Kitty and John had landed in the garage, one floor below their goal, Dr. Grey's medical lab. They sat up and brushed themselves off. Almost all of the lights were off except for the emergency lights which always lit the lower levels, so the room had a sort of an eerie look about it, with dark lumps parked here and there and occasional bands of light breaking up the darkness. It was slightly unnerving considering all that had been going on that morning. Then Kitty heard it. Giggling. Coming from one of the darker corners of the garage. Only two of the Senior X-Men had been unaccounted for --Ororo and Logan -- and none of the others would have had time to reach the garage yet unless they had fallen through the floors like she and John had. And the giggling didn't sound female. Kitty and John looked at each other in horror.
It was Logan.
But he was unlike any Logan the gang had seen before. They were used to a dark and brooding Logan. One who scowled at everyone and spoke mostly in grunts or gave an occasional growl when he was angry. He did not smile. Or grin. And he never laughed, let alone giggled. Apprehensively the two got up and, keeping low behind the cars, tried to sneak past the dark corner. And they would have succeeded too, if John hadn't tripped over Logan's "burglar alarm," made up of string, old tin cans and some empty bottles. Logan jumped out from the crates he had been hiding behind, pointed his finger at John and danced a frightening little jig around him all the while repeating "He he hee! I got you! He he hee!"
After struggling to get out of it for several seconds John gave up and lay there, looking up at Logan, suspecting he was mincemeat this time for sure. Logan continued dancing for several long seconds until he started to wind down a little.
"Hey guys!" He said. "I caught you in my trap! Didn't it work great?" He looked at them like a puppy that's just been adopted, and wanted to please his new owners. He was so excited and peppy it was nauseating. When Bobby, Jubilee and Rogue finally made it into the garage half an hour later (thy had to dodge a Beast who was trying to play keep away with Scott and was blocking the stairs), they found John struggling out of the last of his bonds, some of the rope was still smoldering and tiny wisps of smoke fluttered around him. Kitty was sitting dejectedly in a corner while Logan paced back and forth in front of her having an animated conversation with himself, punctuated by broad and flowing hand gestures. Bobby busied himself by getting the whole thing on tape. This needed to be documented for future reference. And blackmail.
As soon as Kitty saw them she jumped up, dodged around Logan and hid behind them. She was shaking.
"Kitty, what's wrong? You're shakin' somethin' awful." Rogue asked.
"You try sitting there for half an hour while Psycho Logan switches back and forth from Wolverine to a junior high kid on a sugar high. It's worse than Jeckyl and Hyde." She peered out from behind Jubilee and put a shaking hand on her shoulder. "He told me like twenty war stories. He just went on and on and on . . . blood and gore and fighting and . . ." she gulped, "it was just horrible. But that's almost normal for him. The worst part was when he acted like he was on a sugar high. He just kept bouncing around and jabbering on and on about nothing, and he kept asking me to play games with him. It was really scary."
"Sounds like Jubilee on a good day." Bobby remarked. There was a brief flash of light and a muffled bang. Bobby yelped. Jubilee gave him a sugary smile.
"I think he's coming out of it though," Kitty continued as though nothing unusual had happened, "His healing factor must be getting rid of the caffeine. "
Suddenly Logan came towards them waving at the camera. "Am I on TV?" He asked.
"Um, yeah!" Bobby said. "We're making a movie about the Institute and we're making you the star Mr. Logan. Smile for the camera."
"It's not Candid Camera is it?" He asked suspiciously.
"No." Bobby was quick to assure him.
"Good. I don't like Candid camera. All those stupid people who can't catch on." He mumbled on for some time and the kids edged away from him. "Hey! Where are you going?" He asked, when they started to troop upstairs.
Thinking quickly Bobby said, "We want to get a shot of you in the medical rooms. After all, that's where you had your first look at the Institute."
Logan seemed to accept this and trailed after them, whining about the bad lighting and insisting they film his "good side" all the way up the stairs.
* * * * * *
Once they reached Dr. Grey's office, Bobby, Rogue, Kitty and Jubilee crowded around John as he tried to hack into Dr. Grey's computer. It wasn't working. And judging from the thumps, bumps and the amount of plaster falling from the ceiling, they were running out of time. And Logan's incessant whining really wasn't helping.
Finally it seemed they were getting somewhere. And just in time. There was a small mountain of plaster and dust on the floor and everyone looked like they were planning to put on a kabuki play. Or earn extra money by acting as mimes in Westchester Park. And there was a sudden silence, which was even more frightening than the noise.
John pulled up all of the papers that Dr. Grey had been working on in the last few months. Who knew that doctors had to publish so much stuff? Eventually they opened a document entitled Various Effects of Common Chemicals on the Mutant Genome. Being that genetics was one of the few classes that most of the student's actually paid attention in (wouldn't you if you were a mutant?) they knew that this was probably what they were looking for. It seemed like Dr. Grey had been yammering on and on and on about it in class several months ago, before vacation.
They scanned that article until they came to what they were looking for. Part seventy-six. The Effects of High Quantities of Caffeine on the Mutant Individual.
"Oh no." Bobby verbalized what they had all been thinking. Horrors. It seemed that high quantities of caffeine, like that found in straight coffee beans, could cause all sorts of abnormalities in mutants. None of them were pretty, but none of them were deadly either, for which there was a collective sigh of relief. Unfortunately, the article stated, no one knew quite how long the abnormalities might last, as the experimentation involved could be described as cruel and unusual punishment.
They were sunk. They were going to jail. They were, no doubt, going to have to paint the entire mansion with Q-Tips. And that was just if they ever got out of this mess alive.