Summary : Book one of my Children of the Gods series. When Logan disappears while taking some time away from the X-men, Gambit's newly formed Red Team's first mission is bringing him back home.
Notes: This story takes place in Kimbleverse – wait! Don't run away, screaming. There is a short introduction provided below for those of you who haven't read any of my previous work. :)
Rated M for profanity, violence and some 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, 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. Hopefully finally starting to get the finished parts posted will help speed me up. I'd like to think that the huge delay in getting this completed means the final product will have been worth the wait but I make no promises, lol. You'll have to decide that for yourselves. Sorry for the wait anyhow.
This will be the first book of a five book series.
I will be using (break)s instead of dotted lines or spaces to show scene changes or perspective changes. Hopefully these won't disappear over time like the others did, lol.
(Introduction)
Just a few words to bring both new and old readers up to speed here. First, this book takes place within the Kimbleverse. What the heck is that you ask? Well, a while back I began posting a long ongoing fanfiction that involved both the X-men and some characters of my own creation, most notably my own dear Kimble.
Bah, you say! Who needs OCs (other characters) anyway! Well, take into consideration that technically any new X-men after Giant Sized #1 could be considered an OC, they are not part of the original team after all. That would include some pretty big names – Gambit, Wolverine, Rogue, Storm, Emma Frost, Nightcrawler, Psylocke, all the New X-kids. Are you getting the idea now? Yes, this story has a few OCs, but I'm asking you to let them pass or fail on their own merits, not because they are not original X-men.
My stories are kinda long, but they are Gambit, Beast and Wolverine heavy throughout so that should hopefully make up for it, LOL. This series in particular will also strongly feature Kyle Gibney, or Wildchild as some know him best.
For those of you who read comics regularly, Kimbleverse isn't all that far from our familiar 616 but I have made a few small changes, making it different enough that I have dubbed my little realm Kimbleverse. Because I began writing my story ages ago, this universe ignores much of current Marvel continuity, including House of M, Civil War, the lame ass Gambit/Horseman of Death Milligan disaster, and unfortunately I am only just now beginning to touch on the delightful Wolverine Lupine arc by Jeff Loeb that began long after I had already written most of what preceded this.
Some might say, why bother continuing with Kimbleverse since I've written so much in it already? Shouldn't we all be bored with this by now? Well, these versions of the X-men are the ones I am the most familiar with now, having altered them here and there to suit my tastes. I have also fallen in love with those OCs of mine that have traveled all this long way alongside them as well. It's a weakness I hope you will forgive me for. I am also hoping that any new folks picking up from here will grow to love them as well.
I don't want to bore you all with a ton of recap material here so I will include it in this new series as needed as we go along. Those loyal and trusted friends who have already read all of my other stories can skip over the recaps as necessary. Hopefully the new folks will be able to jump in here without too much confusion (let me know if that is not the case) and it is my hope that they will like this new offering enough to want to go back and read the older stuff as well.
And now, with no further delay, here is Snow Tales, book one of my Children of the Gods series.
Children of the Gods
Book One ~ Snow Tales
(One)
Remy sat in the holding cell, his head down on his knees and his heart heavy. In all the encouragement and pep talks he had received the past six months praising his decision to lead a squad of fresh new recruits, none of them had covered just how he was supposed to handle hearing the sound of one of those same kids being torn apart by the bad guy. He hadn't been the least bit prepared for this and maybe if the team somehow made it back home alive, he was going to have a few choice words to say to the management about that. He could hear his recruit screaming in the next room, the sound of it breaking his heart into new pieces with each repeated cry of agony. Him as squad leader? What a joke that was, he could now see. How could he have been so stupid as to think he could ever do this well?
Two days earlier.
Remy LeBeau sat at Logan's solid wooden table, a comforting log fire burning just a few feet away in the log cabin's generous fireplace. The table itself was hard to see, buried as it was with stacks of papers and reports to be filed. At thirty five years of age, the former Thief and now reformed X-man was doing homework of all things.
About six months ago, he had gotten himself talked into transforming a squad of young recruits into becoming the well formed and talented X-men of the future. It had sounded like a good idea at the time, but alas, no one had told him about the stupid writer's cramp that would accompany it. Endless forms had followed – progress reports, policy papers, change notices, recommendations, absentee reports and heaven forbid, report cards on each of his young trainees. Of course not even half of it ever made it in on time in spite of the complaints of his superiors. They really should have known better, he reasoned, it's not like he ever sent in his mission reports on time as it was.
Bored now and easily distracted, Remy found himself looking out a nearby window, watching Kimble and Aiden play outside in the snow. The pair were his Second and Third in command and had come along on this little vacation of sorts, but unlike him, they had all the time in the world to play and romp around.
Kimble was the most striking of the pair. He had the upper body and healthy muscle mass of an active thirty year old athlete, but the bottom half of him could never be mistaken for human. He had the fur covered bent hind legs of a cat which included two toed, pawed feet with a large single toe claw in between. Add to that odd combination a pair of white leathery bat wings on his back and you had a fellow that couldn't walk about in most crowds without attracting a bit of attention. Not that he wasn't easy on the eyes - for all of his strangeness, he was quite beautiful, especially when he was happy and smiling which thankfully was most of the time these days. His skin was a bright sparkling alabaster white and his hair very long and richly black, his neatly tied ponytail reached down to his waist.
Aiden was smaller than Kimble and had no trouble at all blending into normal society. He was a short fellow, standing only about five four or so, but handsome and in as good physical condition as Kimble was. Wispy blonde hair waved long around his eyes, touching his shoulders. His skin was slightly tanned and his body of the regular shape. You would never know by looking at him that like Kimble, he wasn't even close to human. In fact, neither of them would be considered organically alive.
Kimble and Aiden were part of a small collection of Siskan Courtesan holograms the X-men had come by through adventure and many tragic circumstances. These fascinating and compelling creatures were solid and real looking in all respects, but they possessed neither flesh nor blood. While they enjoyed sexual intimacy as much (or in some cases more) than any normal human, they could never reproduce or donate organs to save lives, though they were often heroic in other ways. They were fully sentient and as self aware as any human, complicated in personality and each one his own person.
Remy had been along on the mission where the Siskans had been first discovered by the X-men and he had fallen in love with them on many levels. Kimble was a personal favorite of his, they had bonded deeply and were as good as brothers. They would never be parted.
Outside the cabin, Aiden shouted something and threw a bright red tennis ball, whooping loudly as Belle, a beautiful, fully grown Golden Retriever, jumped straight into the air and caught it, neat as you please. The dog was a new addition to the family, Logan had given her to Aiden in an attempt to help the blonde Siskan overcome his fierce hatred for dogs.
Not all Siskans had a happy life and Aiden's had once been quite difficult. He had been taught to fight for money, something appalling when you consider that Siskan Courtesans like Aiden and Kimble had been created for fun in the house and bedroom. They were supposed to be safe and compliant companions, not bloodthirsty killers. Aiden had resisted the fight training and his cruel former owners had sicced dogs on him to get him to fight. The ploy had worked and for a long time the guy just outright killed dogs rather violently on sight without blinking. Logan had seen this for himself on a recent mission and while the dogs used then had been the trained protectors of the enemy, Logan had always considered animals to be innocents in battle and he did his best to remove them as a threat without having to resort to lethal means. What Aiden had done so mercilessly had shocked Logan and he had enough affection for the Siskan that he tried to set Aiden straight.
Belle was a lovely creature, but Logan had chosen her for more than just her easygoing Retriever personality. She was an older dog and so didn't have the oftentimes exasperating and overwhelming puppy energy. She didn't drive Aiden batshit crazy by always getting into stuff and breaking the many beautiful things that Kimble and Aiden had collected in the apartment they shared together. She also had another advantage that even a cute little, non-threatening puppy didn't have – she was crippled. She had only three legs, one of her front ones was entirely missing. It hadn't come from an act of cruelty, she had been born that way and with the quiet courage that most beloved pets have, she had simply worked around it and acted as if it was no big deal at all. She could run and jump with the best of them and was always cheerful and ready to play. It was the combination of her physical weakness and good heart that had finally won Aiden over and converted him into the dog lover he had now become.
Remy smiled, recalling the day Logan had brought Belle home to the Siskans. Of course Logan had made sure Remy had been present when he had come, Remy had always been the best at keeping the Siskans in line and Logan wanted him there in case Aiden flipped out. Remy hadn't been forewarned the dog was coming, that wasn't Logan's style, so even he was a bit startled by the man's choice of gift.
Aiden had stood there in numb shock at the sight of the beast, the only thing keeping him from murderous action being that one, the animal clearly belonged to Logan, and two, the animal was out of context. Aiden wasn't in the fighting ring and they weren't out in the field on a mission. It didn't stop the dark, evil colors from ripping through his shine or the low growl of rage that leaked out from his tightly clenched teeth.
Remy wasn't an X-man based on his good looks. Like most of the other team members he was a mutant and had gifts that normal humans didn't possess. His primary skill set was the ability to charge any solid object with kinetic energy from his body and use it as an explosive device. Big or small, he could control the charge as he liked and his precision was without equal. His object of choice to charge was a playing card, any suit fair game. He was never without a pack of these seemingly harmless cards and that along with his skill at the gambling table had earned him the codename Gambit.
Remy had also been trained in hand to hand combat and took to it like a natural, having also inherited a cat like agility and the flexibility any Olympic gymnast would envy. He looked like any other normal human - he was tall and thin, lithe, and a bit of head turner himself. His auburn hair was a bit long around his neck when it wasn't tied back neat and the only giveaway that he was a mutant was his peculiar eyes – his pupils were a bright red against a black sclarea, giving him almost a demonic look.
A fairly recent addition to Gambit's already impressive resume of gifts was that he was now a talented empath. That had come through adventure and pain and like most folks who made it through the tragic and the unexpected, he simply learned to use it to his advantage rather than let it ruin him. The empathy he now possessed allowed him to read the shines or auras of other people. Their moods were revealed to him in swirls of various colors and if he looked closely enough, he might even be able to score a secret or two without having to go to the trouble of picking their pockets like the good ole days. Remy had long believed that the Siskans, though not organically alive, had souls and his proof of that was that he could read their shines as easily as he could any other living creature.
Aiden's shine had gone darkly black at the sight of Belle, but Kimble had had quite the opposite reaction. Kimble was the least serious of the pair and quite child like. His emotional immaturity got him into trouble now and again, but it had also made him the most receptive to children and animals. Kimble just about squealed with excitement and went to his knees, letting an equally friendly Belle lick him all about the face.
Aiden watched this, his hands tightly fisted, but at least he stayed as he was. Because neither Siskan was organically alive, they gave off no scent. Belle had no warning to alert her to her peril. Luckily for her, the scary darkness in Aiden's shine gradually warmed into something moderately safer as Logan gruffly went through the motions of explaining the point of his unexpected visit.
"You can't be killin' off just any ole dogs you see like you did at Twilight," the man stated with his usual lack of tact, looking Aiden directly in the eyes so he would know he was serious. "Dogs ain't the enemy, the bad guys are, no matter what them other fellows taught you. This one's yers and if she ends up dead, so will you." And with that, Logan simply handed Aiden the leash and walked off without saying another word.
"Cool!" Kimble cheered, as excited as any kid at Christmas. He just loved presents, especially ones that you could play with. The face licking was an added bonus.
Aiden, however, was still standing there, just staring at Belle at a bit of a loss. It wasn't like he'd ever had a pet before. Well, Kimble had shared a cat with Remy but that wasn't the same thing. It was a less complicated animal.
"Espere," Gambit said to him, his sympathy coming with a built in Cajun accent. He hadn't lived in New Orleans in a long while, but the accent was just too lovely to part with. "Me an' Kim will 'elp you, cher. Don't you fret about a t'ing, non?"
It hadn't taken long before the dog had settled in relatively painlessly with the assistance Remy had promised and now it did seem that Aiden had indeed overcome his trouble with dogs. It hadn't been field tested of course, it wasn't like they ran across guard dogs all the time, but Remy was sure that the Siskan would at least give some thought to his actions before he did anything he might regret later.
Dat's de way it is with us X-men, Remy couldn't help but think as he watched the two Siskans romp outside in the snow with that magnificent canine. We 'elp each other when we need it, even if we don't always know 'ow to ask.
Of course, Remy hadn't really needed the dog to know that. It was in fact why he was here, the backlog of delinquent paperwork notwithstanding. This time it was Logan that had needed the help and though he hadn't asked for it, Remy and the Siskans had come here to this cabin in the snow to give it, for better or for worse.
Logan, the object of Remy's primary concern, was also outside in the snow. Like Remy, he wasn't at play alongside the Siskans – Remy wasn't sure if the gruff old man even knew what playing was or how it was done for that matter - he was chopping wood. While the activity was quite predictable when one was staying in a log cabin such as this one out in the woods, Logan had been doing it almost constantly for the whole two days Remy had been here. They now had enough wood to keep them warm for months.
Logan was as short as his temper. Small, dark and hairy, it hadn't taken much thought to decide what codename might suit him best – he was more often known as Wolverine, especially out in the field where his fearlessness, toughness, and tenacity were something of legend. Unlike Remy who was more of a city fellow, Logan was a feral creature and quite at home out here in the woods. In spite of the snow he was topless and hot from his labor, his red plaid, button down shirt hung on a nearby branch. He was stocky and much more heavily muscled than the much slimmer Remy could ever be. He handled his axe like a pro and in spite of having been at this a while, didn't look like he would tire anytime soon.
Quick to tease, Gambit would have loved to rib the guy about his cliche lumberjack apparel but he simply hadn't dared. Wolverine was grumpy enough as it was even on a good day, but something had happened over the past month, something bad enough that the ill tempered man had refused to return home, not even to see his beloved wife and kids.
Not that it was unusual for Wolverine to vanish every now and again. Sometimes he left for his own personal business – he was a solitary man by nature and marriage had been a struggle for him at times. Other times he left because Charles Xavier, the leader of the X-men, sent him off to do things that required more finesse than a team, even an accomplished one, to complete. Remy hadn't asked, but he could guess that whatever had disturbed Logan so was as a result of some mysterious errand for Charles that had gone seriously awry.
It was no great secret that Logan had spent most of his long life in the military, serving in one war after the after. His mutation had made that possible – he possessed a healing factor that allowed him shrug off most injuries without much of an effort. He was no stranger to pain and when he went after something wholeheartedly, would thoughtlessly go after it regardless of what shape he might be in when he finally got what he wanted. That same mutation had extended his life, he was well over a hundred years old even though he looked as though he was only in his mid forties.
Remy had arrived here at the cabin a couple of days ago at Charles' request. Logan had gone AWOL and while he most often returned from these absences sooner or later, this time it had been prolonged. Logan wouldn't take any of his wife's calls nor had he returned any of her messages. Carter, Logan's youngest child and his only son, wasn't taking it well. It had been over a month and Charles had felt this had gone on long enough.
Even though Logan was keeping his distance, he hadn't been that difficult to find. This cabin had originally belonged to Kimble, a gift from a former Master, but it had come into Logan's possession when it had gotten such little use. Kimble preferred to be wherever Remy was and well, the Thief just didn't camp unless it was under duress. Logan had asked to buy the place but Kimble simply gave it to him outright with the only stipulation being that the Siskans might use it from time to time. Logan had readily agreed. The arrangement hadn't been any hardship, this was the first time the Siskans had actually come out here in months.
Remy wasn't much for camping and liked snow even less, but he was close enough to Logan that when asked he didn't hesitate to agree to come out and check on him. He could use the break from teaching and well, if the cabin was too cramped, he could always sleep in the Dragon 2 if he needed to, the small aircraft that he had used to fly out here.
The Siskans had been created by an alien race, only one of many the X-men had come across in their various travels. As they made friends with these sometimes more intelligent races, the X-men absorbed whatever technology they might have had to offer. Seth, another of the Siskans that the X-men now possessed, had used some of that extra knowledge to build and design a small transport craft that used the kinetic energy from Gambit's mutation as fuel to run it. Remy had now become a pilot of sorts and the ship was his.
Gambit needed some help, though. He powered the craft, but Kimble, a powerful telekinetic in his own right, actually flew or guided the craft itself. Remy and Kimble were a team then, both were needed to fly the ship and did so with great skill. Aiden was along for the ride, he could neither power the ship nor guide it, but he had his own talents to add to this trio. He had mastered all of the technical details of the ship and could repair anything that might go wrong. He was also no slouch in the field and could hold his own in a fight. He was small but fearless and brave.
It was leading this small team of three that had planted the seed for something a little bigger in the mind of this talented Thief. After much encouragement and a bit of a push from friends and family around him, Remy had finally moved forward with forming and leading a squad of his own. Remy had Kimble and Aiden by his side helping but there was someone else that he often turned to for guidance and advice. That man was Logan.
Logan was happy to lend out his years of experience when it came to helping Gambit train the young ones. (Alas, but not with the paperwork that came along. Never that.) Wolverine was stern and gruff, a harsh taskmaster when it came to the workouts that were part and parcel of any team instruction. In spite of the abrasive packaging the advice often came in, always the tidbits of wisdom had come in handy. Logan and Remy had been friendly enough before this, but working together had given the young Thief a growing appreciation for all that Logan knew and had learned over his many long years in the service. They had grown a lot closer.
So it had come to no surprise to Logan when a couple of days ago he heard the low hum of the Dragon 2 settling down outside in his snow covered backyard. He had anticipated that Charles might send someone eventually, the only odd thing was that Remy had come alone, or alone as he ever was. The Thief was never without a Siskan or two around.
The Thief had clomped through the snow once the craft had landed, an unhappy frown on his face as he wet what looked like a new pair of boots on the way to the back door. Yup, snow was not a favorite at all of his, not at all. It was Maine in January so there was plenty of the white stuff to go around and probably more to come. Over one of his shoulders was a large leather messenger bag with full pockets. "Desole, mon ami. Stupid damn paperwork," the Thief had grumbled, stamping his boots somewhat dry on the porch. "Been shipped out 'til I catch up."
Logan had nodded at the obvious lie, but didn't fight it. Well, once Remy had spread out his glorious mess all over his table Logan saw that that much at least had been true, but the Thief's red on black eyes were ever watchful, clocking his every move.
"You bring any beer?" Logan had asked. He was slouched against a porch post, only half dressed in dirty long johns and unlaced hunting boots. This place was fairly isolated, there was no one here the man needed to impress. He held a half drunk beer in one hand, a lit cigar in the other. Logan was never the neatest fellow to begin with but he looked like he hadn't shaved in days. His eyes were small, tired, and speaking of the many sleepless nights that had gone along with his lack of shaving.
Remy's grin grew all the wider. "Bien sur. Molsen fo' you, whisky fo' me and de boys."
Logan lifted his cigar to his lips and chewed on it a bit, his eyes moving to the parked craft just a few feet away. It had taken Logan a long time to warm up to the Siskans and even now he still didn't entirely trust them. Kimble, as gentle as he most often was, had been known to have fits of violence and Logan never forgot it. The only Siskan he had never had concerns about was Seth and that was mainly because Seth was an internet hacker that stayed mostly glued to a computer and had provided Logan with just about any intel he asked for.
At the moment, though, Aiden was his new best friend. The blonde Siskan was making his own way through the crude track Remy had roughly plowed with his boots. In his arms was a large cardboard box that clinked pleasantly in a 'full of beer' kind of way. On top were some good sized packages wrapped in butcher paper. One could always count on Remy to not only bring the booze, but steaks as well.
Kimble followed behind him carrying a box of his own with more groceries. Logan could see the tops of some bread, chips, and greens. It was just as well, Logan's own supplies had run low but in his current wrecked state of mind, he hadn't had the heart to clean off the Jeep he had brought up here and drive the ten miles to the nearest town. He wasn't that disappointed to see Kimble come, at least he knew who would be doing the cooking. Kimble was quite domestic and efficient. He would no doubt soon be organizing what was left of Logan's soup cans as well.
It wasn't until Belle had come racing out last that Logan finally smiled. "Hey, girl," he praised, stooping down to receive her. She came to him in her awkward yet elegant way, she hopped a bit as she ran to compensate for her missing right front leg. It didn't keep her from efficiently licking his rough, whisker covered face. "Glad to see Aiden ain't killed ya yet."
"She bring me my szlipperz," Aiden teased in return, his voice heavy with an accent of his own. While Remy's accent was regional, Aiden's was a sign of damage. Those same losers who had trained him to fight with dogs had also melted and revived him several times. He hadn't walked away from it unscathed. "Even Keemble don' do zat, eh?"
Logan just snorted, his grin still wide. He was feeling better now, warm from Belle's unrestrained affection for him. She had been orphaned from her previous owner when a good number of people who lived with the X-men had been killed in battle. The situation had been bad enough, such losses were always hard to take, but it had also left many animals stranded. As soon as Logan had seen her, he had known just who she was meant for. It had been a good choice and he didn't need to read the shines as Remy did to know Aiden was now just as smitten with her as Kimble was.
Wolverine did sniff up at Kimble as he passed by him into the cabin and looked at Remy pointedly. "You know this place ain't real big."
"Don't worry, patron. De boys will sleep in de Dragon," the Thief replied merrily, a knowing light in his eyes.
Logan nodded, their eyes still locked. It wasn't so much the sleeping arrangements that Logan was concerned about. Kimble and Aiden, unconventional enough as they already were, were also married to each other. Siskans were randy creatures and while Logan wasn't homophobic per se, he still had no wish to catch the pair at play.
"I'll go chop some wood," Wolverine offered, standing and draining the last of his beer. It was quite early in the day, well before noon, and Remy was a bit disappointed to see that when Logan tossed the bottle into a nearby wooden bin, it had plenty of other empties to keep it company.
"Is he okay?" Kimble softly asked Remy from the doorway when Logan had gone off to the woodpile to cut some logs for the fire.
"Non, cher," Remy replied, his own voice heavy with concern. "No, 'e ain't."
He had seen Logan's shine, and while it hadn't been as murderous scary as Aiden's had been when he and Belle had first met, it was filled enough grey to be worrisome indeed. Grey was the color of those who wished for death.
(break)
Logan lay in his bed, his naked body wet with a sweat that had nothing to do with being overly warm. He should have been sleeping peacefully – he had spent most of the past two days of Remy's visit drinking heavily and when he hadn't been doing that, he had been chopping wood just to keep from sitting around too much.
Wolverine normally would have found Remy and the guys intrusive in this solitary retreat, but in his rough state of mind, oddly found their noise somewhat soothing. He never would have said so out loud of course, that wasn't his way, but it was nice to come inside and find everything tidied up and the smell of something roasting in the oven. Kimble, in spite of his many somewhat irritating oddities, was a master at domestic orderliness. Kimble never complained about the mess, he simply cleaned it up with a smile as if this was just the way things should be.
Aiden had offered Logan his own form of comfort - they had gone hunting out in the woods a couple of times. They hadn't taken any guns, it was a favorite pastime of Logan's to see just how close he could get to a deer and simply touch it. Aiden had been quiet and patient as they had rambled through the woods and was learning to track by Logan's instruction and enjoying the diversion. The snow could tell good stories, Logan had said, if you only knew how to read them. Aiden, like all the Siskans, learned very quickly and Logan seldom had to repeat himself. If Aiden had any questions they were only in regards to the task at hand, never about what was troubling Logan so, and they were communicated by sign language, a handy tool to have out here in the quiet. Aiden never once flushed out their targets prematurely or by accident and Logan's respect for him continued to grow.
Logan had needed the distraction of the bloodless hunting and the teaching that had gone with it. It was too dangerous to let his mind wander these days, to go back to what he had done. To what Charles, that damned old fool, had dared to ask him to do, knowing full well he was leading Logan into certain horror.
Wolverine's dreaming body, now left to its own devices, was drifting back to those places his waking mind had not dared to go. His mind was traveling, returning to the scene that he was sure he would remember no matter how many more stupid brainwipes he might undergo. How could he forget such a thing? It was impossible.
It had all started with a favor. A month ago, Charles had called him into his office and told him some startling news. "We have discovered the source of the Flush."
The Flush was a highly contagious, flu like virus that was reaping havoc through the non-mutant human population on the east coast. It was called the Flush because while it first presented as a normal flu, it also came with a terrible and painful red rash that covered the skin. Details were sketchy, but initial reports were saying that it made mutants sick for a day or so, but the normal humans all died, suggesting it was somehow man made and deliberately placed. The CDC had long been thinking that this was no ordinary virus and they had been right. Hank McCoy, the X-men's own highly intelligent doctor, had finally discovered that this virus was likely being initially spread by a mutant, one that might not even be aware he was doing it at all. It had become imperative that this mutant be found and stopped by any means necessary.
Logan was a practical man, he knew what was meant. Thousands of people had died and the government had even gone to the point of quarantining large populations into detainment camps in an attempt to contain the spread of the virus. What was the death of one more person against all that expense and loss of life? If they could stop the original source of the virus, then maybe the rest of it could be eventually contained and eliminated.
Wolverine had stood patient and quiet in Charles' office while the man had laid out all the good news. Not only had they discovered that the Flush was indeed being spread by a mutant, Charles himself had been able to locate and pinpoint the individual himself.
Professor Charles Xavier was no ordinary man, no leader of such powerful and extraordinary people could have been. Charles was a powerful telepath, perhaps the most powerful one that currently resided on this planet called Earth. Not only was he telepathic, but he had surrounded himself with as much mutant scientific talent as he could muster. Together they had created Cerebro, a device the Professor often used to locate other mutants around the world. It had taken some time, but now the exact source of this deadly disease had been found.
Logan had listened as the particulars of the job were explained, his body quiet but his mind racing. He had one big question – Why was it that if this source had been found that Charles was deploying him privately instead of asking SHIELD, a highly trained organization that specialized in Homeland Security, to handle it? Perhaps it was because Charles knew that the Flush was fatal only to non-mutant humans and hadn't wanted to put SHIELD personnel at possible risk. It could also be that Logan, with his healing factor, wouldn't even feel the moderate effects that mutants had when infected. It wasn't until Logan had gotten to the scene itself and had gone right to work, that he realized just why he had been asked, and by then it was too late to do anything about it. There had been no time not to finish what he had been sent there to do.
Before all that of course, Logan had readily agreed to go where the Professor had asked, especially when it seemed that this mutant, whomever he was, seemed to be spending as much time as he could in train stations, as if he was in fact aware of what he was doing and was deliberately trying to infect as many people as possible. One person, once initially infected, could then also in the next twenty four hours infect as many others as they came in contact with. And so and so on. It was why the number of fatalities was swiftly getting out of control.
Logan had traveled quickly to the Amtrak terminal in Washington DC, just as Charles had directed him to. He had flown out on his own, using none of the X-men transports as this was a private mission known only to him and Charles alone. There were certain things that the whole team just wasn't privy to, at least, not until the mission was over and the goal finally accomplished.
Wolverine had been given no description of this mysterious mutant, something unusual. Cerebro was usually fairly accurate, right down to a face, but Charles had only given him vague details – the mutant was female and wore a red woolen coat with a matching knitted scarf.
Logan strode into the train station and began his investigations, inconspicuously looking over the crowd. Hank had very carefully given Logan a tiny sample of the Flush virus to sniff in the hopes of giving Logan at least something to start with. At first Wolverine was dismayed by how difficult this might be, the place was filled with human scents, but beyond that there were more than a few vendors selling their wares – coffee, popcorn and the like – to overload the air and make it difficult to track what Logan was looking for.
He hadn't been there long when something – or someone, rather – most definitely caught his eye. About a year back the X-men had taken on a powerful mutant terrorist named Jael. The two armies had clashed at the Complex and the ensuing battle had been brutal and ugly, costing many lives. It was the reason poor Belle had been left on her own and it wasn't something that Logan or any of the X-men who had been there would readily forget. Jael himself hadn't lived to fight another day but it seemed that some of his people had. Logan was now looking on the face of Marcus, a former member of Jael's inner posse.
Marcus usually stood out in a crowd, he had a normal human body, but also had a pair of brown feathered wings, wings he was now doing his best to hide. He had covered himself in an oversized, olive colored rain poncho with a large backpack on his back, the combination lumpy enough that he wasn't as conspicuous as he normally was. He also usually sported a Mohawk haircut and while most of that still remained, he had grown out the sides so that it wasn't as blatant as it typically was either.
Marcus wasn't alone. At his side was his traveling companion, a female that was indeed dressed in a red coat with a matching knitted scarf. Them being together left Logan no doubt that this was a deliberate attack against normal humans by what was left of Jael's terrorist cell. Well, at least that was Marcus' intention at any rate. One look at the supposed mass murderer had Logan's heart pounding, not only with the thrill of the hunt, but with a rage so profound, his body could hardly contain it. How dare Charles do this to him?! He was no mindless point and shoot weapon, not anymore. Damn you, Charles! Damn you to hell and back again!
There was no doubt about the information Charles had given him either. Logan could smell the Flush virus wafting right off of her skin like a poisonous fume only his powerful feral senses could detect. His healing factor had come with three additional side dishes – he had enhanced sight, smell and hearing. In so many ways Logan was more animal than man – he had all the best talents of any woodland creature but with the higher intelligence of a human. It was what had made him the better soldier all those years, he had advantages over his compatriots and not just because he could shrug off a bullet.
Sadly though, as certain as he was that she was in fact the one spreading this terrible disease, he knew it was impossible that she was even aware that she was doing it. Not that it mattered any, Logan knew that just by her being there, right here, right now, all the people currently in this train station were going to die, the norms anyhow. Mutants could be infected, but they always shrugged it off as a bad cold, nothing more. The station was full, there had to be hundreds of people here. The thought of it made Logan's blood boil.
Back in the cabin, Logan moaned in his sleep, tears leaking from his eyes as he relived that horrible day. He saw Marcus' head turning towards him, a reaction to the growl that Wolverine, in his enraged state of mind, hadn't been able to stop. Marcus immediately began to run, dragging Logan's intended target with him. She looked back at Logan as she stumbled along - her pursuer, her soon to be executioner - her face at once so terribly innocent, the next terrified. Terrified because she was... she was...
Wolverine bolted upright in his bed, choking on the scream that wanted to come howling on out. The first night Remy had slept here the scream - check that, his roar of mental agony - had made it all the way out and then the Thief had been right there. Right in the way and hovering awkwardly in a mothering, smothering, maddening way. Logan didn't want babysitters, he hadn't asked for Remy to come, neither him nor his stupid troublesome Siskans that weren't so much children as they were fucking babies...!
No, that's just the rage talking, Logan now thought to himself as he tried to calm himself. He didn't really mean that. His body was well trained and this second night, it had quieted its own noise, he had been too well programmed not to. He sat there a moment, his hands over his mouth to cover the sound of his heaving breaths, his ears straining to hear if Remy was in fact stirring in the next room.
He wasn't, and when Logan was sure of it, couldn't stop the single humiliating, traitorous, heart breaking sob that leaked out between his fingers. Damn Charles, damn him for making sure his soul was damned to hell, when before it was merely questionable. What Charles had made him do there was no coming back from. It was impossible. For a moment Logan shuddered as the face of his most dearest possession flashed before his eyes - Carter, his three year old son. How could he ever look that precious child in the face ever again?
Disgusted now with his own pathetic weakness, Logan rose from his bed, throwing the covers off with a soft snarl of rage. How was he supposed to live with himself now?
He didn't bother to dress but snuck outside as quietly as he could. He needn't have worried, one sniff told him why Remy hadn't even so much as rolled over by his waking - the Thief had drunk more than his share of the whisky he had brought and was out cold, intoxicated. There had been a card game that night, but Logan hadn't been in the mood and had slunk off to bed early. Remy and the Siskans had continued without him, drinking and laughing until quite late. They had much to celebrate - Remy had finally finished his paperwork and well, Kimble had baked enough brownies to feed all the starving children in Africa. Even Logan had made sure to grab a few of those sweet chewy gems before slinking off to bed.
Logan didn't begrudge the boys their play. He knew why the Thief not only hated camping (a cabin in the woods would be camping by the standards of any ex-New Orleans resident), but disliked snow even more. Having once been stranded in Antarctica would do that to a fellow, but that's not part of this tale. The booze and the play kept the bad dreams away, at least for redeemed thieves.
Logan had no time to dwell on troubles that were not his own. He slipped out the back door and stood on the front porch, his time weathered body not the least bit fazed by the icy chill and snow that played about against his skin. No, he had once run with the wolves and at the moment, nothing sounded better than to do it again and leave humankind behind for good. One thing about animals - they rarely passed judgement and could care less about pesky, unimportant human crimes.
He took a step into the snow, anticipating the freedom to come, but then froze, not from the sudden chill to his foot, but when he thought he heard a soft voice came drifting out from the nearby trees. "James..." it whispered. "James..."
Logan growled softly and popped the claws on one hand.
Like Remy, Logan had more than just one gift in his bag of tricks. Yes, he could rapidly heal from just about any injury and well, that particular trick had landed him on some military jackass's experiment table. The cruel men of the Weapon X program had thought it might be profitable to make a man indestructible and Logan had unknowingly pulled that particular winning lottery ticket, his mutation pushing him all the way to the front of the line. The intention had been to merely coat his bones with Adamantium, the hardest metal currently known to man, and turn him into their personal point and click assassin. What the scientists hadn't counted on were the six bone claws he had managed to hide in his arms all this time, three to a limb. Logan had now become the beneficiary to built in knives, their edges sharp enough to cut through just about anything. He had broken away from his tormentors and even though he had never asked for them, had now lived with these enhanced claws for so long now that using them came without a thought or care.
Outside in the snow, Logan now sniffed the air, making good use of his feral sense of smell. Even without a definitive scent Logan just knew his late night caller was not his friend. The hairs rising along his back and neck told him so and his instincts were seldom wrong.
"Who are you?" he asked the wind, his voice as low as the whisper that had come to him first.
"Do you really wonder why it was you that Charles sent out on that last mission..?" came the non-answer reply to his question. "Well, I know..."
Logan bristled. What? Even here he could find no peace. Some loser ex-enemy (of which he had many) had followed him here and wanted to play. Well, you know what? That was just fine, really. If he couldn't tear apart the man who so richly deserved the full brunt of his wrath, here was someone he could take out his frustrations on.
"Show yerself, coward!" Logan challenged, still keeping his voice down. Just because Remy was drunk didn't mean he couldn't be roused. X-men were uncanny that way, always seeming to know when they were needed. But this time, Logan didn't want the interruption. He would take care of this himself.
The only response was a deep throated, cackling laugh. As if in answer, a wolf howled off in the distance, almost as though it had anticipated the fight to come.
It was enough of an excuse. Logan launched himself, running out to the trees, his eyes wild, ready for blood. It would be so sweet. So sweet.