There was a general air of shock in the room,as if the experience had been far too disorienting to immediately cope with,until the Professor said,"I guess they took Erik at his word:they never found the money to rebuild the complex,and a year later Operation Arsenal was closed as a failure."

"You used to have hair,"Rogue muttered,as if that was the first time she ever realized he had.

That was so funny Jean almost laughed.

"Did you tell him they weren't human?"Scott wondered,and he looked so shocked and drained she wasn't surprised when he came over and sat on the arm of the couch next to her.She also wasn't surprised when he unconsciously reached his hand out to her.Sure she had a handle on herself now,she raised her head and grasped his hand,giving it a reassuring squeeze she probably needed more than he did.

"I did.He didn't believe me.He thought I was protecting my 'pet humans'.Except for Swan,whom he thought was a mutant."

"Didn't he see the stuff on the wall?"Logan asked.

For a minute,no one followed him,or at least no one wanted to.

"You mean the brains?"Rogue asked tentatively.

"Yeah.That didn't look like normal brains.There was something else in it,and I mean besides the skull and hair."

Jean shuddered at the casual morbidity of that.

"You know what brains on a wall are supposed to look like?"Scott asked,both disbelieving and vaguely disgusted.

"Yeah,I do,"Logan answered defiantly.

"How?"

"Do you really wanna know,Scott?"He sneered back.

No,he didn't;none of them did.Leave it to Logan to be an expert on spilled brain matter.

"Psychic demon,"Rogue said quietly,a distant look in her eyes.

"What?"Jean replied,glad for the change of subject.

"Bob warned me not to absorb demons because some of 'em might be psychic demons,"she said,Rogue's eyes brightening with inspiration."Could that be what Swan was?"

"Bob did suggest that,especially since consumption of my telepathic powers was mentioned,"the Professor replied,sounding proud of her for catching that."But he assumed,since Arsenal was a joint human-demon project,there would be humans involved in some capacity."

"Are you sure it shut down?"Logan asked.He still had the strength to pace,but,again,he would.

"Yes.I have several government contacts that assured me the project was scrapped,mainly because there were not enough positive results to justify its budget."

"And Magneto scared the shit out of them,"Rogue added.

Jean frowned at her for cursing,but the Professor sounded amused as he admitted,"Well,there is that."

"It could be shut down under one name and reopened under a different one,"Logan argued,sounding like he was becoming tense with anger again.She didn't know how he had the energy for it;just experiencing some of it on the periphery had left her exhausted.

"It could,but my contacts have said there was an ugly incident that led them to give up on demons entirely until a couple of years ago,and even then the program was a crashing failure that shut down barely a year after it began,even though they decided not to work with demons as equals,or combined them with mutants in any way.Apparently,there were some... unfortunate incidents..."

"No kidding,"Logan carped,pacing in a short tight line that threatened to wear a rut into the carpet."Most demons see humans as food.They were morons to even try."

"Does that include Bob?"Scott wondered.

Logan stopped and fixed him with an acidic glare."If that were true,we would be working our way through his digestive tract by now."

Oh,more lovely imagery.She thought about making a snide remark about Helga,but decided to keep it to herself.She was too tired even to be catty.

"I think Bob is our only chance to get to the bottom of this,"the Professor said soberly."He may be a tad...suspect,but I don't doubt his integrity.He said he would help-he will."

She didn't doubt the Professor:if he believed that,then so did she.But she would never shake her basic reservations about Bob. They thought Magneto was powerful (and was he ever)-she thought Bob might make him look strangely pedestrian.

As if he knew he was the subject of their conversation,there was a rhythmic knocking at the door,and then it popped open,Bob sticking his head in the room but coming no further inside."Hope I'm not interrupting,but I've got an address for Krek. Anyone up for paying him a visit?"

"Hell yeah,"Logan instantly agreed,and Bob gave him a roguish grin in reply.

Now what was going on there?Bob seemed almost protective of Logan (to the point where he would let him schtup his girlfriend?) ,and she doubted he'd ever do anything to him,no matter what Bob might do to anyone else.The first thought was Bob was attracted to Logan,but that didn't seem quite right;it was too mundane a motive for a deliberately obfuscatory man like Bob,who probably wouldn't have bothered to hide such a thing anyways (and surely Logan would pick up on it ).And Logan, who found it so hard to trust anyone (for obvious reasons,perhaps),seemed to actually trust Bob,or come as close to trust as he could.So what was the deal?

It occurred to her to just ask,but she somehow doubted either of them would admit anything.

There was a brief discussion of how they'd handle this-Bob was adamant 'no suits' because there was no guarantee this would be a fight,besides which this was an attempt to be "Somewhat covert-people in natty leather suits get noticed".Rogue wanted to go,of course,and Jean really didn't want her to go;luckily,neither did Logan,since Krek had been described as a hit man,but Rogue was in full on stubborn mode.Bob suggested someone needed to help the Professor hold down the fort,and suddenly she agreed-had he done something to her?He was nowhere near her,and it looked like nothing happened-but according to Scott's recollections,nothing happened when Bob spoke to the man named Cyril,yet he froze and never moved until Bob apparently let him.She sensed no telepathy,but that's what immediately came to mind (and there was an ironic pun in there somewhere).

Logan must have suspected Bob did something,because he gave him a sidelong glance,brow furrowing slightly,but he let it go,probably because he wanted Rogue to stay here.She decided to ask him about it later,out of Bob's presence.

They left the room,leaving Rogue and the Professor behind,and as Scott,Bob,and the ever present Helga (did she really have to go along?) lead the way down the hall,she grabbed Logan's arm,and pulled him aside."Did Bob do something to Rogue?"She whispered.

He grimaced,and she could see the war between suspicion and loyalty in his green eyes."I'm not sure.I don't think he pushed her,but she agreed to it rather fast.So either he did,or she's planning to follow us."

Pushed?Was that the term for it?But yes,that happened last time,didn't it?Rogue following anyway,even after explicitly being told not to return to the mansion until the crisis was over."That sneaky little-"

"Don't worry,I can ask Bob to make sure she doesn't,but let's face it,I don't think the Professor's gonna let her out of his sight. Uh,mind?"

She scowled and nodded in reluctant agreement."I don't like the idea of changing someone's mind by outside means.But in Rogue's case,and this circumstance,I might make an exception."

"Yeah,I know,but..."he shrugged helplessly."Teenagers.I bet I was that way once."

"You mean you think you've stopped being that way?"She asked,giving him a knowing smile.

He grinned back at her,a mischievous and rare spark of humor glimmering in his eyes."I like to think I've refined it."

She thought about everything he had been feeling while living through that memory of the Professor's,and he still carried the rigid tension of the fear and rage in his body;his muscles still seemed tensed,the fight or flight response of an adrenaline dump just didn't dissipate that easily.Even she felt a little keyed up,but holding Scott's hand had helped immeasurably;he had his emotions under such tight control he could be a refreshing breather from the world of turbulent thoughts and violent emotions:he could be,in a good way,like a sensory deprivation tank at times.It was too bad Logan had no one like that for him; he was one of the most emotional men she had ever met.Of course,she had a feeling if she said that he wouldn't take that well, any more than Scott would take being referred to as a sensory deprivation tank as a positive thing.

On sheer impulse,she put her arms around him and gave him a hug.

Logan went instantly tense and grabbed her arms as if he might rip them off,and took a step back."What the hell are you doing?"He asked,and she wasn't sure if he sounded more frightened or puzzled.

"I don't know,"she admitted."I'm sorry.For what you went through."

He suddenly seemed to relax into the hug,and gently,although awkwardly,embraced her in kind."You sensed that,huh?"

"Kind of hard not to."She rested her head against his shoulder,and was surprised at how nice this was,even though she thought,if she held him hard enough,she could feel his adamantium just lurking beneath his flesh and muscle;a permanent physical reminder of his torture in case the mental and emotional scars were not enough.

"I try to..."he began,and then paused,struggling to find the right words for it."It's bigger than I am sometimes,"he finally said, his voice lowered to a whisper."The anger overwhelms me.I try to hold it back,but sometimes I don't know how."

Not for the first time,the term post traumatic stress disorder occurred to her (it all fit:the free floating rage,the distrustfulness,the nightmares...),but Logan would probably prefer being told he was simply emotional."I don't think it's your fault,"she said, deciding that was the safest thing to say.

"But it's not an excuse,"he admitted,sounding defeated (and angry-there was always anger)."I'm sorry-"

"Don't,"she interrupted.He really had nothing to apologize for:what happened to him-and his response to it-was not his fault.

For a moment they just held each other,and she hoped she was a stabilizing influence for him like Scott was for her,just this once.He rested his head against hers,and she suddenly realized if they didn't knock this off,someone was bound to come back and see them and take this the wrong way.

But it was surprising how nice it felt.She only hoped it helped Logan in some way,even if only for a moment.

With more reluctance than she would ever admit,she pulled away from him,and told him,with a twinge of humor,"You're still a putz."

He frowned at her,but even that seemed unusually gentle for him."This is about that Helga thing,isn't it?"

She walked down the hall,tossing a mock scolding look at him over her shoulder.

"You think I now don't feel bad about that?"He protested,following her."But hey,she jumped on me,and I'm a guy.What do you expect-"

Reassuringly,everything felt back to normal now.

***

The brownstone/house was at the end of a surprisingly quiet,suburban block,with maple trees in full display giving the street an old fashioned,almost homey feel.The overhanging branches fat with green leaves,the rays of the slowly setting sun shining through them dappling the neatly swept street with molten orange and gold.The other houses lining the street-neo-Victorian mostly-had well tended if tiny lawns,with even the sidewalks looking pristine,as if someone made it their job to rinse them clean every week.It was the picture of suburban contentment.

Logan wondered how many demons lived around here.Maybe they were all demons.

For some reason,this all unsettled him.He could already feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end;maybe this place was too "Stepford Wife",too perfect to be real in any way,shape,or form.

Bob probably wasn't helping.Sitting next to him in the back seat,he was singing under his breath,looking around as if searching for something specific."You're the bullet,I'm the gun-I won.Screw on the silencer and have some fun,"Bob sang quietly,craning his neck to have a better look at a powder blue split level as they drove past.

"What are you looking for?"Logan asked,annoyed.The unease seemed to be creeping under his skin,and he felt almost tense enough to scream.

"Any sign of human habitation,"he replied,continuing to look around.

"So you don't think humans live around here either."

"If they do,they are so anal,shallow and scary I hope I never meet them."

At least now he knew what it took to scare Bob.

"Are you sure this is the right address?"Scott asked,for the second time,as they parked along the curb of the next street over. Well,no sense pulling in the driveway,was there?"Could they have been-"

"Prick up yer ears,Chad,"Helga snapped.She was sitting on the other side of Bob,her tail looped around his shoulder and caressing his neck."Nobody lies to Bob."

"Chad?"He repeated,scowling into the rearview mirror.

"You're so blow dried and squeaky clean,you should be a Chad."

Logan couldn't help but laugh,even as Jean,riding shotgun in the front passenger seat,gave Helga a death look that should have,by all rights,splattered her all over the interior of the car.Scott just continued to scowl,and if he had thought of a retort (doubtful),he didn't say it.

It was decided Logan and Bob should go ahead and see if the coast was clear,or if they were going to catch Krek by surprise (which he was hoping for,very badly).

There was a high wooden fence around the postage stamp sized backyard,discolored and starting to warp from the weather since Krek had obviously never bothered to stain it,and Logan easily jumped over it,figuring if Bob needed a hand he'd ask.He didn't.He needed to pull himself up a bit more,but he made it over okay:surprisingly agile for such a big guy.

Krek's backyard was like a big sandbox-not only was the grass dead,but so was the soil.It had an unhealthy grey color,like metal dust,and smelled a bit like burnt rubber."He's a what now?"Logan whispered to Bob,who was standing abreast of him on his left,looking up at the back of the brownstone,which had been painted the telling color of old blood.

"Wartros demon.No wonder he's a hit man."

"Mean buggers?"

He scoffed,but nodded in agreement."Mean,ugly,and really hard to kill.Kill them with your first shot or die,and I'm serious- they're a lot like you."

He was almost offended until he got what he was saying."They heal fast?"

"Very.Also,no centralized brain;they have neural clusters scattered throughout their body,so taking off their head won't  actually be enough to kill them."

"Shit."He had never encountered a creature that could lose its head and still live."But they gotta have a weak spot,something guaranteed to kill them.What about the heart?"

"Which one?They have three."

"Is there anything else you want to tell me about these guys?"

"They have a claw on the inside of their third wrist that secretes the deadliest neurotoxin in the known universe.It makes risin seem like warm beer."

"Third wrist?"

"They have six arms."

Logan closed his eyes,and took a deep breath,the hideous smell of the dead earth beneath his feet almost making him cough. "Thanks for letting me know before we left,"he said sarcastically,opening his eyes to glare at him.

Bob looked back at him with a shrug."Would that have really kept you from coming?"

"No.But I'd appreciate the head's up."He then glanced down at the dead ground,which looked quite a bit like ground zero, without the pieces of sand nuked into fragments of glass."What do you think this is about?"

"He probably hated the grass so he torched it.They're not big gardeners."

"I bet."

There was a very small cement porch leading up to the back door,barely enough room for him and Bob both,but in a way it didn't matter.All Bob did was close his eyes and concentrate,and Logan simply sniffed the air,weeding out the scent of scorched grass and trying to parse out the other smells.

If there was something living currently inside the house,he didn't smell it.He smelled several other things-Krek had a pepperoni pizza with pesto sauce either last night or this morning-but nothing living,nothing like Krek himself.Bob opened his eyes,and nodded at his unspoken question."No,he's out.Maybe looking for us."

Logan didn't like that idea."Rogue and the Professor-"

"Have nothing to worry about,"Bob reassured him."Wartros demons are as vulnerable to telepathy as any human,in spite of the oddity of their brain structure.I trust the Professor could take him down.By us I mean us=well,okay,not me.But you and Red and 'Clops,and possibly Helga.Krek would be smart enough to avoid falling within the radius of Xavier.And if he knew what I was,he'd skip town."

"Right.You're Dray-whatever the hell.Isn't that what the Ressik called you?What does that mean?Was it a demon curse word?"

Bob smirked in such a way that Logan knew he had just given him something to laugh about later."Yeah,something like that."

Before he could ask him what it really meant,he whistled sharply enough to make Logan wince-the sign to Helga that the rest of them could go around front,as no one was home."Oh,sorry,"Bob said afterwards,as Logan glowered at him.

"Just warn me next time,"he said,popping his claws and shoving them in the steel coated door,between the door knob and the jamb.Whatever locks had been engaged (felt like deadbolts) fell to pieces inside the door,and with a small shove it swung open once Logan had retracted his claws.

Picking locks was for sissies.

He and Bob walked through a strangely clean and empty kitchen-with all the requisite appliances in matching shades of ivory contrasting with the blue formica floor,it could have been a demo kitchen from a department store display-and Logan could not only smell the previous night's dinner (he didn't get pesto pizza at all;did this mean everybody who ate it was evil?) but another smell,strange and faint and surely the smell of Krek:it was the smell of old books,their pages crumbling to dust,with something sharp and pungent beneath,like the smell of acid or vinegar-something sour and unpleasant that was speeding the destruction.

They walked through into the living room so they could let the others in the front door and search the house (and,Logan sincerely hoped,ambush the bastard),but something Logan saw hanging over the living room couch that made him stop and stare.

"Guess we'll find out if you can hold your liquor,keep your eyes shut it'll go down quicker,"Bob sang softly,as he threw all the locks on the front door:there looked to be half a dozen,all deadbolts."The cat's in the bag and the bag's in the river now."A small corner of Logan's mind wondered if these were real songs,or things Bob just made up.

He opened the door for the others,then turned back to him and said,"What is it,Logan?"

"Those sais,"he admitted,walking over to the brown rose colored sofa.Hanging on the wall behind it,displayed on a bamboo rack,were two gleaming silver short swords with expertly woven black leather hilts,and a small piece of white silk hanging from the bottom with some kind of Japanese idiogram on it in black ink.The ideogram looked almost familiar somehow,but he wasn't sure.

"The what?"Scott asked,looking around.

"Sais,they're a type of Japanese short sword often used by ninjas,"Bob told him."And how did you know that,Logan?"

Logan took one off the rack carefully,examining it,feeling the weight of it in his hand.It was not a cheap knock off,a decoration in some upscale decoration store where Yuppies went to buy a piece of faux ethnicity for'kitsch'.This was a real sword,old but well taken care of-even the leather handle had been regularly oiled.He could smell it,feel it in its soft yet tight grip.He wondered how many people Krek had killed with these.

"Logan?"Bob repeated,although Logan would have sworn this was the first time.

"Huh?What?"He replied,looking at him.It was now them,actually,as everyone had crowded into the front room,and everyone was giving him a variation of a strange look (except Scott,who could only frown).

Jean was the first to say anything."Do you recognize that?"

He looked at the short sword in his hand,and without consciously meaning to sliced the air with it,moving only his wrist in a tight circle while his forearm remained motionless."I'm not sure,"he admitted,looking at the reflection of his own eyes in the thin silver blade.

"You move it pretty fancy for a gaijin,"Bob said,moving past him to grab the second sai off the rack."But you don't seem like the ninja type to me-too deceptive by half,those buggers."

Logan didn't pay too much attention him,as he was too busy trying to figure out why this would look almost familiar to him.

Bob raised his sai like it was a traditional sword,holding it inches before his face,and said,in a patently cartoonish French accent,"You have dishonored me,monsieur.I challenge you to a duel."

"That's not how you use them,"Logan replied dismissively."They're extensions of the hand."

"Like your claws?"Bob said,lowering his sai.

"What?"Scott asked,and looked more perturbed for no reason at all.

Logan reflexively glanced down at the hand holding the sai,and noticed how the blade was indeed mimicking the shape of his claws,although it was perfectly straight.But the blade was about nine inches long,wasn't it?"Sort of,"he finally admitted."But not quite.These are more elegant than claws."

Out of the corner of his eye,he saw Jean and Scott exchange puzzled glances,ending in a shrug and a shake of the head from Jean.What was that about?

"Why do you know so much about this,Logan?Do you even know?"Bob wondered,putting his sai back on the rack.

"No."With great reluctance,he put his own sai back.

"I understood that,"Jean said quietly.

"You know,when you got the time,maybe you should go check out Japan,"Bob said,looking perfectly serious."I wouldn't be surprised if you had some history there.I have contacts there,people who might be able to help you out."

"I've never been to Japan,"he said sourly.Had he?

"Then how come you speak perfect Japanese?"He asked,raising his eyebrows in curiosity.

Logan glared at him as if he had just completely lost his mind right in front of him,and he must have."I don't speak Japanese."

"Logan,"Jean said gently,as if he had just scared her in some way."You just were speaking Japanese."

He stared back at everyone staring him,and for a moment wondered if there was a gas leak."I was not!I don't even understand it."

"Logan,"Bob said,his voice full of patient kindness,as if he were talking to a hysterical child."After I challenged you to a duel, you told me that wasn't how you used them in perfect conversational Japanese.Not textbook stuff,either.In fact,if I'm right,there was a hint of  a Kyoto inflection."

There had to be a gas leak-this was insane."I don't know what kind of game you're playing,Bob,but I don't speak Japanese. Don't you think I'd remember if I did?"

"Think about what you just said,"he replied evenly,nothing but compassion in his strange,unnaturally blue eyes.

Logan did,and realized,with a bit of a jolt,that Bob had actually said that in Japanese,but he understood it perfectly.And he had spoken Japanese himself,hadn't he?How could a person lapse from one language into another without realizing it?

"You must have been fluent at one point in your life,"Bob said,in English,seemingly answering his unspoken question. "Probably immersed in the language,which would seem to point towards Japan.And while you consciously forgot it-you probably learned it as an adult,although that's just a guess-it was probably always lurking in your subconscious.Finally,you regained the key memory,the one that unlocked that door,and you never realized it.Congrats!"

He let the possibility of that wash over him for a moment,and it didn't seem feasible,not at all.He'd heard Japanese before and never understood it.

"You sword fight?"Helga asked,her tail twitching back and forth like a metronome.

"No."

"Yes you do,"she insisted,going up the stairs to the second story before he could say a damn thing.

Bob simply gave him a genial smile,eyes as bright as stars."Helga knows her weapon handlers.Trust her."He then turned and followed her up the small staircase,set off to the left of the main room.

"I'm not even going to say it,"Scott said,frowning at Bob's broad back.But he didn't even look back-he must have heard,but he didn't care-and Scott followed him up the stairs.

Jean gave him a sympathetic look and shrugged,as if she really didn't know what to say,and then went up after Scott.

He remained alone in Krek's ridiculously prim living room for a minute longer,trying to put the pieces together.Okay,so he seemed to have a passing familiarity with Japanese weapons,and some heretofore unknown faculty with the language.Maybe he just watched too many Akira Kurosawa films.

Except...had he ever even seen a Kurosawa film?

Well,there had to be a reasonable explanation.He was sure of it.But he wasn't sure he was ever going to find it.

He followed the rest of them up the stairs,equally excited and scared that he might have remembered something about his legitimate past,no matter how small,confusing,and strange it was.