When Raven rescued Logan, she had found herself at something of a cross roads. Standing there in a boat on the Potomac, wearing an army man's, Stryker's, face, surrounded by soldiers, Raven realised that, for once in her life, she had no idea what to do next.
For the longest time, Raven had followed other people around, listened to their ideas and obeyed their orders, mainly Charles and Erik, mostly Erik, even while he'd been imprisoned, all of her actions had been misguided attempts to follow the creed that he had provided her with. The same creed that had allegedly doomed all of humanity and mutant kind alike. Gazing down at the man who had apparently been trying to stop that future, Raven realised that it was time for her to carve her own path. And that her path did not involve genocide and fearmongering or wide eyed idealism and naivety. No, her path involved something different.
She just wasn't sure what yet. Either way, Logan would probably be useful, whatever she chose to do next.
"Let's get him secured and loaded up in to the truck boys." She spat in Stryker's voice, trying her best to channel the disgust she'd seen in his eyes when the soldier had seen her true form back in Vietnam. It wasn't easy, naturally. Ever since she had become Mutant And Proud, Raven had found it increasingly difficult to be disgusted by any mutations. Living with a red skinned teleporter with a tail would do that to a person. Plus, she remembered with horrid clarity the disgust on Charles's face that night in the mansion, that had almost mirrored their first meeting so well, and how much it had hurt that her brother would look at her that way (that Hank would look at me that way), that she had resolved long ago to never allow any mutant to feel the way she had felt (inferior, hideous, weak).
When they reached the shore, Logan was secured to a metal gurney, restrained with leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles, and wheeled in to the back of an inconspicuous blue van. The gurney was attached to the floor of the van with…Well, Raven wasn't actually sure how the gurney had been attached, as she had been too busy keeping a watchful eye on Logan.
He'd awakened on the boat, his eyes opening as he glanced around in confusion, but he hadn't made an effort to escape yet, which was fantastic. That meant he was a strategist, a planner, just like Raven had hoped. The man was biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to break his bonds and escape. Luckily for him, he wouldn't have to. Even from where she was stood, a good ten feet away from the back of the van, she could see him flexing the muscles in his arms, testing the bindings there. She hoped they would be strong enough to get him where they were going.
Soon enough, Logan had been secured and Stryker's goons were ready to set off. As one of them closed the doors, obscuring Logan from view, Raven knocked the other one out with a quick hit to the temple with the butt of her gun. When Goon Number One turned around, she dispatched him in the same way. Certain they were down for the count (They aren't dead at least, so Charles could be happy about that, wherever the Hell he is.), Raven tied their wrists and ankles with bandages from the first aid kit on the boat and dumped them beneath the nearest bridge, taking both their wallets for good measure. Then, she jumped in the front of the van (whichever of those idiots left the keys in the ignition deserved to be tied up and left under a bridge) and began to drive.
She drove for over four hours, but only because she wanted to be well past Westchester when they stopped for the night. It wouldn't do to have Charles turn up and mess everything up in the middle of the night. And that was his style, after all, appearing out of nowhere and fucking things up, even if said things hadn't been exactly planned out perfectly yet. She pulled in to the parking lot of an unpleasant looking all-night motel (she would have driven for longer, but really, stopping an assassination and then kidnapping a guy had pretty much taken it out of her for the day) and switched in to her Raven-face.
She slipped round the back of the van and prayed Logan was still in his restraints. She'd seen those claws. There was very little chance of her winning a fight against those. She opened the back doors, and sent up a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was looking out for her. Logan lifted his head and stared at her blearily, looking half conscious. She guessed that almost drowning could do that to a person. She stared back at him, unsure of what to say. Eventually, because the silence was becoming too much to bare, she just blurted the first thing that popped in to her head. Unfortunately, that also happened to be one of the most embarrassing things she'd ever said too.
"So, bone claws, huh? That's a really groovy mutation!"