A/N: Recognizable characters, places, etc. belong to their respective copyright holders. All else is mine. This Logan came from a RPG and is based off the version the GM created.

Prologue – Logan's Run

BioScience Station Theta, Planet Epsilon III, year 2598

A quartet of two men and two women raced through the labyrinthine station. They moved in a fluid unison, their steps and strides matching perfectly. Turns and evasions happened without thought or communication. They had worked together for so long that a more cohesive unit could not be found anywhere in the universe.

Their boots thudded heavily in the corridor as they ran. Every few of steps, one of the four would fire a weapon behind them keeping their pursuers at bay. This went on for several minutes and several turns until one of the men dropped back a few paces. One of the women slapped the other two on the shoulders and said, "Keep going. Get to the ship and get her started up."

As she slowed her pace, they nodded and continued their dash, no longer pausing to fire behind them not wanting to hit their companions. She glanced to the man catching up with her.

"Logan?" she asked tremulously. She did not need to ask, really. She knew what he was thinking. It was the same thing she had been thinking. And they both knew he was the best suited to the task.

"I'll be right behind you, darlin'," he told her.

They both knew better. Her heart was in her eyes. Her expression said she wanted to argue, but she did not, only reached out to give his arm a quick squeeze. "You better be."

He stopped and watched her go as she returned to her former pace, a ground eating lope that quickly left him behind. She did not pause or turn around when his battle cry rang out or the sounds of fighting reached her ears. She only grimaced and kept going. Soon she was at the ship, the lowered ramp welcoming. The other man was waiting for her at the top of it.

"Where?" he asked.

"Buying us time," she replied. "How much left?"

"About ten."

"We wait five."

His head turned to the side a bit. "You got that, Em?"

Em's reply was tinged with a metallic tone as it came through the speaker by the open hatch. "Got it, Vin."

As each mark ticked by, a tightness set into her jaw. At the mark of three she joined Vin at the top of the ramp inside the hatch. Expression closed, Vin left her there as she brought the ramp in at four. At five, she closed the hatch, flinty eyes staring down the way she had come. The deck tilted under her as the ship lifted off and blasted away. She leaned her forehead against the cool metal of the hatch.

"You were supposed to be right behind me, you bastard," she said to the missing man, no venom in her tone only a deep ache.

Logan had seen the understanding in her eyes that he would not be joining them. She had communicated so much to him with that brief touch. He had wanted to wrap his arms about her and kiss her deeply, but there was no time. She and the others had to get away. He had watched her go, never looking back so she would not falter. She would do what was necessary and leave him there. But she would come back for him; she always did. It might take years, but she would find a way. God, he loved that woman.

He stood his ground, waiting out of sight around the bend of the wall. The tramp of their boots came closer. They moved cautiously, already having lost some of their number to their quarry's pot shots. He waited until they were fully visible before launching himself at them with a roar. He fired his weapon until it was empty, then tossed it aside. His hands clenched into fists, and his most deadly weapons appeared; three razor sharp metal claws slid out from between the knuckles of each hand.

The platoon was down to a quarter of their strength, but they knew reinforcements were just seconds away. They tried to surround him and stay out of range of those claws but were not successful. His speed and skill made quick work of them just in time for the reinforcements to arrive. It is not to say he was not wounded by them, but the wounds were not enough for him to notice.

In the end, it took most of six platoons to wound him enough to slow him down and subdue him. By that time he had already heard the thing he had been listening for; the blast of the engines as their ship lifted off. Even though they had him dead to rights, he could not help but smile a wide feral grin. His woman had gotten away, and he had not had a good drag down knock out fight in far too long.

She was all he thought about as they secured and dragged his broken and bleeding body to their holding cells. She was going to be pissed that he did not make to the ship, but she would be more pissed about missing all the fun. He would just have to make it up to her when she came for him. She would, and he would. And that was a thought that would keep the pain and the demons from overtaking him for however long it took.