Notes:

Disclaimer: This is not mine. See first chapters for details.

Rating: PG13+

Other: This story is AU. Readers Replies at the bottom.

Chapter 6: The Genetically Mutated Cabbage

By Yma

            Two hours later Logan was very confused, but doing a good job to hide it. Kurt had led him on a fast, whistle stop tour of the station, showing him all but the most restricted areas. He had rustled up some clothes also, to replace the tattered arena garb he had worn for so long. Now a pair of black trousers and a turtleneck, the same uniform as worn by all the MLF, strained across his large frame.

            The names and faces of the many mutant's Kurt had introduced him too seemed to merge together into one large conglomeration of confusion.

            To be truthful, although Logan liked to be kept in the know, and although he would normally find the exhibition interesting, all he really wanted to do was get some food inside him, curl up and fall asleep.

            So all in all Logan was more than happy when they reached a stopping point.

            It was a large hall, as big as any of the tents Logan had fought in, and almost as busy.

            Chairs and table of all shapes and sizes were strewn about, as were mutants of similar descriptions. The smell and sound hit Logan full in the face, almost bowling him over. The rest of the station had been relatively quiet, most people talking in soft mummers, the scent of antiseptic had drowned out all other possible smells, not so here.

This was the Asteroid M canteen, a place of relaxation, gossip, and merry mutant meetings.

            And everyone seemed to be willing to meet him.

            As they entered the canteen each eye turned to them and to Logan in particular. Several people started to clap, some just went back to their food with a shrug, and others actually got up and shook Logan's hands.

            'An honor to meet you sir… an honor,' a green skinned boy said.

            'I never thought I'd see the day,' greeted a blond Australian man, 'you're welcome here mate, more than welcome!'

            'I heard you once killed an entire army base of flat-scans,' whispered one young woman with bones growing out of her skin and purple hair, 'can you tell us about it?'

            'People, people,' called out Kurt, 'please! This man is tired, he needs food and rest. Leave him be for a while, maybe he'll answer your questions tomorrow… Ja?'

            With several muttered complaints the small mob of admires dispersed, leaving Kurt and Logan to find a table and food.

            'Verdammt Todd,' swore Kurt to himself, 'did you have to tell *everybody!* Spyke will have heard for sure by now. Ach, and I was so looking forward to seeing his face…'

            'Will mine do instead, sugar?'

            Kurt's head snapped up and a grin appeared on his features, 'Rouge!' he cried out joyfully, before bounding towards the speaker.

            She was a most extraordinary woman, her hair was auburn except for two streaks of white at the front, dressed in the same black garb as everyone else, and she also wore gloves which stretched from finger to elbow. What was most interesting about her, however, was her blue skin, a similar azure blue to Kurt's, only furless.

            The two blue mutants hugged and patted each others backs, 'oh, I missed you, mein swester,' laughed Kurt, 'but I wasn't expecting you to be back from your mission for another week yet!'

            'Neither was I!' said Rouge, 'but I got this communication from Psy yesterday telling me to return and… well, here I am!'

            Kurt frowned, 'what about the mission?' he asked.

            'I don't know, but whatever Psy wants me for it must be pretty tough. It took me months to get the trust of… well… I'll tell you later.'

            She broke off having noticed Logan, seemingly for the first time.

            'So, you're the First of the Weapon-X Three, you're the Wolverine.'

            'Guess so, but call me Logan, and you are?'

            'The name's Rouge, Kurt's my brother.'

            'I can see the resemblance.'

            'Would it surprise you to know this isn't genetic?'

            Logan raised an eyebrow, 'yep,' he grunted.

            'Well then, that's another story for me to tell you later. Now, let's get us some grub.'

            She led them through the maze of eating mutants to a large table, where they plonked themselves down.

            'So,' started Kurt, 'I suppose Todd came through and told everyone?'

            'And their aunt,' chuckled Rouge, 'don't tell me you tried to keep this a secret, Kurt? Not with Todd about. He's a nice boy, but he couldn't keep his tongue wagging unless you stapled it to the floor!'

            'I may yet do that…'

            Rouge grinned at this, 'well, he's off on another reconnaissance mission at the moment, so that'll have to wait. Oh, I invited Sam and the twins over to join us, is that OK?'

            Kurt shrugged, amiable enough.

            Suddenly Logan spoke up 'The GM Cabbage?' he enquired, gesturing to the graffiti written sign on one of the ceiling struts.

            'Ja, Genetically Mutated.'

            'And the cabbage part?'

            'You understand that in a few days,' grinned Rogue, 'for whatever reason cabbage seems to be a staple part of the meals here, perhaps the easiest thing we can get hold of in the way of food.'

            'It's a great comfort really,' put in Kurt, 'people come and go, laws are made and broken, empires rise and fall, but always cabbage shall be served in the Asteroid M canteen.'

            'Never a truer word spoken!' called out another voice, and Logan looked up to see four more figures approach them, three of whom carried a trey of food in each hand.

One was a young man, younger than Kurt or Rouge, with a tall, but muscular build and a mop of golden hair. Behind him came two more people, a boy and a girl, eerily similar, eerily different. The boy was dressed, oddly enough, in white, and had a crop of silver hair to match. The girl wore the usual black uniform, and ebony hair echoing her clothing. The strangest thing about them, however, was their movements. Their every step was in time, their breathing was synchronized, it almost seemed as if they were one being, one creature split in two.

            Finally, trotting at their side was a dog, red-brown in color with an almost wolf-like look to it.

            'Logan,' said Kurt, feeling a need to make some introductions, 'meet Sam Gurthre, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff, and Rahne.'

            'Pleased to meet you,' greeted Sam, putting down his trays, Wanda and Pietro did likewise.

            The dog Logan presumed was Rahne sniffed him experimentally. When he brought down his hand to pet her, she cringed a little, in the manner of an abused animal, but after some more cautions sniffling she allowed herself to be stroked.

            'Nice animal,' he commended, 'didn't know the MLF kept pets.'

            'She's not a pet,' said Sam coolly, 'she's a member. She has the power to turn into a wolf, but the humans… hurt her for a long time, now she it too scared to come out of her wolf form.'

            Logan stopped stroking the shape-trapped girl at this, but she wined pitifully, and he continued again.

            He turned his attention to the food now before him, and scowled.

            'Cabbage,' muttered Kurt, 'or I think its cabbage anyway.'

            'What about this? Is it runner beans?' put in Rouge.

            'I'm pretty sure these are mushrooms,' stated Sam, 'and I reckon these bits here are some sort of meat.'

            'Well… something pretending to be meat anyway, though weather any actual meat was ever involved…'

            'Pass it on to Rahne if you don't like it.'

            Rouge did so, but Kurt kept his, and indeed began shoveling it down with relish.

            'What's *this*' exclaimed the blue girl suddenly, discovering yet another unexpected ingredient.

            'Fuck knows,' said Sam, who had also begun munching, 'eat it anyway. Sheesh, you been too spoiled by that human food while you were undercover, that's what your problem is.'

            Rouge only shrugged.

            'So,' said Sam at last, between mouthfuls, 'you're the famous Wolverine. Tell me, what 'cha got planned?'

            'Planned?' asked Logan, looking up from a fork full of… well… something generally edible.

            'Yeah, what you gonna do next?'

            Logan frowned, he had given no real thought to that, 'find myself a place to rest up,' he said, 'elf said he's sort me that out. Then tomorrow I got a meeting with Charlie and Magneto.'

            'Charlie and Magneto,' Rouge echoed, 'you know, I think I like this guy, anyone who can get away with called Psy by his first name gotta be a hard nut in my books.'

            'Oh ja,' agreed Kurt between mouthfuls, 'I think we can all safely say that freund Logan here is indeed a hard nut.'

            'So,' continued Sam, ignoring his comrades, 'you been invited to that big ol' conference tomorrow? The top secret meeting that we can't get Kurt to talk about for love nor money. You know anything about it?'

            Logan shook his head, but turned his eyes onto Kurt speculatively.

            'Don't look at me!' the elf protested, 'this time, secret means secret!'

            'Oh come on, sugar,' cooed Rouge, 'you can tell us…'

            'Nein, I learned my lesson from Todd. I tell you, everyone and his aunt, and his second cousin, will know. Nien, this elf stays silent!'

            'Speakin' of silent,' put in Logan, thinking a distraction was needed, 'what's up with the twins. They ain't said a word.'

            'Oh, sorry,' apologized Sam, 'they're a bit antisocial. Pietro, Wanda, say hello to Mr Logan, separately, as we practiced. You first, Pietro.'

            'Hello,' said Pietro.

            'Hello,' said Wanda.

            'Well done,' congratulated Sam, and Logan frowned, obviously a little confused.

            'The twins are fairly new here,' explained Sam, 'came about three months ago, they're Magneto's kids, but they've been locked up in a lab most of their lives.'

            'They,' continued Rogue, 'are an example of what happens if you take two twins, perform fucked up genetic and psychological experiments on them, and make them entirely dependent on one another.'

            'Yeah, they just… break down if separated,' said Sam, 'we've just about managed them to sit apart, on opposite sides of a room, but that's the height of it. It's tragic, it really is.'

            Logan, looking at the strange twins, could not help but agree. Humans. Was there anything so sacred they could not defile it?

            The conversation lulled then for a bit, but picked up again later. Logan didn't understand much of it, filled with jargon and mission plans as it was, but some of it filtered through. Soon he felt himself begin to relax, for the first time in many, many, many years he was sitting with a group of people simply enjoying himself. Listen to casual conversation, hearing friendly laugher… it was good.

            Then the twins spotted something and, after conferring between themselves in inaudible whispers, they spoke out again.

            'The Spyke man comes towards us,' said Pietro.

            'He looks very angry,' added Wanda.

            'Of course he's angry,' chuckled Kurt, 'he's just had his overlarge pride popped, by me, no less.' He took a sip of water from a plastic beaker, 'this should be interesting,' he added.

            Turning, Logan watched the bony boy approach, barging his way though the crowds of people in the canteen without as much as an 'excuse me.' He didn't look so much angry as… focused… determined.

            'Gutten Tag Spyke, come to dazzle us with your delightful company?'

            'Fuck off freak-boy,' was the grunted response, 'and you too, slut,' he added, when Rouge opened her mouth to protest, 'I want to talk to the man here.'

            With this he cast his eye on Logan, his gaze critical, judgmental, yet somewhat more respectful than the looks he gave Kurt and Rouge.

            'So…' he drawled at last, 'you're the famed Wolverine.'

            'I prefer to be called Logan,' the man in question muttered, 'Wolverine is just the name given to me by the humans, but what's it to you anyway?'

            'My real name's Evan Daniels,' replied Spyke smugly, 'you knew my aunt. Ororo Munroe, also known as Tempest.'

            Logan took a sip of water, using the movement to buy time to plan his next words, 'yeah,' he said at last, 'she was a good woman. I was sorry to hear about her death.'

            'Don't be,' said Spyke, 'her storms and tornadoes took down half of New York with her, she exterminated over 20,000 flat-scan scum, and that was only straight off. She was a warrior; I only hope I can tread in her footsteps.'

            Logan said nothing; he concentrated on sipping on his water.

            'You know, in some circles I'm known as Spyke Sapient Slayer, 73 flat-scans I've killed, with my own hands too. What about you… Logan. How many have you nailed?'

            'Enough.'

            The tension at the table, already at knife point, strained even further on that response. Rouge chewed her lip, Kurt's tail thrashed, the twins squeezed each others hands and there came the soft sound of Rahne whimpering. Sam reached under the table and stroked her, soothingly.

            'Enough?' echoed Spyke incredulously, 'come on, Wolverine, you know humans, they breed like bloody rats, and they're twice the vermin! Enough is never enough. But maybe you're being humble, you don't need to, you know. She told me about you, my aunt, she told me what a fighter you were, what a warrior. I just wanna hear some of the stories from your own lips, hear about some of those fights. Saying, 'enough,' makes you sound like a weary old man!'

            'That's 'cos I am,' said Logan, looking up from his cup of water, his dark eyes boring into Spyke's, 'I'm a tired old man and you're a young kid. We shouldn't be talking about these things; we shouldn't be taking pride in them. It's not what your aunt would have wanted.'

            Spyke bristled, literally, his bones making clicking noises as they reared up, 'how dare you, old man!' he hissed, 'how dare you insult the memory of my aunt! of hSh

She was a warrior, a fighter, a heroine, what the hell do you know about her!'

            'I know,' said Logan slowly, carefully, each word weighted with sadness and loss, 'that Ororo Monroe is dead. She died many years ago, in the cells of the Weapon X Project. She died in that inhuman cage, same as Charles Xavier died, same as a lot of me died. I know this because Ororo Monroe loved life, she loved it in all its forms and states, and that love spread to everything, and everyone, even the humans that hurt her. She would never have died using her powers to kill like that, using her powers to destroy… it just wasn't her nature, wasn't her way. That was the way of Tempest, that was the way of a Weapon X mutant, a twisted tool of vicious humans, nothing more. When I remember her… I think of Ororo Munroe, the gentle, passionate, powerful woman, not the cold, angry Tempest, to do so… that would be an insult to her memory. And it's not what she would have wanted, not at all…'

            Spyke's face was a mask of sheer rage, its hard features twisted grotesquely, 'what the fuck to you know!' he spat, each word dripping venom, 'you don't know her, you never knew her! You didn't see her when she escaped, you didn't sit with her through the nightmares, didn't care her, feed her, didn't live with her! You weren't even in the same fucking cell as her! Didn't do *anything* for her! You left her to rot back in Weapon X, only Psy had the skill and courage to save her, not you! You're just a cowherd, a human slave, a whimpering *lap dog!*'

            As these vicious words were spoken, a feral growl escaped Logan's mouth, he stood up, the steel legs of his chair squealing gratingly against the floor as he did so, setting on edge the teeth of all listeners.

            Another metallic sound, the 'shinkt' of claws unsheathing cut the air.

            'You care to rephrase that accusation, bub?' asked Logan.

            'You care to kiss my butt like a good little pet mutie, lap dog,' sneered Spyke.

            Logan gave a roar at this and rushed forward, adamantium claws leading the way, but Spyke's dodged his attack easily and sent a barrage of bone spikes flying towards him, all of which Logan also dodged, and they thudded into the wall of the cafeteria harmlessly. The patrons, however, were more than a little nervous; suddenly the room became almost empty of mutants as people rushed for safer seats of observation.

            'Logan!' Kurt called out as the man dived away from yet another flight of projectile bones.

            'Stay back Elf,' Logan snapped, 'I don't need your help, don't want you involved.'

            'Yeah, cur,' cackled Spyke, 'let me whip this fucker, then I'll thrash you, human-loving scum!'

            Yet more spikes were slung in Logan's direction, forcing him to do an array of acrobatics that impressed even Kurt, but still this was not enough, as one lucky shard caught his shoulder, burrowing into his flesh.

            Logan let out a howl of pain, his senses heightening even further as a new rush of adrenalin coursed into his system. Clutching the wound, he tugged out the bone shard that was embedded there, and slung it desperately towards Spyke. Using surprisingly quick reflexes, the bone boy sidestepped the missile and grabbed it from midair, as Logan backed away, circling his nemesis.

            Spyke, for his part, seemed happy enough with this arrangement, using the pause; he brought the gore splattered bone to his mouth, and licked it.

            'Ummmm,' he rumbled, his lips smeared with Logan's blood, 'better than ice-cream.'

            Then, drawing two more spikes out and holding them like daggers, he charged.

Logan should have had the advantage, then, his own weapons being more suited to close combat, and his weight being significantly greater than his opponents, but instead of Spyke being impaled on those sharp metallic claws, he found his blow deflected. Spyke ducked under and pushed up Logan's arm, bringing a dagger into play, swinging it at Logan's head. Logan only just managed to move away from the slice which surely would have taken out his eye, and instead only got a deep cut along his cheek.

            Spyke gave a wicked laugh, and rolled away from Logan's sweeping claws, emerging a few feet away, grinning toothily, yet more spikes emerging from his skin to impale the burly man.

            Logan's breath was coming in ragged bursts by now, sweat leaked into the cut on his cheek, making it sting awfully. Shock had set in before his healing factor, so the wound to his shoulder, instead of burning with savage agony, merely throbbed dully, Logan was more aware of the wetness of his own blood on the new uniform than of the pain.

            Suddenly another sound reached Logan's ears which were filled with the pounding of blood.

            The crowd of observing mutants, until now stunned into silence with the fight, took the opportunity to call out, to let their voices be heard.

            'Come on Wolvie! You can do it!'

            'Go Wolverine!'

            'You can to better than that, get 'im!'

            'Thrash the lil' fucker!'

            'Slice 'n' dice 'im!'

            Something shifted in Logan's head as he heard these words, and the world changed.

            He was Wolverine, and he was in the arena again. The crowd, always the crowd, screaming, shouting, demanding, baying for blood. Chairs, tables, food, all dissolved away into the cold, hard floor of the arena. The cold mettle walls became the stained canvas of the arena tent, the hard weight of the collar reappeared around his neck and before him his adversary stood. The face, the name, the personality had gone. When, where, how or why, these did not matter, it did not matter that he was tired, or in pain, or anything else. This was about survival, and the only question that mattered was whether he'd live to see the next day. In the arena it was kill or be killed. He was Spitfire, Rabid, Feral, Wolverine… and he fought to the death. That's what the audience wanted.

            And what the audience wants…

            Later few could describe the fight in any detail, nor could they say exactly what changed, except a vague feeling that the combatants themselves had altered.

            What before had been a fight where Spyke had taken the offensive, had dexterously dodged and redirected each blow aimed at him, turned into something entirely different. Now it was Wolverine which slung the punches, Wolverine who took the offensive, Wolverine who dodged the clumsy blows, and Wolverine who draw blood from his increasingly desperate opponent.

            Soon enough Spyke found himself slung across the room by the hairy man, flying like his spikes through the air, to land, hard, against a hard, steel wall.

            Pain burst in his head, the world went white; he struggled for consciousness as the dark, shadowing form of Wolverine stalked forward, claws gleaming hungrily.

            Wolverine advanced further until he was right next to Evan, his arm went up, his claws sparkled in the cold cafeteria light, raised ready to strike down, ready to cut through bone like butter and slice through the sweet flesh beyond.

            'Logan, Nein!'

            That name… Logan… his name. No.

            Logan blinked, the world coming back into focus, his senses returning to normal.

            He glanced around quickly, he was not in the arena, and he was free, in the station of Asteroid M, a cafeteria, a place of friendship, not blood. The crowed had ceased its calling and baying, watching mutely, with bated breath. His eyes strayed to where his friends stood, the twins were clutching each other, huddled in a corner, Rouge stood statue still, fists clenched at her sides, worry plastered on her face. Sam's face wore a similar expression, but he was crouched down, hugging a whimpering, shaking Rahne.

            It was Kurt's eyes which pierced Logan the most though, those two glowing yellow orbs staring into his dark ones, his face calm, but intense, not judging but quietly begging.

            'Logan,' he murmured again, 'Logan, please… it's over.'

            The feral man turned back to his nemesis, and saw before him a boy.

            In the collision with the wall, and the shock which followed, Spyke had lost control of his power. The bone-plates which had previously covered him had withdrawn into his body, leaving the child that was underneath on view to the world.

            He was young, a little younger than Kurt, perhaps. His skin was a dusky brown, his hair golden blond, probably dyed. He was somewhat thinner than was healthy, perhaps, his cheekbones sticking up slightly; a few small scars marring the brown skin.      Sweat, a little blood and mild cuts and bruises adorned his body; his dark uniform was shredded in several places. Logan's cold claws were against his open neck, but had not dug in deeply, though they had scratched, drawing narrow lines of blood.

            His eyes, though, retained their proud fire, their cold, arrogant, savage gleam.

            'No,' muttered Logan, 'it's not over, not quite yet.'

            'Go on,' gasped Evan, conscious that every move of his throat caused the claws to dig in deeper, 'finish it, kill me.'

            'Is that what you really want?' asked Logan, 'do you really want to die? Why?'

            'I… I'm a warrior; this is a noble death, a proper death. I am like my aunt; death holds no fear for me.'

            Another growl escaped Logan's throat, as if these words angered him, his arm muscles tensed and he almost did as he was asked, almost brought his talons forward, but he controlled himself.

            'No,' he said at last, 'no, you're no warrior, you never have been. Wanna know why?'

            Spyke didn't reply, but Logan took that to be an affirmative.

            'Because you fight for death, and I fight for life. When I fight, I don't fight to kill, and I don't fight expecting death. I fight to survive, or to protect the lives of those I care for. That is the difference between me and you, between Ororo and Tempest, between a true warrior, and an animal, a weapon, a psychopath.'

            'But you're none of those,' he continued, looking into Evan's startled, enraptured eyes, 'you're just a kid. An angry, lonely, bitter kid who's been forced to grow up too hard and too fast, you're Ororo's kid, and she wouldn't have wanted this. So I'm letting you live, because you don't deserve that kind of death.'

            His claws withdrew into his knuckles, and he stepped back. Slowly, tentatively, Spyke arose, rubbing his neck, his eyes never leaving Logan.

            'Go on,' snapped Logan, 'go away, leave, and come back when you're learned to love life a bit more, come back when you've grown into a warrior. When you decide fight for life, Evan Daniels, then I'll teach you all I know, but until then I suggest you try to stay outta my way. Pick another fight with me or my friends and I'll cut you to ribbons. Now piss off before I change my mind!'

            With his eyes still fixed on Logan, the boy did has he was bid, limping out of the room, the crowd opening up to let him pass, and then closing behind him, swallowing him so that he was soon out of view.

            Stillness and silence reigned for a while then, no one sure quite what to do. Logan sunk to his knees with a sigh, feeling his wounds begin knit themselves closed as his healing factor kicked into gear properly, he was too exhausted, mentally and physically, to heed the staring throng.

            He became aware of something wet and rough scraping across one limp hand, he looked down to see Rahne licking his hand, her tail wagging softly, her large, soulful eyes gleaming with very un-lupine like intelligence.

            Logan allowed a tired smile to cross his rough features; he scratched her tenderly behind the ear.

            'Don't worry gal,' he soothed, 'it's over.'

            As if this was some sort of queue, people began to speak again, the crowd bubbling with soft talking.

            'Um,' spoke up Sam nervously, 'you're wounds, sir, and do you want us to take you to the med-lab?'

            'No,' grunted Logan, 'I'll be fine. Just need rest… Elf, can you get me somewhere to sleep, for some reason I ain't that hungry any more.'

            'Sure Herr Logan,' replied Kurt, moving forward and helping him to his feet.

            Rahne, satisfied that he was being looked after, trotted back to Sam's arms.

            'See you later,' Kurt called back to his friends as they started to leave, Logan leaning on Kurt's shoulder, using his strength to support Logan until his own returned.

            As soon as they came near the crowd they were mobbed by babbled questions and cheery congratulations.

            'Out of the way, out of the way,' balked Kurt, ignoring question and congratulation alike, 'can't you see he's tired? Save it for later, the show's over now, nothing to see here, show's over!' 

            At this Logan couldn't help but smile. The show was over.

            He wondered if the elf would never know quite how right he was.

Reader's Replies

Wheee! That was a long one! Hope you all liked it! I've gotta say, personally, it's one of the chapters I feel happiest about.

Guumajo: Um… still there? I must go and read some of your stories next. Yeah, I'll do that after posting this… Do you like this chapter BTW?

Telle: Thanks for the complement. I'm holding on like a limpet. You?

Rogue Pryde: OK, see, Rogue's in it! Just look above! Pryde? No comment. Gambit? I won't lie. I'm very, very, very sorry but I'm afraid he's not. Please don't let this put you off though, 'K? If it's any comfort, practically EVERYONE else makes an appearance or is at least mentioned in this fic.

Kiki5: Hope you weren't too disturbed by the cabbage! And see, I got more characters in it! AND there'll be more background coming up soon!

Hummm… only four readers? ): Come on, there MUST be more of you out there! Tell me what you think! PLEASE REVIEW! Please?

Next Chapter: The Uber-Secret Meeting commences! PLOT!