Ruslin was a sleepy little mining town in the northern Washington Cascade Mountains. Here, the local officials were so desperate for business they didn't care if you were mutant or human. If you had cash to spend, you were welcomed. There were few places like this left.

Logan was strolling down the main street, with its 1800's style storefronts and high cement sidewalks. He entered the town's sole restaurant and gathering place, entitled 'Village Pizzeria'. The pizza place was the big place to be for the towns five hundred or so residents.

As he entered the dimly lit pioneer styled restaurant, the locals, whom he nodded back to, immediately gave him a few greetings. Logan kept walking straight towards the back, where there was a partial bar set up.

The restaurant's hippie owner, a Grant "Bru" Bruinius, gave him a wave and handed him a full mug of beer as he sat down.

"How's it going, Logan?" Bru questioned as he pulled his shoulder length pale brown hair back into a ponytail.

Logan shrugged as he took a long sip from his mug. He was about to give his friend a half-decent reply when Bru let out a long whistle. Logan turned to see what he was looking at.

A tall blonde in a tight leather mini dress and knee high boots walked in with an unusual sense of confidence. She began to walk back towards them with the gait of a model.

"Woo, don't see them like that around here often," Bruinius whispered to Logan with a slight nudge, his brown eyes not leaving the woman's figure.

Logan rolled his eyes. "Hate to break it to ya, but you married, Bru." He said before taking another sip of his beverage.

The woman came up behind him and slowly ran her finger across his back. "Hey you," She said as if she knew him. To this Bru laughed and turned to his other customers with a playful wink to Logan. Logan tolled his eyes.

"Hear anything from everyone's favorite rogue lately?" The woman asked with a laugh.

Logan turned to her, his temper rising. "Who the hell do you think you are?" He demanded but stopped. Frozen, Logan could see very clearly now who this was. "Get the hell away from me." He growled, withdrawing his wallet to pay for his drink. He slammed a few bucks down on the counter before fuming out of the restaurant.

"Logan!" He could hear her call, and the clatter her high-heeled boots gave as she tried to follow him.

Logan stepped off the tall sidewalks with a slight jump and began to mount his motorcycle. She came to a stop above him on the sidewalk.

"What do ya want?" he asked bitterly.

"Your help." She said, out of breath from her from her exaggerated chasing after him.

Logan snorted. "I'm sure you do." He said putting his other leg over his motorcycle and was prepared to drive away. "Give me a good reason why should I believe you?" He snapped.

She leaned over and gripped the chrome handlebars. "Because you don't have anything to lose." She simply stated. Logan stared up at her, her false green eyes. As he watched they quickly changed their natural yellow then to an ice blue.

"What did you have in mind?" Logan finally questioned with a sigh.

Mystique grinned.

__________________________________________________

Logan was fumbling with the keys to his apartment while simultaneously trying to catch looks at Mystique who patiently stood behind him.

He managed to unlock to door and walked in first, flipping on the lights. The apartment was small, heck the whole complex was only three floors. It had supposedly been built for the actors from some TV show that was filmed here in the early 90's.

As Logan leafed through the mail – most of it being junk – Mystique looked around, surveying his mess. His ratty couch a ancient television, the mess of assorted cloths that were thrown about in a flurry, the tattered unmade bed that was push into the farthest corner.

Logan cleared a few old take-out cartons off the flimsy card table. He gestured for her to sit as he entered the kitchen to throw the boxes away.

Mystique made her way across the room to the table, being careful not to step on Logan's scattered clothes.

Just as she sat down, Logan returned, rubbing something off his hands onto his faded jeans. He sat down and stared at her. "So?" He asked.

Mystique rolled her eyes. 'Typical' She thought with annoyance. "How's this? We get John, We get a plan, then we end this shit." She hissed.

"This isn't going to work." Logan stated.

"Well unless you want to end up laced with sedatives in the middle of the desert, and spend the rest of your life in a five foot cube and as the plaything for some crazed scientist you better come up with something better." She said, her voice low and cold.

Logan stared back at her. "Why the hell do you need me for though? Don't you and Magneto have a whole army of gung-ho human haters?" He sneered, standing up.

"We need all the help we can get." She said in her normal, toneless voice.

Logan snorted and walked out the door. He needed a drink.

________________________________

"Sorry Logan, But it's about time to lock up," Bru said, blinking at his watch. It was nearly two in the morning and the pair was on their second pitcher of beer. They had been discussing Logan's vaguely coded troubles and Bru's issues with his wife. Logan's half of the conversation had taken up most of the talk.

Bru's advice had been to do whatever the woman wanted. Logan had tried to explain why he shouldn't, but he blew that off nearly as soon as he began. He didn't have the will to try and come up with silly and confusing metaphors for his situation with a bunch of mutants just s he could pour his heart out to this crack-smoking hippie. Granted that hippie happened to be a rather good friend of his, but that was entirely beside the point.

But somewhere around the start of the second pitcher of beer Logan had lost track of the point, heck, he'd lost track of everything. He didn't care anymore.

As Bru ushered his outside, Logan slowly staggered back to his apartment. He wasn't really that drunk, just a little bit with a lot of confusion and depression thrown in. He had no clue what he was going to do. HE felt he should do something for Xavier and their lot, but he certainly didn't want to end up in some mutant experimentation program locked away somewhere. Nope, been there done that…sometime or another.

Logan opened his apartment door and flipped on the light and much to his distaste found Mystique asleep on the couch.

"Bloody…." He mumbled a few curses under his breath as he kicked an old flannel shirt out of his way.

Once he reached his bed, He stripped down to his jeans and crawled into his messy bed. As he lay awake in the darkness momentarily, he continued to ponder what Mystique had asked him earlier. What did he really have to lose?

_____________________________

The next morning, Logan awoke to the sound and smell of something cooking. Dazed, he propped himself up and stared confused into the kitchen.

There stood Mystique, in her natural form, flipping over a few pieces of well-done bacon. She turned and glanced back at him. "Good, your awake." She said before turning back to her cooking.

"What are you doing?" Logan asked warily as he slipped on a plain white T-shirt.

"Making breakfast," Mystique replied, her toneless voice giving a hint of annoyance.

With a confused look, Logan sat down at the table. "I've been thinking about what you said," he began.

To this, Mystique turned around with a raised eyebrow. "And?" She questioned.

Reluctant, Logan continued, "I'll do it."

Mystique grinned. "We need to go." She declared before turning around and turning off the stove and dishing up all the food onto a plate. She thrust the plate at Logan before walking off into a corner of the living room.

Absently, Logan took a bite of bacon while wondering what he was getting himself into.