"Jim," Logan looked up in an instant of familiarity and recognition. Then that instant was gone, and he wondered why the name 'Jim' had been so familiar.

"Jimmy Howlette," the voice grated in Logan's ears as he turned to face the man.

"Sorry, Bub, but you got the wrong guy," Logan smiled amiably.

"Jim, don't you recognize me? It's Steve," the guy seemed really nervous, looking around a little. "We were in the War together." He looked at Logan as if begging for help. The guy was probably in trouble. And Logan had nothing to do that night 'cept get drunk anyhow. Then something triggered, and recognition did come.

"I do know you," he pointed, nodding his head. "You're the Cap." He had never imagined that he'd meet the legend in person, outside of uniform. The last time they had seen each other, and the first time they had met as far as Logan was concerned, was on the battlefield. But it wasn't in no war. Not in the strictest sense of the word. No, it was against a group of runaway Sentinels.

"Ssshh," Captain America's, because Logan could think of him no other way, eyes widened in panic. "Jeez," he half whispered, half snarled, "why not let the whole world know."

"Right," Logan caught himself. He didn't think that the alcohol had affected him that much that quickly. "Sorry. Have a seat." He indicated to the chair across from him. The Cap nodded and slipped into the chair sluggishly. It looked like he had been on the run for days now.

"Steve, you said it was?"

The Cap only nodded.

"You look like what I planned to be tomorrow morning."

"I need your help. You're the only one I trust."

Probably top-secret. The Avengers were the country's national "superhero" team. The X-Men, the team Logan was a part of, was almost the black sheep of the "superhero" community, the uncle no respectable team spoke about. The X-Men were the scapegoats of much of the world's problems, even with Xavier's attempts at public acceptance. Mutants had it rough.

"Why me?"

"Because I know you. We have history. Don't you remember?"

Logan wondered if this was some kind of a test, or a really bad joke. "I don't know you. I never met you before that time with the Sentinels."

"Oh, wow, what did they do to you in that Weapon X program?"

A chill went down Logan's adamantium plated spine. His eyes narrowed on the Cap's. What did he know?

"We were in World War Two together. Your name was James Howlette. You were a pilot. None of this is ringing any bells?"

Logan simply stared. "Look, I ain't in the mood for games, Bub. What are you gettin' at?"

"You remember only up to fifteen years ago, right?"

Logan nodded.

"Did you think that was the beginning of your life? We served together, before you volunteered for the Program."

Logan's blood began to boil. "You think I'd volunteer for pain like that? They destroyed mah soul, you good-for-nothing."

"Nevertheless, you did volunteer for it. At the time, everyone was worried about the Soviets, and you wanted to help the cause. You always did. You were always a good man, and honest man. That's why I need your help."

"Okay, so, for a moment, let's say I believe you. Or, at the very least, am willing to listen to what you got to say. What's goin' on?"

"The Red Skull. He's somehow got a hold of some kind of mind-altering drug that makes suggestion very easy-"

"Suggestion?"

"Hypnosis. He's got my allies somehow in his web. He's trying to demoralize me. Make me run for my life. He's off to a good start."

This was terrible news. If a terrorist could get to Captain America, what hope did the rest of the country have?

"So why me?"

"I tried to think of someone I trusted, but the Skull wouldn't have thought of. You were my first choice. It's been years since we've even talked to each other. But even during the War, you were an honest man."

"You're gettin' somewhere with all your compliments. What do you want from me?"

"A place to lie low, until I can figure out how to apprehend the Red Skull and stop him from affecting my friends anymore."

"Fair enough," Logan nodded. "You up for a drink?"

"I'd like to keep my head about me, thanks."

Logan shrugged, and took another swig of his pint. He let Captain America's situation settle in his mind. As he dozed out for a heartbeat, he picked up a very familiar scent. Hearing the Cap's story, he could guess as to why he noticed it now.

"Come on," he stood up very suddenly. The Cap followed suit, not questioning. He was a soldier, and he still knew how to take orders.

They made their way out of the bar, into the night air, which was frigid and exhilarating as it rolled across them like a wave on a beach. As they moved faster, Logan could hear the pitter-pats of footsteps. They were keeping pace, and desperately trying to stay quiet. He knew the source.

"Get on," Logan pointed to a bike beside his own. Captain America nodded, and followed orders. "Go here," he pulled out a business card, which had been given quite some time ago. The Captain roared the bike to life, and was off in a heartbeat.

With the prey out of the picture, all Logan had to worry about now was himself, and he never worried about that too much. He felt the sting, the familiar sting, as his claws pierced his skin. Letting them rest at his sides, he turned around.

"Hello, Elektra."