Me no own Marvel. Capiche?

Morgan was in the secret garden, watching the fish as they swam about. Their colors were dulled today as the sun was covered by clouds, giving the whole scene an unearthly feel.

A hand rested on her shoulder, making her jump. She turned to see a slim woman with short, reddish- brown hair was standing there, smiling down at her with gray eyes.

"Hello, Morgan."

"Who are you?" Morgan asked, her own voice sounding far away. She struggled to understand her own words as they echoed around the setting.

"I'm a friend. Can you do something for me?" she asked. A lovely feeling came over the girl. This woman was a friend. What could she do to hurt her? A favor? Of course!

"Of course, I'll help you," Morgan answered, a smile playing across her face. The woman nodded, smiling as well.

"I want you to go back to the city. Under that tree, in the Park. There'll be another friend waiting there for you; he'll tell you what to do next."

"How will I get there?" Morgan asked. She didn't remember how she got here in the first place. How could she possibly find her way to Central Park?

"There is a motorcycle in the garage. You've always wanted to ride one, haven't you?" Morgan nodded happily. "Take it, the Professor won't mind. As soon as you get outside the grounds, I can guide you."

"You're leaving me?" Morgan replied, frowning.

"Only for a moment, I promise," the woman said soothingly, patting her on the shoulder. Morgan nodded. The woman looked over her shoulder in fear. Morgan looked too, but could see no one there. "What is it?" she asked.

"There are some who do not want me to speak to you," the lady replied. "I must go now, or they will find me."

"Alright," Morgan said. Who could possibly have a grudge with this woman? She was so pleasant and kind!

The woman smiled. "I'll see you again soon. You must hurry to New York City. My friend will be waiting for you there." Her image flickered, and vanished.

Morgan sat up in bed, heart pounding. The dream had seemed so real…she needed to go to the city.

Rising from her bed, she put on her clothes in a daze. Argus looked up from the edge of her bed, whimpering. "Stay," she said, zipping her jeans. Argus whined and kneaded the mattress with his large paws, but remained where he was. She had never used that Tone with him before.

She made for the door and down the hall. She needed to find the garage. She stumbled bare-footed down the hall, having left her shoes by her bed in her haste. Padding silently down the main staircase, she opened the large door marked "Storage." She had a vague recollection of Scott carrying her up the stairs and through this door, but after that the memory faded. She turned the handle; it was locked. Frowning, she stretched out her hand and froze the doorknob; it expanded, cracking the wooden door. It clattered to the floor as she pushed the door open and proceeded down the stairs. Several vehicles of varying complexity stretched out before her; she located Scott's prized motorcycle and swung her bare feet over the seat.

The sound of a revving engine woke Logan, who groaned and rolled over in his sleep. Scott's motorcycle? What the hell was he doing with it at one in the morning? Damn laser boy.

But when the even noise of the engine was interrupted by a deafening crash, he sat up.

Something big was going down.

He rose quickly from his bed, pulling on his pants as he did so. Glancing out his window as he pulled his belt to, he saw a shadowy form come blowing out of the smoking garage, heading for the front gates. As it passed beneath the lights mounted on the pillars that supported the caste-iron fence, he recognized the vehicle; it was Scott's bike, alright. A blaze of red light shoot from the figure, melting the ornate gateway. What the hell was Scott doing?

The door flew open as Logan reached for the door handle. A stunned Scott starred at him through his red sunglasses; apparently he had not expected him to be in his room. Logan, too, was surprised. If it wasn't Scott on the bike, then who…

"Morgan!" the two men cried simultaneously, running out into the hall, Logan still struggling to pull on his shoes. He quickly overtook the younger man, however, and was pounding on the Professor's door.

"Enter."

Logan threw the door open. "She's gone."