Logan pushed the speed limit as he drove back to his apartment. He only had so much time to contact June before he had to retrieve the briefcase of adamantium. Not to mention, she also had to get a team together by tonight. He gripped the hair at the back of his head with one hand and tried taking in a deep, shaky breath. His fears were quickly becoming a reality. Carlisle knew about Lawrence and was more than willing to use that knowledge as leverage against him. He'd read newspaper articles describing bodies found dismembered, skinned, tortured to death, or worse by killers who were never found. Yet, it was no mystery who killed those people. The modus operandi was specific to the way crime boss' dealt with inconveniences, insubordinates, traitors, and liabilities. If Lawrence suffered a similar fate because of his actions, there would be nothing that could ever absolve Logan of the guilt that would follow.
The wheels of his Mustang screeched to a halt as he parked along the street. He slammed the door shut and ran into the apartment complex. He reached Lawrence's unit in no time and knocked. When no one answered, he swore under his breath and raced up the stairs to the fourth floor. He tried the doorknob to his own apartment and flung the door open when it gave. Lawrence jumped from where he was sitting at the table and he dropped the book that was in his hands. The sight of him still in one piece and unharmed had him overwhelmed with relief.
"Thank God," he sighed.
"What's going on, Logan?" He asked with wide eyes.
"We need to get you out of Brooklyn ASAP." He said as he strode over to his rotary phone.
"What? Why?"
Logan ignored him as he pulled June's business card out of his pocket and dialed the number. He held his breath as the line rang.
"Hello?"
"June, it's Logan."
"Are you alright? You sound more curt than usual."
"Listen, I need you to find a safe place for Lawrence to stay for the next forty-eight hours or so. I got the job, but Carlisle is suspicious. Do you have a pen and paper?"
"Just give me one second," the line was silent for a beat, "alright, go ahead."
"The place is along Newark Ave, just before the Turnpike. Take a right onto an unnamed side street and it'll lead you into a parking lot. If you pass James Avenue, you've gone too far." He instructed tersely.
"Wait, this exchange is in Jersey?"
Logan rolled his eyes. "No, it's in Montana. Yes, it's in Jersey!" He snapped.
"Geez, calm down! I'll try to get a team together." She paused, and he impatiently drummed his fingers against the waist-high bookcase. "Regarding Lawrence, S.H.I.E.L.D. has several safe houses in case of emergencies. Have him go to Tom's and I'll send an agent out there to drive him over to the place."
"Do me a favor and send a female agent. I doubt you've taken care of your rat problem in one day." He said. The more he thought about it, the more he felt in his gut that the man he encountered at Mike's was the S.H.I.E.L.D. rat. Even if he was wrong, he couldn't risk it on the off chance that he was right.
"Sure—wait, how do you know it's a male agent?" She asked, her tone dripping with suspicion.
He rubbed his forehead. "Call it a hunch. Just be at the rendezvous point before nine-thirty. And please tell your team to keep a low profile. The men buying this stuff weren't born yesterday."
"Logan wait, I swear if you hang—"
He returned the phone to its cradle and turned to Lawrence who had been studying him intently. He smoothed his dark hair and took a seat at the table. "An agent is going to meet you at Tom's and from there she'll take you someplace safe. Make sure it's a woman you're leaving with."
He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?"
"I'm not sure how, but Carlisle knows about you. If he finds out what I've done, he'll kill you."
Lawrence removed his hand from his face and hit it against the table. "Fucking hell, Logan, what did I tell you? This has gotten out of control!"
"I know, I'm quitting after this."
He stared hard at him. "Quitting isn't going to fix everything overnight."
"I never said it would." He retorted.
"What do you expect me to do in the meantime? I've got an actual job! I can't just wait indefinitely for the dust to settle from the damage you've done." His tone was biting, and Logan could tell his reservoir of sympathy was running dangerously low. He couldn't really blame him though. As frustrated as Logan was, he knew he deserved every ounce of Lawrence's anger.
He felt his fists clench as he tried to control his own temper. "What else do you want me to do? I'm trying to do my best!"
"Your best? Don't you get it? I just want you to care." The bitterness in his expression was suddenly replaced with fatigue, a fatigue that looked so heavy he thought Lawrence would fall through the floor. "If you truly cared about the impact of your actions and heeded my warnings, we wouldn't be in this fucking mess."
He averted his eyes and massaged the back of his neck. "Lawrence, I—"
"Look, I'll go with the agent just…do what you gotta do." He huffed as he rose to his feet. Logan stood as he took a step forward and grabbed Lawrence's arm, stopping him in his tracks.
"Wait, I better go with you."
"Thanks for the concern, but I'm fine." He scoffed. When he tried to rip his arm free, Logan tightened his grip.
"I'm going with you whether you like it or not." Their eyes locked and Lawrence knew he couldn't convince him otherwise. He'd seen that determined look before, and there was nothing that could deter Logan once he had his mind set on something. The two of them walked together to Lawrence's unit so that he could pack. As he gathered his things, Logan stood guard by the window. He looked over his shoulder and noticed that his friend had chosen to use his cargo bag from the Korean War. There was a sense of irony to it, but he wasn't in the right mindset to pinpoint why. Once he had enough packed for a few days, they left the apartment complex and hailed a taxi.
The cab they entered was stuffy with the smell of cigarette smoke and the silence that fell between them. Not even the hits from the last decade playing on the car's radio were able to break through the thick quiet that had settled in the cab. Logan told the cabbie where they needed to go and then glanced at Lawrence. A deep crease had set between his eyebrows and his gaze was fixed on the window. It wasn't uncommon for Lawrence to be angry with him. However, this rare quiet rage was enough evidence that he'd done more than just cross a line this time. He could even smell the anger that rolled off his friend in waves.
After what seemed like an eternity for a short trip, they pulled up to the restaurant and Logan paid the driver. Lawrence was quick to exit the cab with his cargo bag in hand and Logan followed suit shortly after, following him into the diner. The two of them sat down at a table and Logan took a seat across from Lawrence where he could keep an eye on the entrance. After scanning the bar for any threats, he studied his friend who continued to ignore him by staring at the pictures on the walls.
"How long are you going to keep this up?" He asked as he turned over both of their coffee mugs.
Lawrence refused to say a word as he picked up a menu.
"Look, I'm sorry okay? Now would you stop giving me the silent treatment?"
For the first time since they had left his apartment, Lawrence lifted his icy stare to meet his eyes. "You're full of shit."
He recoiled at the accusation. "Excuse me?"
"You're always sorry, but you can't be bothered to do anything about it."
He sighed. "That's going to change. It'll be different this time."
"Yeah, funny how my life being threatened was your wakeup call." He retorted.
"Dammit, Lawrence, would you cut me some slack? I'm trying my best to fix this!"
"If you had just listened to me in the first place there wouldn't be anything to fix!"
Logan took a deep breath through his nose before he ripped the menu out of his hands. "Look at me," he waited for him to do so before continuing, "I know I'm a fuck up. I've made your life more difficult than it should be and you don't deserve that. Just give me one day and I'll have this whole thing cleared up."
He sighed. "Logan, you're not a fuck up. Sure, you do dumb shit sometimes, but that doesn't mean I'm not grateful to have you as a friend. I just know you're capable of being so much more than Carlisle's puppet."
As a waitress came to pour them some coffee, he opened his mouth to argue otherwise but stopped. Lawrence was right. Whether he liked it or not, Carlisle had him in the palm of his hand. For months he had falsely believed the situation was under his control, that he could leave and pick up an honest life whenever he wanted. Recalling all the wreckage left in his wake made him realize how wrong he had been. All this time he'd been just an animal with a handler, never asking questions and always rising to the occasion. Unintentionally or not, he had returned to the life he once escaped. Logan rested his chin on his folded hands as his eyebrows knitted tightly together. There were only two possible routes to take in order to free himself from Carlisle's grasp. One, was that he could take things into his own hands and confront the crime boss himself. The other was to allow S.H.I.E.L.D., if not the feds, to do things their own bureaucratic way. The latter would surely be a lengthy process for a problem that needed an immediate solution. There was far too much red tape wrapped around this situation, and who knew how many feds Carlisle had on his side.
Lawrence observed him with a scrutinizing stare. "I've seen that look before. Whatever it is you're thinking of doing, don't." He said before he lifted his coffee mug to his lips.
"I'll be the one to decide that." Logan replied.
He eyed him. "You enjoy this, don't you?"
"What are you talking about?"
"There's a thrill that comes with this business you've gotten yourself into. I'd bet money you knew full well the risks associated with working for someone like Carlisle. Yet you still followed that path like a bloodhound on a fresh scent trail. You've fought in four wars, it's no wonder you'd do anything to disrupt the mundanity of civilian life." He said. "But when this is all over, I want to help you find an outlet that's more legal."
Logan snorted. "Let me know how that works out for ya."
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the glint of the restaurant's door as it opened. His eyes flitted over to see a woman wearing a trench coat and knee-high boots. Her eyes scanned the diner as she loosened the geometric scarf around her neck. The smell of expensive perfume that reached his nose combined with her put-together appearance was a dead giveaway of her affiliation with S.H.I.E.L.D. Their eyes met, and her eyebrows lifted high in surprise. She glanced around once more before joining them at their table.
"June didn't tell me the Wolverine would be here too." She said. Lawrence gave him an incredulous look.
"The Wolverine?" He repeated, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Didn't know you had a nickname."
"Please, just call me James." Logan sighed as he massaged his temple.
"Right, sorry. I'm here to escort Lawrence to the safe house."
"Let me finish my coffee first." He said. "What's your name anyway?"
"Susan," she held out her hand, "you must be Lawrence."
Logan drank his coffee as he watched the two of them shake hands. "I take it you've read my file too?"
She nodded as she offered him a handshake. He opted to cross his arms instead and she drew back her hand. "I actually wrote part of it, but I have to ask. How do you two know each other?"
He narrowed his eyes and bristled. "What kind of a question is that?"
"What James means is that he doesn't want his whole life on record and at the disposal of some government agency." Lawrence interjected. "He may be a mutant, but he still has a right to privacy."
"Are you his attorney?"
"Something like that." He smirked before drinking the rest of his coffee. Logan chuckled and flagged the waitress down. When she came over he pulled out a ten and told her to keep the change.
"Ten dollars for fifty cents worth of coffee?" She asked.
"With a paygrade like yours, I don't expect you to understand." He said.
"This is going to be a long two days." Lawrence sighed. As he pushed his chair back to stand, Logan reached across the table and took hold of his arm to stop him. He then shifted his gaze to study Susan. "Have you ever spoken with Carlisle or worked for him?"
Her mouth parted, and her eyebrows drew together at the accusation. "Of course not!"
"One more question, does anyone besides June know where you're taking Lawrence?"
She shook her head, "no."
He watched her for a moment before letting go of Lawrence's arm. "She's telling the truth. Is there a number I can call, Susan? Just to check in with Lawrence later?"
She hesitated. "There is, but I'm not supposed to give it out."
"Come on, this is my friend we're talking about. Besides, do I really look like someone who can trace calls?" He grinned, playing up his charm.
"I guess not." She mused as she pulled a pen from her purse and wrote a number on a napkin.
"Thanks toots," he said as he pocketed the number. The two of them stood and Lawrence lingered for a moment as Susan made her way towards the entrance.
"Logan, whatever it is you're planning on doing, please be careful." He said.
"No promises." He grinned. Lawrence rolled his eyes and he watched the two of them leave. Glancing at his watch, he stood and exited shortly after.
An uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu settled over him as he drove towards the West Side of Jersey City. The only difference was that the briefcase sitting in his passenger seat was larger and heavier than the first. That, and the fact that he was doing this for S.H.I.E.L.D. this time. He ran a hand over his bearded face. What happened tonight could unfold in a hundred different ways. Yet, partnered with his growing dread was a stark sense of calmness. Lawrence had hit the nail on the head back at the diner. The conflicting feelings were reminiscent of his days spent on the battlefield and he missed them, missed the moments of feeling truly alive despite living a life that seemed to never end. But wars didn't last forever, and working as a mercenary was an escape from the gray rerun of civilian life. While he felt guilty about the high he got from doing mercenary work, he reasoned that his skillset was worthless if he couldn't use it. This was his element, after all, and he thrived in it.
While stopped at a traffic light, he lit a cigar and cracked his window. To his left, the lights of Jersey City reflected against the rain clouds that had begun to gather. The smell of ozone that hung in the air confirmed the imminent rainstorm that encroached on the city. The sudden bright, green glow of the traffic light redirected his attention to the road and he turned right onto Newark Avenue. He took another right onto the unnamed road and as he pulled into the parking lot, he scanned his surroundings. Logan was relieved to find that June's team had done well in hiding themselves in plain sight. He was thoroughly impressed. Even with their presence, the lot still appeared almost as empty as it was the last time. The only remote sign of their existence was their scent. From what he could tell, there were four or five cars that were affiliated with S.H.I.E.L.D. He puffed his cigar and glanced at his watch. Seeing he was thirty minutes early, he rolled his window down completely and rested his arm on the doorframe. The snap of a car door opening reached his ears and he looked over to see June walking over to him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing? If they see you out here this whole thing is fucked." He hissed. She ignored his comment and handed him a cigar. He held it between his fingers and examined it. The cigar was a fake but could pass as real to anyone who wasn't a cigar aficionado. "What's this?"
"This is for communication purposes. It'll help us listen in without tipping them off." She replied.
His eyes flicked up from the cigar to meet hers. "Is this a joke?"
"No, it's a two-way radio." She quipped with a smile. "When you clench it between your teeth you'll be able to hear us via bone conduction."
"I just lit this one too." He muttered as he stubbed his cigar and tossed it onto the dash to save it later.
"Remember it's two-way, meaning we can hear you and you can hear us."
"This isn't my first time using spy shit."
"Never hurts to cover all bases." She countered. "Don't do anything rash, okay?"
"Likewise."
She rolled her eyes before returning to a parked vehicle to his left. He kept the fake cigar between his fingers for the time being. As he waited he soaked in the silence, the ominous stillness of the night being both comfortable and familiar. He checked his watch again and seeing that it was almost ten, placed the fake cigar in his mouth and rolled up his window.
"It's about time you put the damn thing in your mouth." He heard June say.
"You try keeping something that tastes like plastic and cardboard in your mouth."
He heard her chuckle on the other end. "At least it's better than the pipe they wanted to give you."
"What?"
"I know, I told them it didn't suit you." She said. "I've got sights on a vehicle heading our way, are you ready?"
Using his side mirror, he watched a familiar Blackhawk pull into the lot. He took hold of the briefcase and exited the car. "Let's get this over with."
The car pulled up beside him and the same men from last time stepped out. Alton gave Logan a nod as John and Nicky positioned themselves on either side of him.
"Long time no see." Alton smiled as he smoothed his blazer. "You know, for a moment I didn't think you'd show tonight."
"What does he mean by that?" June asked.
"Well, you thought wrong." Logan said, ignoring her.
"Clearly, now would you kindly hand over the adamantium?"
Logan narrowed his eyes. "Where's the cash?"
He ignored the question as he leaned against the Blackhawk. "You know, James, when we first met I could see why Carlisle spoke so highly of you. You're a true soldier, a man who's remarkably focused and doesn't ask questions. I valued his opinion. But now I see you for who you really are, and that he is merely a fool."
"What are you talking about?" He asked as he squared his shoulders.
He shrugged. "My employer was informed that the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent you were hired to ice is still alive. Word on the street says you've been friendly towards her. He wasn't happy to hear that."
"Logan, what the hell is he talking about?" June asked sharply. He took the cigar out of his mouth and tossed it to the side.
"Do you want the fucking adamantium or not? You're wasting my time with these rumors." He replied as he took a step forward. Alton's heavies drew their pistols from their concealed shoulder holsters. Logan didn't flinch, and his grip on the briefcase tightened. The air was charged with hostility and the coming rain. He could feel the combined energy of the two crackle against his skin. The situation was a powder keg waiting to explode, and part of him hoped for a spark that would give him permission to put the men in their place.
"I wouldn't do anything stupid if I were you." Alton said.
Without warning, a gunshot sounded. Logan tensed and waited for the pain to come. Much to his surprise, it was Alton who slid to the ground as he gripped his shoulder. Blood began to seep through his gray suit and he swore loudly. Logan clenched his fists and shot a glare over his shoulder. Thanks to some trigger happy S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, the situation was about to go from bad to worse. It was certainly a spark, but not quite the kind he was looking for.
The two stocky men reacted quicker than he expected. While Logan was distracted, John pistol whipped him with enough force to send him to the ground. His head collided with the pavement and a sharp, resounding crack rang in his ears. A wet warmth began to pool where his head had met the gravel. He groaned as the world around him began to spin. A stabbing pain pulsed through his head as he barely registered the muffled sound of the gunfire exchanged between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the two men. He braced himself against the ground and fought against the darkness that threatened to engulf him. He couldn't black out now, even if it was only for a minute. If he did, he would certainly end up in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s custody. His secret regarding Carlisle had been found out, and there was no doubt that they would detain Lawrence as well. He had to warn him, had to get back on his feet and get out of there.
As the threat of losing consciousness began to subside, he was vaguely aware of a body falling to the ground beside him. His eyes locked onto the pistol that clattered onto the asphalt and he took a deep steadying breath. With a snarl, he grabbed the weapon and with military precision, shot John down with a single bullet to the head. Logan tossed the weapon aside and pushed himself to his feet. Wiping away the blood that had gotten into his eye, he leaned against his Mustang as his skull finished fusing back together.
By now, most of the S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives in the area had come over. They busied themselves with searching the Blackhawk and the two corpses as Logan inspected his car for any damage. He let out a relieved sigh when he found that his car had miraculously remained untouched during the crossfire. His relief, however, was short lived. In an adjacent lot was a familiar Cadillac DeVille, its idle engine purring lowly. He straightened himself and stared hard at the vehicle as the passenger window was rolled up. His lungs pulled in the brisk air through his nose. Sorting through the smell of blood and the stink of discharged powder, a chunk of ice settled in his gut as he caught the all too familiar scent of Eau Sauvage cologne. The vehicle's headlights turned on and it leisurely drove off. The harsh sound of heels clicking against the pavement pulled Logan's attention away from the disappearing Cadillac and he turned.
"You better have a damn good explanation for all this, Logan!" June shouted. Her eyes were alight with rage, no longer soft and understanding.
"I'm not the one who shot first! I had it all under control." He retorted in a sad attempt to avoid the topic that was the source of her fury.
"That's not what I'm talking about. You've been working for Carlisle this whole time!"
"Look, I—"
"June! Come quick, I think this guy's taken some cyanide!" An agent called.
She swore and gave Logan a look that could kill. "I'm not done with you yet!" She hurried over to the agent kneeling beside Alton's body. Seeing this as his only window of opportunity, Logan slipped into his car and shifted into reverse. The exhaust from his engine filled the air as he gunned it. He peeled out of the lot and heard June order agents to follow him. He forced the clutch to the floor and engaged the first gear. The Mustang shook from the roar of the engine as he sped off towards Greenville. He knew better than to immediately head back to New York. He'd have to be dumber than meat to think he could lose S.H.I.E.L.D. in the Holland Tunnel. Driving into the heart of Jersey City was his best bet at throwing off his pursuers. The tires squealed against the pavement as he turned onto different residential streets and he maintained the high speed through a neighborhood and a half. It wasn't until he was sure that no one was immediately behind him that he eased on the gas. An auto repair shop on the right caught his eye, and he turned into the lot before parking between the other cars. He removed the keys from the ignition and rolled his windows down just a hair. He then maneuvered himself into the backseat and shrugged off his jacket. The blood from his healed head wound was still damp and, even with S.H.I.E.L.D. on his tail, he refused to ruin the vinyl upholstery.
As he lied down, rain began to patter against the roof and he closed his eyes. It was a game of waiting and listening now. With the cracked windows, the smell of petrichor seeped into the car as the drops of rain became more persistent. In the distance, he heard a vehicle cruise down the slick road. The spray that the tires kicked up drew closer and he stiffened. The vehicle that had approached sat idly close by, and he could tell that the vehicle had stopped in front of the lot. Logan opened his eyes and stared up at the driver side window. He readied himself for a fight, bringing his fists up and unsheathing his claws. Despite the thrumming of the rain, he could hear the conversation of the two agents in the car.
"You think he's in there?"
"I don't think so. If anything, he's still on the move. I've been hunting upstate and you'd be surprised by how long a chase can last."
"Yeah, you're probably right. Let's keep looking."
He clenched his jaw and sheathed his claws, knowing full well what the agent was implying. Logan heard the car drive off and he kept an eye on his watch. Erring on the side of caution, he waited for fifteen minutes before climbing back into the driver's seat. He then waited five more before sliding the keys into the ignition. After pulling out of the lot, he drove towards the heart of Greenville where he knew of a quiet bar that he used to visit regularly. Spending an hour at the bar was just what he needed and doing so would help kill time. June was thorough, and he wouldn't put it past her to assign agents as lookouts in Newport. He found a parking space in a small side lot across the street from the bar and shrugged on his jacket. Remembering the cigar on his dash, he tucked it into his coat pocket before stepping outside.
The downpour consumed him, and the chilly autumn air made his breath a visible cloud. Through the sheets of rain, he saw the bright reds and yellows of the neon bar sign reflect off the wet pavement. After all he'd been through he was more than ready for a few drinks, but first he had to call Lawrence. He locked his car and strode down the sidewalk towards a phone booth. Sliding the glass door shut behind him, he pulled the napkin from the diner out of his pocket and dropped a dime into the slot before dialing the number. He leaned against the glass and fidgeted with his keys as he waited, expecting the worst. A weight was lifted off his chest when the dial tone cut short.
"Hello?"
"Lawrence, listen to me. June found me out and she's livid. You need to get out of there before they try to detain you."
The line went silent, and Logan could tell that he was processing the information. "I thought I told you to be careful."
He rested his head against the glass and sighed. "Come on, Lawrence, that's not fair. You know how trouble follows me. Hell, I didn't even start it this time!"
"Fine, but where do you expect me to go if I can't go home?"
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose as he racked his brain for an answer. He finally recalled an old friend from their battalion who had moved to Queens. "What about Maurice's?"
"You mean Morrie? He lives in New York?"
"Yeah, he moved to Queens, remember? Don't know where though, you'll have to find his number and call him."
"Of course," he sighed, "should I expect to see you anytime soon?"
"Give me three hours. If you haven't heard from me by then, assume the worst."
"I hate it when you talk like that." Lawrence said quietly, his voice tight.
Logan paused, feeling a pang of guilt rise in his chest. He didn't like causing him distress, but there was no denying that this was a high-stakes situation. "Would you rather me lie to you? Now get your ass in gear before it's too late." He hung up before Lawrence could reply and crossed the quiet street to the bar.
As he stepped through the glass door, he found only a handful of patrons inside. Any other bar would have been packed at this hour but the owner, George, had kept the business small to foster a warm and inviting atmosphere. He was the kind of man who was willing to take in anyone under his wing. Logan respected him for his kindness and generosity. It made him feel at home in the small bar and reminded him of his better years in Alberta. As he took a seat at the counter and set his keys down, he saw George eagerly come over to him.
"Well I'll be damned, if it isn't my old friend Jimmy!" He beamed. "You look like a drowned rat."
The irony in his choice of words made Logan chuckle. "You have no idea."
"Let me get you a hot toddy on the house!" He said as he clapped him on the shoulder.
"You really don't have to."
"I insist!"
"Thanks," he replied as he took off his jacket.
"So, what brings you in? It's been too long since I last saw you." George said as he began fixing his drink.
He shrugged. "I was in town and thought I'd visit."
"It's good to see you, lad." He said as he handed him the steaming drink. The man's expression suddenly shifted as his eyebrows pulled together in concern. "Is that blood on your face?"
Logan touched a hand to his temple and brought it in front of his face. Sure enough, he had forgotten to wipe off what blood hadn't been washed away by the rain. "Yeah, got into a fight."
"That doesn't surprise me in the slightest. Knowing you, they probably had it coming. If you need anything at all, Jimmy, let me know." He replied before helping another patron.
He watched him go with a smile. George gave him too much credit, but Logan appreciated the benefit of a doubt that he gave him anyway. He breathed in the steam rising from his glass, enjoying the citrus and herbal notes that had mixed with the whiskey base. He nursed the drink and felt the warmth seep into his extremities. As he savored the concoction, he kept watch of the entrance. Even at a place as comfortable as George's, he couldn't afford to let his guard down. He finished the drink and ordered a bottle of the strongest whiskey George had. Being familiar with Logan's alcohol tolerance, he handed him a bottle and glass without question. About a third of the way through the bottle was when he felt a buzz kick in that dampened his senses. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the rare sensation. His lack of sleep and decent meals slowed his healing factor just enough to make him tipsy longer than usual. He reopened his eyes as the sensation began to subside and withdrew the cigar from his pocket. The end lit with ease and he leisurely gave it a few puffs as he poured more of the amber liquid into the glass.
He replayed the events that unfolded that night in his head. Alton had mentioned that someone told his employer that June was still alive. There were only five people he could recall who knew he had been commissioned to take her out: Carlisle, Frank, the S.H.I.E.L.D. rat, Lawrence, and whoever it was who wanted her dead. Logan puffed his cigar as he thought back to the times he was with June. Nothing suspicious stood out in his memories so he moved onto recalling his visit with Carlisle. His eyes widened as he remembered the man who had met with Carlisle before him. He understood with absolute clarity that the man was, in fact, the S.H.I.E.L.D. rat. There was no other reasonable explanation as to how Alton and his employer knew about his duplicity. It would also make sense why Carlisle had believed his story. It was only after the man had met with Carlisle that the agent had seen Logan. Perhaps he hadn't connected the dots until after running into each other that the Wolverine that June had encountered was the same man who was expected to kill her. After all, if Susan had recognized him, it was possible the S.H.I.E.L.D. rat could have as well. It would explain the initial fear he had detected.
"Motherfucker," he muttered under his breath. In addition, Carlisle's suspicion explained the Cadillac that had drove off. After picking up the scent of the familiar cologne, he was certain that it had been Frank's. Carlisle must have sent him to be his eyes and ears to make sure Logan was telling the truth. He ran a hand through his damp hair and stubbed his cigar. After tonight, he was a wanted man by three groups who possessed vast capabilities. He downed the whiskey in the glass and finished off the bottle. As he rose from his seat, he could feel the tipsy feeling return and he took hold of the counter to steady himself.
"Leaving already? You've barely been here for more than an hour." George said as he came over.
"I've got to take care of a few things." He replied as he put on his jacket. He dug out a fifty from his pocket and handed it to George.
"I understand. Take it easy, Jimmy, and come back soon!"
He nodded and stepped out of the bar. The door shut behind him and he was greeted by the downpour that was determined to soak him to the bone. He pulled up the collar of his jacket and crossed the street. When he reached his car, he padded down his pockets and tried to remember where he had put his keys. Between the torrential rain and his ebbing buzz, he didn't hear the two men who approached him from behind. He turned, remembering he had left them on the bar's counter, and found himself staring down the barrel of a .45 caliber pistol. The weapon fired before he could knock the gun away and his world went black.
