Special Note: Doogie's last name is Sassman...i blame a combination of exhaustion and watching my taped episode of "House" for the error in his name in my disclaimer...third shift does odd things to the brain...:) My apologies for any confusion this may have caused...i return you to your regularly scheduled crossover, already in progress...

Chapter 2.

As soon as we got in the air and on course, Storm explained a few things to me. "The town you'll be staying in is called Moonlight Bay," She began. "It's pretty small, only about twelve thousand people, but it's got a couple decent motels for tourists. It's also pretty well known for having some great surf from time to time."

I looked at her sideways. "Do I look like a surfer to you?"

"No, not exactly." She chuckled. "And I'm sure your metal skeleton makes you more of a sinker than a swimmer. But I thought it was worth mentioning as a point of interest, since it doesn't have much else."

"Ah, gotcha." I peered out the front windows of the plane. The Blackbird is beyond state-of-the-art for aircraft an' it can reach some pretty insane speeds. It also has some kinda anti-radar thing goin' for it, which is very helpful when one is plannin' on infiltrating a quasi-operational military base. On the other hand, if they even tried to take this thing by force, I'm sure that Storm would simply lob some lightning and massive tornadoes in their general direction til they backed off. I've been workin' on Chuck, tryin' to convince him that this thing needs conventional weapons installed, but he's still balking at the idea. I'll soften him up in time. For now, Storm is all the weaponry it has.

The view out the front of the jet was striking, but admittedly a bit lost on me. I'm not crazy 'bout flyin', somethin' I don't tell most people. It ain't that I'm afraid to fly, but I'm pretty sure even I would have a hard time survivin' a plane crash an' I hate to tempt fate by gettin' on one. But we were well above the clouds (which I'm sure Storm was responsible for), so it was all blue skies above and white fluff below, a very relaxin' view to say the least. I didn't even realize I'd nodded off til I found myself back at Fort Wyvern…

I've been here two days an' they've run every test on me they can without physically attemptin' to cut somethin' off an' see if it grows back. I don't even know if that would happen an' I'm not inclined to let them try. I've been through cardiac screens, endurance tests, speed, agility, you name it. I think they may have invented a couple o' tests just for me. Every time, there's a group o' bigwigs on the sidelines whisperin' to each other an' nodding. Cigar guy is there, along with Old Spice Barton. Dr. Snow conducts all the tests an' in this short amount o' time she's already learned to read my moods. I don't know if they all know I'm a "filthy mutie" or not, but it wouldn't surprise me. She's very obviously a paid civilian working with the military on this "special project", but I sometimes wonder if she's even aware of everythin' going on within this project.

Thankfully, today it's all about testin' my senses. I've already been through the eye screening an' they kept movin' me back from the chart in three foot increments til we ran outta room an' I could still read the thing perfectly. Funny how they did that test in an airplane hangar, so that's a whole lotta room to run out of. I've also already done the hearin' test, which was an odd one. The actual range that I can hear isn't all that far off from normal humans, maybe a little more into the higher and lower ranges than normal humans. But then they had to invent a test 'cause I overheard Cigar Guy complainin' that my hearin' wasn't that special, so I went up to him an' recounted the conversation he'd had with Old Spice outside the exam room. He seemed impressed that I heard that, so they tested me in the same hangar in much the same way they tested my vision. He seemed even more impressed when I could recount the conversation he had with Dr. Snow at normal conversational volume across the noisy hangar.

Now, they're testin' my sense o' smell. I don't think it had occurred to them to test that until I finally broke down an' asked where the PX was so I could try to find some unscented bathing products. I simply can't stand the way the scented stuff smells, they over-perfume everythin' an' I felt like I smelled like a French whorehouse. I'm sure to normal people it was just a regular soap an' shampoo smell, but to me it was worse than overwhelming. Whoever it was I asked musta told someone, who told Cigar Guy, who told Dr. Snow to test this, too. I didn't know what she had in mind til she took me outside the lab an' into the base proper.

"What the hell is this?" I asked, lightin' a cigar (a good one, not like the cabbage leaves Cigar Guy was smokin').

"Well, it came to our attention that your sense of smell might be just as enhanced as the rest," She said. "So, we're going to test it."

"No shit, Doc. I coulda told you that." Her scent didn't bother me at all. Either she was accustomed to usin' fragrance-free products or her own natural scent complimented what she used so well that it was more or less part o' the whole. Whatever, it just added to the disappointment that she was married an' seemed disgustingly happy with the situation. "But I don't see what this has ta do with your project."

She smiled. "We just want as much information about you that we can get. It'll make it easier for us in the long run." I grunted an' glared at her. "Major, I assure you, we're not going to be using any of this information against you in any way."

"Fine, whatever. Let's just get this over with. What am I doin'?"

"Follow me," She said an' I walked with her over to a group o' ten soldiers. They were so alike in bearing an' demeanor that they'd started to look the same. "We're going to play a little game of 'hide and seek', if you will'" She began, then gestured to the soldiers. "These men and women have each been given a specific location they are to go to. After ten minutes, you'll try to find them. This base is over a hundred and thirty thousand acres and they will be scattered throughout the whole place, but only in the surface areas. We're giving you six hours to find them all and send them back here to base, 'home free' to keep in the spirit of the game."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's it? Just sniff these guys out in six hours?" She nodded an' I snorted. "An' here I thought you wanted to challenge me or somethin'."

"You sound pretty confident."

"I am. I'm the best at what I do."

"And just what is it that you do for Canada?" Ah, here's some info she wasn't given. Well, she still wasn't gonna get it.

"If I told ya, I'd have to kill ya," I said with a smirk. She simply nodded as if it confirmed something for her. "So, let's get this show on the road."

She gestured to the soldiers, then took me back inside the hangar so they were out o' my line o' vision. I don't know if she'd expected me to give them all a good sniff or somethin', but I didn't need to. Everyone has their own scent below the basic smell of "human". I could tell that one guy was carryin' a tin o' wintergreen Skoal chewin' tobacco, but another was tryin' to quit smokin' an' had at least one pack o' Juicy Fruit on him. At least two of 'em wore the same cologne (Drakkar Noir, unless it really was Deep Woods Off; they smell the same to me). But one of 'em was also nursin' a nasty hangover an' was tryin' to combat it with a little hair o' the dog (Jack Daniels). One of 'em had eaten Italian for lunch an' positively reeked o' garlic, another had had Chinese an' smelled like a soy sauce factory. Three of 'em were women, one of which was havin' her time o' the month, so she'd be easy enough to find. Of the other two, one used a moisturizer that smelled like vanilla an' the other used some product with a distinctly musky fragrance. Oh, an' that one also thought I was attractive. I wonder if she's single? The last soldier had to have been married, he smelled so strongly o' fabric softener sheets an' I have never met a soldier who ran Bounce in the dryer.

I waited the required ten minutes an' just as Dr. Snow clicked her timer, I moved outside an' sniffed deeply. I could already tell more or less which directions they'd all gone in, but since I was unfamiliar with the layout o' the base, I wasn't sure which one had gone the farthest. It ultimately didn't matter, I was gonna win this game an' with time to spare. Four hours an' thirty-nine minutes later, I was right.

I had intentionally saved the woman who'd been attracted to me for last, so I could walk back with her an' get at least a little acquainted. Her name was Kristin Banks, twenty-five years old an' plannin' on bein' career military, just like her father an' her brother. They'd both been Navy, but she had issues with "big water" an' decided the Army was more her speed. She was single (yes!) an' had some free time later that evening. I hadn't been told I couldn't mingle with the locals, so to speak, so I made plans to meet her at the local enlisted club for drinks. Since I was technically a "guest" here, I was given a room off base at a fairly decent motel, courtesy o' the United States. At least we'd have some privacy for the really fun parts of the evening. As we walked up, Dr. Snow gave us a knowing look before stoppin' the timer.

"Well, Major. I see you now that you weren't exaggerating," She said, making notes on a clipboard.

"Yeah well, I told ya I'm the best at what I do," I replied with a smirk.

"I'm sure you are." She made a couple more notes, then looked at me. "Well, I think we're done here for today. Enjoy yourself, don't get in too much trouble." She gave me a half smile an' walked away.

I turned to Kristin. "Well then. Why don't we go get more comfortable an' I'll meet ya at the club?"

"Sure, no problem." She let her eyes run over me appreciatively before walkin' away. Oh yeah, this would probably make all this crap worth it...

I jerked awake, more than a little disoriented til I realized I was still onboard the Blackbird. Storm looked over at me, an unspoken question written all over her face. "Just a dream. Guess you could say they're leadin' me to where we're goin'."

"Ah, I see," She replied. "Well, at least they seem to be an improvement over the old ones."

"Hell, dreamin' 'bout Freddy Kruger givin' me a prostate exam would be an improvement over the old ones."

She shuddered. "Thanks so much for the visual. I'll have to scrub my brain before I go to sleep tonight."

"Don't like Freddy, huh?"

"No, it's the thought of you naked that's scaring me." I glared at her, but saw the amusement in her eyes. "I'm kidding! You're definitely not a frightening looking specimen. At least until you pop your claws out. That's a different Logan entirely."

I snorted an' stretched. "So, where are we?"

She checked a couple gauges. "Almost there, actually. I'm just trying to find an inconspicuous place to set down so we can get you and your motorcycle unloaded."

I just nodded an' a few minutes later she found a fairly isolated bit o' scrubland 'bout five miles outside the town limits. We got the bike down the ramp an' I strapped my bag to the back. Once it was secure, we stood there for a minute before she unexpectedly gave me a hug. "Be careful, Logan. We'd all miss you if you were gone."

I didn't know what else to do, so I hugged her back. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. They ain't invented the thing that can kill me yet." I pulled away from her an' she took a step back.

"Just, be safe, ok?" I nodded an' she smiled before turnin' an' gettin' back on the jet. I straddled the bike an' started her up, resistin' the urge to use the crazy turbo boost thing that Summers had installed on it. He doesn't seem like the "need for speed" kinda guy, so I'm still wonderin' why it's there (unless he added it just because he could). I rolled a bit down the road an' waved at the jet as it lifted off. I waited til she was out o' sight before headin' towards Moonlight Bay an', just maybe, another piece o' the puzzle that is my life.

I actually took my time gettin' into the town proper. I could smell the ocean long before I actually saw it an' I was hopin' that one o' those "halfway decent" motels that Storm mentioned would be near the water. I've always liked the sound of the ocean; the repetition of the waves crashin' on the beach is soothin' like almost no other sound (the only thing better are the sounds a woman makes when we're in bed, but I wasn't gonna hold out on meetin' anyone in this little town). I rode through the scrub to the highway an' took that west til I came to another one that went north an' south. On a hunch, I turned to the south an' rode that way for a little while.

What most people don't realize about California is that it has every type o' terrain you could ask for, everythin' from serious desert to pine forests. This area was a little scrubby, but it eventually gave way to the type o' terrain you'd expect to find somewhere in the Midwest, like Ohio maybe. So, this was more like central California, which was good in that the weather might not get too hot. I eventually came to another road heading west an' I took that one into the town.

It was a little bigger than a one-horse kinda place, but not by much. Still it was big enough to sport fast food chains, franchise carryouts an' gas stations that weren't called "Big Earl's Gas and Eats" or some shit like that. I rolled into one o' the stations for directions an' a snack. Now, it doesn't matter where I go, I usually get a few stares or even rude comments because o' my hair an' sideburns. However, this was California, home o' the really weird, so I didn't get the same stares as usual. No, these stares were the ones that people in small towns reserve for any strangers, no matter what they look like. Hell, I coulda been Brad Pitt for all they cared, I still would have gotten that same stare til they figured out "Hey! That's Brad Pitt!" or decided I was an impostor. I went to the cooler in the back an' grabbed a soda, but I could feel eyes on me the entire time. I wandered up an' down the tiny aisles, grabbing some beef jerky along the way before going to the clerk.

I asked him about a decent motel that was along the ocean an' he looked up at me curiously. "You don't look like a boardhead," He said, almost hostile.

"I'm not. I just like the water," I replied, tryin' to keep the irritation out o' my voice.

He made a sound like "hmph" an' rang up my order. "Well, there's one not too far from the point called the Ocean View. It's popular with the boardheads cuz it's pretty cheap without being ugly about it."

I handed over my cash. "Sounds great, thanks. How do I get there?" He gave me directions as he handed me my change. I thanked him an' left.

The sun was just settin' as I got to the motel, a breathtakin' sight over the Pacific. I paused outside to watch it sink below the horizon before going into the motel office to check in. I had a fake driver's license that I'd been usin' for the past few months under the name "Logan Sharpe" (a joke that never ceased to amuse me). I was pleased to see that it offered weekly rates, so I rented a room for a week but told the manager I might want more time if I was havin' a good enough time. He seemed to understand an' said to just let him know what I decided at the end of the week. He handed me a room key (number nineteen) an' I walked back to my bike. Before I could get on, though, I noticed somethin' odd. As soon as I left the office, the manager picked up the phone an' called someone. I acted as though I was adjustin' my bag on the back, but kept an eye on him all the same. I couldn't hear what he was sayin' through the glass with the ocean in the background, but he did glance out at me at least twice during the conversation. Was this small town gossip about the weird non-surfin' guy at the surfer motel? Or was this someone who might know who I was? I didn't want to confront the guy just now, so I played it cool an' went to my room.

As low-end motels go, this one wasn't livin' up to the reputation of its brethren. I had an amazin' view o' the ocean through the large window, the carpet was a nice shade of jade green an' the wallpaper an' spread on the queen-sized bed actually matched it. The bathroom wasn't huge, but the water ran hot on the first try an' it was so clean it gleamed. The television wasn't even bolted to the dresser. It felt absolutely posh compared to some o' the places I've stayed an' I started thinkin' 'bout makin' this a real vacation after all. It wasn't overly warm out, so I opened the window to let the scent o' the ocean in as well as the sound. Yeah, I could really get to like it here.

I relaxed on the bed for 'bout an hour before decidin' to find myself a nice little bar. I figured that a down an' dirty dive bar would be right out in a town like this, but I was hopin' to find one that didn't sport ferns in every corner an' golf on the television. It took a little doing, but I managed to find one that fit the bill perfectly. As I rolled up, I noticed that I didn't have the only bike here. Someone else had parked an absolutely gorgeous Harley-Davidson near the door an' I stopped to admire it before goin' in. Someone really loved this bike; whoever he was treated it the same way you should treat a woman, with love an' a gentle hand. As soon as I walked in, a quick scan told me there was exactly one person in the whole place who could possibly own that bike. I ordered a Corona an' sat at a table near the man in question.

He was maybe two inches shorter than me, but probably outweighed me by at least seventy-five pounds. He had long blond hair an' a beard that put the guys in ZZ Top to shame. What I could see of his arms was covered in tattoos an' had the look that told me his entire torso was probably covered. But the most shockin' part o' the whole picture was the absolutely stunning brunette sittin' with him. Think Angelina Jolie, only ten times more gorgeous. I know, it's not easy to imagine that, but I swear it's true. I was happy to see an ashtray on the table in front o' me, so I covered my shock by lightin' a cigar an' takin' a huge drink from my beer.

Fortunately, I didn't have to make the first move here; the man-mountain did that for me. "Hey, you new around here?" He asked.

I just raised an eyebrow. "Yep. Just got in." I took a drag on my cigar. "Wanted an ocean vacation but didn't wanna deal with a bunch o' tourist types. It's bad for relaxation."

The guy laughed. "Yeah, no shit. We don't get tourists, just surfers and they don't count. They just follow the waves."

"Well, I don't surf. I just rode til I found a place I liked."

"Rode huh? Kinda figured you for the bike type. Whatcha got?"

"It's a custom job. Has some nice features." Yeah, like record-breakin' turbo boost. "That your Harley out there?"

"That's my baby." The girl smacked him an' looked indignant. "Hey you know how it is, Alicia. A man's bike will always be his first love." He grinned at me. "So what's your name, stranger?"

"Logan Sharpe."

"Doogie Sassman." I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I know. But no one gives me shit about it."

"I don't blame 'em." I finished my beer an' a waitress appeared out o' nowhere to replace it. "You can usually count on people to be stupid, but even the stupid ones get a clue now an' then."

He laughed at that an' raised his beer in salute. "You know it brother!" He polished off his beer then stood up. "Well, it's nice to meet ya, anyway. I have to get in to work. Enjoy your stay."

Doogie an' Alicia left, but I stayed long enough for another beer. It was weird, really. On the one hand, I had to find some way onto that old base. On the other, this was a really nice, laid-back kinda town an' it would be easy to just take my time on it. But I was certain that Rogue would have no problems layin' me out flat if I wasn't back in a week, so I resigned myself to some major legwork tryin' to figure out where to find it. I finished my last beer, threw some cash down for a tip an' walked out.

The night was pleasantly cool thanks to a wind comin' off the ocean. I decided the first thing I needed to do was acquaint myself with the layout o' the town, see if there was anythin' around that might be helpful. Little did I know that a monkey, a man an' his dog would be the keys that led me to where I needed to go.

AN: Two down, who knows how many to go:) Super special thanks go out to Dee (MidLifeCrisis), Ineluctability, Bluebell, Scarlett and Levanna for reviewing...to Dee, Ineluctability and Levanna: Unlike previous stories, new reviewers will not guarantee new chapters, since this is simply my primary distraction from my main series...:) I only have a few chapters done on this one and i will update as often as i can, but i make no promises...also, since the alert system here doesn't seem to be working and the support pages to report that seem to be missing, i have put together a yahoo group for anyone who wishes to receive alerts for when i update or post a new story...the links for that can be found in my profile...:)