Reprisal 0:5 311/17
"It's eight o'clock. Place should be jumping right about now," Kaji said with mild amusement as he opened the door for Patch. "After you, Patch." Logan cast him a sideways glance. He found the young man arrogant, untrustable and very much annoying. Very much like a younger version of himself.
Logan stepped in, his hands almost reflexively thrust into the pockets of his leather jacket. It was warm in Tokyo-03, it always was, but he felt much more comfortable wearing it. Yet another force of habit, as he took a quick glance at the neutral hole.
The concept was old, perhaps as old as the profession of spying itself. A neutral place where spies from opposing sides can gather without running the risks of getting killed in the line of duty. Important deals are negotiated, information exchanged and dirty deeds done, all without the hassle of obeying ideological imperatives. He had been to quite a few. Every major city had one, and judging by the size of this place's clientele, he'd been wrong about this city. It was quite important. There were intel and cointel people from almost every major agency, some he recognized, the few who recognized him cast an upraised eyebrow at him in recognition, but didn't do much else.
"Impressive," he conceded to Kaji. This was some bar. It had the characteristics of the city outside, clean white tiles, bright lights, ceiling fans that suck up all the smoke and rancid stench of stale beer, an orderly set of tables, and a wide open layout that he suspected was there to keep everyone honest.
There was some activity at a table, experience tells him someone's having a drinking contest.
"Anything else I can help you with, Patch?" Kaji asked, seemingly anxious to leave all of a sudden at the sight of the drinking game. He can feel Kaji's body tense behind him, as if trying to brace himself for a familiar, yet horrifying sight.
"Way past your bedtime, junior?" Patch asked cynically, keeping an eye at the drinking game going on. It was hard to make out what was happening, as the bodies of several men and women kept blocking his view of the proceedings. Kaji wordlessly turned and left, his pace growing faster every second. There seems to be something here that made him seriously uncomfotable. Patch merely shrugged, and made his way to the table where the drinking game was going on. Such things were rare in neutral holes. There was too much risk involved, and an active, alert mind was important in this kind of place.
As he got closer, the small crowd surrounding the table got more and more excited, some roaring their support for the challenger. He got to the table, and pushed aside a few drunks who got too far into the spirit of the game. He saw emptied glasses and several bottles of beer on the table and tossed carelessly around the table. A man sat slumped on a chair, the last vestiges of consciousness about to flee him. He seems to be the challenger and about to go under, much to the disappointment of half the crowd.
As for the champion, Patch's uncovered eye almost popped out of its socket.
Misato didn't pay much attention to the one-eyed gentleman who just made his way to the table. She was more interested in seeing her opponent go under the table. Through hazy eyes and senses dulled by drink, she willed him to fall. Her hand held the freshly-filled mug of beer tightly, ready to down another glass. She can't remember how many she's had, but she's sure it's more than her opponent can stand. She was right. With a low groan, her opponent slid under the table, unconscious.
Her free hand pumped the air in victory. "Iyeeaaaahaaaaaa!" she screamed triumphantly. "Misato Katsuragi still number one!" she yelled out as loudly as she can, flashing the V for victory sign to the audience, some of whom grumbled as they paid her their bets, stuffing the cash into her NERV beret. A loud belch escaped her, she wasn't feeling too good. Victory whoops left her lips, she was feeling on top of the world. She spat out a strand of hair that slid its way into her mouth.
"What the hell is this all about?" Patch asked the woman next to him.
"Oh, that's just Katsuragi's drinking game. She makes bets with any man who'd listen she can drink him under the table," said the woman. "She keeps this up, she can quit NERV and go pro," said another man who was also watching.
"What happens if she loses?" Patch asked, slight curiousity taking over from good sense.
"Well, winner gets to take her home," said the woman. "So far, she's had a lot of takers. You trying your luck, pal?" asked the woman.
Patch grunted noncommitally, shrugging his shoulders.
"You Mossad are all wimps! You can't drink, you can't even sneak past the Geofront tunnels, you suck! Hear me ?!!" Misato yelled at the unconscious man, kicking him in the ribs for effect. Her face was totally flushed and she was having trouble standing. She's going to suffer tomorrow. "C'mon, which big boy thinks he's got what it takes??!" she yelled, nearly hysterical,her hand clumsily grabbing the beer mug, sloshing its contents all around the table and floor. Beer spilled onto her miniskirt, running down her thighs and legs.
Logan just stared indecisively at her. He still found it hard to believe. He looked at her long, blue-black hair, all clumped up in strands from sweat and spilled beer. Her hazel eyes were very much dilated and staring wide open at anyone and anything. Beer was all over her, spilled on her shirt, skirt, running down her chin and in her breath. Her red jacket lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Logan's eyes stared at the jacket. Wasn't this the very same woman he saw at the station this morning? He ran his eyes up and down her body again, soaking up every detail, from the silver cross pendant she wore over her black shirt, to the way her chest rose up and down so fast with every breath she took, to the way her lycra miniskirt was being stretched from the indecent way she was standing, to the well- toned muscles of her legs and arms that told him she tried hard to keep in good physical condition, when she wasn't trying to self-destruct the way she is right now. And underneath the smell of her sweat and the various brands of beer she'd been drinking, there was the slightest undercurrent of lavender perfume.
Winner gets to take her home, the thought went through his head in an endless loop. All it took was to drink her under the table. Anyone. Any man who could outdrink her, takes her home.
"Set 'em up!" Patch yelled, to the cheers of the crowd. He really shouldn't be doing this, but he felt he could at least save her from herself, at least for tonight.
"wh?" Misato asked, half-aware of the new challenger. She sat down, or rather crashed her body on the chair, raising her mug to her lips and taking great big gulps of the liquid, pausing at the end to gather her breath before slamming the empty mug on the table. It seemed to Logan that the contest was just a cover for her, that she really didn't care about winning or losing. He drank his own mug slowly, taking small sips and short pauses, knowing that time was on his side in the battle.
The crowd knew it. There was hissing when they saw him take his time. A voice in the crowd demanded that he take two mugs for each of Misato's own. Misato herself just grabbed a new can of beer and began pouring its contents into her mug.
"No problem," Patch told them, as he downed his glass. Misato was ignoring him now, mumbling incoherently about something, yelling hard at nothing at all before she took her drink. Her fist slammed the table, daring him to continue.
He was halfway through his fourth glass when Misato fell down sideways with a thud onto the floor, her legs splayed halfway across her chair and the floor. Half the crowd groaned. He cast a long look at the unconscious woman , then the crowd. He saw a beige uniform in the crowd. "You," he growled , "this broad one of yours?" The uniform nodded.
"Where do I take her? Barracks or something?" he asked, kneeling to lift the unconscious woman up and slinging her across his shoulder. She was lighter, and softer than he had anticipated. Her body limply hung from his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her slender waist for stability.
It was quite a long walk to her apartment. "Three Eleven, Block Seventeen. Welcome home, girl," he softly said to the happily dreaming Misato. The door wasn't even locked. He took several staggering steps inside, gently laying her down to the large futon carelessly laid in the middle of the cluttered bedroom. The lights had turned on automatically, perhaps sensing the return of the owner. Boxes, some opened, some still sealed, were all over the floor. The kitchen reeked of undisposed garbage. What kind of woman was this Misato person he brought home? There were two laundry baskets with her clothes, one with the fresh clothes and one with the unclean ones. The basket with clean laundry was almost empty. He stood there over the sleeping woman, still unable to explain why is it he felt such a strong need to win her at the bar. He walked over to the fridge, and almost to no surprise, found it stacked with some half-eaten bento lunches, and stacks and stacks of beer cans.
Misato stirred, her eyes opening slightly. The dim lights still hurt her eyes. But she recognized the ceiling as hers. It really shouldn't be spinning like that, maybe she should talk to Ritsuko about it, tell her to stop making the ceiling spin like that because it was making her dizzy. She turned her head, and saw a pair of legs. A man's legs. Her eyes weakly made out a face. She tried to smile weakly at him, but it was taking so much effort to move her lips. Why was there a man in her apartment?
Because she had planned it, her last thought before she faded away in a white fog.
"Father"
"Father?' she whispered again, weaker this time.
The words left her lips and went straight to Logan's sensitive ears. He closed the fridge and knelt over the woman, his hand brushing a lock of hair clear from her face. Her skin felt soft, just as her body had felt soft. Now his heart was going the same way. He intently stared at her, waiting for her to speak again.
"You promised me we can go see the penguins," her last words, before falling silent again.
Obviously delirious, as he kept his silent vigil over her. She dreamt of ice and snow and that horrible light. But there was no way he could know that just by looking at her peaceul form. He crashed into a sofa, and laid there for hours, half thinking half dreaming through a fitful sleep.
He heard the scuffling noise of footsteps, waking him up, behind the door before the buzzing started. The buzzing continued non-stop, but Logan ignored it, paying attention to Misato instead. Misato slowly stirred awake, slowly, almost painfully crawling up into a sitting position, cradling her head in her hands. She shaked her head, wincing at the sweet pain. There was a long buzzing sound. She saw the man squatting across from her looking concerned. She smiled at him, glad to know he's real. She noticed that she wore the same clothes from yesterday.
He had the chance, she had given him almost ten hours of chances, and he did nothing? she wondered to herself, a stab of pain disrupting the train of thought. Her ears were buzzing, probably from the hangover. Or maybe he did do something to her? Maybe it wasn't her that he wanted, but agency secrets? It was hard to remember with the incessant buzzing. He wasn't all that bad looking, so it didn't hurt so bad to lose to him. She'd planned on losing anyway. The buzzing sound stopped that train of thought too.
She was now standing, barely, her body shaking as her legs still won't fully respond to her commands. The incessant buzzing was making everything difficult for her. The man watching her spoke. Each word was like the boom of a cannon in her ears.
"Aren't you going to answer the doorbell?" Logan asked her.
She made feeble efforts to walk to the door. Disgusted, Logan snorted with disapproval and walked to the door. The buzzing was annoying him as well. Almost ripping the door open, he snarled at the person who had been pressing the doorbell for almost five minutes without a pause. "Well? What do you want?!" he barked with irritation.
Ritsuko was so surprised she almost jumped backwards, but she recovered quickly.
"And you are?.." she asked, half-expecting the answer. Misato had been up to her games again.
"Name's Logan, Ritsuko." Logan snarled at her in irritation. What kind of god damned fool would press a door buzzer for five minutes straight?
"How'd you know my name?" Ritsuko asked incredulously, as Misato staggered to the doorway.
"Yer famous, Doc," was the simple answer. If she didn't remember him from last year, he certainly wouldn't bother reminding her. Ritsuko bit her lip. What he said was true in a way, but it was still disconcerting for her to be recongnized by strangers. Biting her lip, she dug around in her skirt pockets, pulling out several strange gadgets before placing a bunch of keys in Logan's palm.
"Her car keys," she said, deadpan. "Judging by her state, I'd rather trust a stranger with it than her."
Logan grunted. Misato made her way to the doorway, leaning on the frame for support. "Hey Rit-chan," she slowly slurred, trying not to hurt her head by talking too loud, "How was Matsushiro?"
Ritsuko was in no mood for conversation. Disdainfully running a hand through her blonde hair, she stared her right in the eyes. "You promised me you'd stop, Misato." she said , a little more sternly than usual. "I did, I just started again," Misato said, with a little tone of hurt.
"One of these days, Katsuragi, you'll wind up so drunk you'll take Kaji home,"
"Stop trying to be my mother, Ritsuko, I'm a grown woman."
Ritsuko hissed slightly at the rebuke. Misato was too far gone to notice, but Logan heard it. He glanced at one woman, then the other, senses primed for the outbreak of hostilities. As his uncovered eye fell on Ritsuko,she returned the glance, her eyes were colder than he last remembered, but the intellect has grown stronger than the last time. Staring into Ritsuko's eyes were like facing the void itself. A steely gaze met hers.
"I'm trusting you to look after her, Logan. You don't look like someone I'd like to meet in a dark alley, but that wasn't where you met Misato, did you? " she asked, her voice dripping sarcasm.
"Cut the crap," was the hostile reply. The nerve of this woman. Is everyone involved with this agency an @#%$?
Misato watched dumbly as her friend lit up a cigarette, bit hard on the filter and stomped off without saying another word.
Logan closed the door, wordlessly watching as Misato ran to the bathroom to pray to the porcelain god. She was beautiful, and almost brutally honest, but he had wasted enough time with this woman. He had business to attend to in this city, and the more time he spent with her the longer it would take him to complete it. On the other hand, the Ritsuko woman was kind of right in a way. He was the one who put her under, he should at least keep an eye on her until the hangover finishes.
He simply stood there in front of the door, his hand gripping the handle, uncertain whether to simply go or stay. A common question that he had faced many times before in his life. He opened the door and stepped out. Last night was interesting, he thought.
He had barely walked thirty feet when Misato yelled at him to wait up. Huffing slightly, she pulled up to him, and grabbed his hand. "My watch says it's almost lunch time," she smiled. "I'll buy you lunch, it's the least the loser can do." Logan shrugged, noncommitally but deep inside, his heart leapt for joy against his will.
"So what's your name? I'm Misato, Misato Katsuragi," she cheerfully asked. They walked side by side along one of the quiet, empty avenues of Tokyo 03. She wore blue jeans and a white top, her thick sneakers putting a slight spring in her step. She looked for all the world like any other carefree young woman out on the town, but her trademark jacket destroyed the illusion of innocence. Her stride was purposefule, disciplined even in such an innocent setting. The warm midday sun smiled on both of them, making her unpainted face glow with a thin layer of sweat.
"Name's Logan. Folks call me Patch," Logan replied.
"So what's with the pirate gear?"
"Lazy eye." he lied through his teeth with casual ease.
"You don't look as wasted as in your apartment," he asked.
"Nausea pills.Stole some from the labs.They're the greatest!"
He was rather surprised at the answer. "Don't tell me they've invented the cure for hangovers?"
"Oh, no! I wish they'd hurry up and make one!" Misato replied, loudly. "It's one of those Gehirn inventions. Supposed to help our test pilots with nausea, but Ritsuko never bothers to finish the important stuff."
Logan went slightly tense at the word "Gehirn". It was because of Gehirn that he came here, to look for clues to his past. The word was mentioned in one of the many American and Canadian top secret documents concerning the Weapon X project. It seemed to imply that Gehirn, whoever or whatever it was, had a hand in funding and even directing some of the research that permanently changed him. The Weapon X project took his memories. Took his humanity. Gave him an unbreakable adamantium plated skeleton. Made him what he was today.
Gehirn owes him an explanation, minimum. From asking round with his lips and fists, and with some helpful hints from Katsuya in Tokyo 2, he discovered the connection with NERV. There were a few other things he had to discover first, such as:
"Who's Gehirn?" Logan asked, trying hard to mask his interest, his eye carefully studying Misato's face for any sudden changes in expression that would indicate she's hiding something. He slowed down his pace, indirectly forcing Misato to slow down herself. There wasn't any change in her demeanour or expression.
"Gehirn used to be a UN biotech research lab. Then they got merged with us, now they're our science division, " Misato said, carelessly. She knew she had to be more guarded regarding agency things, but she wasn't Ritsuko. With Ritsuko, everything had to be deniable, undocumented and need-to-know only. Even things that were now open secrets. She wondered sometimes about her supersecretive nature.
"The blonde, Ritsuko..." Logan asked, cautiously. He still didn't understand the relationship between the two.
"Oh, don't let her get to you," Misato said, more to herself than to him. "She's been an ice queen since birth." And a bitch ever since she joined Gehirn, she thought to herself. "Hey! There's the place I told you about!"
It was a roadside noodle stall. It reminded him a little of many similar stalls in Madripoor's Lowtown. A tiny part of him went "figures".
********
Ritsuko leaned back in her chair, her lunch sitting half-eaten on her desk. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stem back the rising headache. Her datapad lay on her lap, its screen showing the latest progress report on Project E. She suspected her office was making her sick. There had to be some malevolent microorganism in the air that always got to her whenever she stayed too long. That had to be the only logical conclusion.
The illogical conclusion was that her dead mother's spirit still haunted her old office. The idea had sometimes come to her in the late nights, and reinforced by the superstitions of some of the Chinese staff, only to be immediately dismissed with self-directed scorn.
"It's impossible, isn't it, Mother? Totally unscientific" she softly whispered, glancing at her computer terminal, connected to the MAGI supercomputers of the Geofront. Almost as impossible as the business with the Lance of Longinus. She headed the project to create a duplicate Lance. The supervision committee wants a duplicate lance built, but Ikari and Fuyutsuki kept finding ways to delay the project. She knew that there was some kind of game going on, but until she can gain more trust from them both, she was kept out of the loop. The original was somewhere in the Antartic Ocean and even with almost fifty surveying ships it was still too much like finding a needle in a haystack.
Worst of all, her staff were being murdered. Her datapad showed the last report Dr. Kusumadewi ever filed , detailing the results of the stress tests on the adamantium slag, recommending that ultrasound waves be used to shape the metal. Before her were Dr Morton and Henderson. Her research staff now stood at half-strength. The murders were draining everyone's concentration, from the scientists, to the engineers, even to the uniformed. It was simply impossible to devote yourself fully to work when you could be the next person found dead in your own home. It even got to her sometimes. The murderd three were with Gehirn long before she herself joined. They knew her mother and couldn't stop singing praises of her ability as a scientist. She enjoyed hearing the praise.
Cursing, she threw the datapad onto her desk. She hurriedly got up and left the office. Perhaps a walk around the Central Dogma. Or maybe she needed the fresh air of Tokyo-03. If she was lucky, it should be late afternoon. She didn't really trust her watch, and there was no natural way to tell the passage of time in the Geofront.
It was almost dusk, and he couldn't believe that the two of them were talking almost the entire day. Misato was charming and an engaging conversationalist, so even though he wasn't planning to pump her for information, there were many fascinating things about her life that she just blurted out to him. He now knew she was an MP of sorts for NERV. He even found out why she wore that red jacket of hers so often.
"Loophole in regulations," she told him. "If it so becomes necessary in the course of duty, the Number Four service jacket may be worn over any available clothing to identify the wearer as belonging to NERV," she said in semi offical tones, mockingly quoting the regulations. "And neither Commander Ikari or Subcommander Fuyutsuki care much about fixing minor regulations like that," she said, a twinkle in her eye.
They climbed up the stairs to the third floor of the apartment block. As they both made it to the corridor, they saw a lone woman standing in front of Misato's door, quietly smoking a cigarette, hands buried inside a white lab coat when not flicking ash all over the corridor. Her head was bowed, as if very tired, or bored, or both. With her head bowed, it was apparent to both of them that her shock of blond hair hasn't been dyed in a while, betraying her natural dark brown roots. Hearing footsteps, Ritsuko turned her head towards Misato and Logan, smiling weakly in recognition.
"Ritsuko...." Misato said, her voice trailing off. What, she wondered, was she doing here? She usually stays underground for days on end working.
"Hello, Misato, you too, Logan," Ritsuko said. Misato walked up to her friend, sensing something wrong. Usually there'd be some rebuke at her bringing strange men home, or some sarcastic remark about her looks or behaviour. Ritsuko put out her cigarette. "Mind if I stay for dinner, Misato?? I'll cook for you both tonight" Ritsuko offered in a dead tone. Misato unlocked the door, gesturing to Logan to go in. She put a hand on Ritsuko's shoulder, feeling how limp her body was. It was strange, but they rarely touch. "What's wrong, Ritsuko? Did you just blow up a lab or something?" she asked, the humor forced. It was unnerving to see Ritsuko, usually so in control and arrogant, like this.
"Everything. Nothing. Would you like tempura or something western?" Ritsuko replied dejectedly. Logan ignored the two and stepped inside. He leaned on one of the walls, waiting for Misato. He wouldn't freely admit it, even to himself, but it had been a good day to live.
For Ritsuko, it would be a good day to die. Misato saw it, the red dot suddenly appearing between Ritsuko's shoulder blades, then slowly, inexorably made its way up to the base of her skull. She managed to cry out "sniper!" then she threw herself at Ritsuko, knocking the wind out her friend, just as the frustrated sniper shot a hole in the wall where Ritsuko stood. Misato tried to take a glance at the apartment building opposite her own, trying to find any trace of movement, but couldn't find any. She cursed under her breath, arms still wrapped around Ritsuko's waist. "Logan! No!" she yelled, as she saw him start to run towards her. "Call the Geofront! Number three on the speed dial! City police too!" Her heart began to race, and cold fear gripped her as she remembered that she had locked her gun away in her office.
Three long seconds passed, as the two women huddled behind the safety of the wall. There was enough time for the sniper to reload.
Logan burst through the open doorway, and he ran hard towards the staircase. "Logan ! NO!" Misato yelled, but he didn't listen. Misato wanted to go after him, but her duty was to make sure Ritsuko was safe. Logan ran and jumped, trying to draw fire towards him. Even if he did get hit, he'll get better, no such luck for the two women. He threw himself down the staircase, trying to make his way to the opposite block. Maybe he can catch the sniper trying to escape.
Misato shook Ritsuko hard, trying to get her wits back. "Ritsuko! Ritsuko! I need your gun! Where is it?"
"I..I don't carry one" Ritsuko whispered back, shaking from fear.
God, no, we're dead, Misato thought. A brick wall was no protection from a sufficiently high-powered rifle. She saw her opened apartment door, thinking that if the two of them could crawl back inside, it would buy them a few precious seconds, maybe even enough for help to arrive. But they'd have to crawl almost five feet, and they would come into view again as they were in the doorway.
Logan smelled his enemy on the blowing breeze. Same guy from Seoul. Which meant that he was long gone now. How he made it, he could never figure out. Perhaps teleportation? But he ran towards the opposite block anyway, his long strides being unchallenged by the enemy.
Long gone, as expected, he thought. He seriously considered teleportation as his enemy's escape plan. His bit his lip in frustration, almost drawing blood. He wondered who the sniper was after this time. Was he after him? Or Misato, or Ritsuko? The equation had been altered too much now.
"Next time, bub," he snarled at no-one in particular.
***********
It took Misato and Ritsuko quite an effort to get rid of the Japanese police. Logan begrudgingly gave them credit, for they certainly knew how to handle nosey cops. Neither of them had to pull rank or throw hissy fits. Classic misdirection and just enough information to keep the cops happy. Logan noted Ritsuko's ability to stretch, manipulate and bend the truth. Misato tried, of course, but that just wasn't her strong suit.
Several armed, uniformed NERV guards stood outside Misato's door. Inside the three of them sat down to a hastily cooked meal of vegetable and shrimp tempura that Ritsuko made. She had to have the ingredients brought in by one of the guards, thanks to Misato's inability to keep her own pantry stocked.
"I still say we get to the Geofront now," Ritsuko protested.
"Too dark," Misato said, seriously. "Too many chances we get ambushed before we can make it to Gate 3"
Logan quietly chewed his food, observing the two.
"So what? We can have an escort, travel in an armored car...." Ritsuko's voice trailed off as Misato made the signal for her to stop, her mouth still busy chewing large chunks of shrimp.
"I have the authority to call Tactical here!" Ritsuko weakly protested to no effect.
"What would the Commander say if I let the Chief Scientist-Designate get killed on my watch?" Misato asked.
Ritsuko's eyes went wide. "That's classified!" she hissed, ignoring Logan who was giving her a creepy one-eyed stare.
"Besides, I'd like to see him return to the scene of the crime," Misato said, calmly, glancing toward the loaded service automatic on the table. She turned to Logan. "You're coming along with us tomorrow morning too, Logan. Your own safety, you understand," she smiled reassuringly at him.
"Look," he said, carefully picking out his words, "I'm just a bar owner from Madripoor. Don't you think putting me underground is a bit much for a security precaution?"
Misato replied sternly, projecting her authority. "You like to live? Trust me, and you get to live. Okay?" She leaned over the table, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. It was careless kiss, it was done without much thought, but Logan rather enjoyed it. "Besides," she said, returning to her seated position, "You're too fun a person for me to let die," she smiled brightly.
Ritsuko peered at the two over her glasses, biting her lip. She said nothing.
********
"Well?"
"That friend of hers saved her."
"Misato? The one who's always drunk?"
"Wolverine was there too. I don't know what he was doing there."
"You've failed twice now. First you failed to get him in Seoul. Now Ritsuko still lives. And we still don't have the adamantium"
"I apologize"
"Angels will start appearing soon. What if they manage to complete the replica Lance by then? What would you say to God?
Do you want them to kill His messengers?"
"We can still blow up the Project E labs. Force-feedback the subsection generators, and it should take out three floors,"
"Ikari will just clear the rubble and continue. We must have that adamantium in our hands, it's the only way to be sure!"
A third voice interrupted.
"Can't we just leave Wolverine alone? Let him find out his past. If we left him alone, he'd probably leave us alone too.He doesn't care what happens when the Angels return. Let him have what he wants, shake a few scientists around and we'll both be happy."
A sneer of disdain greeted the suggestion.
"You are a fool, Kaji Ryoji.."
"It's eight o'clock. Place should be jumping right about now," Kaji said with mild amusement as he opened the door for Patch. "After you, Patch." Logan cast him a sideways glance. He found the young man arrogant, untrustable and very much annoying. Very much like a younger version of himself.
Logan stepped in, his hands almost reflexively thrust into the pockets of his leather jacket. It was warm in Tokyo-03, it always was, but he felt much more comfortable wearing it. Yet another force of habit, as he took a quick glance at the neutral hole.
The concept was old, perhaps as old as the profession of spying itself. A neutral place where spies from opposing sides can gather without running the risks of getting killed in the line of duty. Important deals are negotiated, information exchanged and dirty deeds done, all without the hassle of obeying ideological imperatives. He had been to quite a few. Every major city had one, and judging by the size of this place's clientele, he'd been wrong about this city. It was quite important. There were intel and cointel people from almost every major agency, some he recognized, the few who recognized him cast an upraised eyebrow at him in recognition, but didn't do much else.
"Impressive," he conceded to Kaji. This was some bar. It had the characteristics of the city outside, clean white tiles, bright lights, ceiling fans that suck up all the smoke and rancid stench of stale beer, an orderly set of tables, and a wide open layout that he suspected was there to keep everyone honest.
There was some activity at a table, experience tells him someone's having a drinking contest.
"Anything else I can help you with, Patch?" Kaji asked, seemingly anxious to leave all of a sudden at the sight of the drinking game. He can feel Kaji's body tense behind him, as if trying to brace himself for a familiar, yet horrifying sight.
"Way past your bedtime, junior?" Patch asked cynically, keeping an eye at the drinking game going on. It was hard to make out what was happening, as the bodies of several men and women kept blocking his view of the proceedings. Kaji wordlessly turned and left, his pace growing faster every second. There seems to be something here that made him seriously uncomfotable. Patch merely shrugged, and made his way to the table where the drinking game was going on. Such things were rare in neutral holes. There was too much risk involved, and an active, alert mind was important in this kind of place.
As he got closer, the small crowd surrounding the table got more and more excited, some roaring their support for the challenger. He got to the table, and pushed aside a few drunks who got too far into the spirit of the game. He saw emptied glasses and several bottles of beer on the table and tossed carelessly around the table. A man sat slumped on a chair, the last vestiges of consciousness about to flee him. He seems to be the challenger and about to go under, much to the disappointment of half the crowd.
As for the champion, Patch's uncovered eye almost popped out of its socket.
Misato didn't pay much attention to the one-eyed gentleman who just made his way to the table. She was more interested in seeing her opponent go under the table. Through hazy eyes and senses dulled by drink, she willed him to fall. Her hand held the freshly-filled mug of beer tightly, ready to down another glass. She can't remember how many she's had, but she's sure it's more than her opponent can stand. She was right. With a low groan, her opponent slid under the table, unconscious.
Her free hand pumped the air in victory. "Iyeeaaaahaaaaaa!" she screamed triumphantly. "Misato Katsuragi still number one!" she yelled out as loudly as she can, flashing the V for victory sign to the audience, some of whom grumbled as they paid her their bets, stuffing the cash into her NERV beret. A loud belch escaped her, she wasn't feeling too good. Victory whoops left her lips, she was feeling on top of the world. She spat out a strand of hair that slid its way into her mouth.
"What the hell is this all about?" Patch asked the woman next to him.
"Oh, that's just Katsuragi's drinking game. She makes bets with any man who'd listen she can drink him under the table," said the woman. "She keeps this up, she can quit NERV and go pro," said another man who was also watching.
"What happens if she loses?" Patch asked, slight curiousity taking over from good sense.
"Well, winner gets to take her home," said the woman. "So far, she's had a lot of takers. You trying your luck, pal?" asked the woman.
Patch grunted noncommitally, shrugging his shoulders.
"You Mossad are all wimps! You can't drink, you can't even sneak past the Geofront tunnels, you suck! Hear me ?!!" Misato yelled at the unconscious man, kicking him in the ribs for effect. Her face was totally flushed and she was having trouble standing. She's going to suffer tomorrow. "C'mon, which big boy thinks he's got what it takes??!" she yelled, nearly hysterical,her hand clumsily grabbing the beer mug, sloshing its contents all around the table and floor. Beer spilled onto her miniskirt, running down her thighs and legs.
Logan just stared indecisively at her. He still found it hard to believe. He looked at her long, blue-black hair, all clumped up in strands from sweat and spilled beer. Her hazel eyes were very much dilated and staring wide open at anyone and anything. Beer was all over her, spilled on her shirt, skirt, running down her chin and in her breath. Her red jacket lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. Logan's eyes stared at the jacket. Wasn't this the very same woman he saw at the station this morning? He ran his eyes up and down her body again, soaking up every detail, from the silver cross pendant she wore over her black shirt, to the way her chest rose up and down so fast with every breath she took, to the way her lycra miniskirt was being stretched from the indecent way she was standing, to the well- toned muscles of her legs and arms that told him she tried hard to keep in good physical condition, when she wasn't trying to self-destruct the way she is right now. And underneath the smell of her sweat and the various brands of beer she'd been drinking, there was the slightest undercurrent of lavender perfume.
Winner gets to take her home, the thought went through his head in an endless loop. All it took was to drink her under the table. Anyone. Any man who could outdrink her, takes her home.
"Set 'em up!" Patch yelled, to the cheers of the crowd. He really shouldn't be doing this, but he felt he could at least save her from herself, at least for tonight.
"wh?" Misato asked, half-aware of the new challenger. She sat down, or rather crashed her body on the chair, raising her mug to her lips and taking great big gulps of the liquid, pausing at the end to gather her breath before slamming the empty mug on the table. It seemed to Logan that the contest was just a cover for her, that she really didn't care about winning or losing. He drank his own mug slowly, taking small sips and short pauses, knowing that time was on his side in the battle.
The crowd knew it. There was hissing when they saw him take his time. A voice in the crowd demanded that he take two mugs for each of Misato's own. Misato herself just grabbed a new can of beer and began pouring its contents into her mug.
"No problem," Patch told them, as he downed his glass. Misato was ignoring him now, mumbling incoherently about something, yelling hard at nothing at all before she took her drink. Her fist slammed the table, daring him to continue.
He was halfway through his fourth glass when Misato fell down sideways with a thud onto the floor, her legs splayed halfway across her chair and the floor. Half the crowd groaned. He cast a long look at the unconscious woman , then the crowd. He saw a beige uniform in the crowd. "You," he growled , "this broad one of yours?" The uniform nodded.
"Where do I take her? Barracks or something?" he asked, kneeling to lift the unconscious woman up and slinging her across his shoulder. She was lighter, and softer than he had anticipated. Her body limply hung from his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her slender waist for stability.
It was quite a long walk to her apartment. "Three Eleven, Block Seventeen. Welcome home, girl," he softly said to the happily dreaming Misato. The door wasn't even locked. He took several staggering steps inside, gently laying her down to the large futon carelessly laid in the middle of the cluttered bedroom. The lights had turned on automatically, perhaps sensing the return of the owner. Boxes, some opened, some still sealed, were all over the floor. The kitchen reeked of undisposed garbage. What kind of woman was this Misato person he brought home? There were two laundry baskets with her clothes, one with the fresh clothes and one with the unclean ones. The basket with clean laundry was almost empty. He stood there over the sleeping woman, still unable to explain why is it he felt such a strong need to win her at the bar. He walked over to the fridge, and almost to no surprise, found it stacked with some half-eaten bento lunches, and stacks and stacks of beer cans.
Misato stirred, her eyes opening slightly. The dim lights still hurt her eyes. But she recognized the ceiling as hers. It really shouldn't be spinning like that, maybe she should talk to Ritsuko about it, tell her to stop making the ceiling spin like that because it was making her dizzy. She turned her head, and saw a pair of legs. A man's legs. Her eyes weakly made out a face. She tried to smile weakly at him, but it was taking so much effort to move her lips. Why was there a man in her apartment?
Because she had planned it, her last thought before she faded away in a white fog.
"Father"
"Father?' she whispered again, weaker this time.
The words left her lips and went straight to Logan's sensitive ears. He closed the fridge and knelt over the woman, his hand brushing a lock of hair clear from her face. Her skin felt soft, just as her body had felt soft. Now his heart was going the same way. He intently stared at her, waiting for her to speak again.
"You promised me we can go see the penguins," her last words, before falling silent again.
Obviously delirious, as he kept his silent vigil over her. She dreamt of ice and snow and that horrible light. But there was no way he could know that just by looking at her peaceul form. He crashed into a sofa, and laid there for hours, half thinking half dreaming through a fitful sleep.
He heard the scuffling noise of footsteps, waking him up, behind the door before the buzzing started. The buzzing continued non-stop, but Logan ignored it, paying attention to Misato instead. Misato slowly stirred awake, slowly, almost painfully crawling up into a sitting position, cradling her head in her hands. She shaked her head, wincing at the sweet pain. There was a long buzzing sound. She saw the man squatting across from her looking concerned. She smiled at him, glad to know he's real. She noticed that she wore the same clothes from yesterday.
He had the chance, she had given him almost ten hours of chances, and he did nothing? she wondered to herself, a stab of pain disrupting the train of thought. Her ears were buzzing, probably from the hangover. Or maybe he did do something to her? Maybe it wasn't her that he wanted, but agency secrets? It was hard to remember with the incessant buzzing. He wasn't all that bad looking, so it didn't hurt so bad to lose to him. She'd planned on losing anyway. The buzzing sound stopped that train of thought too.
She was now standing, barely, her body shaking as her legs still won't fully respond to her commands. The incessant buzzing was making everything difficult for her. The man watching her spoke. Each word was like the boom of a cannon in her ears.
"Aren't you going to answer the doorbell?" Logan asked her.
She made feeble efforts to walk to the door. Disgusted, Logan snorted with disapproval and walked to the door. The buzzing was annoying him as well. Almost ripping the door open, he snarled at the person who had been pressing the doorbell for almost five minutes without a pause. "Well? What do you want?!" he barked with irritation.
Ritsuko was so surprised she almost jumped backwards, but she recovered quickly.
"And you are?.." she asked, half-expecting the answer. Misato had been up to her games again.
"Name's Logan, Ritsuko." Logan snarled at her in irritation. What kind of god damned fool would press a door buzzer for five minutes straight?
"How'd you know my name?" Ritsuko asked incredulously, as Misato staggered to the doorway.
"Yer famous, Doc," was the simple answer. If she didn't remember him from last year, he certainly wouldn't bother reminding her. Ritsuko bit her lip. What he said was true in a way, but it was still disconcerting for her to be recongnized by strangers. Biting her lip, she dug around in her skirt pockets, pulling out several strange gadgets before placing a bunch of keys in Logan's palm.
"Her car keys," she said, deadpan. "Judging by her state, I'd rather trust a stranger with it than her."
Logan grunted. Misato made her way to the doorway, leaning on the frame for support. "Hey Rit-chan," she slowly slurred, trying not to hurt her head by talking too loud, "How was Matsushiro?"
Ritsuko was in no mood for conversation. Disdainfully running a hand through her blonde hair, she stared her right in the eyes. "You promised me you'd stop, Misato." she said , a little more sternly than usual. "I did, I just started again," Misato said, with a little tone of hurt.
"One of these days, Katsuragi, you'll wind up so drunk you'll take Kaji home,"
"Stop trying to be my mother, Ritsuko, I'm a grown woman."
Ritsuko hissed slightly at the rebuke. Misato was too far gone to notice, but Logan heard it. He glanced at one woman, then the other, senses primed for the outbreak of hostilities. As his uncovered eye fell on Ritsuko,she returned the glance, her eyes were colder than he last remembered, but the intellect has grown stronger than the last time. Staring into Ritsuko's eyes were like facing the void itself. A steely gaze met hers.
"I'm trusting you to look after her, Logan. You don't look like someone I'd like to meet in a dark alley, but that wasn't where you met Misato, did you? " she asked, her voice dripping sarcasm.
"Cut the crap," was the hostile reply. The nerve of this woman. Is everyone involved with this agency an @#%$?
Misato watched dumbly as her friend lit up a cigarette, bit hard on the filter and stomped off without saying another word.
Logan closed the door, wordlessly watching as Misato ran to the bathroom to pray to the porcelain god. She was beautiful, and almost brutally honest, but he had wasted enough time with this woman. He had business to attend to in this city, and the more time he spent with her the longer it would take him to complete it. On the other hand, the Ritsuko woman was kind of right in a way. He was the one who put her under, he should at least keep an eye on her until the hangover finishes.
He simply stood there in front of the door, his hand gripping the handle, uncertain whether to simply go or stay. A common question that he had faced many times before in his life. He opened the door and stepped out. Last night was interesting, he thought.
He had barely walked thirty feet when Misato yelled at him to wait up. Huffing slightly, she pulled up to him, and grabbed his hand. "My watch says it's almost lunch time," she smiled. "I'll buy you lunch, it's the least the loser can do." Logan shrugged, noncommitally but deep inside, his heart leapt for joy against his will.
"So what's your name? I'm Misato, Misato Katsuragi," she cheerfully asked. They walked side by side along one of the quiet, empty avenues of Tokyo 03. She wore blue jeans and a white top, her thick sneakers putting a slight spring in her step. She looked for all the world like any other carefree young woman out on the town, but her trademark jacket destroyed the illusion of innocence. Her stride was purposefule, disciplined even in such an innocent setting. The warm midday sun smiled on both of them, making her unpainted face glow with a thin layer of sweat.
"Name's Logan. Folks call me Patch," Logan replied.
"So what's with the pirate gear?"
"Lazy eye." he lied through his teeth with casual ease.
"You don't look as wasted as in your apartment," he asked.
"Nausea pills.Stole some from the labs.They're the greatest!"
He was rather surprised at the answer. "Don't tell me they've invented the cure for hangovers?"
"Oh, no! I wish they'd hurry up and make one!" Misato replied, loudly. "It's one of those Gehirn inventions. Supposed to help our test pilots with nausea, but Ritsuko never bothers to finish the important stuff."
Logan went slightly tense at the word "Gehirn". It was because of Gehirn that he came here, to look for clues to his past. The word was mentioned in one of the many American and Canadian top secret documents concerning the Weapon X project. It seemed to imply that Gehirn, whoever or whatever it was, had a hand in funding and even directing some of the research that permanently changed him. The Weapon X project took his memories. Took his humanity. Gave him an unbreakable adamantium plated skeleton. Made him what he was today.
Gehirn owes him an explanation, minimum. From asking round with his lips and fists, and with some helpful hints from Katsuya in Tokyo 2, he discovered the connection with NERV. There were a few other things he had to discover first, such as:
"Who's Gehirn?" Logan asked, trying hard to mask his interest, his eye carefully studying Misato's face for any sudden changes in expression that would indicate she's hiding something. He slowed down his pace, indirectly forcing Misato to slow down herself. There wasn't any change in her demeanour or expression.
"Gehirn used to be a UN biotech research lab. Then they got merged with us, now they're our science division, " Misato said, carelessly. She knew she had to be more guarded regarding agency things, but she wasn't Ritsuko. With Ritsuko, everything had to be deniable, undocumented and need-to-know only. Even things that were now open secrets. She wondered sometimes about her supersecretive nature.
"The blonde, Ritsuko..." Logan asked, cautiously. He still didn't understand the relationship between the two.
"Oh, don't let her get to you," Misato said, more to herself than to him. "She's been an ice queen since birth." And a bitch ever since she joined Gehirn, she thought to herself. "Hey! There's the place I told you about!"
It was a roadside noodle stall. It reminded him a little of many similar stalls in Madripoor's Lowtown. A tiny part of him went "figures".
********
Ritsuko leaned back in her chair, her lunch sitting half-eaten on her desk. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to stem back the rising headache. Her datapad lay on her lap, its screen showing the latest progress report on Project E. She suspected her office was making her sick. There had to be some malevolent microorganism in the air that always got to her whenever she stayed too long. That had to be the only logical conclusion.
The illogical conclusion was that her dead mother's spirit still haunted her old office. The idea had sometimes come to her in the late nights, and reinforced by the superstitions of some of the Chinese staff, only to be immediately dismissed with self-directed scorn.
"It's impossible, isn't it, Mother? Totally unscientific" she softly whispered, glancing at her computer terminal, connected to the MAGI supercomputers of the Geofront. Almost as impossible as the business with the Lance of Longinus. She headed the project to create a duplicate Lance. The supervision committee wants a duplicate lance built, but Ikari and Fuyutsuki kept finding ways to delay the project. She knew that there was some kind of game going on, but until she can gain more trust from them both, she was kept out of the loop. The original was somewhere in the Antartic Ocean and even with almost fifty surveying ships it was still too much like finding a needle in a haystack.
Worst of all, her staff were being murdered. Her datapad showed the last report Dr. Kusumadewi ever filed , detailing the results of the stress tests on the adamantium slag, recommending that ultrasound waves be used to shape the metal. Before her were Dr Morton and Henderson. Her research staff now stood at half-strength. The murders were draining everyone's concentration, from the scientists, to the engineers, even to the uniformed. It was simply impossible to devote yourself fully to work when you could be the next person found dead in your own home. It even got to her sometimes. The murderd three were with Gehirn long before she herself joined. They knew her mother and couldn't stop singing praises of her ability as a scientist. She enjoyed hearing the praise.
Cursing, she threw the datapad onto her desk. She hurriedly got up and left the office. Perhaps a walk around the Central Dogma. Or maybe she needed the fresh air of Tokyo-03. If she was lucky, it should be late afternoon. She didn't really trust her watch, and there was no natural way to tell the passage of time in the Geofront.
It was almost dusk, and he couldn't believe that the two of them were talking almost the entire day. Misato was charming and an engaging conversationalist, so even though he wasn't planning to pump her for information, there were many fascinating things about her life that she just blurted out to him. He now knew she was an MP of sorts for NERV. He even found out why she wore that red jacket of hers so often.
"Loophole in regulations," she told him. "If it so becomes necessary in the course of duty, the Number Four service jacket may be worn over any available clothing to identify the wearer as belonging to NERV," she said in semi offical tones, mockingly quoting the regulations. "And neither Commander Ikari or Subcommander Fuyutsuki care much about fixing minor regulations like that," she said, a twinkle in her eye.
They climbed up the stairs to the third floor of the apartment block. As they both made it to the corridor, they saw a lone woman standing in front of Misato's door, quietly smoking a cigarette, hands buried inside a white lab coat when not flicking ash all over the corridor. Her head was bowed, as if very tired, or bored, or both. With her head bowed, it was apparent to both of them that her shock of blond hair hasn't been dyed in a while, betraying her natural dark brown roots. Hearing footsteps, Ritsuko turned her head towards Misato and Logan, smiling weakly in recognition.
"Ritsuko...." Misato said, her voice trailing off. What, she wondered, was she doing here? She usually stays underground for days on end working.
"Hello, Misato, you too, Logan," Ritsuko said. Misato walked up to her friend, sensing something wrong. Usually there'd be some rebuke at her bringing strange men home, or some sarcastic remark about her looks or behaviour. Ritsuko put out her cigarette. "Mind if I stay for dinner, Misato?? I'll cook for you both tonight" Ritsuko offered in a dead tone. Misato unlocked the door, gesturing to Logan to go in. She put a hand on Ritsuko's shoulder, feeling how limp her body was. It was strange, but they rarely touch. "What's wrong, Ritsuko? Did you just blow up a lab or something?" she asked, the humor forced. It was unnerving to see Ritsuko, usually so in control and arrogant, like this.
"Everything. Nothing. Would you like tempura or something western?" Ritsuko replied dejectedly. Logan ignored the two and stepped inside. He leaned on one of the walls, waiting for Misato. He wouldn't freely admit it, even to himself, but it had been a good day to live.
For Ritsuko, it would be a good day to die. Misato saw it, the red dot suddenly appearing between Ritsuko's shoulder blades, then slowly, inexorably made its way up to the base of her skull. She managed to cry out "sniper!" then she threw herself at Ritsuko, knocking the wind out her friend, just as the frustrated sniper shot a hole in the wall where Ritsuko stood. Misato tried to take a glance at the apartment building opposite her own, trying to find any trace of movement, but couldn't find any. She cursed under her breath, arms still wrapped around Ritsuko's waist. "Logan! No!" she yelled, as she saw him start to run towards her. "Call the Geofront! Number three on the speed dial! City police too!" Her heart began to race, and cold fear gripped her as she remembered that she had locked her gun away in her office.
Three long seconds passed, as the two women huddled behind the safety of the wall. There was enough time for the sniper to reload.
Logan burst through the open doorway, and he ran hard towards the staircase. "Logan ! NO!" Misato yelled, but he didn't listen. Misato wanted to go after him, but her duty was to make sure Ritsuko was safe. Logan ran and jumped, trying to draw fire towards him. Even if he did get hit, he'll get better, no such luck for the two women. He threw himself down the staircase, trying to make his way to the opposite block. Maybe he can catch the sniper trying to escape.
Misato shook Ritsuko hard, trying to get her wits back. "Ritsuko! Ritsuko! I need your gun! Where is it?"
"I..I don't carry one" Ritsuko whispered back, shaking from fear.
God, no, we're dead, Misato thought. A brick wall was no protection from a sufficiently high-powered rifle. She saw her opened apartment door, thinking that if the two of them could crawl back inside, it would buy them a few precious seconds, maybe even enough for help to arrive. But they'd have to crawl almost five feet, and they would come into view again as they were in the doorway.
Logan smelled his enemy on the blowing breeze. Same guy from Seoul. Which meant that he was long gone now. How he made it, he could never figure out. Perhaps teleportation? But he ran towards the opposite block anyway, his long strides being unchallenged by the enemy.
Long gone, as expected, he thought. He seriously considered teleportation as his enemy's escape plan. His bit his lip in frustration, almost drawing blood. He wondered who the sniper was after this time. Was he after him? Or Misato, or Ritsuko? The equation had been altered too much now.
"Next time, bub," he snarled at no-one in particular.
***********
It took Misato and Ritsuko quite an effort to get rid of the Japanese police. Logan begrudgingly gave them credit, for they certainly knew how to handle nosey cops. Neither of them had to pull rank or throw hissy fits. Classic misdirection and just enough information to keep the cops happy. Logan noted Ritsuko's ability to stretch, manipulate and bend the truth. Misato tried, of course, but that just wasn't her strong suit.
Several armed, uniformed NERV guards stood outside Misato's door. Inside the three of them sat down to a hastily cooked meal of vegetable and shrimp tempura that Ritsuko made. She had to have the ingredients brought in by one of the guards, thanks to Misato's inability to keep her own pantry stocked.
"I still say we get to the Geofront now," Ritsuko protested.
"Too dark," Misato said, seriously. "Too many chances we get ambushed before we can make it to Gate 3"
Logan quietly chewed his food, observing the two.
"So what? We can have an escort, travel in an armored car...." Ritsuko's voice trailed off as Misato made the signal for her to stop, her mouth still busy chewing large chunks of shrimp.
"I have the authority to call Tactical here!" Ritsuko weakly protested to no effect.
"What would the Commander say if I let the Chief Scientist-Designate get killed on my watch?" Misato asked.
Ritsuko's eyes went wide. "That's classified!" she hissed, ignoring Logan who was giving her a creepy one-eyed stare.
"Besides, I'd like to see him return to the scene of the crime," Misato said, calmly, glancing toward the loaded service automatic on the table. She turned to Logan. "You're coming along with us tomorrow morning too, Logan. Your own safety, you understand," she smiled reassuringly at him.
"Look," he said, carefully picking out his words, "I'm just a bar owner from Madripoor. Don't you think putting me underground is a bit much for a security precaution?"
Misato replied sternly, projecting her authority. "You like to live? Trust me, and you get to live. Okay?" She leaned over the table, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. It was careless kiss, it was done without much thought, but Logan rather enjoyed it. "Besides," she said, returning to her seated position, "You're too fun a person for me to let die," she smiled brightly.
Ritsuko peered at the two over her glasses, biting her lip. She said nothing.
********
"Well?"
"That friend of hers saved her."
"Misato? The one who's always drunk?"
"Wolverine was there too. I don't know what he was doing there."
"You've failed twice now. First you failed to get him in Seoul. Now Ritsuko still lives. And we still don't have the adamantium"
"I apologize"
"Angels will start appearing soon. What if they manage to complete the replica Lance by then? What would you say to God?
Do you want them to kill His messengers?"
"We can still blow up the Project E labs. Force-feedback the subsection generators, and it should take out three floors,"
"Ikari will just clear the rubble and continue. We must have that adamantium in our hands, it's the only way to be sure!"
A third voice interrupted.
"Can't we just leave Wolverine alone? Let him find out his past. If we left him alone, he'd probably leave us alone too.He doesn't care what happens when the Angels return. Let him have what he wants, shake a few scientists around and we'll both be happy."
A sneer of disdain greeted the suggestion.
"You are a fool, Kaji Ryoji.."