xXx

Logan strode down the hallway, through the light of the early morning sun. Behind him, rapid steps moved to catch up.

"You're an early riser," Illyana said to him.

"Yep," he grunted.

"Look, I haven't had a chance to talk to you," she added.

"Nope," he grunted.

"I want to tell you about what I'm doing these days," she said, a touch of exasperation in her shortening breath.

"Not right now, busy," Logan said.

"I'll just walk with you," she said, half jogging to keep up.

"Suit yerself," he grunted.

"I just wanted to let you know, I've found a teacher, I'm learning more about magic," she said. She gulped a little air and continued, still moving fast. "I've got a new roomie, she's great, her name is Valeria." She narrowed her eyes. "What's the matter with you, Logan? Why are you being so cold?"

He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. Her heart, already racing, beat faster.

"Why am I being so cold to you?" he snarled, low and fierce. "You checked out of my life and struck out on your own," he said, throwing out his arm in a tightly controlled gesture of frustration. "I let you. You made your decisions like a big girl, a real grownup, and I let you. What's done is done. My debt is paid. But don't you forget this," he said, his voice growing cold enough to snap dead wood, leaning in so close that the scent of his cigar was overpowering to her. "You betrayed me. I can't forget that. I'll never let you do it again."

Abruptly, he spun on his heel and continued down the hall, shoulders set, strides as long as his legs would allow; he carried the sense of a stormcloud waiting to burst.

She stared after him, speechless.

She opened her mouth.

She closed her mouth.

She breathed for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts, to figure out what she had to say to that. Her face darkened with anger. "You're not turning your back on me, bub," she muttered as he slammed through the maximum security vault door at the end of the corridor.

"We aren't done," she said as her stepping disk deposited her at his side. She glanced over at the cell. "What's he doing here?" she asked, bewildered as she looked at Trespasser.

"This is a restricted area!" Logan barked.

"You think that means anything to me?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "You'd rather I stay in limbo and scry on you? Really, what's he doing here?"

"He stole the cure for Tymaz Nine right out from under my nose," Logan said, glowering at the blue-furred creature curled on the cell bunk. Trespasser did not yet know they were outside.

"But, don't you have the cure now?" Illyana asked, confusion in her face.

"No thanks to this stinker." Logan gestured at his nose. "The sniffer never lies." He punched a panel, and Trespasser rolled to his feet as the window became transparent from both sides.

"Lisa!" he said, surprised.

"Trespasser," she nodded. "You stole the cure for Tymaz Nine from Logan?"

"I swear I did not," he said, drawing himself up to his full height. "I don't know what he's talking about. Whatever else I am, I am not a liar."

She looked at him for a long moment.

"Bout time you got lost," Logan growled at her. She looked at him for a moment.

She extended her arm and clenched her fingers into a fist. Inside the cell, a stepping disk flared. Trespasser took a shock, but then he was gone.

Logan stood trembling with rage. "What?" he snarled. "What do you want? How many times you gotta betray me before it's enough? Why you gotta stab me in the back every time I turn around?" He actually vibrated with fury.

"Maybe you have no gratitude for being rescued from the Project," she snapped back, "but I do. And from Belasco. Trespasser made my life possible. And it's illegal to hold someone without charges. If anyone should understand that, it's you."

"Gratitude? Honor? From you!" Logan spat. He spun on his heel and left before he did something permanent he would regret.

Upon reaching the hallway he broke into a mile-eating lope that she couldn't match. She let him go, doubt gnawing at her for the first time.

Her brother strolled up. "Looks like Logan is tightly wound today, as usual," he said with a chuckle. "He's too high strung, too touchy," he said as he shook his head. "Let's go get some breakfast. I believe a man should get his breakfast in before the first temper tantrum of the day."

"Yeah," Illyana said, and she bit her lip.

xXx

Stark strolled up behind Logan.

"Seems you know my haunts," Logan said without turning.

"I hear this is attractive because you can see all entrances and exits from this vantage," Stark said, looking around. "It is a fine view."

"Whatcha need."

"I was wondering if you had any specific ideas on distribution of Tymaz Nine's cure. I mean, the disease isn't public and shouldn't be. So how do we distribute it?"

"I got what I wanted," Logan said. "You said I could have some whenever I wanted, no strings attached, and I sold it to you for the cabin and a few other odds and ends. Cure's yours, do what you want. I'm done with it."

"You okay, Logan?" Stark asked, looking at his tense back. "Not like you to be caught without an opinion."

"I am not okay," Logan bit the words off.

"Whoah, settle down," Stark said, sitting on the lip of the roof, facing Logan.

"I go through life doin my best to do what's right, believin what I believe. Then every time I turn around I'm wrong and there's nobody to blame. Everybody I get attached to betrays me sooner or later, or they disappear, or both. Maybe I need to go on walkabout and get my head on straight, figure out what's right and what's wrong."

Stark noticed he was pale, his eyes bloodshot. "Why does it matter, what's right and what's wrong?" he asked. "Maybe if you just follow your heart right and wrong will sort themselves out."

"Priceless," snapped Logan. "Fine advice if everybody would follow their hearts. But they don't. And nobody's alone. That's why it matters. When nothin lines up right, I gotta know which side I'm on."

Stark sighed. "I have nothing to add to that. Look, if you need anything…"

Logan nodded. Stark stood, patted him on the shoulder, and left the roof.

"Don't make me wait," Logan muttered. "I know yer list'nin."

A few seconds later a faint step whispered on the roofing.

"I am innocent, Logan," the Trespasser said softly. "This time, I truly am innocent."

Logan slowly nodded. "If I see you again, I'll kill you," he said. "I can't take bein stole from, lied to, and betrayed all at once."

Trespasser nodded with a sigh. "I get a lot of that," he says. "I regret the end of our friendship. I take you at your word, Logan," he said, a hardness creeping into his voice. "I won't be seen."

He was gone.

Logan waited, feeling the sun climb in the sky. Soon.

Indeed, it was not much later when the Rasputin family came bounding out the front. Logan couldn't help but hear.

"And after I show you around and introduce you, how about some pizza? I know a great place," Illyana said.

"That would be grand," Piotr said. "I cannot believe that I had to cross an ocean and a philosophy to be rejoined with my lost sister!"

"You know I can't give up my new life here," she said quickly.

"Nor would I ever ask such a thing of you," Piotr said earnestly. "But I will be very much better in homesickness having family nearby. Nothing, nothing is more important than family."

Lisa Sendry was left behind as Illyana Rasputin ducked into her brother's car and pretended not to see Logan's silhouette watching them drive away.

xXx

A greasy film of mist lay over everything, and the thin drizzle did nothing to cut through it. Only a few people were around. The sun was setting in the west with a tremendous flaring display through the mist and clouds and dankness.

A woman walked across the slick sidewalk to a pay phone. She glanced over her shoulder, her sharp eyes taking everything in. She was dressed in dark sensible clothes and a long black leather coat that swirled around her legs. She carried no bag. Her hair was bright red, her stride determined.

The phone squalled. She snagged the handset and turned her back to the phone, saying nothing.

"Good that you have come," said a voice on the other end. "Go to the park at the end of the street. Through the east entrance, three benches down. We will meet you there."

"No," she said. "The train station at the north end of town. I will meet you on the platform. Thirty minutes." There was a long moment of silence. Her eyes narrowed. "Or I walk," she added.

"Train station, thirty minutes, fine," said the voice on the other end, sounding a bit pained. "You are a paranoid woman," it added.

"If I wasn't, you wouldn't have contacted me," she said, and she hung the phone up and started walking.

"Whatcha got for me, Kravinoff," Logan asked as he slung himself down in the booth. The huge man opposite him smiled, his teeth shining. He was handsome, in a brutal way. His dark hair was combed back from his broad features.

"I have a lead," he intoned, his deep voice distinctly Russian. "I have a friend who helps me with computer work, he lives in Germany. I gave him a list of those I suspected might be infected with Tymaz Nine so he could tap into the world's airline computer network. If any of them travel, without changing their names overmuch, I know of it. There is a domestic flight, from Los Angeles, California, to Duluth, Minnesota."

"Sounds thin," Logan said. "You know this person?"

"By reputation only," Kravinoff shrugged. "Her name is Natalia Allanovna Romanova. But she was travelling under the name Natasha Allanovna Shostakova. You see, Natasha is a nickname for Natalia, and Shostakova was her married name before her husband was killed. Your domestic agencies wouldn't know of those facts, so she could safely travel without attracting the CIA or FBI's attention."

"Warmin up." Logan nodded to the waitress who brought him coffee, then hunched back down. "So what makes you think this woman has Tymaz Nine?"

Kravinoff shrugged. "She was trained by the KGB, a product of their Red Room. As an international spy she operated for about five years under the Soviets, and since then the command chain gets murky. She's been in the States most of that time. Her code name is the Black Widow."

"Is she black?" Logan asked.

"No," Kravinoff said with a smile. "I got you a picture, though it was not easy." He handed Logan a glossy photograph of a woman with short red hair, striking features, bright green eyes. "She is masterful at what she does," Kravinoff added, tapping the picture. "We will be fortunate to see her in person."

"So you're thinking the Tymaz Nine would ensure her loyalty to the KGB, insurance against her joining the enemy, a failsafe they wouldn't be able to resist employing," Logan said, leaning back.

"Just so. And with the current chaos," Kravinoff shrugged, "I can't guess who holds her leash. I am sure she longs to be free, just as anyone would under those circumstances."

Logan shrugged, watching the picture. "If she is a good spy, any number of groups would want to add her to the stable. I think you're on to something, Kravinoff."

"My instincts tell me this is a solid lead," Kravinoff said, nodding at the picture. "And there's more. I checked it out. Her ticket was paid by a third party whose paper trail evaporates before it is fully recorded."

"Plus," Logan said, "why on earth would someone want to leave L.A. to visit Duluth?" He shook his head. "Doesn't add up. Let's take a closer look. You've put some thought into contact and surveillance?"

"Of course," Kravinoff said with a somewhat unsettling smile. "Of course."

xXx

The phone on the counter rang, and the bored woman answered it; "Duluth Station, may I help you? Hm, I'll see if anyone by that name is here." She cupped her hand over the mouthpiece. "Is a Natasha here?"

"Yes," said a redhead, stepping up to the counter.

"Oh," the receptionist said, blinking. "He seems to have hung up."

Natasha glanced out the window and saw a man close his cell phone. She strode out the door onto the platform, glancing around.

"Two minutes to spare," she said coolly.

"We do not wish to lose you," muttered the tall man. His face was obscured in shadow, but he was dressed in a fedora and trench coat, about as cloak and dagger as he could be.

"What must I do? What's your price?" She glanced again across the tracks at the deep darkness of the twilight forest that stretched away from the steel rails of the fence and tracks and station.

"My employers wish you to work for us," the tall dark stranger said. "In exchange, we will cure you."

"No deal. You've wasted my time," she said, throwing her head back. "I'd rather die than be shackled to yet another corrupt regime." She turned to go.

"But you have not yet heard what we wish you to investigate," the tall man said, pulling something from his pocket and extending it towards her back. She half turned, stopping.

"You have ten seconds," she said.

"We have a mystery," the tall man said, "surrounding the whereabouts of Alexi Shostakov."

She whirled and faced him, nostrils flaring, eyes bright in the dimness. "You are on dangerous ground," she said. "Compelling evidence, now, and I'll consider your offer."

"This, to start," the tall man said, gesturing with the object in his palm. She took three steps to him, and lifted the object. It was a locket, made of gold, with a silver chain. Her hands trembled. She popped it open, and inside there was a picture of a laughing young red head on one side and a smiling, strong, dark eyed man on the other.

"Where did you get this," she whispered.

"He wore it each time he tested a rocket, yes?" the dark man said. "We wondered, very much, how it could have survived if he was killed as a rocket exploded with him aboard as the authorities said."

She clasped the locket and looked into his eyes.

"The answer seems guaranteed to be unpleasant," he said. "We need someone to get to the bottom of this. We're a little short handed right now, and we lack personnel with the skills to navigate through the shattered remains of the iron curtain. We will give you countermeasure for Tymaz Nine enough to last through your investigation, and when you've found out all you can then you are free, we will cure you."

She stood speechless.

"Tomorrow morning, ten o'clock, at the public library by your hotel. We will meet in the reading room," he said, "and I will give you the countermeasure and our file of what we've found out so far. Complete the assignment, and you will be cured." He smiled. "Do we have a deal?"

"I'll see you there," she said. She hung the locket around her neck.

The tall man turned and strolled off the platform, towards the street. She watched him go for a moment, then followed.

By the time she reached the gate, he was nowhere to be seen. She shivered; it had been a long time since she had failed to shadow someone. She flagged a taxi and headed back to the hotel.