"Can I help you?"The man said,sounding surly and bored.His eyes,so pale blue they were almost clear, gazed at him sourly over the still intact security chain.

"Are you,uh,Herb Michaelmas?"Control asked,feeling more insecure than he had in years.He silently vowed to have the informant killed.

"Yeah,who wants to know?"He snapped,his impatient voice betraying a slight Midwestern accent.

"I'm a friend of Radnat,"he said,knowing full well that this guy,whoever the hell he was,was not the guy he was actually looking for.Radnat was probably pissing himself with laughter right now.

But to his surprise,the sparsely haired man-who could have been a distant cousin Brian Dennehy-snorted disdainfully."Radnat don't have any friends,just guys who write him checks."

Control stared at the man in disbelief."You really are Herb Michaelmas?"

"Didn't I just say?"

Control glanced around the narrow,badly lit hallway of the run down apartment building,and leaned in to whisper,"Former Hell God Herb Michaelmas?"

Herb the Hell God rolled his eyes,as if Control was an idiot keeping him from a very important meeting. "What,is there another one I don't know about?Look,I don't know what Radnat told you,but I don't do nothin' no more.I'm out,it's over.Sorry if you got ripped off-"

He started to close the door,but Control reacted quickly,jamming his foot in the tiny gap of the door like a stereotypical encyclopedia salesman of old."No,please,I don't want anything from you.I'm just looking for an explanation."

That made him pause,curious but wary.One bushy ash blond eyebrow quirked up,and he seemed to examine him like a very interesting item he had found in his own stool."What do you mean an explanation? For what?"

"I was hoping you could tell me what the fuck a 'Drai'shajan' was."Of course,that was only part of what he wanted from him,but it was the part he hoped would get him in the door.

"Why d'ya want to know that?"

"Because I think it might be coming after my...company."

He scoffed."Then you're royally fucked."

"Why?Could you at least explain to me why?"

Herb sighed like a martyr,once again rolling his eyes,but he said,"Move yer foot."

Control did,and Herb shut the door,just long enough to undo the chain.He then swung it open wide,and walked back into his apartment."Move it,I ain't got all day,"he said,retreating with a beer in his hand.

Control came inside and closed the door,but instantly wished he hadn't.

Former Hellgod or not,he had a sad little apartment,sporting the same water stained,rose patterned wallpaper as the hallway,the same overall beige on whore lipstick red color scheme, and the same sort of naked light fixtures that made everything look unflattering.Not that it had to travel far with Herb's place.
The decor was pure thrift store,and the air was permeated with the scent of old pizza and unwashed socks that was pretty much the aroma of every bachelor apartment everywhere.

Herb,who was wearing only a stained white undershirt,red and green plaid boxer shorts,and black socks, sat in a sagging brown recliner a few feet from a small t.v. blaring the Ricki Lake Show.Herb's only concession to company was to turn it down a little.Control thought about sitting on the lumpy blue sofa in the corner,but then thought better of it,choosing to remain standing instead.

"So what do ya wanna know exactly?"Herb said,asking him but looking at the idiot yahoos screaming at each other on the screen instead.

"What is he?"

"A Drai'shajan?Trouble."

Control scowled at his moth eaten recliner."Be more specific."

"You tell me,suit boy-what d'ya know about it?"

Control crossed his arms over his chest,less than impressed with Herb.No wonder he got fired."I was told he's some sort of divine/demon hybrid,that the Powers That Be merged him with something else."

Herb shook his head."That's the Human plane story."

"Not the real one?"

He continued shaking his head."Close,but otherwise completely wrong."

"How so?"

Herb finally glanced at him,but not for long;clearly the show was more interesting."Well,you didn't hear it from me,okay?The PTB's worked hard to cover it up."

"I don't even know what the freaking 'PTB's ' are!"

"Consider yourself lucky."He took a stiff drink of his beer before continuing."The PTB's are pricks, seriously.The only difference between them and the Hell gods is they have better p.r."

"So I've heard."He wondered if there was any way to speed him up.

Herb shifted in his corduroy covered recliner,and after a minute-where the word "Ho!" was shouted from the t.v. screen,and made Control grimace with suppressed laughter (ah,white trash were so funny)-the ex-Hell God said,"The thing about the PTB's is they love order,makes 'em cream in their sashes.Order is perfection,blah blah blah,and they're perfect.Which is,of course,bullshit;they ain't perfect.But they arrange it so it seems like they are.See,the key to perfect order is homogeny:everyone acts the same, thinks the same,has the same goals.This is certainly true of most PTB's,who have all the originality of a postage stamp,but every now and then they have what they call a 'throwback'-one who is grossly imperfect.One who,say,has a personality,or a sense of humor,or a brain in their massively oversized cosmic head.They quickly rid themselves of these,and pretend they never existed,because to acknowledge them would be to acknowledge a frailty,which they don't have."

"And this relates to the Drai'shajan how?"

"He's the imperfect one.Supposedly,he not only had a personality,but he was a troublemaker.He was influential enough among some pockets of the PTB's that he was really pissing off the higher caste of them.Supposedly this guy,whoever he was,didn't share the same disdain for all the lower beings-which is everything that isn't a PTB-and in fact sort of liked them,and didn't understand why the PTB's treated them with either indifference or veiled hostility.Well,the PTB's don't tolerate dissent or unrest in their perfect order,so the higher caste got together and banished the dissident."

"How?By throwing him down here?"

"Yeah,more or less.Except they wanted to make sure he was really punished,so they made him a Belial demon,so not only would he be a bottom feeder among demons,but no one would ever believe a damn thing he said either.Like Cassandra."

"Who's she?"

Herb shot him an acrid look."Chick in Greek myth?Given the gift of prophesy,but since she pissed off a god,they made sure no one would ever believe her?"

"Oh,so not a real person then."

He shrugged,turning his gaze back to the hair pulling slap fight on the screen."I dunno.Not my department."

"So they made this imperfect one a Belial demon?"

"Well,yes and no.See,it's kinda complicated.Basically,they imprisoned his energy-PTB's are rarely corporeal,'cause bodies are messy and unorderly-in the form of a Belial,and they fucked with everyone's recollection,so this Belial couple really thought he was their son,and he thought so too.Because they denied he ever existed,he could have no memories of what he actually was or used to be.But he's not really a true Belial,just a formulated one."

Control shook his head."What's the difference?"

Herb snorted again.He was starting to hate that."You must've never met a real Belial.You'd know the difference,believe me.The most major thing is age."

"Age?"

"Yeah.See,Belials basically have no power at all,except to lie really well.They get better with age,their psychic power accumulates,but at the same time their brain declines:it's like a built in failsafe.'Cause, believe you me,you don't want a Belial havin' awesome psychic powers.They're selfish and greedy bastards."

"As opposed to the rest of demonkind."

Herb gave him a sarcastic smirk."Ha fucking ha.Anyways,since the Drai'shajan isn't a real Belial,he didn't have the age related decline.He just got stronger.And then he found out what he used to be,and didn't that add up to a shitload of trouble!"

"How'd he find out?"

He shook his head and had a sip of his beer before responding."A shaman or a witch doctor-what do you call 'em when they're Aborigines?-anyways,he did this ceremony,and they both figured out that he used to be a PTB,but got exiled and imprisoned here.He wasn't terribly happy with that knowledge.I think the shaman kicked off under mysterious circumstances-Humans weren't supposed to know about the PTB's failures-but they left the fake Belial alone,because what the hell could he do about his fleshy confinement?Besides,he was a Belial-who'd believe his bullshit story about being a fallen PTB?But knowledge is power,or whatever the fuck;he found ways to open up the hidden,lingering bits of PTBness in him,and got mucho powerful,on top of his growing Belial powers.He got Godlike powerful."

"Isn't he?"Control asked."A God?"Then he realized what Herb had said about him being fallen and exiled, and he realized,with a slight gasp,"Fuck.Is he Satan?"

Herb looked around."Who?Where?"

"The whatshisface.You know,Lucifer was kicked out of heaven for arguing with God-or a god,at any rate."

"Is that from the Bible?Shit,don't believe that-the Belials wrote that to see if they could make Humans worship it.But don't tell the vampires,'cause then it'll stop working on them.And no,the Drai'shajan isn't Satan.That thing doesn't exist."He snorted derisively."Like there'd be just one Hellgod."

"But he's a god,is that what you're telling me?"

"He's an exiled god."

"What's the difference?"

"He doesn't have all his powers,just some."

"Can he be beaten?"

Again with that annoying piggish snort."Not by anything on a mortal plane,no."

"What if you bring the PTB's into it?"

"Then you'd be deader than disco.No Human can know of their imperfection.And,there's a rumor they're kinda afraid of him now."

"Why?He can't possibly be more powerful than them."

"Not more powerful,no,but powerful in a different way.And he's amassing allies.The rumor I heard,back in the Hell dimension,was that they were afraid one day he'd come back and overthrow them all.And if anyone could overthrow the PTB's,it would be one of their own."

"Why would he do that?Revenge?"

"See,that was my guess,but Beelzebub told me he heard from a former renegade PTB that the Drai'shajan still believed the same thing he did to get him exiled:that the PTB's do more harm than good sporadically playing around with the creatures on this plane.He wants to cut them off for good."

"Wouldn't the Hellgods help?"

That made Herb chuckle."Fuck no!If he can cut the PTB's off,he could cut them off.They hate his fucking guts too."

"So why don't they-"

"Scared of him too,"Herb interrupted,anticipating his question.

Control shook his head.This sounded like a fairy story."I still don't understand why the PTB's don't shut him down if they're scared of him."

Herb shifted uncomfortably in his chair,like his butt had just fallen asleep,then said,grudgingly,"Before I got kicked out,I heard the PTB's tried.And they failed."

"How could they fail?"

"It seems he anticipated the move,and countered with a little help from his friends:Ganesha,Loki,Shiva, and Nyx."

"They exist?"He replied,wondering if he was playing a joke on him."And they're not PTB's?"

"Hell no.They're extra-dimensional things with powers that could be interpreted as godlike,under the right circumstances,and beyond the purview of the PTB's.And teamed up with the Drai'shajan the PTB's found themselves at a loss.'Course,they were probably stunned-they ain't used to being disobeyed and thwarted.Usually,when they say frog, everything jumps."

"But not them."

He nodded."Not them,and especially not the Drai'shajan.He remains,to them,as frustrating as ever."

"So why don't his enemies group together and get rid of him?"

"Well,the PTB's don't 'group' with lower beings.And the rest of the Drai's enemies pretty much hate each other too."

"So you're telling me I can't fight this guy."

Herb nodded."Can you fight the PTB's?No.So you can't fight him either.And believe me,you don't want Shiva on your ass."

Control threw his hands up in frustration."What about you?You were a Hell God-"

That really made him laugh.Once he calmed down,he said,"The operative word is 'were'.Unlike the Drai,I ain't a simulacrum:I was stripped of my powers and placed in the body of a laid off insurance salesman from Akron,Ohio."He pig snorted derisively."And I got fired for no good reason at all.It's politics;it's all politics."

"But you must have friends-"

"Very few who are demons,and none of them are powerful or crazy enough to take on the Drai'shajan.All I can tell you man is walk on,while you still can."

Control scowled at the man's jowly profile,wanting quite badly to pistol whip him until his head resembled a pumpkin a week after Halloween:caved in and nothing so much as rotting mush."So you won't help me anymore."

Herb looked at him and gave him an honest,toothy grin."I haven't helped you at all,you stupid motherfucker.If the PTB's learn that you know their dirty little secret,you are deader than Demi Moore's movie career.You are toast,and you will never see it coming.It'd be kinder if the Drai caught up with you first.From what I understand,he has developed a certain affection for the mortal creatures of this realm, and he doesn't like to kill if he doesn't have to.But,if you ever remembered meeting him,you might wish he had killed you."

"Is that some kind of threat?"

Herb shook his head,and looked back at the screen."I ain't the one you should be worried about."He then gulped down the rest of his beer,crushing the empty Budweiser can as he set it on the armrest,and without looking away from the flashing lights of the t.v. screen,he said,"Will you kill me already?"

Control was honestly taken aback,and not completely sure he had heard him right."What?"

"Kill me,dickwad.I know you're government;I was the patron demon of bureaucracy until Azrael put his worthless son-in-law in the job.I can smell you fucks a mile off.You used to be mine."He let the crushed can fall to the tattered red carpet,and stared at the screen with what seemed to be melancholy."I don't know how you people live like this.I miss Hell."

Control honestly felt sorry for the demon as he pulled out his gun and fired,a single bullet tearing through his left temple and exiting through the right side,taking most of that side's skull and brain matter right along with it.

But Herb had helped him more than he would ever realize.If he couldn't fight the Drai'shajan,maybe he could offer him a bargaining chip,something he wanted.Or,more correctly,something he didn't realize he wanted yet.

If you were going to storm heaven,you needed more than good intentions.

**

Changan Junction,Alberta,Canada

Where the snow wasn't black with soot,it was red with blood.

Jean was using her telepathy to try and find people still alive beneath the wreckage,giving herself a headache from over-exertion,and even though she had asked him not to,he pushed her a bit,just to relieve the pain and strain.

Scott had hit this town like a nuclear bomb;this place wasn't attacked more than it was obliterated.It was a message to Logan too:Had some memories here?Had a past?No more you don't.Bob didn't really know these people,but he loved them-completely black hearted,stone cold bastards who though of Logan as a recalcitrant pup who just needed to accept his place as their property and puppet.Then everything would be hunky dory all right with the world again.

Shitheads.Complete and utter wankers.He couldn't wait to meet them.

He got down on his hands and knees,and crawled under the smoldering wreckage of what was probably once The Golden Seal.If he was normal he'd have to worry about being burned and suffocated,but he wasn't,so he didn't.

He could smell the charred flesh and the blood beneath the smoldering timbers,the embers providing only the dimmest illumination inside what was basically a crawlspace made up by partially collapsed rafters and part of the tin plated roof.

He didn't have far to crawl before he put his hand in a puddle of blood and pulped tissue,all formerly belonging to a man who was still alive.

It was far from a miracle,though;he was alive only in the most generous sense of the term.All but one limb had been sheered off,and something-either a head wound or a piece of flying shrapnel-had completely taken out higher brain function.All he could sense was the dim hum of the brainstem,something so primitive even Jean's slightly bolstered telepathy wasn't picking it up.And he was glad,because he would have had to run interference if she had picked him up.He didn't think she'd like what he was about to do.

There was no help for this man.He supposed maybe,if he was very careful,he could keep him alive (again, in the most generous sense of the term) for a while,but not long enough enough to get him to a hospital, and doctor or not,there was little Jean could do for him either.He was already dead,it was just that the reptile part of his brain had yet to accept it.

In the orange dimness,he could see one of his eyes had been pulped,and was little more than a jelly smear on the side of his face,adjacent to the empty hole.The other eye was wide open,and looked like nothing more than a boiled egg.Bob put his hand over the eyes,and said (even though the man was beyond hearing),"Let go."

The brainstem,the reptile brain that had refused to throw in the towel,finally did.Sometimes the only thing you could offer people was a swift and painless death.

He started crawling out backwards (always a harder prospect than you imagined),and heard near the opening:"Did you find someone?"

"Not alive.You?"

"No,"she sighed,although Bob already knew.But one had to keep the pretense of conversation up.

Bob crawled out,and Jean offered him a hand up before remembering she couldn't touch him,and then she just looked slightly appalled."Are you all right?"

He gleaned from her mind that he had soot on his face,blood on his clothes,and some burned skin just about everywhere."Don't worry-I heal fast,"he assured her.Not as fast as Logan,of course,but who healed as fast as him?He had the land speed record.

Bob wiped his bloody hands on the thighs of his jeans (well,these pants were toast anyways),and said,"I guess we should book."

She glanced around at the devastation,a pained look on her face,unconsciously rubbing her hands along her arms as if cold.But she wasn't,not really;physical pain and temperature had nothing to do with how she was feeling.She felt sick,for all the people killed,and for Scott:she knew he'd be devastated when he found out what they had made him do.Unlike Logan,who could probably handle the shock.

Bob pretended to cough to cover up a laugh.Not that her train of thought was all that funny...well,in a way,yes.One of the things she liked about Scott was how gentle a soul he was;he may have had the powers of a laser cannon,but otherwise he was a quiet,almost nebbishy sort who could have one day ended up an accountant and happily so,if not for his peculiarly destructive mutation.It was good that Scott was that way with his power,though-all around them was the result of what would have happened if he had been at all different.

When it came down to it,she honestly thought Logan was probably the stronger one.Not physically, because she knew that already-Scott had the strength of a normal man;Logan's mutation gave him muscle tissue nearly three times as dense as a normal Humans,so even before they put the adamantium in him,he was stronger than two men put together-no,she meant in more intangible ways.Scott had been her rock, her psychic anchor,for a long time now,and she appreciated his stability,but that was where she feared his weakness was:he was steady,and not acclimated to the big,ugly shocks.Logan had seemingly had a life made up of nothing but big ugly shocks;and while he was,in her opinion,over emotional and emotionally fragile (in a curious sort of way),she felt he was the stronger of the two.In spite of the screaming night terrors,the post traumatic stress disorder,he kept going forward:in spite of all his bluster,he had never completely given up on people,not really.He was the beast with the noble heart.

And that's what Bob found so fucking funny.Sure,she lusted after him,admired his strength,but when it came down to it-just like the Organization-she thought he was just a step above an animal.He would not only survive because he was more resilient but because violence was his nature.What a stereotype!And she had no idea she was buying into it.Every creature was capable of some violence,so it was inherent to all their natures;the thing was,who acted on it and why?Logan seemed more violent than most for one very good reason:he had had to be.

He was so old.He didn't know how old Logan was,but over one hundred certainly.When people threw around the term 'old souls' he cringed,because it was so much crap,but with Logan it seemed to be a genuine fact.He had been alive when mutants were extremely rare,and even if he couldn't consciously remember it,unconsciously living through the bad old days must have stuck with him,as did the defense mechanism that told him he had to be ready to fight for his life at any given second.It was siege mentality;when you lived through an endless war,the posture became second nature.So violence was a learned response on his part:it kept people at bay,and kept him alive.It was not 'inborn' because he was an animal,but because it was a response that had never failed to serve him well.

But,was he going to explain that to her?He'd never even broken the news of Logan's age to Logan,figuring he would not believe it and had no desire to hear it.Bob had hinted he was old,but Logan had always shied away from the bait-he did not want to know.Fair enough.And he wasn't going to be dropping the news to Jean,although he knew she suspected he was much older than he seemed.

"Scott will be fine,"he told her.She snapped her head around to stare at him,sure he had eavesdropped on her thoughts.Well,yes.It wasn't like he could help it.

"How can you say that?"She asked,with a surge of anger.Not really aimed at him,but he was the only other person here."Who could be fine after doing all of this?"

"He didn't do all of this.It only counts if you do it of your own free will."

"That's easy for you to say,"she said,her voice raising slightly as panic started to take hold.Not panic for herself but for Scott.She was already moving to protect him emotionally,and as much as she feared for him,he didn't think Scott needed it."Not all of us have the comfort of our own know it all superiority-"

"Ooh ouch,darlin',"he replied,although he couldn't keep the grin off his face.That was meant to wound, but it didn't.He didn't feel superior to anyone.Different?Yes.As for the know it all thing,well...he didn't know everything.He didn't know the gross national product of Paraguay,for example,or how anyone could stand to eat haggis,and those were just two examples.

Only then did he realize something he supposed Logan should have caught right away.Was there an electric hum somewhere?He thought perhaps it was a still miraculously functioning generator,but that was impossible among all this pulverized wreckage.

"-can see this dispassionately,"Jean continued,growing ever more worked up and angry."But not ev-"

"Shh,"he hissed,listening carefully.He may have accidentally pushed her,because she shut right up.He glanced around and eased up,and she found her voice again,although she was back in wary mode.

"What is it?"She whispered.

His eyes suddenly found,under a tumult of wreckage,what looked to be tanks of diesel from what had once been a fuel depot.They hadn't gone up?My,that was odd.

No it wasn't.

"I think we've been booby trapped,"he told her,seconds before the tanks finally ignited.

Before the shockwave of fire could wash over them,she held up her hands and he knew what she was going to do,so he decided to reinforce her."This is a cinch,"he said,aware she was afraid she couldn't do this.

She covered them with a sort of telekinetic force 'bubble',so the firestorm raged around them but left them untouched,the fire skidding along the edge of the invisible forcefield as if it didn't even want to burn them."Nice job,"he told her,as the fire seemed to dissipate.Some of the wreckage that could catch fire did,and shrapnel fell from the sky like the hardest rain imaginable,but it got nowhere near them.

"Thanks,"she said,a slight tremor in her voice.She had never used her powers like this outside of a sim,and she was worried she couldn't do it.At least not without losing control.She was a very powerful telekinetic,but she reined in her powers strictly,like she reined in her emotions-was that it?

Oh yes indeedy,it was.

"Is that why you hold back?"He asked."You once got upset and accidentally hurt someone with your powers?"Although he said it like a question,it wasn't really;he was just curious to see if she would confirm it.

Her hazel eyes grew wide in fear,and she said,"No."('He knows,'she thought in pure panic.'How can he know?')"Don't psychoanalyze me."

She was terrified;this was not something she wanted to talk about.And that was fine with him,as he already knew,and it explained a lot about Jean.She loved Scott because he represented the emotional control she wished she had;she loved Logan because he represented the emotional freedom she wished she could have.That had to be tough,to always be just a little bit afraid of yourself."Sorry.It's a hobby."

As the the white noise of the explosion faded from their ears,he told her,"I bet they have some way to monitor us."

She dropped the telekinetic field with a small sigh."Why?"

He shrugged."In case we caught on and survived,I suppose.Sound like Logan."He wouldn't have to have said that if they were monitoring visually,but he wasn't sure of that.Sadly,his senses weren't Logan advanced enough for him to tell.He then raised his voice slightly,and shouted angrily,"Hey,you stupid fucks,you gotta do better than that.You want me?Why don't you come and get me!End of audible recording."

Jean was giving him a startled look,probably because,up until that point,she had simply heard and seen him as himself."It's creepy how you do that."

"Isn't it?"

"Dare I ask why you invited them to come and get you?"

'Well,they're going to anyways,since this little trap failed.I figure we could go to the nearest town-I think that's a place called Whistler's Point-and wait for them to besiege and otherwise harass us."

"What if they send Scott to destroy the town?"

"I hope they do.As soon as I see him,he's mine.Or,I should say,he'll be himself again.And,as even tempered as he is,I'll bet he'll be pretty pissed off at them."

She nodded,still painfully concerned for Scott.And angry;very angry.

As they headed back,through the smoldering wreckage of the former town,he wondered if she'd be willing to use that anger against the Organization,restraint be damned.Maybe if he gave her just a little help.

London,England

Srina grabbed his arm,and when he looked at her,he saw her eyes had gone black."Why fight when you can learn something?Be quiet and don't move."She pulled him back against the far wall,and as much as it ate at him not to fight,he remained still as the first soldiers came through the door,weapons first.

Staying part of the wall seemed like a good idea now-were they wearing adamantium body armor?It looked more streamlined than the stuff he and Naomi had encountered on their way to Grand Cache,but it had much the same smell,and gleamed black like a carapace of some exotic insect.

Two men,their faces hidden behind bulbous black helmets,did a standard sweep of the room as more similarly attired soldiers poured in,swarming like angry ants.They even looked up at the high ceiling,rifles aimed skyward.Yep,they were prepared for mutants.

There were maybe two dozen of them all together,overkill (or it would seem),and then what he assumed was the superior officer came in.The soldiers fanned out in what appeared to be a standard perimeter pattern-including four right in front of them-two facing them,two facing away (and he knew he could take them out before they blinked,but then there'd be the other eight,who'd know where he was...)-and the superior officer waited until he was in the middle of the room before flipping open the faceplate of his helmet,revealing that he was actually a she:a stern faced woman with a barely visible fringe of reddish brown hair at the top of her brow."Report,"she said crisply.

The senior most soldier,on the opposite side of the room,flipped up his visor,and said,"Sir,the premises appear to have been vacated.The intruders may have realized they tripped a silent alarm."

"Probably squatters,"one of the soldiers murmured to another.

But the Commander walked back towards the door,and crouched down to pick something off the cement floor.When she stood up,she said,"Squatters with the ability to cleanly slice through adamantium plated steel?"She was holding up a piece of the lock he had cut.

Damn it,he knew it wasn't normal metal.

Another soldier picked up the fallen tarp."They were in here long enough to move the cover,"she noted. Another she.Impossible to tell with that shapeless body armor,but if she got close enough he could probably smell the difference,in spite of the overwhelming adamantium smell of the suits.

Another soldier examined the cryogenic coffin,and reported,"The containment chamber doesn't appear to have been disturbed."

Containment chamber?

"Well,I should hope not,"the Commander replied,then said,"Protocol Delta seven.Whoever was here could not have gone far.Move out."

The soldiers started to stream out into what must have been a standard military pattern,but Logan had noted something interesting.Everyone who had spoken had been British-except the last man,who had a flat American accent (his best guess was he was from Arizona or Utah).Since when were Americans in the British military?

This wasn't the British military.A military type thing,yes,but not one restricted by borders.After all,the Organization was only interested in using mutants as weapons,especially as weapons to take out fellow mutants...

Oh god.

Logan thought he knew suddenly why they wanted him back so bad,and why they had wanted him here fifteen years ago.And possibly why Srina was keeping mum.