15

At least when you had Bob clean stuff up, it really did disappear without a trace.

He zapped stuff away, and that included the Halavrins, who were very happy to reform (literally in several cases) and go home. Bob confirmed that the living Wolverdemons were so mindfucked and “damage” they had nothing approaching higher brain functioning; they were the humanoid equivalent of attack dogs, no more, no less (just what the Organization wanted to make him). Logan asked him to just get rid of them. Bob seemed to teleport them away, but he probably did something more - Logan didn’t want to know, and didn’t care, as long as they were gone.

While the others left with Bob to find out what became of Spider and his prey, Logan lingered back, mainly because the tendons were still finishing connecting in his leg. Most of the holes had healed over, and he had stopped bleeding, but his ear was still coming in. And cartilage growing back was only second in pain to teeth growing back in.

He knew he wasn’t alone, though. Scott still loitered in the hall, as if waiting for someone to tell him to go home. Of course, Logan knew it wasn’t that. “So you came to kick my ass, huh? Want a shot now?”

Scott looked back at him, scowling beneath his visor. “Just like that, huh?”

He retracted his claws, which he had left out mainly as a habit. This place stank of blood, and that always put him on edge. “No powers.”

Scott snorted derisively, shaking his head. “You can’t turn your powers off, Logan. Sure, you can keep from using the claws, but you have a metal skeleton, and your healing factor is autonomic - you can’t turn those off.”

Autonomic; Jean probably told him that once. He could almost imagine her telling him over lunch somewhere, “No, Logan has an autonomic healing factor…” “Fine, you don’t use your power. Or do, I really don’t care. You get five free shots at me; I won’t fight back. Five shots, your choice.”

Scott stared at him for a long time, probably sizing him up, and figuring out what the catch was. “Okay, five shots - then what?”

“Then I get one.”

Scott crossed his arms over his chest and looked huffy, and Logan knew he’d been sussed - he wasn’t as dumb as he looked. “One shot? You know, I’ve taken more than one shot from you before. Do you think I’m a complete dumb ass? You’re some street fighting thug with a metal skeleton; you could fracture my skull with a single shot.”

He shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for tryin’.” He wasn’t planning on fracturing his skull exactly, just putting him down for a while. A good, long while. It wasn’t like Bob wasn’t around to undo the damage.

Scott shook his head in disgust and turned away. “You’re incredible. You know, if you left Xavier any clue that this was just some little ploy of yours, we never would have believed you were a traitor. Would it have killed you to leave a note on the fridge or - “

“A traitor?” He interrupted, and his voice was full of enough anger that Scott actually paused and looked back at him. “Listen, bub, I’m a lot of things, but I’m no traitor. Now get this through your thick fucking skull - I ain’t one of you. And don’t get all huffy and try and pretend that you ever wanted me there, ‘cause you made it quite clear you didn’t want me around. And now that you get your wish, you think I’m a traitor? Fuck you, Boy Scout.”

“Hey! I - “ He stopped, scowled at his own thoughts, and took a moment to formulate whatever lame ass argument he could muster. “No, Logan, I never wanted you around. You’re undisciplined and selfish, and no better than a common bar brawler, just with a more lethal left hook.”

“Undisciplined?” He repeated in angry disbelief. “Selfish? That’s real rich comin’ from you. Do you know know how many times I held back ‘cause I knew you pantywaists couldn’t take it? Do you have any idea?”

“And we should be grateful for that?” He replied, throwing his arms out wide in exasperation. “Gee, thanks Logan for not killing those guys.”

“It might have saved us a world’a pain if I did,” he snapped, and it was out of his mouth before he realized the potential implications.

They just stared at each other for a moment, and in that instant, Logan had an inkling of what it might be to be Human level (not Bob level) telepathic - they were both thinking of Jeannie, weren’t they? And that’s what this was really all about, wasn’t it? Some lingering macho bullshit over Jean, who would have been equally disgusted by the both of them, and for damn good reason.

It was Scott who gave it up first. He shook his head again, shoulders slumping as he turned away for good. “This is pointless.”

Logan agreed, but not out loud, as he wasn’t quite prepared to go that far. But it was pointless continuing a rivalry over a woman who was not only dead, but died because they both failed her. There was more than enough blame to go around.

He followed him down the wreckage and gut strewn corridor (Halavrians blew up real good, it seemed), and after getting a bead on his miserable restlessness, said, “Don’t even think about turning around and sniping me, Scott. Do you really wanna see how fast I can move when I’m motivated?”

He let out an exasperated sigh and dug his hands into the pockets of his pants, not willing to acknowledge he’d been thinking about it. But Logan knew he had. “You think you’re so cool.” he said derisively.

“I don’t think it,” Logan countered. “I know it. Unlike you, Captain Buzzkill.” the kids at school had several appropriate names for Scott, but that was undoubtedly the best one.

Scott didn’t look back, he simply held his hand up and gave him the finger over the shoulder. Logan chuckled, amazed that he even knew what the gesture meant.

They were halfway out of the building when Logan smelled someone familiar, in spite of the rank scent of blood clogging his nostrils (he didn’t need a shower more than he needed a serious hosing down). “Where the fuck ya been, Jayson?” He asked, not bothering to look behind him.

Scott looked around, clearly puzzled. “Who are you talking to?”

“Invisible guy followin’ us. Meet him yet?”

Scott looked over his shoulder, but of course Specter was still ghosted, so he didn’t see him. Still, he seemed to take his word that he was indeed there. “I heard someone out in the parking lot when I arrived, but I didn’t see anyone. Him?”

“Probably. So where have you been, Jayson?” He didn’t know why he was needling the guy - he didn’t like to fight, and he was the first to admit, unseen or not, he wasn’t very good at it. The fact that Logan knew someone else who could seem invisible - Nightshade - and still take care of herself just fine, even though she wasn’t a fighter either, detracted from any sympathy he had for him.

After a long moment of silence, he finally said, “I was looking for weapons.” Scott actually jumped, either not expecting him to speak, or actually assuming Logan was playing a lame joke on him.

“In here?” Logan asked dubiously.

“Well, I wasn’t rushing in without something; it sounded like World War Three in there. And you kinda look like it.”

He decided to ignore that little crack; he knew he looked like shit. He didn’t feel so great either. “The guards had weapons.”

“Guards?” Jayson had a whiff of panic about him.

“The ones in the parking lot that Spider took out. He didn’t get all their guns.”

“Oh,” he said, in a small, quiet voice. That little detail had broken apart his perfectly good lie.

Jayson lapsed into silence, save for his footsteps crunching on debris behind them, and Scott asked, “What was going on back there? Some of those demons looked like you.”

Logan just knew he was thinking “…so are you one…” or the perennial favorite “You’ll screw anything, won’t you”, but he didn’t have the balls to say it. “It was some kinda gene splicing experiment or somethin’. The Organization must have been worried that muties would fail them as mutie killers, so they made half demon ones with favorable attributes from their current crop of mutant killers. I guess maybe they thought that they could perfect the killing instincts, but it was as much a failure as project Arsenal - how do you control homicidal demons, part human or not? It seems their brainwashing was as successful as it was on me, yet less so. At least the psychic butchering was the same.”

“They really liked your claws, didn’t they?”

“I think it was my healing factor they wanted. I can take a lot of damage and still keep goin’.”

“I’ve noticed.” Scott was silent for several beats, then said, very quietly, “Bastards. I’m glad they’re finished. I hope they choked on it.”

Logan was shocked to realize that Scott wasn’t talking about the demon hybrid back there, but the Organization itself. He had no idea he held that much venom towards anyone, nevertheless them. Was it because of Jean? Maybe - but maybe it was more than that. Didn’t he try some lame ass “bonding” thing with him once, over their mutual brainwashed status? As if being brainwashed for a day or two somehow equated with the mental cluster-fuck he’d been subjected to for years, not to mention the constant physical mutilation. But it had hit Scott hard, hadn’t it?

Scott had thought he was safe; he had thought he was tough (how Logan had no idea) and prepared for anything. The Organization had destroyed his sense of complacency, of security; it had shaken him to his core. Scott had learned he was as vulnerable to attack as anyone else, that even a guy whose eyes shot out destructive beams of light and possessed an unwavering sense of moral superiority could be as much a victim as anybody.

Logan didn’t like to think of himself as a victim, but of course he was - they all were. Whoever the Org got their claws into was a victim, even Shrike and Reaper. They just took out their frustrations on other mutants; maybe it made them feel better, gave them a reason to get up in the morning.

For the second time in his life (the first time was after Jean’s death - without Jean, what did Scott have?), Logan felt sorry for the Boy Scout, and he instantly loathed it. He didn’t want to feel sorry for him; he didn’t want to feel anything for him beyond a high grade irritation.

“They’re not finished,” Logan pointed out. “They’ve gone deeper underground, and maybe they’re not using mutants as obviously as they once did, but they’re still around. They’re just gonna have to be more sneaky about it.”

“Luckily, we’re sneaky too,” Jayson interjected.

True enough.

As soon as they got outside, Logan took a deep breath of the clean night air, trying to cleanse his nostrils of so much blood (mostly his own, but not completely), but it didn’t work as much as he’d hope.

All the others were now grouped around something about ten meters from the broken gate, and about five meters from that was a dead demon. Logan heard Bob saying, “ - okay, all right?”

Logan smelled the blood even before they breached the circle, and he knew then that Spider had been critically injured. He was laying splayed face up on the fissured pavement , his arm over the large, three pronged gashes that had ripped him open from side to side. He was cut completely in half, but it was a close thing; he was definitely in danger of having all his organs fall out, so it was a good thing he chose not to move, just bleed out silently on the asphalt. The blood pooling beneath him and dripping into the cracks was reddish-black, and Logan wondered why it wasn’t blue - didn’t spiders generally have blue blood? He thought he heard Jayson gag at the sight.

Spider looked up at him with glazed eyes, blood still trickling out of his nose and mouth. “You’re pretty fast with those claws of yers, ain’t ya Badger Boy?”

Logan flinched, but he had already figured out that one of his hybrids had nailed Spider. ”Get both of them?” He only saw the body of the tentacled demon who escaped, but you never knew.

“Nah. My eviscerator got away.”

“We should go after it,” Chameleon said. She was back in her small Latina form, but this time she didn’t look like she wasn’t melting.

“No need, she’ll be apples,” Bob said. He was crouched beside Spider, a hand flat on his chest. Bob’s eyes seemed to fill with blue light before he closed them, and he raised his free hand out towards the desert, slowly closing it into a fist. Then he said quietly, “No worries, I got him.”

“What do you mean you got him?” Tom repeated, obviously not sure he could trust him. He’d probably forgotten that Bob had healed him. “Do you powers extend over that range?”

“He’s a god,” Scott said again, sounding exasperated with these clowns. “His range is the entire planet.”

“No, it’s not,” Bob corrected him, opening his eyes and looking up at him. It looked like Spider’s gut wound was starting to close up slowly. “But all I have to know is my target to get it - distance rarely matters.”

“So this is why you freaked Spike out,” Chameleon said.

Bob smiled up at her benignly, and while Scott snorted humorously, Logan said absolutely nothing. Sometimes it was best to leave well enough alone.

To his surprise, Scott tapped him on the shoulder, and when he glanced back, Scott jerked his head in the direction of the van. Logan followed him, mostly out of curiosity - he wasn’t going to try and throw down within Bob range, was he? That couldn’t be stupider.

Once they were behind the van and blocked from the direct view of others, Scott looked around nervously, and asked, “Did the invisible guy follow us?”

“Specter? No, he’s by the North side of the gate, barfing his guts out.”

He grimaced, as if that was a bit more than he wanted to know, but hey, he asked. “Not much of a fighter, huh?”

“How’d you guess? Why’d you drag me over here?”

A muscle in Cyclops’s jaw jumped slightly, and he looked like he’d just been made to swallow straight lemon juice. “You always have to go out of your way to make this difficult, don’t you?” But he muttered that to himself before straightening up and attempting to look less sour. “Look, to be perfectly frank, Logan, I don’t like you - I don’t get you, I’ll never get you, and I don’t want to.”

Logan sighed, and impatiently shifted his weight to the leg that wasn’t still burning. “Are you ever gonna tell me something I don’t know?”

He sighed through his nose, clenching and unclenching his hands as if this was painful for him to say. “I know … I don’t agree with what you do or why. But I know you saved a lot of kids’ lives that night that the Organization raided; I don’t even want to think what would have happened if you weren’t there. Not that I was exactly thrilled with what you did - did you really have to kill some of those soldiers?”

“I killed some?” He replied blandly, aware he was a horrible liar when it came to this subject.

He knew Scott was glaring at him from beneath that visor. “Are you through playing dumb?”

Well, at least he didn’t say “being dumb”. “Are you ever gonna get to your point?”

He made a noise of disgust and shook his head. “Why am I even trying ..? Logan … what I’m trying to say is, although I don’t like you being around … we could use you our team, and there will always be a place for you at Xavier’s. Jean - “ he paused and seemed to need a moment to gather himself. Logan waited, mainly because he was curious to hear what came after that. “She had a gift for reading people, even beyond the telepathy. And although I thought she gave people more of a benefit of a doubt than they deserved … she told me she saw something good in you. I didn’t want to believe it, and I still can’t accept that … but I can’t believe she’d be wrong either. I don’t know everything the Organization did to you, I can’t imagine half of it. But I know that the fact that you still have anything even approaching sanity left means you must be the toughest son of a bitch on the face of the earth, and I’d be lying if I said we couldn’t use your help from time to time.”

“Time to time? Ya mean all the time.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You’re not gonna try and hug me now, are ya?”

“Oh god no.”

“It’s ‘cause I smell like a slaughterhouse, isn’t it?” He replied, deciding to use humor to defuse the weirdness of this. Scott had supposedly come here to kick his ass, and now he was waving a white flag? Had Bob done something to him?

“That’s number seven on the list of reasons.”

“How big’s the list?”

“A million and three.”

“Three?”

“You being you takes up a half million reasons,“ Scott said, turning away. He started to walk around the van, but stopped abruptly, like there was someone there. Logan knew there wasn’t, he didn’t smell anyone. Coming up behind Scott to look over his shoulder, he saw that there was a gap in the circle, and Bob was looking towards this way, still crouched beside Spider but grinning up at them like an idiot. “Were you eavesdropping?” Scott asked sourly.

“Well, how could I not?” Bob answered honestly. “I feel positively squishy inside. A bonding moment! And me without a camera.”

“Do you think, if we team up, we can take him?” Scott muttered.

Logan shook his head. “No chance. And I don’t wanna know what he’d do to us for even tryin’ it.”

Bob’s grin grew even wider, which seemed impossible. “Oh, you boys are no fun anymore.”

Logan still wondered if Bob had manufactured Scott’s mood swing. He supposed he’d always wonder. At least Bob kept the others from hearing it too.

Spider did finally get healed up, and as soon as he struggled to his feet, Bob said, “You remember, but you can deal with it.”

Spider slapped his hands to his head, as if trying to hold his brains in, and exclaimed, “Bloody hell - what the fuck have I been doing?”

“Welcome to the club,” Logan said, although with very little sympathy. Spider’s mind had only been fucked to the point where his memories were inaccessible to him; they had not been completely taken away. He hated to feel jealous, but he couldn’t help it.

“And, you know, I think we should all rethink homicide as a lifestyle choice,” Bob said to the rest of the circle, apropos of nothing. It was probably a push, just an odd one.

“You have the weirdest friends,” Scott groused.

“They’re not my friends,” Logan protested, but he doubted the Boy Scout bought it or cared.

The funny thing was, it was beautiful out here. Without city lights to impede the view, the sky was a blanket of bright stars just starting to emerge in the dark, which was not perfect black but getting that way. It was almost pleasant. Shame about the earthquake damage and dead bodies all around here.

Finally they’d come to a moment where they’d have to figure out what the fuck they were going to do now, which turned out to be a stunning poser. After a few awkward minutes, Chameleon said to Scott, “So that school of yours, you take in adults, right?”

Scott looked appalled. He seemed to struggle to remember how to speak when Logan told her, “You gotta follow their rules. It’s a pain.”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t care. I just need a place to crash while I get my shit together and raise some capital. I thought I was dyin’ , you know? I kinda blew my wad.”

“What about your apartment?” Logan asked.

“Blew that up too.”

Scott made a slight wheezing sigh, like he’d just taken a rabbit punch to the kidneys. This must have been his worst nightmare - surrounded by people just like Logan. “Nothing illegal, no destruction. We have kids; it’s a boarding school.”

“I know. I wasn’t gonna blow it up!”

“Ah shit,” Spider said, still looking slightly bewildered by everything. “I used to have a flat in Tooting … bloody fuck, my girlfriend!” He looked searchingly at Bob. “Think I still have any of those?”

“What’s the last year you remember?” Bob replied.

Spider had to think about it a moment. “Two thousand. Hey, that Y2K shit - that ever happen?”

Even Scott grimaced at that. That flat and that girlfriend were probably long gone, along with any shred of Spider’s life before this. That was how the Organization worked, after all.

“Maybe you’d better come with me ‘til you get your shit together,” Chameleon told him. She had a point, and even Spider’s strangely acquiescent nod proved he knew that.

Scott’s expression was so contorted it looked like his lips were trying to rip themselves off his face and go hide under the van. He was probably imagining flying back to Xavier’s with Chameleon and Spider in tow. It wasn’t a very inspiring picture, especially since Spider was still wearing the clothes he’d been partially eviscerated in.

Logan decided to step in here, although he had no idea why. “Xavier probably would like to meet ‘em,” he suggested, hoping Scott got the implied message: Xavier could see what exactly they know.

Scott must have gotten the hint, because after a moment, he nodded. “Yeah, okay. If you want to come back with me, fine, but you have to obey the rules.”

“We got it, Chico,” Chameleon said derisively. “I’ll just be coolin’ my heels ‘til I can jet, don’t worry.”

It suddenly occurred to Logan that Scott had no idea that Spider - well, old, brainwashed Spider - had shot him and Storm. Did Spider even know anymore? Shit, that could be an awkward scene if someone figured it out. But it wasn’t Spider’s fault - he had simply been doing what he was programmed to do.

Scott glanced at Tom and Xia, who were standing at the edge of the circle, and each had an arm around the other’s shoulder, as if supporting each other in the face of a hurricane. She wasn’t dying anymore - Logan wondered how that shifted the dynamic of their relationship, if it did at all. “What about you two?” Scott wondered. “Want to come along?”

They both shook their heads, and Tom said, “I’ve got connections outside the Organization, and they owe me some favors. We can go away somewhere safe, hole up for a while.”

“I think we’ve had enough of mutant groups for now,” Xia agreed. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Scott said, then gestured to the jet, parked off by a dune beyond the gate. “Shall we go?”

“You’re forgetting the invisible guy,” Logan reminded him.

“Oh, right.” He looked around briefly, but then gave up. “Er, uh, you want to come with?”

“You’re visible,” Bob said, and then he quite suddenly was, leaning against the fence.

Even Jayson seemed to be taken slightly aback by his sudden visibility, embarrassed to be seen by the naked eye. “Um, er … no. Thanks, but I think I’m just gonna find some place to hang out, get lost. When you can turn invisible, that’s easy to do.”

“I bet,” Scott agreed.

Logan wondered if anyone - beyond himself, and probably Bob - appreciated the irony here: Jayson was the invisible man, even when he could be seen. His entire life was so devoted to disappearing, it was all he knew how to do, and all he cared to do. There was a life even more wasted than his.

It was then Logan realized everyone was looking at him. “What?”

“What are you going to do?” Chameleon asked. “Hitchin’ a ride with us or what?”