Logan's Log: Stardate 1.3.25


Heh. So much has happened since I learned the truth. I used to be a nerd, chubby and wearing thick glasses, but that changed…well, maybe I should start at the beginning…

It was a great Tuesday, birds chirping, blue sky; generally just a really good day. That's when the trouble started.
I heal fast, faster than any other person, and I have a short temper.
Anyhoo, I was at school, and there was a fight between Conan and Dean, two of the biggest bullies in school, so I joined the large crowd surrounding the combatants.
Conan was beating away at Dean, who was on the ground, when Dean leapt up with a switchblade knife. He lunged at Conan again and again, until Conan was backed up into the crowd, near me. Dean swiped at his opponent, missed and accidentally stabbed me in the gut!
Pain! Oh, the pain was unbearable! It felt like fire burning in my stomach, spreading like wildfire! Dean wrenched the knife out of my gut and the pain was worse! I looked down at the wound, a gaping hole in my body, and everything started to swirl and spin, and I blacked out.
* * * * * * *
Now, I'm not too sure what had happened next, but I heard from the doctors, nurses, Dean, Mom, and the principal that after the ambulance arrived, my wound was gone! Disappeared! I knew that I heal quickly, and so does my mom, but I didn't know I could heal THAT fast!
Word about this "Miracle Kid" spread quickly through the country and doctors and specialists performed hundreds of tests on me: running, pressure points, being slammed around by a pro wrestler, etc.; but nobody could find out what happened that day I was stabbed. So they released me out of the hospital, leaving the doctors baffled.
Later that night, I found my mom in her bedroom looking at a photo of her hugging a man with an odd hairstyle. The breeze from the open window flipped her hair around her face.
"Mom?" I asked, sitting on the bed and indicating the man, "Who's that?"
"That," she said, tears welling in her eyes, "is your father, Logan." She pointed at the man. "We were so happy together, before we got separated."
"When was that?" I asked.
"Before you were born. He left me pregnant. Said he had to go on some top-secret mission in some country warring with the U.S."
"Does this have something to do with the incident a few days ago?"
She cleared her throat. "Yes," she said. "I waited for him to come back, back to see you, but he never came. I still named you after him, though. I loved him, Logan." She looked at me, tears streaming down her face. "I truly loved--"
She was cut off by a loud crash coming from the kitchen. I looked in that direction, then back to Mom. She was making weird gaping movements with her mouth, then fell face-first onto the floor. I looked at her. Dozens of tiny little holes oozing blood were all over her back, soaking her shirt and staining the carpet. Blood flowing across the floor, in the hall, and onto my shoes.
Oh my God, I thought, and rushed down to take her pulse, but there wasn't one! No, no, no no nononononono! Don't die! No!
Then all these army-type guys holding giant guns with silencers on them rushed into the room. They were dressed from head to toe in black, and the words "Dept. H" was visible in yellow stitching above the right breast pocket. They grabbed me with their black-gloved hands and dragged me to my feet. One of them grabbed handcuffs from their belt and cuffed me behind my back, and another one hit me in the head with the butt of his gun.
The room swirled and spun, I saw stars, and I got a wave of nausea as I blacked out from the pain.