No one at the mansion had the strength or the tears left to show much outward emotion over Kurt's death. Jubilee sat, eyes vacant, almost in a fugue state, Warren's wings and face sagged, and Jean…Jean had shut herself off. "Go to bed," she told Jubilee. The younger girl slowly raised herself from the stoop and followed Jean inside. Warren caught her shoulder.
"You okay, Jean?" They both knew it was a stupid question. She simply shook her head, and dragged up the stairs to bed. Warren took a moment to sweep up the tracked dirt from the police and emergency workers, feeling much to hyped up to sleep or even sit down. He couldn't believe that Wolverine was a murderer—well he could. But not murders like this. Warren hadn't become a multibillionaire by ignoring people's subliminal signals. Logan was a killer—but the person who had murdered Mariko and Kurt was evil. That was something Logan had never stooped to. Warren sighed and set the broom aside. He started for the broad main stairs when it fell with a thwack, making Warren jump slightly and spun around. The startling sound took a far back seat to the figure standing in front of the door with his arms crossed. "Logan!" Warren shouted.
"Hush now," said Logan, stepping towards him. "No need to tell the whole house." Warren felt his mouth hanging open.
"Logan, how did you get in? Where have you been?"
"I've been right here," said Logan. "Just fortuitously out of sight until our friends in blue cleared out."
"Do you realize how this looks?" said Warren. "Those people out there think you're a killer. A heartless, cold-blooded killer." Logan suddenly stepped forward and grabbed the taller man by the front of his T-shirt.
"You know what, Warren?" he hissed. "That's exactly what I want them to think." Warren felt cold gather inside of him.
"You…" he breathed. "You're…" Logan stepped back and extended his claws, very businesslike.
"Save your breath for the screaming, Bird Boy." He drove his claws to the ends into Warren's midriff. Angel didn't actually get a chance to scream. His life left him too quickly for that.
Logan reached the mansion at twilight. He saw the squad car parked at the gate a split second before the officer looked up, and screeched down the side street. He parked the Norton behind some bushes and vaulted the wall around the school. He raced across the soccer field and the back lawn, found the key to the back door of the mansion and let himself in. The kitchen was empty and dark. "Jean!" he shouted. "Jubilee! Warren!" He almost yelled out for Kurt, then remembered. "GAAHHHHH!" Logan screamed, overturning the heavy kitchen table, sending clean plates and student's textbooks crashing down.
"Logan!" shouted a voice from behind him. He spun.
"Jean." She was wearing sweatpants, hair flying out in a cloud. She looked more utterly tired than he had ever seen her.
"Oh, god, Logan," she said, coming over and squeezing him hard. He stroked a hand through her hair.
"It's okay, Jeannie." She pulled back, red eyes tearing again.
"No, it isn't, Logan. You have to turn yourself in." He gripped her shoulders.
"I killed Victor, Jeannie. No way in hell I'm turning myself in. Not while he's—" He cut himself off abruptly. Jean sensed his thought shift.
"Tell me, Logan. Tell my why everyone is dying, and why the police think you're the one who killed them." He stepped away from her.
"I can't, Jean. You wouldn't understand, and I can't tell you. Just forget it." Jean walked up to him and slapped him across the face, hard.
"You will tell me what the hell is going on here and you will tell me now." Jubilee coughed at the kitchen door.
"You came back." Logan turned to her.
"Kid, I can explain…"
"Don't call me kid," said Jubilee. "And please. Explain. Make it good." Logan frowned at her tone.
"Sit down, both of you." Jean led Jubilee into the living room and they both sat on the couch, facing Logan like a tired, angry tribunal. "That photo Jean got is from the Department H archives," he said. "This will make more sense if I explain some stuff. First off, the seeds for this were planted in 1947 with the Roswell landing."
"Oh, Jesus Christ," said Jean. "Logan, the truth is the only thing that can possibly save you right now, you are not helping yourself!"
"Read my mind, Jean," he said quietly. "Read it and you can tell this is true." Jean pursed her lips, but she left his thoughts alone.
"The Roswell ship was a Shi'ar transport that had gone way off course and got trapped in our gravitation. It crashed and got taken to Area 51. Twenty years later Department H got a hold of it and stripped off the technology to use in their facilities."
"The height of the Cold War," said Jubilee. "When you were on Weapon X." Logan nodded. He noticed Jean's anger had faded and she was simply listening.
"They built things you wouldn't believe, Jeannie…an amplifier for Wraith's teleporting, satellite communicators that could crack through anything we have today…"
"They designed the adamantium process with the tech, didn't they?" said Jean suddenly. Logan nodded once, tightly.
"Not only the tubes. That was the just the beginning. They knew I had a five- percent chance of survival, even with my healing factor. The bastards rigged up another tube."
"For what?" said Jean.
"An artificial chromosome/DNA reproduction unit," said Logan, reciting the phrase heavily. "In other words…they cloned me."