A/N: Thanks to those of you who left a review. I'm leaving for vacation today, so you won't see another update for a while. As always any feedback is appreciated.
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just play a little
He'd discover long ago that he did some of his best thinking when he was hitting someone. Or in this case something. Over and over, like twin pistons, Logan's fists slammed into the heavy bag. The meaty smacked echoed through the empty gym, as the bag swung on a chain suspended from the ceiling. He'd been at it for nearly forty minutes, but then he had a lot to think about.
She was afraid of him. At first he didn't know what to do with that, so he reacted in a normal Loganesque manner. He ran. Marched right into the garage, jumped on his bike and took off roaring into the morning. After a while he stopped at the seediest bar he could find, walked in and ordered a bottle. He just wanted to hit something, but unfortunately there wasn't anyone there willing to oblige him.
Of the half dozen people present, two were sleeping at the bar, and the other three looked to be drinking up their Social Security checks. Then there was the bartender. Not exactly prime bar fight material. With a tired shrug he finished the bottle and ordered another, chugging it down fast enough that for a few minutes even his healing factor couldn't keep up. He considered the fifty bucks well spent, buying him a little relief from the pain. He really wanted to drink some more, but didn't have enough money. So he left the goggled eyed bartender staring as he walked out. By early afternoon, almost out of gas, he'd returned to the mansion, making his way down to the gym.
He continued to pummel the bag, his outward manner detached, while his mind was in turmoil. How could he blame her, after she'd seen what he was? Still it hurt. Physical pain he could deal with, it was the price of his mutation. But the emotional variety was something he had schooled himself to avoid. This was a bitter reminder of why. He knew she found him attractive. Janet's interest in him was a heady thing, something he'd never bothered to examine too closely, afraid of what he might find behind it all. He had treated his own feelings for her in the same way. Feelings like he had for Jean, only different, stronger. Better, because he believed that they were returned, that she felt the same way about him. So he ignored the doubts that sometimes bothered him, not wanting to rock the boat, or worse, find out he was wrong. Maybe he was a coward, at least when it came to this kind of stuff.
But there was nothing for it now. He didn't know much about love, but he was pretty sure it was incompatible with being afraid of the person that you were supposed to love. Whatever they had, it didn't seem likely to him that it could overcome what lay between them. The nature of his mutation, the rage that he carried inside. She had seen him as he really was and recoiled in fear. And the thing of it was, he didn't blame her one bit. The more he reflected on it, the more he realized what a fool he was. What the hell was he doing here? Summers was right, he was dangerous. It was only a matter of time before he hurt one of the kids, before his temper and violent urges precipitated a disaster. It was time to go. But first, he'd take care of a few things.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway broke him out of his thoughts, then he looked at the bag and cursed. There was blood on it. Pausing his assault, Logan looked at his hands which were also bloody, the left one split at the knuckles. Before Scott Summers walked into the gym, five seconds later; it was perfect again and Logan was already stalking toward the locker room.
"Logan," he called out, "the Professors wants to see you in his office. He said…Jesus…what the hell happened now?"
"Relax Cyke, I'll clean it up." The sound of water running, then a few seconds later, Logan emerged with some towels.
"I take it this is your blood."
"No Summers, just thought I'd sever someone's arm and use it ta redecorate. What the hell does Chuck want?
"Donald's here. She has some changes she wants to make to the security grid. She also has a request from her boss. Something about…" his voice trailed off as Logan began wiping the blood off the heavy bag. "I don't get it, how did you…"
"Wasn't payin attention."
"You weren't paying attention," Scott repeated incredulously.
"Just drop it, would ya Cyke," Logan growled. "What kind of shit is Fury dumping on us now?"
"I don't know. I suppose we'll find out soon enough," Scott grumbled. There was a pause as Logan finished the clean up. "Have you talked to the Professor about…"
"Not yet," Logan cut him off, "I've been thinkin."
"Thinking?"
"Damn it, ya gonna just keep repeatin everything I say ta ya?"
"No…I just thought you would have been anxious to talk to him about it."
"I am. And now's as good a time as any." Logan tossed the soiled towels into the waste basket. "You tell him anything?"
"No I haven't. He asked about last night of course. I said it would be better if we made our report together."
"Thanks Summers," came the gruff reply. "Tell him I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
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"Xavier, we need ta talk."
Logan's deceptively calm voice cut through the conversation the Professor was having with Lisa Donald about her proposed security improvements. Nevertheless it immediately put Xavier on his guard. First, Logan never called him anything but Chuck. Then there was the emotions he was giving off. While the Professor would never pry too closely, he was always careful to keep an eye on Logan's emotional state. Right now it was a confusing mixture of anger and sadness. Glancing at Scott, he could tell that whatever it was that Logan wanted to discuss, this was no surprise to the leader of the X-Men.
"Ms. Donald, if you would give us a few minutes."
"Of course Professor," she replied in a sour tone. After retrieving her charts, she made a hasty exit.
Xavier took in Logan's stony expression, noticed that Scott was refusing to meet his gaze and gave a mental shrug. "I take it this has something to do with your trip last night. What did you find?" That directed to Scott. Logan supplied the answer.
"Had a little talk with Lenscherr."
"Eric was there," Xavier exclaimed, before turning back from Logan to Scott, his shock quickly giving way to anger. "Scott, how could you fail to inform me that he was there! What did he…"
"Didn't say nothin ta Summers," Logan interrupted, in a flat, emotionless voice. "Called us on a cell. Had some things he wanted ta say ta me." The nonplussed look on Xavier's face did give him a slight sense of satisfaction. It wasn't easy to catch the Professor off guard.
"Eric talked to you," came the terse reply. "And so you are here to ask me if it is true."
"Why Xavier," Logan asked, in a soft, dangerous tone. "Why did you fucking lie ta me?"
"While I admit to withholding some things from you, I have never told you a lie Logan."
He could feel the bitter rage, like bile in his throat. The burning sensation that itched between his knuckles. "It's the same damn thing and you know it. Why?"
Xavier seemed to deflate before his eyes, as he slumped back into the high tech wheel chair that he usually sat on like a throne. Reaching for the cup on his desk, he took a sip, grimacing at the taste of the cooling tea.
"Logan, when you first came hear, I had not laid eyes on you in nearly twenty years. I did not immediately recognize you. When I came to realize you had no memory of our brief acquaintance, I decided that for the time being I would not mention our past history. It seemed to me at the time, that if I divulged the fact that we had known each other, it would only inflame your suspicions. Plus there was that fact that I really didn't know anything that would be of interest to you."
"You knew my name Xavier. Didn't you think I'd be interested in that?"
"I believed at the time that it would be best if your memories returned on their own. I still do. Learning random details might satisfy your curiosity, but it cannot give you back the life you once had."
"My name ain't a fucking detail," he snarled. Turning away from Xavier, he walked over to the huge window. "Ya had no right ta keep shit like this from me."
"I understand how you would feel that way and I will apologize if that is what you want. But I stand by my earlier decision. Think about it Logan. Has what you learned from Colonel Fury been helpful to you in any way?"
"Just more fucking questions," he muttered, staring out the window. Looking back over his shoulder, he fixed Xavier with a piercing gaze. "I ain't interested in yer apologies Chuck. And I don't give a shit what ya think I need. Just tell me all of it, everything ya know."
"Very well Logan. I shall be happy to do so."
And the thing of it was, that was true. While he didn't think it would do Logan much good (after all, it was his memory), it would certainly be no hardship for him. Quite the opposite. The memory of that day in the fall of 1986 was one he had come to cherish. He and Eric were still together and their disagreements, while growing more frequent, had not begun to poison their relationship. Those times always stood out in his mind as among the happiest of his life.
Then there was the effect the actual meeting had on him. He had been forcefully reminded of that fact that they were not alone. Fellow mutants continued to turn up in the most unexpected ways. That day he made a decision. He would no longer be passive in seeking out his brothers and sisters. He would find a way to locate them, communicate with them. Later, faced with the responsibility of caring for and educating the young girl whom Logan would bring back to him, he would set out on a new course in life. One that lead almost directly to this school and the X-Men. As he related to Logan and Scott what had taken place on that day, he realized what a poor substitute his account was for the memories he had. While he had never made the mistake of feeling sorry for Logan, this observation brought him very close to it.
The location that was given was odd to say the least. A small town in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan called Sault Saint Marie. When Charles told Eric about their destination he had grumbled about needing to purchase a fur coat. Xavier had laughed at that, but the grumbling had not stopped and now he was merely annoyed. It didn't help that the complaint had turned out to contain a grain of truth. Even though it was only the middle of September, there was a chill wind blowing through the park. Charles knew it was Eric giving voice to his frustration, which to be sure he shared. After all they had been given only twenty-four hours to get there from Manhattan.
The note had been very specific. They were to wait on the easternmost of three large metal viewing platforms that overlooked the Soo Locks. While crowded with tourists during the summer months, fall found Charles and Eric standing alone on the empty steel tower, shivering in the stiff wind. Charles had counted seven people scattered through the park, none younger then sixty.
"Tell me again Charles, why we are on this delightful holiday? Is this person really worth all this bother, or is it that you have hidden from me a fetish for large boats."
He smiled, grateful for Eric's returning good mood. "As you well know Eric, this wasn't my idea. I asked Nicolas who he would recommend for this and he told me that there was only one man for the job."
"One man," his friend scoffed. "We don't need their help with this Charles. I don't see why you insist on this ridiculous cloak and dagger game. These people have no means of resisting our power."
"Certainly you would be correct, if we knew where they were holding the child, or even who they are. But we don't, and so we must utilize the skills of someone who can find her for us. As to the rest, you know perfectly well what would happen if we revealed ourselves."
"Haven't you already done so," snapped Eric. "You may trust Fury but I most certainly do not."
"You're smart not to trust him, I sure don't."
The low gravelly voice startled them and they quickly turned to face it. He was standing at the top of the stairs, wearing jeans, a Soo Locks tee-shirt, and a leather jacket. A baseball cap with the name of a ship on it almost covered his eyes. Eyes that darted back and forth, eyes that took in everything. After a few moments he stepped fully unto the platform and walked over to lean casually on the railing. The silence stretched out until the new arrival finally broke it.
"You need me to find someone for you." It was not a question. And the voice that asked, like his face, gave nothing away.
"You are correct," Charles answered. "There is a girl who has…"
"I read everything you sent me," the cool voice interrupted. "Before we talk about anything else you need to answer one question. What do you want with her?"
"If you read the materials then you already know the answer to that."
"I want to hear you say it. What do you two want with her?"
There was no hiding the fury written on Eric's face. "What are you implying sir?"
The other man's expression remained absolutely neutral. "Just answer the question Mr. Lenscherr."
"Please Eric," Xavier muttered, griping the other man's shoulder. "Her father was a friend of mine," Charles continued. Despite his best efforts there was more then a hint of anger in his voice. " As I wrote to you, I only recently became aware of what had happened to them. David had concerns about the safty of his family. Before he left for Cairo, he made me promise to look after his little girl if anything should befall them. I intend to keep that promise."
For a time their eyes locked, then Xavier saw a tiny nod and what seemed a slight relaxation of the other man's guarded expression. "Alright Mr. Xavier. In your note you only mentioned that you wanted me to locate her. When I find her, do you want retrieval as well?"
"That would be acceptable. And of course I would be willing to pay you an additional fee for doing this."
"Not necessary. The original amount we agreed on is fine."
"Very well then Mister…"
"Just call me Logan."
"Yes. Well, is there anything else you need…Logan?"
Those eyes scrutinized both of them. Then a small smile. "This kid, is she like you?"
"What do you mean by that," Eric asked, his tone icy.
"Is she a mutant?"
Shocked silence. Then Eric rounded on his friend. "Didn't I tell you! What ever possessed you to think that Fury could be trusted. Who knows how many people he has told."
"Fury didn't say a thing to me."
"He must have," came the stiff reply. "It's the only way that you would have known."
"Mr. Lenscherr," Logan answered softly, "knowing things is my business. Besides you don't need to worry about Fury. Your secret is safe with him."
"I thought you said he was not to be trusted?"
"This isn't about trust. In his profession, knowledge is power. Fury doesn't like to give up power."
"Yes Logan, she is a mutant." Xavier had no idea how this man would know about their secret. Unless…but that was a question for another time. "Although her powers have yet to manifest, there have been indications."
"Does anybody besides you two know?"
"I do not think so. Even her parents were only vaguely aware of her gift. Colonel Fury certainly does not know."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that. Otherwise good. Makes things simpler. Don't know how long this will take. Once I've retrieved her, I'll call you at the number you gave me."
"Very good. We will look forward to seeing you Logan."
"You won't. I'll leave her in the care of Mr. Jones at the Canadian embassy in Cairo. Just tell him that you're there to retrieve the package that Logan left."
As Logan turned to go Charles felt something like panic grip him. "Please…Logan. Would you be adverse to staying in touch with us? I can foresee other circumstances were we might have need of someone with your …abilities."
The other man turned around, the guarded expression having returned. "Abilities?"
The single word seemed to hang in the air. Xavier decided to take a chance "Perhaps a better term might be gifts."
"You are one of us," exclaimed Eric, in a tone bordering on disbelief. "A mutant?"
"No I'm not," came the terse reply. "But I am a mutant." His gaze turned to Xavier, and Charles had to force himself not to flinch. "Gifts," he snickered, shaking his head. "If you need me, just talk to Fury. He can usually get a hold of me." And with that he was gone.
"I don't get it Chuck, why did ya think ya need ta keep this from me?"
"Because Logan," Xavier answered patiently, "hearing this from me does you no real good. Because no matter how many pieces of the puzzle that is your past you gain from others it will not be complete. In order to truly recover your past, you must remember it."
"Come on Xavier. That load of crap might work on the others, but I ain't buyin it. Yer still keepin yer little secrets, ain't ya?"
"Use your senses Logan. Everything I told you is true. I am sorry if the information was not what you wished for, but I can hardly be blamed for that."
A low chuckle escaped the feral man's throat. But there was no humor behind this laugh. "I know it's the truth Chuck, but what I want is what ya didn't tell me. Why are ya holdin back?"
"You have no memory of any of this," Xavier responded in an irritated voice. "Anything you know of what took place between us is because I have told you. Tell me Logan, what kind of information do you imagine that I have not shared with you?"
"What happened ta the girl?"
"It did take several weeks, but you found her. Just as you said you would, you left her in the care of the Canadian embassy."
"Who was she Chuck?" No answer. Logan watched him, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly at the other man's silence. "What's wrong Chuck, don't ya remember?"
"I'm sorry Logan, but I cannot tell you at this time."
"Why the hell not?"
"Perhaps after I have had the opportunity to speak with her."
He was good. Logan knew it wasn't an outright lie. But he was pretty sure it wasn't the truth either. "Fine Chuck. You don't want ta talk about it, I'll find someone that will. You ain't the only one who likes ta keep secrets."
Turning his back to the Professor, he stalked over to the door and opened it. As he expected, Donald was waiting there, pacing back and forth across the hallway. Looking back at Xavier, he smiled.
"Donald, tell yer boss I want ta see him. Same place as the last time. Tonight."
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Hank McCoy's large, clawed fingers danced over the controls as he readjusted the strength of the electromagnetic field. That last blast had nearly shattered the control room's safety glass. He really didn't want to spend the rest of the evening picking it out of his fur. He frowned, flipping a switch that would kick the field up a few extra notches.
"Would you be so kind as to repeat that last one Jubilee? At maximum intensity once more please."
"Come on Hankster," she whined, glaring up at him from inside the Danger Room. "We've been down here an hour already. If I'm gonna make that movie with Kit-Kat, I need to head up pretty soon. I'm tired of blowing things up."
Hank grimaced, imagining the reaction he would get when he told her that it would probably take several more sessions to gather all the data he needed. Hank wondered if he could get Logan to tell her. After all he would heal.
"Please my dear, just one more. And I need you to try and make it as close to the last one in explosive force as you can."
He needed comparison data to measure how much energy was expended when Jubilee used her gift. Since she had not yet mastered exactly how to control that, Hank used multiple readings and took the average. This final round was at her highest output. Hence the shielding.
Hank watched closely as the young woman's hand began to glow, the eerie green incandescence creeping up her arm until suddenly the hand shot out in front of her, producing a ball plasma that hurdled across the room to explode against the far wall. The blast shield that had sprung up to protect her from the shock of the detonation slowly receded back into the floor, even as the ventilation fans kicked in, drawing out the thin wisps of smoke.
"Excellent work Jubilation. Why don't you avail yourself of the showering facilities and then come up here. There is some data from the tests you should see."
"You got it dude. Just like remember to speak English Hankster. And ya gotta hurry or I won't get ta see Johnny D tonight."
Hank couldn't help but smile. While Jubilee could be difficult at times, he enjoyed her enthusiasm. A few deft flicks of his fingers and the Danger Room was shut down. He began pouring over the data, lost in thought; when he heard the door open. Without pausing to look up he called out to her.
"Jubilee, please be patient. I am still extrapolating this data. You have plenty of time to…"
"Sorry Hank, I can come by later if you don't have the time right now." Startled, Hank looked up from his work to see Janet standing by the door.
"No need for that. Our session is at an end. I was merely examining the results of the experiments that Ms. Lee and I were performing."
"Experiments," she snorted, "is that what you call it when you start rattling the walls around here?"
"Indeed," Hank said as he examined her closely. Janet looked fatigued he thought, but otherwise appeared to be doing better. "How are you feeling my dear?"
Instead of answering him she walked over to the chair beside him, plopping down with a sigh. "I'm really tired Hank. And still a little sore. But that's not what I want to talk to you about."
Hank frowned at the signals she was giving off. From the dejected slump of her shoulders, to the downcast expression that she wore, Janet was radiating sorrow.
"What is troubling you so?"
She tried to smile, but Hank thought it looked more like a grimace. "I screwed up big time Hank. I guess I need some advise from you, but first I need to tell you what happened."
"Please do so," he encouraged, trying to put her at ease with a smile.
In a strong, steady voice, Janet told him all of it. Of the dream that woke her in the middle of the night. Of what had happened earlier in the day. Of how she had reacted to Logan's sudden appearance during breakfast. Of how even now she couldn't help the dread she felt when she thought of what she had witnessed when Creed and Logan had fought. When she was done, she was relieved that there are no tears.
"You know," he said softly, "what happened, while regrettable, is not something that you really had the ability to control."
"I don't accept that Hank. None of this should have been a surprise to me. I know Logan has…well problems relating to what happened to him. I knew what he was capable of given the right circumstances."
"Did you really?"
"Ok," she said after taking a deep breath, "I thought I knew. It wasn't…I guess I wasn't as tough has I thought. He's told me a lot about what they did to him, pretty much everything he remembers, so that he would react violently to being attacked wasn't a surprise. Plus there are other things; the flashbacks and dreams, hyper vigilance, the need for control, all classic Post Traumatic symptoms. I thought I could handle it. But you're right, it was more then I was ready to see I guess."
"Janet, I think you are making a false assumption. I have no doubt that the terrible things that were done to him are in some small measure one cause of what you have observed. But regardless of the horrors he as suffered, Logan would certainly be the most violent person you have ever known."
"I don't…what are you saying Hank?"
"That you do not know Logan as well as you think. It is not surprising really. You observe a certain set of character traits, learn that the person who exhibits them has been horribly brutalized, and assume the connection. While I will admit that Logan still suffers from the affects of what was done to him, there is a more fundamental reason why he acts as he does."
She remembered the first time she'd seen his claws, how he had acted that night. Why hadn't she been afraid then? Only she had. When those things came out of his hands. She had told herself afterwards, when she'd found out how it was that he had metal claws, that they weren't really part of him. It was something that had been done to him. That became her mantra to everything about the man that made her uneasy. Or in the case of what she had seen yesterday, frightened her. And now Hank was telling her that she was wrong.
"Are you telling me that the reason is his mutation?" At his nod she shook her head, the words pouring out of her. "How can that be Hank. I know you both have the same gift and I've never seen you…"
"Janet," Hank interrupted, "while our gifts are similar there are important differences. There is also that fact that I…" Hank stopped suddenly his gaze turning from her to the open door. "Jubilee, you may come in now."
She sauntered in, a mischievous grin on her face, still dressed in the black leather uniform that Hank had insisted she wear for the tests. "Dude, you ready ta show me your science stuff? Otherwise I'm gonna motor."
Hank frowned, knowing that Jubilee had overheard at least part of their conversation. "Please wait here a moment Ms. Lee." Gesturing for Janet to join him, he walked out of the control room, closing the door after Janet had made her exit.
"She heard us," the woman groaned.
"Almost certainly," Hank agreed, feeling badly for her. "But I will talk to her. I will make sure she understands how disagreeable these tests can be if I were to become angry with her."
"Thanks Hank," she said in a dull voice, but when she started to go he stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"If you wish, we can talk further on this matter. I do not make friends easily. Nevertheless I have become fond of both you and Logan. I would like very much to help you both resolve this misunderstanding."
"Marie told me that I should talk to you. That you'd be able to explain things to me." She looked away for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. "I don't know if there's anything you can do. Right now I have no idea what I'd even say to him. Or if he'd even listen."
"He does care for you Janet. I had the opportunity to observe him in the medlab when he came to see you. I am by no means an expert on romance, but even I could tell that you are special to him. One would hesitate to say such a thing about Logan, but I believe that it is true. Am I wrong in thinking you feel the same way?"
"No," she answered fiercely, "You're not. Hank I love him. I want him to want me, but even more I want him to be happy. He needs that so much Hank. Rogue told me that he doesn't think he deserves to be happy."
Hank opened his mouth…and then shut it. Of course he realized; Marie would know. Janet watched him as his expression shifted from dismayed, to thoughtful, before suddenly breaking into a huge grin. To her amazement, he began to rub his massive paws together.
"Do you know my dear," he chuckled, "there is nothing I enjoy more then a challenge."
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"What do you mean ya don't know! That's bullshit Fury and you know it."
Fury winced, but not because of the tone of Logan's voice. He simply didn't like to admit that there were things he didn't know. Almost as much as he hated being back here. At least tonight there were some actual bikers at the Dew Drop Inn. When he'd looked at the expense reports last week, he'd almost busted a gut. The damn place was turning a profit.
"Damn it Logan, it wasn't a SHIELD operation. I was just the middle man. Xavier wanted a recommendation, so I turned him on to you."
Let me get this straight," Logan growled, after taking another shot. "Chuck didn't tell you a thing about this? And you never found out anything on yer own? Cause you really weren't interested in mutants back then, were ya?"
"Xavier wasn't that easy to get a handle on. Back then he didn't mind using his ability to cover his tracks. Plus you wouldn't tell me a damn thing. Said it was none of my fucking business."
"Crap," he muttered, before knocking back another drink, "Well, it's been fun Fury." But before he could get out of the chair Lisa Donald walked up to them, sitting down next to Fury.
"Sorry I'm late Colonel Fury."
"What the hell are you doin here?"
"I asked her to come," Fury answered him quietly, fingering the envelope. "I needed her to bring me this."
"Ok Fury, I'll bite. What the hell is it."
"Something I want you to do for me."
And there it was. The thing he'd been ignoring (one of many) since he'd last seen Fury. Did he really need any more complications right now? Did he really think he could trust him? No and no. But on the other hand, this would certainly make some things a little easier. Besides, doing things for Fury didn't necessarily mean doing what he wanted. But the clincher for Logan was that it would probably piss Xavier off.
"Show me what ya got."
"Your kidding? Just like that."
"No, not just like that," Logan scowled, glaring at the man. "I'll hear you out, but it's my choice. Always. I ain't gonna take any of yer shit Fury. You screw with me an yer never gonna see it comin." The other man started to talk, but Logan slammed his hand on the table, cutting him off. "I ain't done yet. You want somethin from me, fine. I want somethin from you."
"You'll get those files."
"Just not the ones about Xavier eh?"
"Damn it I told you…"
"Yeah, right. Ya don't have em." Logan poured himself another shot. "So, I get the files you told me about. When?"
"Three weeks," Fury offered, holding up a hand to forestall Logan's objection. "Some of them aren't available from the SHIELD archives. They won't be easy to get."
"Three weeks." It was said with the same tone a man would use to describe the fly he'd found in his soup. "There's something else I want. Anything you got on Lenscherr or any of the fuckers who work for em. Especially the blue bitch and Creed."
"What for? I already send Xavier everything that comes to us on…"
"Not Xavier. Me. And Chuck don't need ta know anything about this."
Fury pulled a cigar out, spend a few seconds fussing before setting a match to it. Leaning back he puffed away, eyes unfocused. "Why?"
"Let's just say I'm doin Chuck a favor. One he ain't likely ta be too happy about."
"We'll pass along whatever we get." Turning to Donald, Fury waved his hand. "Tell him."
Logan lit a cigar of his own and they both smoked like Yugo's as Donald described the problem. A group of young, possibly homeless mutants, were suspected in a string of petty thefts and break-ins that had occurred in the last few weeks in Greenwich Village. Being rather busy with armed robberies, rapes, and murders, the New York Police had paid little attention to the complaints until three days ago, when something finally caught their attention. At that point Logan interrupted by blowing smoke in her face.
"How the hell do ya know they're mutants?"
"Police reports state that's the word on the street. Man who was harassing a hooker on Cornelia Street had his car flipped over."
"The girl do it?"
"Says he doesn't remember," she offered, "and he probably doesn't. Concussion."
"What else?"
"The usual…reports of people flying, turning different colors, sticking to walls…"
"What the hell," grunted Logan, "a Spiderman mutation?"
"You're a real scream Logan."
"You don't got shit Fury." Logan said, taking another puff. "Bunch of people probably drunk off their asses are seeing mutants, and you want me ta investigate?"
"Damn it, will you just listen for a minute. Tell him the rest Donald."
"Two night ago, several police officers responding to reports of a disturbance at a dance club, forced their way into a rest room. They found a man, in what they described in their report as a semi-conscious state. They also found this."
The photograph showed a gaping hole in the wall. One of the metal partitions used to divide the toilet stalls had been wrenched off it's mounting and used to block the door. Logan studied the photograph. Plaster, glass, and bricks littered the floor.
"According to the victim," Donald went on in a tired voice, "who was an off duty police officer; the young woman approached him with an offer of sex in exchange for money. Once they entered the restroom he tried to make an arrest. She attacked him, knocked the hole in the wall and took off down the alley. He was in pretty bad shape, so his recollection was a little fuzzy."
"I'll just bet it was," Logan smirked. "If she crashed through that wall, how come all that shit is inside the john. Girl probably never touched him. When the wall collapsed, it must a knocked him for a loop. Someone else was helpin her."
"Yeah," Fury grunted around his cigar, "We pretty much figured all that out. Got a man inside the force who confirmed it. But the police are sticking with this guy's story. And they're looking for her on assault charges now."
"You got a description?"
Donald pulled out another piece of paper. "White female, between seventeen and twenty-four. Under five-four, dressed in a short black leather skirt, a black tank top and black boots. She had piercings on her nose, lips, and tongue."
"Come on Donald! Do ya got any idea how many women are running around New York City dressed like that? Did the cops even see her? Did she leave anything behind?"
"The cop she is alleged to have attacked wasn't too clear on what she looked like. But the police did find several people in the bar who were able to describe her well enough for an artist to render a drawing." She place the three sketches side by side on the table. While the clothing was identical, the face was different on each one.
"Son of a bitch. She's a damn shifter." Crushing his cigar out Logan stared at the drawings, shaking his head. "It fucking hopeless. No name, no face, hell you don't even know if she's with this gang of kids the cops are looking for. You got nothing Fury."
"Actually that's not true. Boss, the reason I was late. Um…she…well she did leave something behind…so to speak."
"Damn it Donald," Fury ground out, scowling at the woman, "why the hell didn't you tell me when ya got here?"
"Well sir…it's not really what we expected. Not really something that's going to help. Just an...article of clothing."
"Perfect," he practically shouted, smiling for the first time since Logan had arrived. "If she wore it, then Logan should be able to use it."
"Um…she definitely did wear it sir. Colonel Fury I'm not quite sure how that works."
"Never mind Donald, just show us what you got."
She pulled an envelope out of her attaché case. Tearing off the top, she spilled the contents unto the table. One black silk thong. A short silence followed. Then Logan started to laugh.
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