Through Hellfire and Back,

Part 11

Disclaimer: You know the drill: X-men Evolution is the property of Marvel and Kids WB. All the characters in this story are the property of Marvel. I actually do own a few in this set, but they're so insignificant I don't care what happens to'em.

Hao de yuedu!

*********

Nothing like hitting the road for a few days to get away from it all; that was Logan's motto. As his lone, sleek red motorcycle soared endlessly on the 201 highway, speeding about like there was no tomorrow, he couldn't help but smirk. It's solid construction, attractive frame and revving engine were maintained regularly, and, as he felt the massive powerhouse underneath continue to eat up the pavement, it was worth the effort. The wind against his chest, the endless landscapes of green trees and small stoney mountains, the pure and total freedom every time he hit the gas........ was there a better heaven?

Well, possibly a level 31 training session in the danger room, but it was a close call.

He'd been on the move for over a day now, finally deciding to hit the road and get as far away from Bayville as his wheels could take him. Currently he'd managed to get as far as Vermont, another few days and he might even hit Montreal. It wasn't that he didn't like his pupils, far from it, but sometimes......... sometimes he just needed to be out on his own.

~Always the loner, eh Wolverine?~

It was true: as well as he got along with others in the institute, in his heart he would always be a loner. Independence, freedom, and occasionally, a good fight: those were the things that were held dearly by Logan. Oh, he might agree with Xavier's principles, try to follow a dream which, for better or worse was worth following. He might admit that some of those students grew on him, that he actually enjoyed being an X-man. However, he would never truly be part of the group. Not now.

Probably, not ever.

He grunted at the thought, even as his bike's exhaust fumes coughed.

Absently, he glanced at his gas gage, and cursed. He'd been traveling further and faster then he'd originally intended: what was once a full gas tank had become a low one, and the low tank was threatening to make it's way to empty. He'd need to find a station; it was time for a pit stop.

Good thing he didn't need a map.

Opening his deeply tinted visor slightly, he breathed deeply, inhaling a thorough mix of wind-carried scents. Cars and pavement first....... what should he have expected on a highway? People...... very few, but possibly there were a few cabins in the area.

He breathed again.

Critters, trees....... all the typical marks of the woodland he was currently passing.

One final try.

Gasoline...... motor oil. Bingo! He took in the scent once more, then moved his bike further North, increasing his speed steadily.

It shouldn't be too far now........

**********


Logan's bike rumbled over the road, moving swiftly under a short, man-made tunnel, and coming out before his intended destination: a small, short, little run down shack with a tall neon sign, advertising both gasoline and small-scale groceries. Most likely, the owners felt they would have a better chance attracting customers by serving as both a gas station and convenience store for both area locals as well as weary, anxious or simply desperate travelers.

Travelers like Logan.

Driving up to the self-serve, the burly man came to a stop, taking out his keys and flipping open the gas gauge. He filled up the tank to it's max, taking a moment to wipe the rearview mirror and check his oil before sauntering towards the shop.

Inside, he was greeted by a lazy youthful string bean of an attendant, leaning by the cashier casually and reading the paper; idly ignoring the bell which had gone off, signifying the customer's presence. Worse still, his chest heaved as he let out a long winded yawn, flipping the pages casually. The Wolverine frowned: the boy was a total slacker. If he wasn't a relation, the manager must have been desperate when he was hiring. Time for him to pick up the pace.

Logan coughed loudly.

At this, the attendant finally raised a lazy eye............. only to drop the paper and gulp as he sized up the intimidating figure before him. The X-man was tempted to smirk as lifeless eyes transformed into large, weary ones, while both hands lost their calm disposition, becoming more shaky by the moment. Logan might have been a runt to Sabertooth, but there was nothing runty about the massive muscle and broad shoulders which his leather jacket did little to hide. It was quality over quantity, and the Wolverine held that in spades.

The Canadian wrinkled his nose at the stench of sweat, which was rolling off the wimp before him. Time to pay the tab and get the heck out.

Stepping up to the counter, he pulled out his wallet and grumbled as he smacked the bills down. The shack was so small they didn't even take credit cards; no wonder the owner was desperate. Five..... ten..... twenty..... More then one greenback made it's way face down before him. The cost of gas was going up, and as Logan peered into the piece of beat up leather in his fingers, he noticed that the cash he usually kept on hand was getting low; very low. His eye narrowed: wonderful, it looked like he'd have to make another stop. A slight growl raised in his throat, sending the cashier into new fits of panic. Logan faced him, looking directly eye-to-eye.

"Hey bub, how far to the nearest bank?"

The attendant could only gulp, and continue to sweat even further. "Uhhhh, uh, uh....."

The growling started to get louder.

"Manchester sir. A half-mile northeast. Keep going straight and turn left at the next intersection." The youth pointed blindly in the city's general direction, desperately wishing he could hide behind his paper once more.

Logan gave a gruff nod of his head, and sauntered out without another word.

He smirked as heavy sigh of relief sounded out behind him. Maybe he'd come back this way, just to shake up junior a little more.

Returning to his bike, he put his helmet back on, closing the visor as he revved up his engine. A screech of the tires and he was off, hitting the road once more and speeding out of sight.

**********


The Manchester Branch Bank was a scene of total chaos by the time Logan pulled up the street. Apparently, some silent soul had thought to make a withdrawal the night before; and judging by the baffled looks the cops were sporting, they had done a darn good job of it too. Logan snorted; nothing new to his ears, although he wished the local detectives good luck. Judging by the numbers, whoever had pulled the job was either exceptionally gifted, had taken out one shitload of a nest egg, or both.

Ignoring the crowds, Logan parked his bike at the curb and started stepping aside to a nearby ATM, mentally calculating how much he'd withdrawal. Absently, he passed by a few cops relaxing by a squad car, paying them only a passing glance as they did the same. He shook his head, pulling out his wallet. The cops might have been the good guys, but overall he wasn't keen on hanging around an investigative seen for lone. A quick swipe of his card, and he'd be gone.

As he neared the controls, a group of sweet smelling aromas hit his nostrils, his stomach growling instant recognition. Of course- someone had brought out the donuts, and hot coffee to go with it. Another growl of the stomach. Absently, he inserted his card and punched a few numbers, impatiently waiting for the machine to hand him his money so he could be done with it. Another growl, which was slightly surprising- how long had it been since his last meal? The electronic banker handed him a few greenbacks in mint condition. Perhaps a trip to a local tavern was also in order.

Stuffing the cash and card into his wallet, as Logan started back to his bike his ears unintentionally started to pick up brief snippets of a conversation. A brown eye wavered: it was from the first group of officers, now clearly on break as they centered themselves around a box of chocolate and jelly-filled, hot cups in hand.

"Dang Reed, this is the fifth bank this month! The heck if I know how he's pulling this!"

"You heard what that security guy was mumbling about. You don't suppose....?!"

"Suppose what? Banks are becoming haunted?! Darn it Markson, you're suppose to be a professional here!"

Logan's ears perked up slightly, and he slowed his return. He frowned. Ghosts? Not exactly a common topic of conversation among law enforcement.

"The bullets go right through him! How many guys you know can do that?" Markson's voice was starting to waver, his coffee splashing in it's cup with small drips.

"You mean her, don'cha?" Officer number three joined in the conversation. "At least two of the guards confirm it was definitely a woman. Apparently, she walked right through the vault like it wasn't there."

*WHAM*

Like a verbal tone of bricks, the X-man stopped in his tracks as those words hit him squarely.

~Like it wasn't there~.

Logan's blood went cold.

"Two? What about the others?"

"Too dark, too nervous, too unreal- take your pick. Either way, these boys an't sure what they saw."

Pause.

Logan paused, wishing he had his hat so that he could pull it down over his eyes as he pretended to bend down and tie his shoe; never mind that he was wearing leather boots. His attention was officially caught now.

He needed to hear more.

"Any leads?" Reed's voice was cold, a hardened officer.

"Nothing. No fingerprints, no marks, no signs. One things for sure- we're dealing with a real pro."

"Video tapes? Any recordings?"

"All short-circuited out, same as half the alarms. Reports haven't confirmed how that's happening, but it seems she's got a way of walking right through our computers."

There was another 'bout of silence, as the trio considered the possibilities. Finally, Reed made a face as he started to curse.

"If something weird IS going on, you can bet it's because of those bloody muties!"

Logan bristled at the comment, but held back. If only the officer had any idea how he looked in the bloody mutie's eye.

"Muties? I thought they caught'm all?" Officer three, Banks, took a bight out of his chocolate treat, muching contentedly even as his comrade started to rant. Clearly, it wasn't the first time they'd had conversations like this.

"Oh sure, they *say* that, but how're we suppose to know all of those freaks got caught?"

"Wadda ya mean?"

"I mean how do we know those ones on the squawk box were the only ones out there? How do we know they're the only freaks?"

"He's right!" Markson continued to quake. "Why, there could be one out there right now, watching us!"

Logan held his breath, as he moved from fingering his boots to checking his watch.

"Oh brother." Banks rolled his eyes. "Like some mutant's gonna waste his time listening to a buncha bums like us! Besides, that was all in Bayville; this is Manchester! We're talking another state man!"

"Yeah, well......"

"Forget about it. They probably aren't half as bad as the press made'm out to be, anyway. Speaking of which, how long do y' figure we can keep'm outta all this? I mean, real or not, I'm sure ghost banking probably makes one heck of a story."

"Let the chief worry about that; so long as it keeps under wraps and away from the public's ears. I've got enough problems without city panic. I mean, did I tell you about the fight I had with Fiona last night. Let me tell you............"

As the conversation moved towards other topics, Logan moved on, thankful the trio hadn't caught him listening in. Quite the talkers those three; he'd heard enough of the conversation to find out what he needed to know. Apparently, there was a new thief in town: one that the police were trying to keep out of sight from the public. Normally, that suited Logan fine; save times when 'the public' included himself. To bad this had been one of those times. Worse, that so-called burglar didn't sound like your run-of-the-mill crook.

A shiver went down his spine as he thought about the information he had just received.

That burglar sounded an awful lot like someone he knew.

Could it be........

No, he shook his head in disbelief, forcing the train of thought away from his mind. No chance; that was all but impossible.

Regardless, it was definitely a mutant: the entire case file had the words X-gene written all over it. The X-gene; looked like the detectives were going to get some help after all. If it was a mutant thief, Chuck was going to want to know more. Which meant it was time for the Wolverine to do a little investigating of his own.

Slipping back into the daily crowds, Logan made a roundabout to the nearest alleyway, hopping over a few fences until he came close to a back entrance. He grabbed the railing of the nearest stairwell, hosting himself to the rooftop, where he crept even closer, until he was overlooking the area. Getting even closer, he slipped with easy off the roof to a tree, well planted right below; the thick foliage giving better cover even as the fat branches further closed the gap between him and the bank.

Unfortunately, as he scouted the vicinity, it looked like getting in wasn't going to be a piece of cake; uniformed officers guarded every door, while a dog patrol made it's rounds about the outside, noses to the ground in hopes of picking up any signs of the purp's trail. There were two large, open windows, glass separated wide enough to enter from, but not unseen. If the uniforms didn't see the figure leap through them, the dogs definitely would. It was enough for the X-man to keep out of attention as it stood.

Logan shifted his position, making certain to keep downwind. Shifting from branch to branch, he moved closer to his intended quarry. Then...

He unsheathed his claws for the briefest of moments, slashing off a slight chunk of solid metal pipeline from the building he had originally climbed. The pipe wasn't important, so much as the sturdy chunk of steel which he now grasped in his hands. He'd have to make this quick; if anything went wrong he'd have one heck of an explanation to give, and even a minute of time could screw it all. He pulled back the chunk as a guard patrol passed right underneath, hoping his aim would ring true....

.....as he tossed the offending piece of metal into a bright, shiny Mercedes parked near the corner. Too bad for the owners; he'd have to find a way pay them for the damages later.

The car behaved as expected; glass window shattered even as a rather loud alarm hit the streets; german shepherd and doberman alike suddenly caught in a fit of howls at the high pitched (and extremely irritating) sound, while their owners, along with every other officer close by, jumped to the scene for a closer inspection. Their backs became turned; only a fraction of time for Logan to go from tree top to open window.

It was enough.

The Wolverine barreled into the window with ease, claws extended as he made his way inside. If his presence was discovered, he'd make an exit- fast.

While the outside of the building was well-covered, the inside left much to be desired. As Logan pressed against the wall, he pleasantly noted that, for the moment, the area was deserted. The police wanted the area as untouched as possible, leaving a line of yellow tape to keep away intruders while they checked their current evidence. He ignored this completely, jumping right towards the vault. The cameras were clearly still off line; if he was fast enough, no one would ever know he'd been there.

As he scouted the scene, he narrowed his eyes, taking in deep breaths of everything around him. It wasn't the police's fault they were having a hard time discovering the thief of course- very few bloodhounds had a nose which could match the Wolverine's, and even fewer could tell their handlers who they had caught. Logan took a deep breath.

Older men... three, all in their late fifty's...... older scents mixing with new suggesting they'd been in and about at various different times. He made a face of slight disgust as he could practically smell their heavy checkbooks. Bankers and investors; old news.

Security..... lots of blue-collar men within the last day or so. To be expected, with the scene outside. More dogs too, mutt's probably attempting to do the same job he did now. Too bad he couldn't ask what their findings were and compare notes.

A young woman.... tall.... blond?.... high heals and some sort of expensive perfume which made his nose curl. It was actually pretty pleasant, although his nose told him the scent was too recent to be the perp. Another investor perhaps? He's swear there was something extra on that scent.... a foreign investor, from europe maybe. Probably someone who held a lot of sway, and wanted to know just why their bank had been robbed.

More men...... an electrician, another few guards.

Logan snorted; for an area that was suppose to be off-limits, it was certainly getting it's fair share of traffic lately.

Finally, his nose caught something worthwhile. It was another young woman.... younger then the first...... and only two days old. Short? brunette?

For the second time that day, Logan froze cold.

The scent...... was very, very familiar.

The sound of talking hit his ears; the ruckus he caused outside was over, and the boys in blue were returning to the scene. Leaping out the way he came, Logan ignored the dogs a be-line for his bike, revving the engine and hitting the street faster then anyone who caught his exit could follow. It looked like he was going to have to cut his road trip short, and head back home.

That final scent left him with questions, and he'd need Xavier to help find the answers.

Now.