Logan's Tale pt. VII
"The Hard Goodbye"
The outside perimeter security was top of the line, high tech stuff. This place had security that rivals most foreign embassies.
Sneaking in was a piece of cake.
I crept along a row of hedges towards the front gate. It was one of those gates you see in the movies: wrought iron with little spikes on the top. A guard patrolled back and forth in front of it.
Guards, hell. These bums are a death squad—from the same bunch that killed Jubilee. So I got no reason at all to be nice about this. I'm about to make my move when the guard starts jabbering into a walkie-talkie.
"Corporal Rivera, checking in. Quiet as a grave out here. No sign of target."
Copy that said the voice from the other end of the radio. Keep a lookout, Corporal. Stay on your toes. Central out
While he was talkin' on his radio, I snuck up behind Corporal Rivera. As soon as he signed off the radio and replaced it on his belt, I wrapped my left arm around his neck, cutting off a scream in his throat. He struggled, trying to escape. I punched him hard in the back with my free hand. His body muffled the release of my claws. Three razor sharp points sprang through his back and out his chest. I let go and he slides off my claws onto the ground.
"Stay on your toes, Corporal Rivera," I growl before I climb over the fence. I landed in a large, open lawn. I crouched down in the shadows and took a look around. I spotted the security cameras easily and memorized their rotation times. But they weren't the ones I was worried about. One thing I learned over the years is that it's not the cameras you can see that you should worry about.
I spotted another guard strolling around the first floor rooftops right above the back door, my way in. I tighten the straps on the pack slung across my back and run from the shadows, deftly avoiding the security cameras, and creep up onto the roof. The guard never saw me coming. I snuck up behind him and tapped him nicely on the shoulder.
"What the hell..." he muttered as he spun around. Then he saw me. "Oh no," he whimpered.
"Oh yeah," I grinned and tackled him. We fell onto the roof and I punched him straight through that hard plastic visor thingy. The hit stuns him, giving me time to stand up. I wind up and punt him off the roof. He bounced off a few shingles before going over the edge. I watched him fall and turned away when I heard the sickening crunch of his neck breaking.
This was too easy.
I hop off the roof and pop one of my claws. I use it to dismantle the security trip wires on the back door, the jam it through the lock and deadbolt. The adamantium makes short work of the tumblers and the door opens without a sound. I creep through the mansion, surrounded by one-of-a-kind masterpieces. We're talkin' original Picasso's paintings and sculptures by Michelangelo. I found myself drawn to an ancient and ornate suit of Samurai armor, complete with swords and spear. I stared into its glass case and saw my own face inside the helmet, just like where it would be if I were wearing it myself. Flashes of memories rushed through my mind.
Peace and Serenity…
Training with Master Ogun…
Surrounded by an army of Hand Ninjas…
Mariko…
I shook my head and wiped away the memories. I'm getting' confused again and now's not a good time. Can't worry about stuff like that now. I'll figure it out later.
If I have a later…
-X-
A few more guards go down as I make my way though the house. None of them give me much trouble; they all go down without so much as a peep.
I find a long, spiral staircase hidden behind a bookcase and start climbing. The stairs are steep and very old, like the ones you'd find in an old European castle and not a modern mansion.
I climb those stairs for what seems like forever; they just keep going up and up. Finally, I reach a round wooden door made up of planks and iron. This is it.
Finally.
Xavier.
Charles Francis Xavier.
-X-
I slip the contents of my pack out and hold it in front of me as I enter the room.
A beam of light from the stairwell illuminates the room. I can see Xavier lying on a small bed in a cell-like room. The light reflected off his bald head and he looked shorter than I expected. The room is pretty bare, the bed and a small table and chairs set were the only furnishings. The walls were bare stone and there were several leather-bound Bible's scattered around the room, including an open one on the table and one draped across the sleeping Xavier's lap.
Must have been his personal meditation space or somethin'.
The sudden light woke Xavier up. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and he sat up at the waist.
"Huh?" he muttered. "Toad?"
I stepped into the room, brandishing Toad's severed head ahead of me. "Well, what's left of him. The dog at the rest." I walk to the table and plop Toad's green, slimy head onto the open Bible. Xavier's eyes widened. Xavier reached for a silver wheelchair next to the bed and climbed into it. With a flick of a joystick, the mechanical chair rolled forward to the table and Xavier hesitantly reached out and touched Toad's face, like he didn't really think it was there.
But then he touched it and the horrible truth was etched across his face. Looked like he was going to be sick.
"Oh my God…You monster!" he snarled in that same cultured tone I heard back at the farm. "You animal!"
I took out Jena's gun and showed it to him. Good thing I held onto it, its finally gonna come in handy.
"Don't scream or I'll plug ya," I warn and sit down across the table from him. "And at least I don't go around eating people."
"You don't understand him! You don't know anything about him!" Xavier shouted. I cock the gun and he settles down a little bit. "You probably think he couldn't talk, don't you?"
Xavier reached out and picked up Toad's head. He cradled the bloody, slimy head lovingly in his lap and looked down at it.
"You're wrong about that. He had a voice like an angel," he said full of praise. "But he only spoke to me. And now he's dead…" he growled. "…And all because of one stupid whore!"
"Her name was Red," I growl in low tones as I struggle to keep myself from rippin' the jerk's lame legs off and beatin' him with them. "Unless you want to see my bad side, it's not a good idea for you to talk about her like that." I light up a cigar and point the gun at Xavier's forehead. "Just give with the scoop. The whole story," I order.
"Why should I tell you anything?" asks Xavier.
"Because if you don't, I'll start by breakin' your fingers before cuttin' 'em off and you'll talk anyway." I'm famous for my reasoning.
Xavier stared me in the eyes for a moment, his large forehead wrinkling in brief concentration. I briefly felt something in the back of my mind, but it was gone as fast as it appeared. Xavier broke eye contact and looked back down at the head in his lap.
"He was just a boy when he first came to me—and I was just a priest back then," he confessed. "Toad came to give confession…" Xavier paused for a moment to stifle a sob. "…He was a tortured soul…tormented by guilt," he stammered.
"But the eating…it filled him with white light…with love for every living thing. Tearful, he swore to me hat he felt the touch of god almighty!" he exclaimed. "At first, I thought he was insane. I tried to counsel him, to control him. But, as years passed, Toad's voice grew richer, deeper, more certain…until it filled me with pleasure just to hear him speak. In time, I began to envy him. Just listening to his voice was no longer enough. I could no longer stand to the side, not while he touched Heaven."
He looked up and I just stared at him with wide eyes. I knew Saint Charlie here was calling the shots, I never thought he was in with Toad like that.
"Don't look at me that way, you beast. You don't know. You just don't know," he snapped at me.
"I know it's pretty damn weird to eat people, Chuck."
"He didn't just eat their bodies! He ate their souls! He loved them in a way that was absolute and clean and pure and perfect!" he raved.
"And you joined in," I muttered.
Xavier tiled his head back in relish. "Yes…Oh, yes." He smiled at the memory before turning his attention back to the present.
"The women were nothing. Whores. Nobody cared. Nobody missed them. And then that one girl—your Red—almost ruined everything! She must have suspected something, after the first few girls. Perhaps she saw one of them getting into my limousine. She followed us. Toad was engrossed when she found us. He went after her, but she made it to her car and escaped. She stayed in public places. Then with you."
He smiled at me. "You were the perfect fall man. So convenient. Nobody would believe a thug like you. You put a man in a coma that same night in a barroom brawl. Toad killed her. I ordered the police in for you. But you wouldn't be caught. And you wouldn't stop!" he complained. "And now Toad is dead and you're here to kill me."
I nodded.
"Will that give you satisfaction, my son?" he asked, getting' all preachy on me. "Killing a helpless old man?"
I shook my head. "The killin', no. No satisfaction in that. But everything up until the killing, Heh, that'll be a gas." I snuff out my cigar on the table and put the gun away. "You can scream now if you want to.
-X-
It's beautiful, Red. It's perfect. It's just like I promised only better. Blood squirts onto my chin as I slowly tear Xavier apart and I enjoy every minute of it. Toad was damn frustrating to kill, but Xavier's a pure joy.
It's not quick or quiet like it was for you. No, it's loud and nasty, my kind of kill.
I stare the bastard in the face and laugh as he screams to God for mercy and I laugh harder when I pop my claws and he squeals like a stuck pig and when he whimpers like a baby I'm laughing so hard I cry.
He spurts and gurgles blood and life is good. And when his eyes go dead the hell I send him to must seem like heaven after what I've done to him.
I got so worked up in what I was doing that I didn't notice the three guards running up the stairs until they stormed into the room.
"FREEZE!" yelled the first one through the door. I partially turned to see them and exposed what was left of Xavier. The guards saw. "Oh, my GOD…" one of them muttered before getting sick all over the inside of his visor. I lunged at them.
BREKK! BREEK! BREKK!
-X-
Jerks.
Even though they shot me enough times to kill a Sperm Whale a dozen times over, all they managed to do to me is short out my healing factor for a few hours and I passed out.
I woke up in an operating room, seeing doctors and nurses standin' over me, covered in my own blood. It's so stupid. Everybody knows what's coming, but they go through the notions anyway. What a waste of time.
Jerks.
I tried to move, but the massive amounts of drugs they were pumpin' through me left me basically a vegetable. One of the nurses noticed I was awake and they shot me up with somethin' that knocked me back out.
-X-
A few days later I claw my way out of a haze of anesthetics. I'm laying in a bed attached to about a dozen IV's and machines doing who knows what. I immediately have flashbacks to the last time I was in a situation like this. When a group of bastards cut me to the bone and turned me into a freak science experiment with a bad attitude.
Days fall off the calendar while I breathe and eat through tubes and I can't even wash myself or use the damn toilet like a grown man ought to.
Night after night I wait for somebody to come and finish me off. If I'm lucky it might even be Angel. I once heard he made hospital calls. But after awhile I realize its not going to be that easy. I'm a thorn in a lot of people's sides and they're gonna try and make an example of me.
I thought about escaping a couple of times, but they were still pumping that paralyzing drug into me, keeping me docile, controlled. So I just bide my time and wait for them to make their move.
-X-
I'm on my feet for about ten minutes before the cops kick 'em out from under me. They don't ask me any questions, not one. They just keep knocking the crap out of me with axe handles and baseball bats and waving a confession in my face. Even though I'm bloody and bruised, I keep spitting blood all over the pieces of paper and laughing at how many fresh copies the come up with.
Then along comes this wormy assistant district attorney who turns the recorder off and says if I don't sign their confession they'll burn Kadie's to the ground and kill all the girls.
I pop my claws and cut his hand off before I sign the confession.
From then on it's the circus everybody wants it to be. Newspapers, TV coverage, the works. I became the biggest thing since OJ. They nail me with the works. Not just the people who I did kill, the ones who deserved it, but even Jubilee and the girls Toad and Xavier ate.
And even Red.
The judge was all fire and brimstone when she hands down the sentence. Probably shouldn't have called her a bull dyke in desperate need of losing 50 lbs. The crowd ate it up.
And right now they're outside, waiting. I can hear them even from my cell beneath Basin City Prison. Holding a vigil, they call it. They're hollering and pulling six-packs put of their station wagons and wishing they could watch the lynching up close. They'll have to settle for watching the live TV coverage.
-X-
Midnight and my execution are only a few hours away when I get my first surprise in eighteen months. My only visitor.
They got me in a tiny cell with a window so high up I can't even see the outside anymore. The place stinks of sweat and shit and of despair. I'm in solitary about a mile away from the other cons so I can hear her heels click on the cement floor for a long time before she gets here. I'm ready for everything but that scent. She stands just outside my cell, her delicate hands wrapped around the bars.
"I got them for you good, didn't I, Red?" I ask.
The cell door slides open and she steps into my tiny living space. I watch her walk towards me and I lower my eyes and shake my head.
"I'm sorry Jean. I got confused again, seein' like this."
"It's alright, Logan," she says to me before drawing me into a tight hug. "You can call me Red," she whispers into my ear. I pull back and our lips meet in a deep embrace.
She smells like angels out to smell: sweet and warm. I catch a whiff of her perfume, Folavril, and the promise of things to come. Her scent mixes with mine as we come together.
The Perfect Woman.
The Goddess.
Red. She says her name is Red.
-X-
They didn't let her stay for very long, no more than a half hour maybe. But it was enough. Enough to remind me why I was going along with this masquerade, why I was lettin' them do this to me. They stopped givin' me those drugs when I got to the prison, relying on the walls and bars and guards to keep me in line.
I saw about a hundred escape routes and opportunities every day, but I didn't act on them. Maybe it was because of the promise I made to Red to see this through to the end. Maybe I thought I deserved what was comin' for me.
They fixed me a pretty decent steak for my last meal. They even threw in a brew, the first I've had since back at Emma's.
Then they shave my head and fix me with a rubber diaper and get to it.
And it's about damn time, if you ask me.
They strap me down in the electric chair and covered me in electrodes. They place that tin foil skullcap on my head and wire me in. I hear 'em powering up the generators and the smell of ozone and burning wires assaults my nose.
They even had a priest for me. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…"
"Could you get a move on? I haven't got all night!" I growl. After Xavier and that German demon with the Mercedes, I had my fill of God and men of the cloth.
The captain of the guards had the honor of presiding over my execution. He turned to one of his lieutenants wearin' black rubber gloves, "You heard the man. Hit it."
"Yes Sir."
CLI-CLUNK!
A couple hundred thousand volts of electricity pass through my body. I buckle and twist beneath my restraints as the current travels through my metal skeleton.
After a few seconds, the guard lowers the switch and kills the current. Everyone presses in, get real close to me, close enough to smell my cooked flesh. My eyes snap open and I cough up a mouthful of blood.
"Heh, Heh. Is that the best you can do, bub?" I laugh.
CLI-CLUNK!
I thrashed in my restraints again as the guard hit the switch a second time. And just before the world went black, I saw her one last time. Back on her heart-shaped bed. The Perfect Woman. The Goddess.
-X-
The captain of the guard nodded to the doctor on hand. He plugged his stethoscope into his ears and checked Logan's heartbeat. After listening for a few seconds, he stood back up and shook his head. "He's gone."
The captain of the guard nodded to the camera crews to shut down the live feed and motioned for the guards to remove the corpse for the coroners. The bloody body was hauled off on a gurney while the media jackals snapped as many pictures as they could for the morning papers.
-X-
Far off in the bowels of the prison, there was a small morgue. There the head medical of the medical staff, Dr. Carol Hines, waited for Logan's corpse. With her was a thin man in his late fifties. He was bald with sharp, cutting features under round, ascetic glasses. His hands were clasped in front of him as he waited impatiently. He kept tapping his long fingers on the Formica counter, something that greatly annoyed Carol Hines.
"Why exactly are you here?" she asked him. "Are you relation, Mr…"
"Professor, my dear," he interrupted. "Just The Professor. And yes, you could say I am related to the recently deceased. You could say I'm his father as sorts."
"As sorts?" inquired the curious Dr. Hines.
"You could say, I made him into the man he is, or should I say was, today."
"So you made him into a murdering animal." Hines' voice was deadpan, completely lacking emotion.
"No, I'm afraid Logan was always an animal," replied The Professor, with a small smile on his cruel mouth. "I just gave him claws. And I'm here to take them back," he said as the guards wheeled in the sheet covered gurney.
"Got a fresh fried one for ya here, Doc," said one of the guards crudely. The other guard thought that to be hysterical, although neither Dr. Hines nor The Professor laughed.
"Your jobs done, you may go," ordered Dr. Hines after the guards heaved Logan's corpse onto the post-mortem table. The guards didn't acknowledge her, they just went back the way they came already thinking about the end of their shifts and their first beer of the night.
Dr. Hines quickly, but efficiently, got to work. She donned a pair of long rubber gloves and studied the body in front of her. The Professor likewise studied Logan's corpse, particularly his face. Logan's face was covered in blood, but The Professor saw no wounds. The man's face still had a full, wild head of hair and still had his mangy sideburns.
"Don't they shave the condemned before execution?" he asked.
Dr. Hines nodded. "Guess they didn't bother with this one." She began to conduct the autopsy, removing a scalpel from a set of tools and started to make an incision along Logan's chest. "So what do you need from me?" she asked The Professor.
POP!
The Professor jumped and reached into his pant's pocket. "What was that?" he shouted and turned away from Dr. Hines and the corpse. His hand slowly crept out of his pocket, containing a small, silver plated pistol.
"It was just one of the lights popping. Happens all the time after an execution." Then she saw the gun. "How did you get that in here? This is a prison, Professor! No weapons of any kind allowed!" She stormed away from the post-mortem table to chastise the older man.
The Professor smiled like a child who had been scolded by a teacher, but didn't care at all. "Forgive me. But it is merely a precaution around him," The Professor answered and pointed the pistol at the corpse on the table.
Only the corpse wasn't there…
The Professor's eyes widened in terror. "WHERE THE HELL DID HE GO?" he screamed in a high-pitched shriek. "WHERE THE HELL DID HE GO?"
Dr. Hines was equally astonished. "I don't know!" she shouted back. She ran to the post-mortem table, but it was empty. The only thing on the table was a bloodstained sheet and a scalpel embedded in the table.
More lights began to pop and soon the small morgue was immersed in near darkness, only one bank of fluorescent lights remained. Dr. Hines rushed to a phone attached to the morgue wall.
"Control, this is the morgue! Come in Control!" she shouted into the receiver.
This is Control. Go ahead Dr. Hines.
"We've had lighting problems from the execution. Send someone from maintenance down. Make sure he's armed."
Doctor?
"Just do it Control!" ordered Dr. Hines and she slammed the receiver back in its cradle. She turned back to The Professor. He was searching the room carefully, checking every nook and cranny for the missing corpse. He threw the sheet across the room and checked under the post-mortem table. He even opened cupboards and cabinets, as if Logan's corpse had hidden itself away inside one of them. Dr. Hines stepped over to the older man and laid a hand on his shoulder. The Professor spun around, aiming the gun at her forehead. Dr. Hines gasped at his actions and at his face. The Professor was white as a ghost and cold sweat glistened on his high forehead. His hands were trembling and the cool, collected manner he had acted in earlier was long gone.
"What did you do with him?" demanded The Professor. Dr. Hines quickly stepped back, but The Professor kept the gun leveled at her.
"Please, Professor. I didn't do anything," she pleaded. "Nothing is wrong here. The lights are always popping after an execution. The body must have fallen off the table."
"It can't do that! It's dead! It can't just get up and move around!" argued The Professor. "Something is very wrong here!"
Snikt!
"You got that right, bub"
-X-
Author's Notes:
Well folks, that's the end of "The Hard Goodbye." WhenI first wrote out the ending, something didn't feel right to me. Killing off Logan just seemed wrong. Plus, I have a spinoff story with him in mind.
Reviewer Shout-outs!
A Pen and a Piece of Mind:I had to put Phoenix in there, she's was always one of my favorites too. I liked Dark Phoenix most, that's why I made Jean a little more evil in the story. Stick around for the next story.
The Frog Prince of Crime: Glad you liked Phoenix. The sound effects were something I wrestled with right from the begining. At first, I wasn't going to use them, but I decided they would give the story more of a comic book feel. Glad you like them.
Mazdamiatta: Reviewing with a broken arm...now that is dedication! Hope you like this chapter and I'm glad you're looking forward to a little Remy and hooker action. Keep on reviewing and I hope your arm gets better soon.
PoisonRogue:Glad you liked my way of combining the X-Men and Sin City universes. Keep on reading and reviewing.
Stefbug: Sadly, not even writing is keeping me sane anymore, not with finals looming over my head. Logan's healing factor was one of the hardest things to get around in the ending. I hadto execute him, but most wouldn't work. Can't hang him, shoot him, he'd fight off a lethal injection. Hell, not even a guilotine would work. Let me know what you think about the way I did it.
BenjiB: So I've made the literary equivalent of a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, huh? Cool. Very cool. Keep on reading and reviewing.
Coldqueen: Thanks for your ongoing support. Glad you're happy about Banshee. Keep on reading and reviewing, the best is yet to come.
Johnny be Good: Glad you like the story. I had to cast Gambit as Dwight. They're like a custom fit for eachother. Still trying to work out all the dialect and accents for Remy, though. If you, or anyone else out there in reviewer land, have any ideas on how I can do this please le me know.
Emma Raven Moony Grimm: I'm glad you like the fic. Keep on reading and I'll keep on writing.
'Till next time,
Nataku's Wrath