Late September 1926

The atmosphere of the speakeasy was more boisterous than usual. Both visitors and regulars were laughing, cheering, and counting in unison as a man slammed down his fifteenth shot of whiskey. Sweat beaded at his brow, and as he reached over for his sixteenth, he fell off his stool. The patrons nearby responded with uproarious laughter as the stranger's friend helped him up. Logan smirked and signaled to Nello to start pouring him shots.

Each shot went down easily, and by the time Nello had to open a new bottle he was only feeling a pleasant buzz. He was no doubt cheating, but the stranger had insulted his height, and Logan had decided to have some fun with a 'friendly' competition. Logan knew it was petty, but he didn't care.

He decided to stop once he reached twenty-five and pretended to sway some. While he admitted he was being cocky, he knew it was unwise to draw too much attention to himself. If he drank any more and was still able to stand on his own two feet, people would start asking one too many questions.

The patrons around him cheered and Logan held out his hand to the man who was now sitting in his seat once again with the help of his friend. "I believe you owe me twenty bucks."

"I owe you nuthin'!" he slurred before pointing at Nello. "He watered down your whiskey!"

Nello laughed at the ludicrous accusation. "I swear on my brother's life that the two of you drank the same damn liquor!"

"See? Cough it up," Logan said as he wiggled his fingers for emphasis. The man swore loudly as he dug into his pocket and tossed him a twenty-dollar bill. He smugly thanked him as he tucked it into his jacket. As he helped Nello collect the shot glasses, he heard Martin call his name and looked over. The joy that was usually present in his tone was absent, and Logan studied him with a curious look as his friend made his way over to his side.

"What the hell is the meaning of all this, Logan?" He demanded, his gray eyes unusually stormy.

"He called me a short Canuck," Logan explained with a grin, trying to lighten Martin's mood.

"You are a short Canuck!"

"Come on, I'm just having a little fun like you told me to." He looked him over again. "What's gotten you so hot-headed?"

Martin sighed and removed his cap to run a hand through what hair he had. "Nothin', don't mind me."

Logan furrowed his brow, his senses telling him the man felt otherwise. "You're lying, Marty."

He swore under his breath before shaking his head. "Weiss said he needs to talk to you, alone. He didn't say why."

Although judging from Martin's mood, the man had a good idea regarding what it was, and it was clear that he didn't approve of whatever Hymie had in mind. Logan didn't bring it up though, and he rose from his seat to head upstairs. He was stopped, however, when he felt Martin seize his arm.

"You know you can deny any job he offers, right?"

Logan tilted his head, and he found that it felt like he was trying to implore him to refuse whatever Hymie had to offer. "I know,"

Martin nodded, and Logan made his way up to the second floor of the restaurant. The men standing guard let him through and he found Hymie at a desk smoking a cigarette. His hawk-like gaze flicked up to him and he exhaled a cloud of gray smoke.

"Logan," he greeted.

"Mr. Weiss,"

"Is it true what you told me about being a sergeant in the Great War?"

"Yes,"

"Are you still good with a gun?"

Logan hesitated. His marksmanship was incredible, but he was leery of where Hymie was going with this. "I am."

Weiss considered this for a moment as he continued to smoke the cigarette in his hand. "I'm sick and tired of seeing that snake, Capone, slipping through our hands. That bastard's going to pay for what he's done, and I need my best men with me to make sure of it."

"What is it that you have in mind?" He now understood why Martin was on edge. Weiss' proposal was confirmation that his desire for vengeance hadn't diminished since the day Logan had met him. The bloodlust was still bright in his eyes, and he was hellbent on revenge, even at the cost of lives. Logan didn't always agree with seeking revenge, but he knew Hymie's plan, whatever it was, would cause all hell to break loose. If Logan could take the place of someone who couldn't heal, of someone who could die, he reasoned taking part in the inevitable chaos was worth it.

"I've been getting together a convoy to take through Cicero where that wop is holed up. We've got the firepower. All I need now is the men to handle it."

"When?"

"Two days from now, are you in?"

"Of course,"

"Good, I'll see you here early Tuesday morning."

Logan nodded and went down the stairs to the main level of the restaurant. In a booth sat Martin who had been waiting for him. The concern was still written all over his face, a deep line carved between his eyebrows. Logan scratched the back of his neck and his friend looked up at him before exiting the booth.

"Well? What did he want?" He asked as he walked over.

Logan hesitated as he chose his words carefully. "He's going to try to take out Capone, and he asked me to help."

"What?" He exclaimed. "Logan, getting in the middle of their blood feud is probably the worst idea you've had in your whole damn life!"

"Easy, Martin! I'm not going to be the only one there." He said, trying to calm down the Irishman.

"I don't care if the whole feckin' Chicago police force is there backing Weiss! If you go, you'll be putting yourself in harm's way." Martin leaned closer and lowered his volume. "What will happen to Jack if you end up shot and bleeding out on the street like—"

Logan furrowed his brow as Martin cut himself short. "Like?"

He sighed, his eyes lowering to the floor before meeting his again. "Forget it, I know how little you heed my advice, but please be careful."

It was obvious to Logan that there was something he wasn't telling him, something that weighed him down and caused him to worry. Perhaps there was something that had always fueled his concern for Logan's safety other than the fact he had Jack depending on him. He had a good guess as to what it was, but it had no grounds. Knowing this, he didn't press further, respecting Martin's silent wish to avoid the topic.

"I will," he finally said.

Martin nodded, and Logan followed him out of the restaurant to the car. Their ride back to the house was filled with a heavy silence. Logan wanted to say something, anything, to break it. But the more he searched for the words, the further out of reach they became. He heaved a sigh and watched Martin as he drove.

"I don't mean to disregard your concerns. After the war, I've found that running head-first into danger has become…instinctive." Logan finally said.

Martin observed him briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "Do you have that shell-shock that people have been talking about?"

"I guess." He mused.

"I thought so. I've noticed it when you're caught off guard. You're jumpy when your mind is elsewhere."

"I suppose that's one way to put it."

"Jack has told me about your nightmares, too."

Logan looked away. Martin was bound to find out about them one way or another, so he wasn't surprised. "I wish I knew how to stop them."

"Me too, boyo." He replied as he parked the car. Logan had intended to ask him what he meant, but Martin had already exited the car and was making his way over to the door. He sighed and opened the car door to join him.

They stepped inside and were greeted by the pleasant smell of broiled chicken and mashed potatoes. The two of them exchanged a quizzical look before venturing further into the house. Inside the kitchen, they found Jack standing beside the stove reading a book. He looked up and flashed a bright smile as he set the navy-blue novel aside.

"You guys are just in time! Dinner is almost done." He said.

"You did this all on your own?" Logan asked.

"Sure, Martin is a great teacher."

The comment seemed to restore the Irishman's joy and the corners of his mouth lifted high, his eyes sparkling once again. "It smells delightful! I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks," his hazel eyes flicked over to Logan and his smile dropped a hair. "You look exhausted."

"That's what happens when you take twenty-five shots of whiskey," Martin commented as he folded his arms across his chest.

Jack's brow furrowed. "You what?"

"I'm fine, Jack. Everything's fine." Logan insisted.

"Why the hell did you have to drink twenty-five?" His tone had changed, becoming terser and showing glimpses of thought patterns only Logan was aware of. Jack knew what Logan's healing factor was capable of, and he was no doubt registering what could've happened if someone had noticed how sober Logan had been.

"A man insulted his height, so he decided to challenge him to a drinking contest," Martin explained.

"Logan!"

He groaned. Martin wasn't helping, and he was sure the Irishman knew it. "Listen, nothing happened! I won my twenty bucks and that was that."

Jack ran a hand over his face before shaking his head. "I can't believe you."

"Well, believe it or not, that's what happened."

He walked over to Logan who now had to look up to maintain eye contact. It dawned on him that the boy had grown considerably in the last two years. His face was longer and more angular, gradually losing the softness of childhood.

"You don't need to prove yourself to anyone, Logan. When are you going to see that?"

Logan opened his mouth to argue otherwise but found himself at a loss for words.

Jack sighed and resumed his place by the pot on the stove as Logan scratched the back of his neck, casting a sideways glance at Martin who shifted his weight. He'd fallen unusually silent, his eyes avoiding Logan's by staring at the book Jack had left on the counter.

"What are you reading there, boyo?" Martin asked. Logan was thankful for the break in silence regardless of how simple the question was.

"It's called 'The Great Gatsby'. It's a new one by Fitzgerald, about a year old I think? He's the one who wrote 'This Side of Paradise'."

"I'm not much of a reading man, so I can't say I've heard of either of them."

"It's a…" he waved his hand as he tried to find the words, "social commentary."

"I see," he mused. "you tend to read quite a few of those."

"Disillusionment tends to bring the best out of writers. It evokes a sense of realism and relatability that can be difficult to find in other stories."

Martin quirked an eyebrow at Logan who responded with a half shrug.

"Come on, Logan, you know exactly what I'm talking about. Don't play dumb." Jack huffed as he made three plates full of steaming food.

"I may have read bits and pieces of those stories, but I'm more familiar with the 'disillusionment' than I am with the books." He said.

"Same difference. Let's just eat before the food gets cold."


Logan stared at the Thompson submachine gun in his hands. If he wasn't about to use it aiding Hymie's plight for revenge, he would've been able to fully appreciate its beauty compared to the rudimentary Huot rifle he'd used in combat. The wood grain of the stock was a deep mahogany and shined like new, and it was saturated with the scent of fresh gun oil. The man next to him in the backseat of the Model T elbowed him in the ribs. Logan frowned and looked over at the grinning young man who had earlier introduced himself as Russell.

"Hey, if you like the gun so much why don't you marry it?"

Logan rolled his eyes before flashing the blond a smirk. "I just might. She'd at least have better jokes than you."

A man named Sam Peller slapped the steering wheel as laughter escaped him. "Damn, Russ! Should I call the police station to report a murder?"

"Oh, shut the hell up!" He muttered, although a smile still pulled at the corner of his mouth. Logan chuckled to himself, glad that he was with some men whose sense of humor persevered in spite of the grim task ahead. He stared out the window at the brick buildings as they drove down West Twenty-Second Street before glancing behind him at the other cars following. Surely this would be it for Capone. They had the firepower and they had the numbers. Now all they needed to do was to make history.

His eyes flicked up to the Hawthorne Restaurant's sign, and he drew a deep breath in through his nose as he lowered the window. This was it, and there was no turning back. Logan cleared his mind as he slid the clip into place. He gave his combat training full control, letting it take the reins of his thought patterns.

The car slowed to a stop.

Hymie sounded the signal; a single shot fired into the air.

Logan lifted the gun and fired the first twenty rounds into the air as he was instructed to flush out Capone. All hell broke loose as others began to use their pistols to carry out their assault. As Russell opened the car door and stood on the fender to get a better shot, Logan lowered the barrel and unleashed the rest of the hundred round clip into the restaurant.

Their onslaught was over in minutes, and the eight-car caravan drove off. Logan pulled the gun out from the window and set it on the floor before rolling the window back up. It was ten minutes later when Russell broke the silence.

"You think we got him?"

"You saw what we did to that place. There's no way he could've survived that." Sam answered as he parked the car in front of the Rienzi Hotel.

"I don't know, he's survived other attempts."

Logan watched Hymie exit the Model T ahead of them. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see."

The three of them exited the car and followed Hymie and Vincent Drucci into the hotel. Logan handed the Thompson to Drucci before addressing Weiss. "Do you want us to wait around for a while until you know for sure if Capone's alive or not?"

Hymie thought it over as he called the elevator before his steely gaze met Logan's. "Couldn't hurt,"

Logan nodded, and the four of them stepped into the elevator.

When the doors opened, they exited the elevator before Drucci and Weiss stepped inside their office, followed by Russell and Sam. Logan, however, decided it would be better if he lingered outside to keep guard, especially after the scene they made earlier. He spotted an armchair down the hall and dragged it over to the door where he took a seat, rummaged through his jacket for a cigar, and lit the end as he waited. His hand leisurely lifted the cigar from his mouth as he blew out a cloud of smoke in the form of a sigh and listened in on the conversation behind the door.

It was somewhere around two hours later when he had still heard nothing pertinent. He checked the hallway to make sure it was clear before using his hand to finally stub his cigar. A wince distorted his features as he took in a sharp breath through his nose. Once the end was completely out, he tossed the cigar into a nearby trashcan. The sound of someone running down the hall then reached his ears and his hand quickly pulled back to hover over the revolver on his hip as he stood. He waited for the individual to appear, his muscles tense and ready. When he recognized the man, who swiftly rounded the corner, he relaxed and exhaled.

"What are you doing here, Martin?" He asked. The Irishman's eyebrows were drawn together in a frown, and a look of panic was in his eyes. Martin whirled his head around, scanning their surroundings. Logan wasn't sure why, but he knew for certain something was troubling his friend.

"It's Jack, he never came home." He explained in a hushed tone.

Logan felt his stomach drop. "What?"

"I've tried looking around, but I can't find him!"

He glanced at the door to his right before looking at him again. "I'll look for him. Can you—"

"Of course, I'll take your place and stand guard. You just focus on finding the boy."

Logan nodded and strode down the hall before descending the stairs. He exited the hotel, and the cold air hit him like a smack to the face. As his body adjusted to the temperature, he wasted no time in heading towards the high school nearby. It was the best place to start considering that was, hopefully, where Jack had been last. His pace was as brisk as the air as he made his way up Ashland Avenue. It only took fifteen minutes for what was usually a thirty-minute walk when he the four-story building of Lake View High School came into view.

However, he didn't need to walk any further to catch Jack's faint scent in the air. Logan continued to follow it down the avenue before pausing at the corner of West Lawrence Ave. He could tell he was close as he pulled the cold air in through his nose.

Logan continued walking until he found himself in front of one of Balaban and Katz's high-end movie theaters. His eyes flicked up to the marquee and sizeable vertical sign shining brightly in the fading light of dusk. It was the Uptown theater. He'd taken Jack to it before, and he found it strange that the trail had led him to the place. They usually went together, however Logan's free time had been stretched thin as of late. He couldn't blame Jack for going without him.

What he should've done in the warm light of the marquee was go back to the Rienzo and leave Jack alone. The boy had proven time and again that he could take care of himself and stay out of trouble. Yet, Logan's gnawing curiosity got the better of him, and so he bought himself a ticket at the box office and stepped inside.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, the only source of light being the projected picture between the drawn velvet curtains. Logan searched the audience until the sound of Jack's laughter helped him zero in on the boy, and he furrowed his brow.

He wasn't alone. Beside him sat a girl about his age. She joined him in his laughter, her bright gaze lingering on Jack more than the film. The sight of the pair sucked the wind out of him. Jack was old enough to date, and the concept didn't bother Logan. Except, he hadn't expected Jack to do it right under his nose. Indignation climbed up his throat, his muscles tensing as his lips pressed into a thin line. Then Jack's genuine smile, a smile he hadn't seen for far too long, snuffed the feeling like a match dropped into a glass of water.

Here in this theater, he was a normal teenager. At this very moment, there were no powers. There were no close calls with death, and sleepless nights induced by nightmares were forgotten.

Logan stared at the ticket in his hand in shame before taking a seat in the back. He had no right to be a rain cloud hanging over Jack's harmless fun.

The movie ended sooner than Logan expected, and he squinted and blinked a few times as the house lights brightened. As Jack and his date continued to chat, Logan promptly rose from his seat and joined the departing crowd. He stepped outside and took his place amid the crowd talking noisily and loitering in front of the hat store nearby. Although, he couldn't help but wonder in the back of his mind if he blended in or stood out more among them.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Jack and the girl exit the theater and begin walking down the street. He adjusted his fedora to hide his face more and followed the couple from a distance. The sun had completely set by now, and Logan wanted to make sure they were safe.

It was a short walk that led them to a newer development in Ravenswood with two-flat brick apartments that lined the street. Logan was thankful for the lack of street lights as he followed, his gaze constantly shifting between the young couple and their surroundings. They were holding hands, a tentative move made by Jack when they had left the theater. The two of them stopped in front of a lighter apartment building and spoke to one another in hushed tones. Logan stood behind a tree nearly too thin to hide his stocky frame as he watched Jack eventually lean down, placing a light, respectful peck on her cheek before saying goodnight. She flashed him a smile before finally walking up the porch steps and entering the building.

Jack stayed where he was with his hands in his pockets, and in the light of the full moon, Logan could make out a smile on his face. He then turned, his gaze venturing in his general direction. "I know you're there, Logan."

He swore under his breath and stepped out from the shadows before walking over. "How the hell did you know?"

"You taught me well," he shrugged before flashing a cheeky smirk, "and you gave yourself away. I wasn't completely sure if you were even there or not."

"Well played," he said as a grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"I've learned from the best."

Logan couldn't help but laugh at that as they began their walk back to Martin's house. "The best at a lot of things you shouldn't be doing, like sneaking around Chicago with a date."

"It's not like that! I knew you were busy doing who the hell knows what, and I didn't have time to go all the way back home to tell Martin. She had to be back before nine, anyway."

"I know, I'm giving you a hard time." He replied as he elbowed him in the ribs. "Soon enough you'll be able to start your own life and get out of this mess I've dragged you into."

"Who says I want to leave? What if I want to go where you go?"

Logan sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. "Listen, kid, I'm not a good role model. Your father was better at that. I'm just sorry I couldn't save him or your mother."

"No," Jack replied, the firmness of his tone demanding Logan's full attention. His eyebrows were drawn together in a deep frown. "That man only cared about his status in society. He was kind to us, but the ranch always came first. We were just nice little additions to his adulterous, work-obsessed life. Hell, you've been more of a father these last five years than he was for fourteen."

Logan was silent as he let his words sink in, mulling them over and realizing for the first time how much he meant to Jack. He finally chuckled, a little nervously, as he scratched the back of his neck. "Reading all those damn books has turned you into a cynic."

Jack shook his head. "Being a human with powers has turned me into a cynic. We're forced to hide out of fear of becoming a circus act or worse. Thank God I've had you by my side to mentor and protect me." He paused, gathering his thoughts as he studied the clear night sky. "You went to war to fight for noble ideals, for the freedom of thought and expression, but look around you. We're alive thanks to men like you who fought and died, but are we really free? We're hiding like rats in a sewer, and that's what's given me my taste for cynicism."

With neither them unsure of what to say after that, they continued to walk in silence until they boarded a streetcar.

"So, what's her name?" Logan finally asked.

"Ruth, she's in a few of my classes."

He nodded, mostly to himself. "Was that your first date with her?"

Jack shifted his weight in his seat. "Not really. I may have gone out with some friends over the summer with her. We've gone out on a few dates, but you were always out somewhere so I couldn't tell you."

"What?" His brow furrowed. "It never occurred to you to tell me when I got back?"

"I wasn't sure how you'd react!" Jack explained.

"Well, I was fine until I found out you've been hiding it from me."

He nodded as his eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again."

"The truth is all I'm looking for, Jack. This is your life, and it's up to you what you make of it, but I want to be a part of it when I can."

"Yes, sir."

Logan looked over at him, noticing the downcast look that had stolen his smile. He wrapped his arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a side-hug. Jack allowed him to do so, resting his head against his shoulder and closing his eyes.

"You should find someone, Logan, settle down with someone who makes you happy."

Jack's comment took Logan off guard and it was a while before the words finally came to him. "Trust me, it's best that I don't."

"How do you know? You can't let your past cause you to live in fear." Jack replied.

He was silent for the rest of the ride, and he was glad Jack didn't push the subject any further. While Jack had a point, Logan had a nagging feeling that he endangered those around him, whether it was via himself or the chaos he seemed to attract. In addition, the thought of allowing himself to be vulnerable to someone, other than the boy made his blood turn cold. The mere idea of trusting another person like that was terrifying. In the past, if it wasn't death that separated him from someone, it was an act of betrayal.

As their stop came into view, Logan wondered if he would have to wake the boy. Jack, however, lifted his head as the streetcar slowed and Logan pulled his arm back to his side. They exited the tram and shortly after stepped through the front door of Martin's house. Martin, who had been sitting in his favorite armchair, jumped to his feet and rushed over to hug Jack.

"Thank God you're okay!" He sighed.

Jack returned the hug with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry I worried you."

"Where the hell were you?" Martin asked as he pulled away.

"He went to the Uptown Theater with his date," Logan said.

Martin quirked an eyebrow as he eyed the boy. "A date? Why didn't you tell us?"

"You two were busy and you never asked." Jack jested.

"Go wash up, smartass. You've still got school tomorrow." Logan replied.

Jack chuckled at the oddly endearing term and left the room to do as he had been told. Once he was gone, Logan looked over at Martin.

"Well? Any news on Capone?"

"The bastard is still alive. He wants to have a conference to try for peace."

Logan's nose wrinkled in disgust, and he folded his arms across his chest. "Please tell me Weiss knows he's lying through his teeth."

"That's the thing." He said as he shook his head. "Weiss and Drucci have agreed to it."

"You're fucking kidding me!"

"I wish I was."

Logan couldn't believe his ears. "When and where?"

"October fourth at the Hotel Sherman. Capone won't be there, but he's sending Tony Lombardo to do the talking for him."

He muttered under his breath. The arrangement was sketchy but having the two gangsters in the same room would no doubt spark a violent confrontation. Tensions were higher than ever, and the two would be glad to go at each other's' throats if given the opportunity. "So, two weeks from now?"

"That's the plan."