As was the plan, Logan arrived at the meeting point, small
sack in hand, filled with nothing more than the things the man stated
he would need. He also brought, upon himself, the equipment necessary
to let the Organization know of his latest find...when that time
came. For a while, he was going to play with this bunch a bit before
feeding them to the tigers.
He had long since come to learn that mutants weren't going to
happy little communities to better themselves as much as humankind.
And frankly, as long as they continued to grace him with the luxuries
he currently felt necessary to survive, he didn't see any problem
with their plans. Generally, he was just there to round up the cattle
and turn the other cheek in the face of the authorities.
Hands shoved in pockets as usual, Logan remained standing
against a lamp post just outside the building, not caring at the
moment how out of place he was. Hardly anyone was out by that time,
it was past curfew and anyone roaming the streets without good reason
would be charged severely in the courts. Logan let his gaze wander,
trying to locate the little man from two nights prior. Encompassed in
the night's dark blanket, he could see without being seen, which was
an amusing concept in and of itself. That's what his job this time
would be like. The convicts inside would see him, without really
seeing him. His true personality and intentions were well covered by
the outer claim to be a mutant. And if there was anything he had
learned from researching the X-Men, it was that they were quick to
take in abandoned and seemingly helpless people, who are suffering as
they once suffered.
Though Logan was, as obvious to many people, anything but
helpless. A walking weapon, he had the power to do just about
anything he wanted. Thanks to the Organization, he was blanketed from
the law, given a false name and whatnot, defended against any crime
he may choose to commit at any certain time.
Ah, the benefits of being the "bad guy." In truth, he'd probably work
for the good guys, he had more in common with them, in some respects,
except their enemies paid better. At times, though, he had a soft
spot for the underdog. He wasn't sure where it came from, but he was
vaguely inclined to feeling sorry for them. Maybe it was the fact
that an entire world could be against them and they'd still go in
with their heads held high. That amount of integrity almost demanded
some kind of respect.
Still, he'd never be so in favor of them that he would pull
on a uniform and bound off to save the world. People, in some form,
were granted the ability to defend themselves. Those who didn't, he
had decided at some point, did so at their own risk. Like Arnold
Frank, for example. The man was not a known mutant and, had he
watched out for himself, rather than caring for a group of outlaws,
would not be on the verge of extinction.
At last the aforementioned man arrived, looking slightly pale
and disheveled, checking over his shoulder every few moments, as
though the Grim Reaper himself were on his heels. Logan pulled
himself into a straight position and made the effort to meet him in
front of the door to the building. As nervous as he looked, Arnold
had an air about him that told Logan this wasn't his first nightly
trip to the factory, and certainly not the last. "Everything settled,
Though dark out, Logan could see the man in very strict
detail as he slipped a shaking hand into his pocket to retrieve the
key. Despite there being lamp posts strewn all along the street, the
area around them was flooded in black, as none of them were used any
longer. There was no point, when Sentinel patrols could sense any
sort of movement. They would be out within the hour, if Logan
At last the door was pushed open, and Logan was free to slip
in behind him, leaving the chilling cold of the streets for something
at least protected from the wind. Winters in New York were never
pleasant, and this one had been considerably harsh this season. Snow
piled high, it made his hunting season close to unbearable, and made
many a night waste away with thoughts of quitting this place for
somewhere a little warmer.
"This way." The whisper couldn't have been heard by anyone
not straining to hear it. A few times, on ascending the staircase,
they had to pause while Frank coughed harshly, probably due to a
weather induced illness. Logan felt a small amount of pity, though if
the old man just stayed in bed at nights like he was supposed to, he
would probably live to be a ripe old age, free of sickness.
Each step Logan took was followed by an eery creaking noise,
which made him muse over whether or not there would be a building to
hide these mutants very much longer. A strong windstorm seemed to
have more than a necessary amount of power to turn the place into a
pile of firewood. Still, he spoke none of these thoughts allowed,
remembering constantly the almost polite role he had to maintain, so
long as he desired.
That thought brought a grin to his face, as they reached the
last stair and turned into a long hallway. He was never a polite
person, using any gruff, harsh measure necessary to attain that which
he had his eye on. Manners never played a part in his every day
existance, which made him wonder just how convincing an actor he was.
Still, if he had gotten this far, there must be something
honest about him, otherwise Frank would have laughed and left him on
the streets without a second thought.
Finally, the two men reached a small, fairly well furnished
room. It appeared to be an office, with tables, chairs, computers,
everything a worker needed at that time. This was confirmed, when
Arnold turned to him and addressed the room as his office during the
day. "This way, I can keep an eye on things." Nodding in
understanding, Logan looked around, feigning interest, while Mr.Frank
pushed aside, with some straining, a heavy bookcase on
hinges. "Mr..." and then he paused, and Logan could tell that the man
felt sheepish, having planned to allow him to stay and having never
caught his name.
"Logan." Momentarily, a flash hit him, and he remembered the
day he awoke in the barracks, knowing nothing...seeing that five-
letter word and grasping onto it because it seemed to offer the only
link to a past that was now nothing but an empty void...
"Just Logan." He stared back at the old man, a smug smile
creeping over his visage for the main reason that he knew it was too
dark for Frank to see it. He, in turn, simply nodded in somewhat of
an understanding fashion.
"Logan...this way, if you please." With that, he turned and
began down the hidden hallway, while Logan followed behind, chuckling
silently because the man was acting more like a host at a restaurant
than a man preparing to save your life. Even if his life didn't need
Going down the brief hallway, Logan had to give them credit.
This place really was well hidden, with all the winding passages it
would take government officials a few days to sort out all the
different ways to go before actually finding them, which was indeed a
good situation for the mutants. Still, if they were desperate enough
to unleash the Sentinels, then finding the mutants, despite hidden
hallways, would be no problem, considering they would probably just
rip the roof off. And the public wouldn't even turn their heads to
watch, because the X-Men were thought of as pests to the society, and
getting rid of them, Pro-Mutant protests or not, would be a welcomed
change to the community.
Which made Logan realize just how stupid mankind really was.
Here they had a group of people, spurned by the entire world
practically, saving their butts day in and day out, and still they
saw them as no more than leather-clad weirdos out to reek havic on
everything in their path. In this regard, Logan understood those
mutants that wanted to take over the world. People were generally too
stupid to lead themselves...a designated ruler would be best, one who
could tell them what to think and how to act, so that choices like
that didn't have to be made by the individual, and mistakes would be
considerably less in number.
"Here we are..." Pausing in front of the last possible
door, Arnold Frank lifted a hand and lightly tapped out a rhythmic
code, that was answered a moment later.Slowly, the door was pulled
open, and a fairly attractive girl with large, brown eyes addressed
"Mr.Frank..." To him, she offered a warm smile and to Logan,
well...he wasn't sure what was behind his greeting. The smile didn't
exactly look forced, nor did it reflect total trust, which was to be
expected, in his opinion.
"Logan." He grunted out the name, feeling it might take her
expectant gaze off him for a time. After a few more awkward moments
of silence, she turned her attention, like he wanted, back to her
companion, whispering about changes made to fit their "guest." He
cocked a small grin, listening to them talk as though this were a
hotel and he simply a temporary travel-weary guest.
"Well...you should probably come inside. We have things ready
for you. Bobby moved upstairs so you could be down with the rest of
us where it's warmer." She said this as though it were some honorable
event that demanded gratitude and respect. Logan, on his part,
offered no thanks, simply nodding his head and lifting his small sack
over his shoulder before entering the place. He could feel the girl
frown before following him back inside.
After allowing him a few moments time to observe
the "apartment" as she and Frank referred to it, he heard several
others approaching and turned to get a look at the five remaining X-
Men. True, it hadn't been proven as fact yet, but his mind was all
but made up.
Before him stood a motley crew, all shapes and sizes. There
were only four though, Marie included, which made him frown slightly,
thinking his theory already lost, so early on in the game. Still, he
bided his time, looking each one up and down, trying to get a readout
on their personalities using what they offered by way of body
language. The one with white hair was regal in a way, suggesting she
were some kind of royalty. She stood fairly close to a small, blue
man, who wore spectacles and really didn't seem to find anything
humorous about that. Of course, Logan had seen far stranger mutations
but none so amusing.
Another man, whom Logan deemed the one he was most likely to
get along with, leaned against the doorframe, shuffling a stack of
cards, and paying attention to Logan without appearing to do
so. "Everyone, this is Logan. Logan...meet the X-Men."