I do not own X-Men: Evolution or any Marvel properties

Sorry it took me a long time to post this one, again had to rewrite a few times to get it right where I wanted.

Reviews are welcome. Tell how the narration worked for this one (let me know how the time shifts work especially). Thanks for your patience and thanks to those of you who have reviewed.

Chapter 4: Seeking Scourge

Logan managed to pick up Laura's trail a half hour after losing her. The smell of adamantium, female hormones, and adrenaline kept the trail fresh. Over the course of a few hours he had retraced her steps until he found himself outside of a motel room in Queens. He took a few extra sniffs of the exterior of the room just to make sure he was outside the right one. Quietly, he extended one of his claws, jimmied the lock open and let himself in. No one was home.

Damn, Logan was not deterred. He took another deep sniff and began to sort out the smells. Cheap bar soap, water vapor, adamantium claws, leather, cheap deodorant and many more. He immediately picked out the man they were chasing earlier. There may not have been copious amounts of blood all over the room, but Logan was not convinced that Laura did not kill the runner. Given her background, Logan figured she knew how to kill without leaving a mark. Nothing looked disturbed though; at least nothing that would be used to move a body. No covers were missing from the bed, the shower curtains were still damp from someone's shower, and no carpet was missing. The scent of adrenaline was profuse, so something stressful must have happened. Interrogation? Maybe.

He moved to the bed and took it in, old sex, a week old… what a friggin' dive.

Logan moved to the desk next. He could not get any particular smells aside from lithium. It was a hard scent to miss in this modern age of portable electronics. None of these scents mattered at this point. He went back to isolating Laura's scent and the runner's. Obviously they both had moved on. Logan moved out of the room and could have sworn that both of their scents were equally potent. They must have left at the same time. He ran over the possibilities in his head briefly, but disregarded them for the time being. No matter how much thought he put into maybes, it would not bring him closer to finding Laura again.

He looked through the room's closet, underneath the mattress, in the bathroom for odds and ends that may have clued Logan into where Laura was headed. He was tearing through the bed when he heard a set of footsteps coming closer toward the door. He unsheathed his claws and stacked up against the door, waiting. He looked out the peephole and saw Rogue. He cursed and threw open the door.

"What part of 'alone' don't you kids understand?" Logan growled annoyedly.

Rogue glared at him back, "Hey, Ah tried to explain that to them but the professor wanted someone with you. As soon as Scott told him what was goin' down he told one of us to keep on you."

"Great, this just gets better and better," Logan grumbled. He trusted the professor immensely but it was not often that he intervened like this, "How'd you get stuck with keeping up with me?"

"Ah volunteered," Rogue said, quite proud of it too, "You told me to look after Laura at Mt. McKenna, after all."

"Yeah, while I dealt with SHIELD," Logan growled. He was stuck with her in his charge, and at the very least he knew she was reliable, "Ah, whatever. Just keep close, Stripes. We're headed into unfamiliar territory here."

With a grunt, Logan followed the Laura's trail as it led away from the motel with Rogue in tow. He followed it until he reached a parking spot with a distinctive blue-green residue still discoloring the water it laid upon. The scent of residual car exhaust began and Laura's scent vanished. Tracking that would be impossible in, especially in any urban environment.

"Better call Chuck. Gonna need Cerebro to narrow the search."

--

Desmond's Motel, a few hours ago

"You do not have much," Laura commented on the information displayed on Desmond's laptop. The data came from a data stick he lifted from his father's apartment before getting chased. All they had to go on was a single folder from a portable data stick with a lot of information, mostly encrypted. Decryption was not Desmond's forte, nor Laura's. If they had a password, then total access would have been simple. The only information they had access to were some miscellaneous notes and a set of coordinates. They seemed rather out of place amongst what they had access to.

"It could be worse," Desmond grumbled at Laura's pessimistic tone, "Don't suppose you know anyone who might be able to get into the encrypted files?"

Laura shook her head, inciting a sigh from the young man next to her, "Well, it was worth a shot."

In truth, Laura did know a few contacts she picked up during her days with HYDRA, but no one she could trust. And those that she could, the X-Men, would only get in her way.

"Examine the coordinates," Laura ordered. Desmond gave her a look but did what she said.

"Should I be looking out for something in particular?" he asked typing the first one in.

"Not right now," Laura answered. She sat down cross-legged on the bed, letting her eyes wander to Desmond and any entrance to the room. She wanted to be prepared if either displayed any sign of danger, within or otherwise.

"Sat photo on Google Maps shows… some industrial park off of the New Jersey Turnpike, about a few miles away from any main road," Desmond said. Laura made a note in her head to investigate the area in person. Old industrial parks were prime real estate for covert military ops, big and small. That or it could have been a drop point for something. Although, in Laura's experience, drop points hidden in plain sight were more secure than those that were not. Looters were a constant risk when isolated. However, without knowing the context which the address was included, only speculation was possible.

Desmond began to look over what notes they had access to, "So why you?"

Laura stared at him oddly, "What?"

"Why you? How does someone like you get saddled with getting my dad to turn state's evidence?" Desmond asked, "Oh, the notes seem to be related to Scourge."

"He has information I need. As for how, my training included tracking rogue individuals," Laura answered pointedly. She looked at the notes, unable to understand it. Her grasp on science was limited to biology and human anatomy. HYDRA saw fit that she knew that in order to be a more efficient killer.

Desmond examined the data, but found it lacked much sense to him at all. He went back to his other questions, "So, uh, what training involves tracking people?"

Laura was silent. The purpose of his line of questioning was not helping them locate Scourge.

"I do not wish to discuss this. We should investigate address, before we visit it," she answered. Desmond was oddly struck with how she spoke. No slang, few contractions, very formal, no distinctive accent, and even-toned; all atypical for most women he knew her age. Her speech was stutter free and did not have any filler words. This only further confirmed his impressions of her. She was strange.

"Fine," Desmond snorted, agitated at her dodging the question, "Well, the industrial park is a few hours away. I'll see what I can dig up on it. Might as well dig in for the night," he suggested. Laura immediately disagreed.

"We need to keep moving," she argued.

"Expecting someone?" Desmond asked, shutting down his laptop. The last thing he needed was another chase while trying to find his father. Laura was of the same thought, but she knew Logan was already tracking them. It was what she would do if her target had gotten away

"Not if we abandon this location. Pack your things. I will procure transportation," Laura said insistently.

"How?"

"Pack," Laura said again firmly.

Was she ordering him around? Desmond, considering who had the claws, decided not to press the matter and followed Laura's… suggestion.

It did not take him long to get packed; he tossed the few clothes he had into his sling pack and slid the small laptop in comfortably with them. He left his room promptly and dropped his key off at the front office. After waiting for about five minutes he saw Laura pull into the parking lot with a small sedan. He had a good idea of how she got it. It did not stop him from asking though. He went to the driver side expecting her to move over. He was a little perturbed when she did not. Reluctantly he resigned himself to shotgun.

"Where'd you get the car?" he asked redundantly. Laura shot him a glare.

"I changed the license plates," she countered.

"And if we get pulled over?" he asked, seemingly trying to keep her off-balance.

"We will not have an encounter with local law enforcement," Laura said confidently

Great, Desmond. You're in New York for a couple days and you already looking the other way around criminal behavior, he thought to himself. He put these kinds of thoughts to the side for the time being. This was about finding his father, "So where are we headed?"

"I have a few safehouses in the city. We'll stay at one of them if it is not compromised," Laura answered casually. Desmond looked at her wide-eyed.

"Safehouses. Okay, seriously, answers right now. What…Who the hell are you?" Desmond asked.

"I told you. My name is Laura," Laura answered, indifferent to Desmond's shock, "As for what I am you will have to be more specific."

Desmond slapped his palm to his face, "You're impossible, anyone ever tell you that?"

"…" Laura gave no response to his frustrations. His not providing specifics were not her problem. However, for the sake of keeping a low profile, she was willing to indulge his curiosity if it would get him to not act in a way that would draw attention to them, "I am a mutant."

"And?" Desmond pressed for more, he was well aware of mutants, but sure not all of them were so…strange.

"An assassin your father helped create," she continued, her voice became very terse, "I do not wish to discuss this."

"You're joking," he chuckled at her comment. An assassin? That was pushing what he could believe, even in a world where mutants have emerged. However, the look he got in response told him that she was not lying, "You're serious."

Her eyes fell for a second. Desmond saw her hands tense up on the steering wheel.

"Aw crap, I'm sorry," Desmond apologized, realizing he hit a nerve. It did give light to her motivations though, which worried him, "So the metal claws…"

"He was not responsible for that or my training. I said I do not wish to discuss this," Laura said, her voice still very curt and concise. She did notice Desmond's subtle apprehension. She had seen it in higher degrees when she looked upon her targets' family members before she killed them, "I do not plan on killing him. Or you."

"Um… thanks," Desmond said nervously, "And sorry for… you know, pressing the issue."

"…" Laura simply nodded, "Since you asked me questions, it is only fair I ask mine… and you answer."

"Touché," Desmond said, he eased back into his seat, "What do you want to know?"

"What type of training have you had? I would like to know your tactical strengths and weaknesses," Laura asked, it was broad yet to the point.

"Sure you would," Desmond muttered to himself, thinking she would not hear. The next glare he got said otherwise, "Sorry. Well, I grew up in my uncle's house. He's a police detective. He and my mother raised me. I want to do something like him after I done with school so he took me under his wing and taught me a few things."

"Did he teach you how to run the way you do?" Laura asked.

"No that was me on my own. You don't really learn the art of flight from someone whose job involves a lot of fight," Desmond answered, "So, yeah, I picked up some police skills. Informal, but effective. Nothing big."

Laura nodded and began to apply it to her strategies. She was accustomed to working alone, making this whole exercise… interesting to say the least. She just hoped Desmond operated well under stress, if her track record was any indication then they would be encountering a lot of it.

"Is your uncle aware of your father's defection?" Laura asked.

"He thinks I'm just visiting my dad for a week," Desmond answered.

They drove back toward Manhattan in silence. Desmond began going over what they did have along with the mental notes he took, and began to scribble on a small note pad tucked away in his jacket pocket. His mind was absorbed in trying to figure out his father's logic with leaving only partial clues around. Likely to cover his tracks so only a few could follow. Laura, at the same time, was going over the best tactical approaches to their situation. They would not be able to do much for the next few hours anyway. Her training dictated that she should always be prepared.

As soon as Laura secured the safehouse and Desmond hid their car, they got inside quickly. The inside of the safehouse was much like Laura's apartment before it was better furnished to blend in. Hardwood floors, a desk, a basic bathroom, and two cots, one for her and another for whoever her handler was when she was on a mission. It was smaller than the last safehouse she used but it would do for their brief stay. Both of them got settled in ways they were accustomed to: Desmond tossed his bag onto the desk and immediately went back to occupying himself with trying to dig up what information he could on the industrial park, Laura puttered around the safehouse making sure it was secure. They slept in shifts, anxiously waiting for the next step of their search.

--

The next morning Laura awoke to the sweet smell of mint tea, coffee, freshly cut fruits and freshly toasted bagels. She looked over on the desk and came to the proper conclusions. Desmond must have stepped out early to visit a nearby café. Two cups of tea, a cup of joe, two fruit cups, and a pair of bagels teased Laura. He had already claimed one of the cups of tea as his. A foolish act to step out and a breach in standard security protocol even if it was just for a quick breakfast run.

"You should have informed me you were leaving the safehouse," she scolded him, "We cannot afford mistakes."

"Good morning to you too," Desmond shrugged her comments off, claiming a cup of fruit and a bagel. He pointed toward what remained, "I wasn't sure what you drank. Hope it'll do."

"You risked security to acquire food," Laura restated, as if pining for some form of apology. It never came, and in its place something kin to a reprimand.

"When was the last time you ate?" Desmond countered, "Come on, I'll tell you what I found out."

His concerns did have merit, Laura judged. Her belly grumbled, egging her on to just eat. She eyed the pair of beverages and had a little conundrum: choice. All her life she had simply eaten what was given to her, what she could steal, or what was available to her when surviving in the wild. She never had been given choice of what to eat; she usually worried about what was the easiest and quickest source of sustenance that could be acquired when she was on her own. She sniffed the coffee and the tea, trying to detect if anything was strange about them. Her training was clear: be mindful of others' offerings. There were no hidden cocktails that she could smell, easing her concern. She gave the coffee a taste, but it was bitter to the tongue without any sweetener or milk. The tea was a little more bearable to her tastes, albeit, still burning hot. Better taste seemed as good enough reason to choose that.

They ate their breakfast in silence. Laura still considered Desmond's actions stupid. Even so, no one had given her food out of concern before. Laura did not know what to feel the, and fell back on her training. It told her to blend in right then, "Thank you for the food."

"No problem," Desmond answered, raising his cup of tea to her, "Alright, the industrial park was bought by some private company seven years ago. I tried looking into the company but I got nothing beyond a buggy website and some registry information."

"Why is this significant?" Laura asked.

"Well the real estate there is expensive, and there does not seem to be much going on there at all. I think the company that owns it is merely a shell company," Desmond explained, "I looked everywhere and haven't found anything on them. For all intents and purposes, this company exists only on the county registry. Something's going on there."

Laura's earlier suspicions about a military black project being active there seemed valid. Desmond's small investigation and his father's breadcrumb made it certain.

"So, what do you want to do?" Desmond asked.

"I want to look into this. The sooner the better," Laura answered, "I will need to change into more appropriate clothing. I do not wish to draw attention."

"Where are you going to-" Desmond broke from his question as soon as he saw Laura pull up the floorboard below her bed revealing a few pairs of clean clothes. Laura had similar stashes like this in the case her wet work got messy to the point of needing new clothes. She changed quickly in the bathroom, and emerged wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, boots, a tank top and a warm jacket with fur trim. Compared to her jumpsuit, she looked amazingly normal. Desmond would not have given her a second look as anything but another teenager if he had not known better.

"Is there something wrong?" Laura asked him, noticing he was sizing her up.

Desmond shook his head and collected his things, purposefully diverting his gaze elsewhere.

"Then we should get going," Laura said coolly. It still felt like she was calling the shots to Desmond. He had no problem with it, personally. She was a girl who focused on her objective and did what she needed to in order to accomplish it. If his being a grunt made it easier for them to find his father, then he would follow her lead.

--

Many hours later

Rogue and Logan sat outside of Cerebro waiting for an update from the professor. While they waited Logan would occasionally pop his claws in and out to pass the time. There was a stiff silence between him and Rogue. He could smell the curiosity coming off of her. If she really wanted to know, she would ask. They had been waiting hours, and Rogue was getting a little antsy.

"Ya sure you don't wanna check out any other places?" she asked. Logan grunted, which she took as a no, "How many places could she be?"

Logan gave her a look, telling her he was not going to dignify that question with an answer.

"Geez, sorry if Ah don't lahke the ahdea of just sittin' here doin' nothin'," Rogue said apprehensively.

"I'm open to suggestions, Rogue," Logan grunted, looking at the time. The sun was setting and it looked like it was going to rain. Logan could smell it in the air. Rogue did not offer any ideas up to how to find Laura, but Logan had to admit, Laura was getting further and further away.

"Why would she just go off lahke that? Doesn't she want our help?" Rogue asked. Logan thought about it. Laura and he were a lot alike. Whenever he looked into something from his past he preferred going it alone. He did not want anyone else to see what he found if it ever turned out ugly. Perhaps Laura thought the same? Logan did not accept that Laura should face this alone. She was still a child, and cut from the same cloth as he. Logan explained as much to Rogue, who seemed to understand.

"She and I have a lot of ghosts that will be coming back to haunt us throughout life. She's doing what I would do. Make them not want to haunt again," Logan answered.

Logan? Rogue? Xavier's voice chimed in to their heads, I have something. An old industrial park off the New Jersey turnpike. Laura's powers were active there. I'm transmitting you the coordinates.

Using her powers? Not good, Logan thought to Xavier, grumbling aloud.

Indeed, I did detect a high level of stress in her mind, right before I lost her again, Xavier further reported, I'm sorry, Logan.

You lost her! Damn it! Logan hit the ignition and peeled out in the direction of the New Jersey turnpike.

With in a couple hours, Logan and Rogue were checking out the empty site. Logan smelt Laura, the man they were chasing earlier, and multiple new body odors. He smelt guns, and finally he detected the smell of scaly skin.

"Gauntlet," Logan growled. The mercenary seemed to be up to his usual tricks of chasing Laura down. He had the feeling thought that Laura had no intention of getting captured this time around. He followed Laura's scent to the point where it simply disappeared. He detected multiple military humvees and confirmed it from the tire tracks.

He called up Charles; the situation had gone from bad to worse, "Chuck… yeah, I need you to keep on tracking Laura… We're going back to the mansion. Get a couple of the kids together, I'm gonna need a full team for what comes next."

--

A few hours ago

It took a few hours, well into the dusk, but Desmond and Laura found the old industrial park. As they wandered around, it seemed only more and more certain that the place was abandoned. Desmond pulled his hood up snug around his head and pulled his leather jacket tight against his body. Laura at least had the luxury of her body quickly compensating for the cold; the winter air was bearable for her.

"S-so, how long do we have to sit out here and f-freeze?" Desmond asked. Laura held her hand up to silence him.

They had been up and down the park multiple times. All that gave them company were a few decrepit buildings and old abandoned machinery, stripped down to metal frames and useless parts. Maybe it was the cold, but Desmond could not see why his father had left a clue like this location around.

"I think were out of luck," Desmond called over to Laura, who was trying to smell the air for some trace of irregular scents. She had nothing though; no scent of Scourge beyond the slide she still carried, no military leathers, no recent smells of gasoline, but there was a faint hint of oil on the wind. Gun oil. Laura's adrenaline kicked up as she took the air in deeper. There were other scents; men, multiple one given the variations. It definitely was not just Desmond she smelt on the wind. That's when she surveyed their location.

None of the buildings were serviceable, but they looked sturdy enough. The distance between two buildings on average was wide. Some of the buildings were a good three stories high. The only other surroundings were a windmill far on the horizon and a bunch of open fields and tall grass. Laura's heart rate jumped.

"It's an ambush! Take cover!" Laura screamed toward Desmond quickly, but not quick enough.

"Wha- ow!" Desmond felt a sharp sting hit his arm. He looked down and saw a dart jutting out of it, "Oh…sh…"

He fell over as the tranquilizer took over his body.

Laura ran for cover. She heard a pair of soft pops in the distance and felt her legs get tagged with a pair of tranquilizers. Their effect was seamless; she did not slow down for an instant beyond the slight stinging sensation in her legs. Whoever was shooting her knew the darts would have little effect. More darts came from random directions until her body was peppered with them, forcing her to the ground.

From the tall grass fields that surrounded the industrial park, Laura saw multiple commandos emerge. The last thing she could make out was who was in charge. Out of all the commandos who were coming from the tall grass she saw only one of the people wearing a cloak: Gauntlet. Then she was out.

Gauntlet walked over to Laura and nudged her nimble form with his boot. He felt how limp she was and barked orders to the commandos accompanying him, "Secure X-23 and the other for extraction. Inform the Board we have the subjects in custody."

--

A/N: If you happen to live in New York know that Desmond's implied views do not reflect my own. (So, please refrain from throwing bricks at my house if you happen to find it)