feared most during all of their training sessions was that Zander would pop out unexpectedly and freak the kids out. Remy hadn't properly prepared them for this poor split Siskan. He hadn't had one clue how to explain Kimble's complicated personality damage and had stupidly kept putting it off instead of being honest with them as he should have. He was paying the price for that now. Hercules was growing afraid of Kimble now instead of being able to trust him. That was a real problem in any team.

Well there would hopefully be time enough to deal with that later. Right now, they needed to regain the upper hand in this situation they were now in. Time to get out of here. Maybe the Siskans could help with that.

"Zander? Can you do anyt'ing to get us out of 'ere? Mebbe phase?" Remy asked in Siskan, keeping this private. Just because he couldn't see any cameras or audio equipment around didn't mean they weren't there. He didn't want to be overheard.

Kimble, among his many other useful talents, could phase his body and become vaporous enough to pass through walls. He couldn't phase anything he was carrying or his clothing, just his body, but it could possibly be enough to get them out of this sneaky like. It wasn't that Kimble was extra special in this regard, it was simply just another telekinetic talent like he used to fly the ship. It was, however, something Zander might have had an easier time doing earlier if he hadn't been so caught up in simply using his sword to fight and defend himself with. The phasing was a passive talent, something the much bolder Zander most often left for the weaker Kimble personality to play with. The phasing ability was something the X-men kept a watch on as it could get a wayward Siskan in trouble. All the Siskans had swallowed trackers into their bodies to be kept tabs on, ones that also kept Kimble from phasing. With Remy's permission, he could always cough up the tracker and regain this useful ability.

Zander just sighed and shook his head. "Too weak right nows. Aiden ain't had no time ta charge up enoughs to fix me up sos I kin phase."

" 'Charge up?' " Remy questioned, confused by Zander's choice of words. Something had been implied that he hadn't quite grasped. Since when could one Siskan charge up another? That wasn't something Remy knew they could do.

"Zandair, you should reszt now," Aiden chided gently in interruption, wanting very much to change the subject. He hadn't liked where this was going.

Zander didn't care. He continued, saying, "Yeah, he kin charge up all by his one selfs now. Been ables to fer a long time. It's Angel what helps him."

That got Gambit's attention and he questioned Aiden sharply, "Got sumptin' you wanna confess, cher?" He couldn't keep the offense out of his tone.

"Whatever do you mean?" Aiden countered, his tone saying he knew perfectly well what Remy was after. Aiden had a great many secrets, he collected them like a vain woman might collect fine jewelry. At the moment he was simply being prudent and fishing to see which particular gem Remy thought he had found out. He didn't want to give anything away by making the wrong guess.

Remy wasn't up for any of Aiden's games. He was quite serious as he replied, "I saw her. Our Angel, on de train just now wit you."

Aiden was quiet at that, not sure what to say. To say the situation was complicated was something of an understatement. He didn't know where to begin.

Zander's grin was not friendly as he taunted Aiden in English, "So ... you gonner tells him... or shall I?"

Aiden just glared at him. Kimble would have kept his secret but Zander had no such loyalty. The Punisher was unpredictable at best, outright cruel at his worst. And he hated secrets most of all.

"What's going on?" Hercules questioned with an uneasy frown. "It's not fair you guys talking in a language none of us understand."

"Dis private family business," Remy argued back without looking at the boy. His eyes were all on Aiden and demanded his answer. Part of him welcomed the distraction of Aiden's trouble in this moment of crisis, another was searching it for something they might be able to use to get out of here. Sometimes gifts came from unexpected places.

"I szee 'er szometimesz. Szo what?" Aiden's voice was soft, betraying his fear of what he thought might be happening. Angel had once belonged to Remy, not to him. No one had anticipated the bonding that had occurred between the child and Aiden at the time of her death. Aiden's guilt over his unintentional theft kept him from looking Remy in the eye.

" 'So what?' " Remy challenged sharply, his pain and anger all too real. "You might have wanted to mention it, fils, me being 'er uncle and all." He was actually more than that though their relation wasn't by actual blood. He was as good as her second father and he had been closer to her than Aiden had. He had known her longer and had had a huge hand in her upbringing.

In Aiden's defense, he had previously mentioned to Remy that he sometimes saw echoes of the poor departed child, but that had been many long months ago. Being a very private person, he hadn't elaborated on it since. Now it had come up again and he wasn't all that comfortable with discussing something he wasn't so sure about himself.

Aiden now cringed inwardly, knowing Remy had a legitimate point. There was real contrition in his voice as he asked, "What you want to know?"

Remy sighed, exasperated now by what had been kept from him. "I don't know. Like is she okay? Is she even alive? In you?"

Aiden shook his head. "Non, what I szee isz not really 'er I do not t'ink. But ze szame echo we talk about zat oncze, neh?"

"That ain't all she is," Zander chimed in, his shine full of amusement. He was enjoying watching Aiden squirm. The Punisher was so predatory that way.

"Explain, sil vou plait." It was a demand and not a question.

Remy already had some ideas about this himself. The Game had been complicated, with the Siskans involved each supposed to find an object of some value. The Masters who played in the Game then collected these objects – or stole them, rather, from their Siskans, depending on your point of view – supposedly increasing their power. Things got quirky for Remy when some of those objects turned out to be living things. Kimble had found Angel as an infant and raised her as his own. It wasn't until she was killed and a ball of energy released from her body that it was beyond refuting that she had never been a normal human child. Aiden ended up absorbing that energy on contact, something that denied that energy from being passed on to a Master playing the Game, in effect, ruining the Game for all players. Or for Jael anyhow, but then Jael hadn't lived long enough to bitch about it much. Because Aiden hadn't behaved all that differently after he had taken Angel's energy, it was easy to for Remy to forget that it had happened at all, but then if this child was so special, it was a mistake to think that that transfer had meant nothing. It had done something to Aiden. But was it something that could help them now or not?

Aiden just shook his head, keeping his eyes down. Aiden hated Zander bitterly in this moment, but he knew that in some way, this was still Kimble he was holding in his arms, no matter which voice was coming out. The others could never know how hard it was to look down on Kimble's perfect face and that beautiful body and know that someone else was in it. Nothing could be more horrible.

Zander chucked darkly, oblivious to Aiden's suffering. How he loved his little games. He did not share Aiden's affinity for secrets. "When Aiden goes outside ta charge. He's fakin' it."

"Zat is not true!" Aiden argued defensively, his voice tight with exasperation. He didn't want Remy to be mad over something he himself didn't fully understand.

"Oh fuck yeah it is," Zander challenged, happy for the distraction this little argument was providing. It made him forget some the horrible pain in his hands. He was full of the arrogant pride of any bully as he revealed, "You don't even needs ta charge one bit."

Zander was an instigator but that didn't mean he was stupid. Through watchful and careful observation he had already guessed that Angel's energy was something that Aiden retained and hadn't burnt off like the solar plasma the pair of Siskans usually fed on. Lacking energy, Kimble would begin to fade over time but Aiden could hang on far longer. Zander could not recall the last time he had even seen Aiden grow weak from lack of energy and being clever, Zander was able to put two and two together readily enough. That Aiden could actually feed Kimble himself was something he hadn't figured out until today, but now that he suspected it, he had grown more and more positive that it was true.

"Not true!" Aiden continued to protest to no avail. The trouble with the Punisher was that once he knew something, he never let it go.

Zander just snorted rough laughter and returned in English, all the better to fully reveal what he though should never have been kept hidden, "Yer a liar and you knows it. You been livin' with secrets so damn long, you don't knows how to live withouts them no more. Cain't understand why Kimble puts up with it like he does."

"What's wrong with Kimble?" Hercules questioned Remy again, not understanding what he was hearing. They should be discussing what to do next, not watching whatever this was. He hadn't caught Remy's brief explanation to Grace back in the woods that Kimble was split. "Why is he talking about himself like that? What's wrong with his voice? What is going on?"

"Give us a minute," Remy answered, holding up a hand that demanded patience. It was asking a lot. He knew Hercules was afraid and jumpy without them having a plan and that this was only making things worse, but there were things Gambit needed to know. He wasn't sure if what was playing out here was something that could help them or hurt them if it all went badly here. He didn't like dealing with unknowns in high stress situations.

"Fils?" Remy interrupted, turning back to his boys. He wanted both a conformation of what Zander was saying but also he didn't want the Siskans to fight. It wouldn't accomplish anything here and he didn't like it. "Dis true, Aiden, or what?"

"Mebbe it mosztly true. At leaszt I szuszpected it may be szo. Never put it to ze teszt," Aiden reluctantly conceded back in familiar Siskan, keeping his eyes down. He didn't want to argue any more himself and so was willing to compromise a little. "Ze szun sztill feels szo good. What doesz it matter now, eh? We muszt find a way out of 'ere."

"Does Kimble know?"

"Keem doesz not want to know," came Aiden's soft reply.

"But I sees evrathin'," Zander boasted. "Betcha ole Aiden gots lotsa things he kin do now that he ain't never toldja about."

Aiden just clicked his tongue in disgust and turned his head away, done with this. He was exhausted and all he wanted to do right now was get home. With all of the abuse he had taken this day, both physical and mental, he felt like he would never be fully back on his feet ever again. He just wanted to lay down in Kimble's arms and sleep, but there was no time for that now.

Remy was disappointed by the whole thing. He had always hoped he could count on Kimble to fill him in if there were any changes happening between the pair. Chances were Kimble had noticed that something was going on, but had been waiting for Aiden to talk about it when he was ready. On the other hand, the Punisher was often quite blunt about what was on his mind and the information had been to a certain degree important. The thing was, was this something they could exploit in any way? "It ain't like either one of you to hide t'ings from me. Not important t'ings like dis."

"I choosze not to dsizcussz what I do not yet understand myszelf. Not trying to causze trouble," Aiden offered, trying to placate his irritated team leader.

Remy nodded. "So you really don't charge from the sun?"

"I sztill do, I juszt cannot be certain 'ow much, eh?"

"And you fed Kim when 'e was low on power back on the train." Aiden started once more to proclaim his innocence but Remy raised a hand to stop him. "I saw you do it, Aiden, I just didn't understand what I was seein' is all."

"If I did szuch a t'ing, I wasz unaware," was all Aiden was willing to add to that.

Remy believed him or at least enough to let it go for now. "We'll be talking about this later."

Aiden nodded, happy that he was off the hook at least for now. Whatever might be going on with his ability to charge really was irrelevant at this point. They needed to find a way out of here and fast. He was disappointed that he had let Remy down, like any Siskan his main purpose in life was to please, and that hadn't changed even though he no longer considered Remy his Master.

"My charje iszn't ze t'ing you should be worryin' bout moszt," Aiden tossed out, remembering something that Daken had said.

"And what is dat, cher?" Remy inquired, his tone still a bit sharp. He didn't want to play any game that Aiden might be playing to deflect his attention away from thing that did worry him no matter what Aiden might think.

"Daken, 'e szay 'e take you kidsz, train zem better zan you."

The thought made Remy bristle with possessive rage. "Dat ain't goan 'appen," he promised, his mind moved back to the task at hand. They had to get out of here. It was at least helpful to know that Kimble might not be down for good. Given enough time, maybe Aiden could get Kimble at least mobile. Now all they needed was a plan.

(break)

Logan's awakening was no more pleasant that Remy's was. He came to with an abrupt snort, hit by a sudden and unwelcome discomfort. Instead of being strapped down as he had been on the train, this time his captors were making sure he had no chance of escape. He was seated, naked, on a solid metal chair with his hands cuffed behind him, the source of the agony in his shoulders. The cuffs themselves were welded to the back of the chair, denying him a position that would enable him to pop claws and cut himself free. He could saw through most anything but not if his hands were so fixed that he couldn't even budge them. He was stronger than most men, but not powerful enough to bust these cuffs on his own. His ankles were similarly cuffed to the front legs of the chair. It seemed as though they were expecting him to be there a while – the seat had a hole in it and a chamber pot was placed below. He was in trouble but at least he wouldn't have to worry about soiling himself.

He could still feel some residual fever burning there behind his eyes though the IV was gone. He did have that itch in his bones that told him he was healing from whatever poison they had given him but it was going to be slow like it was with burns. It occurred to him that he might have been irradiated, he often had trouble recovering quickly from that as well. His body was greasy with old sweat and his hair was in a dirty tangle around his ears. He was half starved and terribly thirsty.

He could vaguely recollect the train coming to a halt but he knew of nothing past that. He had no memory of being removed from the train at all. He could have fallen asleep of course, his body was being severely punished by whatever drugs they were giving him, but it wasn't like him to be that much of a light sleeper, especially when being held captive. He guessed that he had been drugged even further, another irritation in a day too full of them already.

He did have someone here keeping him company though. Daken was close by, casually leaning with his back against a wall and slicing an apple with a short knife, eating the removed portions with great enjoyment. The smell of it was wonderful, reminding Logan that he hadn't eaten in a while. It also meant he was less sick now for him to even have the tiniest semblance of an appetite. Daken had traded his camouflage outfit for much simpler white T-shirt and black jeans. If being in the prisoner lock up made him uneasy, he gave no sign.

"Welcome back, old man," Daken teased, his eyes merry. "Did you have a nice nap? I do hope you find the accommodations comfortable."

Logan just looked up at him, unamused at the weak attempt at humor, and gave him a disdainful sniff. "Heh, you don't smell like the Boss. More like...Errand Boy."

Daken smiled, not the least bit offended. Snarky comments from the imprisoned was par for this particular course and he had walked it many times. "If collecting pathetic, weak grunts like you wasn't so profitable, I'd almost be insulted by that. Did you know that Gambit's children put up a much more spirited fight than you did? You're slipping in your old age."

Logan growled at the that. Yes, he had seen Aiden and hadn't been happy about what had happened to him, but he hadn't known that the rest of the Red Team had been called out as well. This was going from bad to worse. It wasn't fair that they should get dragged into his own troubles. Well, he would be sure to put that to rights as soon as possible. "Who are you?"

Daken finished his apple and tossing the remains into a nearby trash can, clicked his tongue in mock dismay. "You really don't know, do you? I'd have thought this sort of thing might be instinctual much in the same way that the new lion that takes over the pride smells the old lion's cubs and kills them to protect his own bloodline."

"Did ya really kidnap and take me all this way just fer a National Geographic lesson, kid? I ain't got time for this crap," Logan complained, sick to death of stupid mind games. Was it really so much to ask for the bad guy to just get to the point?

"Well, if you must know. My name is Daken Akihiro," his captor finally answered, his eyes glittering as if he expected that to mean something to Logan.

It didn't. "Bully fer you. Now why don't you just take yer little Errand Boy ass and go get the big boss so we can just get this over with?"

"He's already on his way. He simply couldn't wait to see you. He favors you for some reason I can't even fathom. He actually thought I might have a hard time collecting you and well, you went down more easily than a one legged cow. He is going to be so disappointed. You are hardly worth his time. For shame."

Right on cue the door to the room opened with a dramatic clang and another man entered in, his stride purposeful and energetic. This was no ordinary man, Logan's feral senses could tell that right away. Something about the way he walked, the way he carried himself, the absolute authority of his presence as though he were a general or a King. This man was the Alpha, the boss of this little outfit, or at least certainly much higher up the food chain than Daken was. Daken bowed at him slightly acknowledging his dominance, confirming what Logan was seeing.

He was far older than Daken, grey streaked back from the long black hair at his temples and his face was marked with laugh lines and crows' feet at his eyes. His shoulders were well muscled, though, his body was still athletic and powerful. His clothing was custom, a suit with an odd military type cut to it, but if he was government, Logan couldn't tell from which branch. It certainly wasn't SHIELD.

The man's scent filled Logan's nose and it was familiar though he still couldn't recall from exactly where. It was nagging at him that he should know this man from somewhere but he was still coming up blank. Damn his unreliable memory. He didn't like it when he only had partial facts to work with. He could clearly see that there was something bigger going on here than a simple kidnap and torture.

"I see you two have finally met," the newcomer observed, his voice deep and full of teeth. "How wonderful. I am Romulus and this is one of my many homes."

The name gave Logan pause. It was now the second time he had heard it, the first time coming from John on the train. Now that Logan was a little more straight and not as strung out on drugs or poison, it rang a little deeper in his mind than it had before. Romulus. Hadn't Seth mentioned that name before? Logan was pretty sure he had.

A few weeks back when the X-men had gone after Jason Frost, Logan had won permission to take both Kyle and Sabretooth along as trackers and protection. At the mission's successful conclusion, Sabretooth had mysteriously disappeared. At the spot where he had last been seen, a strange medallion had been left. The medallion had an emblem on it – a wolf's head with three slashes across it – and Seth, being the clever Siskan that he was, had been able to track it down on the Internet. It had led him to a website where a message had been left for Logan, as if whomever had left it knew he would be able to track them down eventually. The note had read:

"Welcome to the Lupine, Logan. I've been waiting for you a long time and I can't wait to finally meet you."

It had been signed, Romulus, and it seemed Logan was finally meeting the man himself. Now all this mess was starting to make a little more sense. The scents, too. Logan had caught a whiff of the man from the medallion that had been left behind. Logan could reasonably guess that this was just one more pathetic recruitment drive and Wolverine didn't have to be completely sober to get what kind of mutant this asshole was looking for. First Sabretooth, then this guy John. Now himself. This guy was collecting Howletts, or at least wanted Logan to think he was. Great. He had thought these guys were a bunch of wackos back when Seth had first told him about them and he was thinking they were still a bunch of wackos now. How the times do try a fella.

"Fascinating," Logan grumbled with a disdainful sneer. "Now that we're all here why don'tcha just tell me what all this shit is about so I can tell you to go fuck yerself and then you can just let me go on my way before I kill yer ass."

Romulus squinted at the disrespect. He clearly was a man who wasn't used to such things. There was no humor in his voice as he observed, "My, you are blunt."

"I get that a lot. So? Get on with it. Spit it out."

"Very well. I invited you here today because I thought it was important that we have a little chat. There are some things you must know. "

" 'Invited?' " Logan snorted. "That's rich. Kidnapped is a whole lot closer to the truth."

"Perhaps, from your limited perspective. Despite that, I think you will like what I have to offer you."

"I doubt it, but you may as well get on with it. This is boring me already."

"What would you say if I offered you all the power in the world?"

"I'd say yer full of shit," Logan criticized sharply and without hesitation. This again? He could count on both hands all the times that some power hungry idiot tried this line on him. And they all claimed to have known him so well. "All you freaks are the same, thinking yer the most powerful Joe in the world. You'll get humbled, just you see. It happens every fuckin' time."

Daken chuckled softly at Logan's cheek but Romulus found no humor in it. He betrayed his own disbelief at Logan's inability to be impressed as he continued to persuade, "While you may be right in most cases, in this one you are not. I am the most powerful man alive."

Wolverine still wasn't having any of it. It was going to take a lot more than just words to convince him. "If that was true, then why haven't I heard of ya, huh? This is bullshit."

At that Romulus did smile. He was happy to boast, "You haven't heard of me, son, because anonymity IS power. I am the one behind the curtain, pulling everyone's strings."

Logan just shook his head. How many times had he heard similar claims? Again, too many to count. This was so very tiresome. "Assuming what you say is true – and I highly doubt it is – what makes you think I even care?"

"I've been watching you for a great many years. You've spent a long time just getting by, but lately something has changed."

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"Your sense of family. I do believe you have finally matured to the point where you and I can talk face to face at last."

Logan just glared at the man. His mind was racing – the bullshit line about talking face to face he dismissed as garbage, but the mention of family got his attention all right. There was a reason he had taken this long to settle down - he hadn't wanted a wife or kids that could be used against him. He had too many enemies for that to be practical. Now that he had finally given in to the urge to settle down, sure enough here was someone threatening what was his.

"What do you want?" he demanded, unable to keep the snarl from his voice.

"I want your attention at long last," Romulus said, smiling now. "It is time that you learned that your family is larger than you know. You are one of us, the Lupine, and we are the Children of the Gods, Inheritors of it All."

Logan's shoulders shook with his dry laugh. Oh if he only had a dollar for every time some idiot spouted off with this same kind of nonsense. It was like once one bad guy tried that line and discarded it after failing, another one just picked it up off the ground and used it again for himself. Bullshit recycling over and over again, ad nauseam. His tone was sharp with disdain as he sneered, "Do you practice that line in front of yer mirror every morning in yer little ole padded room? Sorry, bub, but yer gonna hafta do better than that to impress me."

Romulus crossed his arms and regarded Logan thoughtfully. His voice was still patient as he explained, "The Lupine are superior, the most important of all who walk this earth. We are the healers, the ones who rule by tooth and claw. There are none better."

"Yeah? And I'll bet all the other freaks like you say the same. The magnet people say their kind are the best, the telepaths right after them. Telekinetics as well. Give it up, ya overblown excuse for a tyrant. All you are is just a simple mutant, same as all the rest. There ain't one thing special about yer arrogant mutant ass. Get over it."

Logan startled when both Daken and Romulus burst into simultaneous laughter. While he had assumed they would disagree with him - they were both clearly mad after all - he hadn't expected such levity. "You do so truly amuse," Romulus replied once he had caught his breath. "And they say you have no sense of humor."

"Fantastic," Logan growled, not sharing in the lighter moment. "Look, I don't know what yer trying to sell here, but I ain't interested so just let me go. You got nothing I want."

"This isn't about what you want, but about your need to listen to what I have to say."

"Or what?" Logan snapped sharply. "What can you do to me that all those other punk ass bitches haven't been doing since the first day I ever popped claws? What makes you so fuckin' special that you even deserve one second of my time?"

"Because what I am trying to sell you, dear boy, is a chance to run with your true family and in time, perhaps, even rule them all as I do now."

Now it was Logan's time to laugh. " 'My true family'? Buddy, I don't even know you, but from what I've seen so far of how ya do things, I could care less. And why would a guy like me even want that all of your so called power? People always bitchin' and complainin' at ya. Lettin' you down." He looked at Daken in particular as he said that last, seeing him for the lackey he was. "I ain't no babysitter. I could have had authority any time I wanted it, but no thanks. Let the punk over there have it for all I care. Now why don't you just stop wasting all of our time and just let me and the kids go?"

"Yes, I noticed that about you," Romulus commented, agreeing with Logan on his lack of drive. "That is so odd, for an immortal such as yourself. Power is and always has been our best tool for survival in the long race of our lives."

Logan snorted in disgust at the man's audacity. "We ain't immortal. Sooner or later someone younger and faster comes along. It'll happen to you eventually, it always does."

"And Xavier runs his small empire any better than I?" Romulus challenged. "Was it by mere chance that you were selected to eliminate the true source of the Flush?"

Logan squinted at that, trying to hide his surprise. That mission had been top secret. Only a handful of people had even known about the true nature of what he had been asked to do. Did this guy really know all the facts about it or was he just fishing? Either way, Romulus had just revealed that he had spies in more places than Logan liked. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything, my son. You were selected because of who you are, of what you are capable of doing. It is something all of us true Lupine share. Xavier saw it in you and so do I."

The mere idea of what he had done meeting anyone's approval rubbed Logan the wrong way all over. He was angry again as he retorted, "Look, pal, whatever you think you know, it's all bullshit. A problem needed solving and it got solved. The job got done. Me bein' part of yer stupid little 'family' ain't got nothing to do with it."

"It has everything to do with it," Romulus disagreed. "We are the movers and fixers of this world. It's a familial trait, son. It's been bred into you and you've been fighting it for far too long."

Logan squinted, hearing something in Romulus' words. He kept repeating with emphasis the same words over and over again – son, family, breeding. "I ain't yer family."

"Oh, yes you are, in every sense of the word."

"Prove it," Logan finally barked, done with this.

"You've met my associate, Daken Akihiro?" Romulus questioned, his eyes bright with secret knowledge.

If there was a joke here, Logan didn't get it. "Yeah. So?"

"He doesn't recognize my name," Daken complained woefully with mock disappointment. If anything, Logan's lack seemed to amuse him that much more.

"Not at all?" Romulus asked with some real surprise. His voice was deep, guttural and his mouth flashed fangs, another show of power. "And here I had been led to believe that Jael's telepath had been of the highest quality."

Logan growled low in irritation, but kept his eyes warily on the man just the same. He was irritated by the way they were looking at him, like gleeful scientists glorying over a surprising specimen, their eyes shiny with malevolent greed. That sort of thing never boded well for the one on the exam table, healing factor or not.

He also hadn't liked the fact that Romulus seemed to know so much about him, his restored memories in particular. Though it did present a plausible explanation for why John, the white feral man on the train, might think to present himself as a long lost Howlett as a way of luring Logan in. This was getting out of hand, too much for Logan who was so very private about every aspect of his life. He didn't like all this baggage being aired out for all to see. Logan's reply was terse. "It's a common name. Akihiro is anyhow. Daken not so much. That's not the sort of thing a parent chooses for their boy, 'less they are trying to make a statement. Means 'mongrel'. Sounds more like something you chose fer yerself." He looked at the younger man, letting his contempt show clearly. "I can see yer of mixed race. I'll just bet that didn't go over so well with yer little playmates growin' up. Don't know why you'd take that name, though. You aren't gonna cry like a little girl for being eta, are ya? That would just be too sad, boy," Logan teased harshly, using the Japanese word for 'untouchable' for effect. The Japanese didn't look kindly on half breeds.

Daken bristled, he just couldn't help it. It was subtle, he had tightened his fists involuntarily and clenched his jaw hard enough to grind his teeth. It didn't last, a moment later Daken calmed himself, a sign of intense training. He smiled his cruel smile and said with saccharine sweetness, "Perhaps you might remember my mother, Itsu? You and her were quite close as I recall."

Logan froze at that, temporarily stunned as a rash of memories slammed him hard, sending a sharp stab of bright hot pain behind his eyes. It was the same as when he had met John on the train, only not as intense. He was getting used to this but that didn't mean he liked it. He didn't like getting sucker punched like this.

Logan had been brainwashed more times than he could count by various government agencies as they tried to convert him into some sort of point and shoot weapon, a mindless soulless killer. Over time bits and pieces filtered back in but he never had any sort of coherent picture of his past. It was true that all that changed when Jael's powerful telepath had forced a patch job on him, a rough repair that while crude, had succeeded where many others had failed. She had bullied past most if not all of Logan's mental blocks and opened the floodgates wide. Because the job had been so roughly done, it wasn't as though he could freely go back and sort through his life in chronological order like watching a movie. It was more like small little triggers would "remind" him of something long buried and he would get blindsided like this, body checked by a particular sight, sound, or smell and he would have a sudden brilliant recall of something out of nowhere, something usually out of context so it was difficult to sort it all out.

Itsu.

Her face came at him with its absolute perfection. He saw a tiny fishing village by some small lake somewhere in rural Japan. He had gone off the leash during a Weapon X mission and had gone into hiding. Like Kyle had been, he was resistant to a life where the military was all there was, but at least he had been a much better escape artist than poor Kyle who never seemed to make it past the next town or so. This time Logan been gone over a year and it had seemed as though they had lost him for good. He had found Itsu and they had slipped away to this tiny village where the presence of a Gai-gin, an outsider, was tolerated. They hadn't married but he could see her now, her belly huge with child - his child - her face lit up with joy at the thought of what they were soon to share. Any day now, yes, so soon, so very close.

Logan grunted as the scene in his mind abruptly shifted and suddenly the village was on fire and people were screaming. They were taking gunfire from the trees around them and while he couldn't see who it was coming from, he recalled now with perfect clarity the moment Itsu's body was riddled with bullets. He was holding her on the muddied ground, watching as the blood drained from her body. It was fuzzy then, but he remembered now someone standing behind him saying, "Time to come home, son," and then the rest was all black.

Back to reality, Logan blinked and looked up, seeing Daken's face clearly for the first time. He saw his own steel blue eyes looking out at him, but the shape of them were hers. Itsu's eyes, there staring back at him with a cold, dark hate. "Impossible..." he breathed, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh even though it was hardly cold in this room. "She was dead."

"Nothing is impossible for the Master," came the icy reply.

Logan's eyes then turned to the older man, seeing him in a whole new way. This was knowledge beyond mucking around in a few personnel files. "What the fuck did you do?"

"I told you, I keep close tabs on all my Lupine kin," came the enigmatic reply. He mistook Logan's horror for respect and was pleased by it. "I am Lord and Master of them all. I control all of their destinies and I wasn't about to let any of their valuable Lupine progeny go to waste."

Logan squinted, not sure if that was literal or not. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, Daken is indeed your son, have no doubts about that. But I am the one he calls father now."

Logan shook his head, trying to do the math. If this was true Daken would be even older than Kyle, much closer to eighty then the thirty years Daken appeared to be. Kyle, too, looked far younger than his true age, seventeen or eighteen at best. It was in that vulnerability and broken-ness that Kyle had so much trouble hiding, not to mention being half starved on a daily basis. Daken it seemed had no such imperfections. He was hardened steel, well muscled and sleek, ice cold. A weapon finely tuned and expertly crafted.

Logan shook his head, not liking where this was going. He was sure he was being lied to, manipulated. "Impossible. Itsu was full of bullets when she died. The whole village was wiped out."

Daken's cruel smile grew just a bit wider. "Itsu was dead before she even had a chance to birth me properly, and yes, I did take a bullet or two in the process, such was my introduction into the harsh realities of this life. But have no fear, I won't bore you with tears shed over that misfortune either."

Logan flinched at the poorly disguised accusation and lowered his eyes. He had nothing snarky or humorous to say about that. If not for Logan's ugly military past, Daken would never have lost his mother. Whether the fact of it was true or not, the boy in front of him certainly believed this to be the case.

Unbidden, Logan had an ugly vision of Romulus standing over Itsu's torn body, dangling his squalling infant son by one leg, looking him up and down the same way a racehorse breeder might eyeball a newborn foal, judging if he might be worthy of the care and feeding it would require to get it to run swiftly on command. The thought rolled his stomach and he swallowed heavily, not wanting the monster in front of him to see it. This could all be one big string of bald faced lies, he couldn't allow himself to moved by something that hadn't yet been proven.

Romulus wasn't finished. "You have another son as well, I believe. Carter, isn't it?"

Logan bristled with renewed anger. Progeny, that was what Romulus had said earlier. It was such a loaded word and it included Carter as well as his sisters. Logan didn't like that, not one bit. He would die before he sat back and let this monster lay a hand on any of them. "You mention my son again and I will gut you from stem to stern!"

Romulus just chuckled, unafraid. "You have many true born Lupine children, that is good. Daken, Carter and perhaps this other – Kyle Gibney, is it? Well, we'll have to put that to the test of course."

It wasn't the first time Logan had heard Kyle referred to as his own kin. They were not actually blood related of course, but since Kyle had been genetically altered using a serum of both Logan's and his half brother Sabretooth's DNA, Kyle might as well be. He carried most of their dominant mutations - the enhanced senses, the healing and the claws.

Logan didn't like where any of this was going and he was done with it. He jerked in his chair, testing his restraints. He was beyond furious now and it was a great motivator. Unfortunately, he was locked down tight and not going anywhere.

"It must be quite debilitating," Romulus continued, unfazed by his prisoner's wrath. "..living with such a fractured memory. We had no idea the effects would be so lasting."

"We?"

"As I've said, I've had a hand in many of things life has dealt you. I was there for Weapon X just as I was for Itsu's demise. We've known each other a long time, you and I. This is more of a reunion of sorts, rather than a first meeting."

"Fuck you," Logan retorted, still not buying what this man was saying. One look in his eyes and Logan could see the guy was completely mad. They say your mind goes with age and well, here was the proof standing right here. "Yer crazy if you think I'll believe a word you say."

Romulus just laughed at Logan's response. It meant the man was actually listening. "You have a lot to think about. Add this to your thoughts – both Victor Creed and your brother John are here as well."

"John ain't my brother, you sick fuck," Logan denied bitterly though he had no proof either way. It was the way Romulus was listing his pedigree as if it was supposed to mean something. It certainly wasn't going to make Logan do whatever this guy might command.

"John is your brother, that is a fact," Romulus insisted calmly. "You see, Thomas, your father, was one of mine. His mother, knowing he was too weak to be truly Lupine, saw to it that he made it out and away from me. I killed her for it of course, but as for Thomas, I let him stay free. Sometimes one needs to do that, you know. Send out the lesser ones to see what they produce. A fisherman with his hooks, looking to see what treasures he might snare. I was lucky, while he was a poor specimen of our kind, you and John, well. They were the best gifts a grandfather could have. Victor was a treasure as well."

"Liar!" Logan spat.

"There are others here, as well, cousins and distant relatives you have not met. You have more true family here than anywhere else. This is where you belong. It wouldn't be any trouble to collect your other children from Arizona if you wished it. One big happy family."

"Never!" Logan snarled, horrified at the thought.

"You are one of us, like it or not. The Lupine are all. We kill and we rule and we manage the human herd, just as you have done all your life. What I am trying to offer you is a shot at being a part of this pack and this empire. My retirement, while not imminent, is at least on the horizon. Seems fitting I should at least make you aware that you have a crack at taking it all. You would have to compete with all the others in that line, of course, Daken and Victor included."

"What?" Wolverine questioned sharply. While being offered a throne he didn't want wasn't all that unusual these days, being told that he was included in a long and powerful queue for it was something else entirely. It suggested that there would be many great bloody battles to come, something he had no desire to take part in.

Romulus misunderstood Logan's surprise. He repeated, "Oh yes, Victor is here, right where he belongs. We took him right out from under you with ridiculous ease and he has been quite happy ever since. As I've said, nothing happens without my knowledge. Twilight sounds like an interesting place."

Logan was alarmed by that question in a whole new way. It was bad enough that Romulus had taken the smaller Dragon craft with its alien tech inside, this guy having access to Twilight would be worse. Twilight was a pocket world, you had to have a special key to make the doorways to get there. Jason Frost had been lucky enough to find one and use it to steal the strange secrets of that land. Of course it wasn't exploitation that had Logan so worried. After the mission to take Frost down, the X-men had left some of their people there and went back and forth. Conventional phones were useless of course, those people would have no warning if this freak actually found a way there and back again. The X-men had been lucky enough to have Simone, a Siskan who was talented in so many ways to ferry them back and forth. Simone was so much more than simply Rogue's personal housekeeper and bed warmer – his Angel had been a trans-dimensional doorkey that had come pre-installed by his creator, Quishnalay. The X-men had taken advantage of this, something Sabretooth had been aware of. Now it seemed the asshole had been spilling all. This was getting worse all the time.

Logan, wishing to deflect away from whatever perils that may or may not actually exist, simply showed his teeth and threatened, "You want to send yer guys after me, than lets stop wastin' time and just have at it. I'd be happy to thin yer little pack down for you and grin all the while as I did it."

"In due time. Now at least you know the opportunity exists. The others will come for you, make no mistake. Whether you choose to remain with us or not you are still well known in the world. The others will see you for the alpha male you are and will come for you and your top spot, one way or another. I will give you some time to mull it all over, it's a lot to process, I know. In the meantime your son and I will see about young Kyle and discover if he is all he should be. It will be very entertaining, at the least."

".".".".

(Author's note - Howdy! Just in cast there are some of you who complain that I am obsessed with bi-sexual men and slash – even though it is clearly true– there is actual precedence for it in the case of Daken, or at least as it suits his purpose. This tendency was clearly spelled out in Dark Wolverine #75. So there, lol...)