He came out of the back seat firing the nine millimeter pistol (yes,he did know how to fire a gun) and several of the soldiers scattered,either hitting the ground or scrambling for cover,but hearing the bullets ping against and ricochet off the armor boded badly for this plan.

The only cover,as vulnerable as it was,was the ATV,so he climbed inside as he kept firing,even as the windows were shattered by the snipers.He laid low,keeping his head beneath seat level as he reached with his free hand beneath the front seat,seeking an extra ammo clip.

Only then did he realize his right leg was going numb,and he glanced down to see what looked like a thick black one inch needle sticking out of his leg.There were a couple on the floor too.  The snipers weren't shooting bullets;they were shooting drug darts.

And he wasn't immune to these drugs;he could feel it moving through his blood,a sluggish poison that made him feel every ounce of adamantium in his body. Fucking hell.

A dark helmet appeared in the passenger side window,so he leaned back and fired point blank,the window shattering and slicing his scalp as it fell in a sudden cascade of prismatic shards. The bullet did an instant ricochet through the cab, but the impact on the helmet was so great the man fell away with an audible 'oof' as the door at his feet opened, and another helmeted man appeared. Logan leveled the gun and fired.

The gun clicked empty.

He kicked out with his left foot instead,hitting him hard on the top of the helmet and making him fall back into his friends,but someone opened the door behind his head. Logan slammed back the butt of the empty gun,hard enough to make something crack.

But the drugs were making it hard to focus,and Logan wasn't sure if he could stand up, nonetheless fight.

They grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him out, someone jamming a paralyzer into his ribs before he even hit the asphalt,and he hit the cold ground as heavy as a stone,head bouncing on the concrete,unable to move.Although not for lack of trying.

Soon there was nothing in his blurry vision but black legs in black boots,and inside his mind he screamed in frustration,rage and fear. They were not taking him back alive, they were not, damn it!  He was not going back there!

But he didn't see how he could change it now.

First of all,the clerk,a grey haired man in his early forties,was gone.Which was not necessarily odd-he could have gone into the back room for a minute-but she got the strangest feeling he hadn't.

And she saw she was right when she looked out at the gas pumps.

Logan was surrounded by commandos,they swarmed him like angry bees,and as she drifted to the front of the store,not quite believing what she was seeing,she saw a group of them drag Logan-who was limp and barely conscious,not moving at all-toward the road,where a sleek black helicopter was landing,scattering snow like confetti,making the nearby trees agitate violently in the backwash from the rotors.

She felt cold all the way down to her toes,but she knew it wasn't due to the drafty store.
Those fuckers!They were not taking him anywhere...

Feeling her rage turn her stomach sour,like it was boiling in its own acid,she heard noises in the back room as she saw two separate phalanxes of soldiers moving in on either side of the store, guns raised high,obviously intending to collect her as well.

Near the ATV,she saw one of the commandos desperately rip off his helmet and drop it on the ground as something else fell at his feet-an oxygen cannister?Something like that maybe.He bent over,placing his hands on his knees,gasping for breath.Maybe during the fight Logan had broken his breathing apparatus-the thought gave her a brief feeling of elation.But it was far too brief.

The others had dragged Logan onto the main road,headed towards the chopper,as the soldiers scrambled to surround the store.

Her rage focused on the blond commando taking deep breaths,trying to gather his bearings.With his helmet off,she could get him,even if she could get no one else.It was pointless,of course,but goddamn it,she wanted one of these bastards to hurt.

She grabbed a can off the nearest shelf and lobbed it at the front window,shattering it and making the commandos surrounding the store fall back for cover.As the unhelmeted soldier looked up,startled,she fired a strong bolt of electricity towards him,one that left a metallic taste in her mouth.

But at that very second,she noticed something out of the corner of her eye.

Laying on the ground,just off to the right of the commando,was the gasoline pump nozzle,which must have been knocked from the truck in Logan's fight with the soldiers.With an emergency shut off valve,very little gas had escaped,but the tiny puddle had pooled beneath the soldier's boot.

Oh shit.

She instantly turned to run as soldiers burst out of the back room,and in spite of who they were,she shouted,"Run!"

But when they showed no propensity to do so,she simply dropped to the floor and covered her head.

Barely in the nick of time.

The noise she heard was a deceptively soft 'whump',the small puddle of gasoline igniting due to a spark,but the next noise wasn't a noise at all:it was a force,a wave of superheated air that crushed everything like a tsunami,and before she lost consciousness,she wondered if the fireball was big enough to take out the helicopter and save Logan.

He knew they were dragging him towards a chopper-even if it was nothing more than a black blur in his cloudy vision,he knew the feeling of backwash,the thrum of the rotors that pummeled him like invisible fists-and he heard a door slide open as a man said, presumably into a radio, "Target one acquired.Please copy."

Then distantly, somewhere far behind him, he heard a man shout, horrified, "Holy fuck!"

Then it was like the world ended.

A force,hot and a thousand times more powerful than the 'copter's backwash seemed to throw them all forward,and Logan hit the asphalt hard,this time on his face,as he couldn't move his arms to catch himself.

There was a roar,a mythical beast enraged,and he could smell gasoline,burning wood and flesh,people screaming as a second explosion rent the air -

Oh god,Naomi used her power around the pumps, he thought blearily,feeling nauseous with fear.Where was she?How close was she to the tanks when they detonated?Oh god no...

He felt strong arms grab him around the shoulders and pull him into the chopper as someone shouted,"Take us up,now!"

"In this?!"A woman shouted from the front.The pilot was a woman.

"Do it!"The man shouted back,sounding frantic. Logan thought he could smell his fear.

But he was stuck with his own fear, making his own dizziness worse. She was not dead; he refused to believe she was dead.

"Target two?"A radio crackled,as he thought he felt reality starting to fall away beneath him-the 'copter was lifting off.

"Crispy critter,"the man responded,sounding blase' about it,as if it was a given that was in no way his fault.

As Logan succumbed to blackness,he felt cold as ice,beyond rage and in a very deadly space in his mind,as if his heart-or whatever was left in him capable of feeling anything but hate-had been ripped out.

He was going to kill each and every one of these people.He didn't care how long it took,or what he had to do,but he was resolved to kill every single one of these motherfucking,murdering bastards.

If Naomi was gone,so were they.

Just the mention of the Rockies made him wonder if there was a correlation between it and where Logan (and Electra?) were supposed to be heading.

He knew for sure,with a sickening lurch of his stomach,when the radio attributed the explosion to an "electrical surge near a gas pump" at a rest stop on a mountain pass.Oh,damn it.What if he was too late?

Survivors of the explosion were being taken to a hospital named Greater Lakes,so Angel decided to pay a visit,and see if there was anyone there he recognized.

The parking lot of the hospital was a nightmare of ambulances and press,so Angel parked on the street and walked in,careful to avoid the camera's relentless eyes,glad it was night (although the rain continued to sheet down like bad news,so it didn't matter).

Once inside,the front desk was so swamped with people and patients he had no hope of asking questions of anyone,so he decided to do what vampires theoretically did best:skulk and listen.

He didn't have to for long.

Cringing at the rank scent of gasoline,burned flesh and hair,he heard an orderly complain to a nurse,"What is going on with room four seventeen?All the electronics are spazzing out."

Naomi? Good bet.

Being as stealthy as possible,he snuck down the hall,past bodies both living and dead on stretchers that lined both side of the corridor,and did his best to figure out the hospital's numerical system.

Through a combination of dumb luck and intuition,he took the right elevator to the right floor on his third try,and had no trouble finding the room:before he saw the numbers,he saw light flickering beneath the crack of the door,and knew this had to be the place.

Just opening the door earned him a static electric shock,and as the door swung open he shook his palm,wondering why it had to be the one he'd previously burned.

"Naomi?"he asked,as he saw a figure standing by the flickering bathroom light.

She looked up sharply,and for a moment,he didn't recognize her.Her hair was shorter,dyed a sort of vivid neon maroon,and she was wearing only clearly stolen doctor's pale green drawstring pants underneath her white paper hospital gown.She also had a white plaster cast on her right forearm,and vivid patches of red on her face,throat,and arms-minor first degree burns,suggesting she escaped the worst of it,although he wondered if she got the deep purple bruises before or after the explosion.

"Angel?"She asked,visibly shocked.The light overhead had been flickering like a strobe light,but in her shock it slowed its pulsing."What are you doing here?"

He couldn't remember how much she had been told,and how much she believed,so he decided to just assume she was a skeptic."I was told you needed help,so I came to help."

"Told by whom?"

"Cordelia."Although true,it sounded lame.

Still,she shrugged in grudging acceptance."Well,she's psychic,right?I guess that makes sense."She grabbed a doctor's scrub shirt from her unmade bed,and said,"They have Logan,Angel.We have to save him."

He felt his heart sink.Well,theoretically."He's not here?"

"No,"she said,turning her back to him as she shucked off her paper gown and pulled on the scrub shirt.Angel noticed her ribs were wrapped-a swath of white bandages encircling the center of her torso-and she had angry patches of red and splotches of blue-black on much of her uncovered skin.Since there was an explosion,he wondered if she'd been hit with flying debris:that would explain the extensive bruising,and might explain why she wasn't badly burned,if enough of the debris had covered her and protected her from the worst of the flames.Of course,it would have to have been flame resistant,or she'd have had to escape before it caught fire.

When she turned back to face him,the loose scrub shirt hung off her like a potato sack,she had angry tears in her red rimmed eyes."They took him.I tried to stop them,but it wasn't enough.I blow up a fucking building and it wasn't enough."

He knew she was upset-he heard a sharp,brittle snap overhead that made him instinctively duck,but it was just the florescent light tube breaking inside its fixture.She didn't comment on the cringe,so he presumed it was forgiven."It wasn't your fault,Naomi."

"It was,"she insisted vehemently,tears streaming down her cheeks as her blue eyes burned like angry suns."I asked him for help finding my sister,I pulled him into this,and I got him captured by those fucking bastards who tortured him.It is my fault!"

The light bulb in the bathroom exploded,sending glass shrapnel flying across the room,and Angel couldn't help but throw an arm up to shield his face,even though Naomi,presumably used to such things,didn't even flinch.But what was this about a sister?He was missing more back story than he thought."Maybe we ought to discuss this outside,if you're well enough to leave."

"Fuck being well-we need to find him now,"she insisted,wiping a hand across her eyes."If they hurt him,I'm going to kill each and every one of them,Angel.This whole thing will be a fucking tea party compared to what I'm going to do to them."

Over two dozen people dead,and a huge flaming crater that broke a highway in the mountains. Angel didn't want to see what she was capable of doing if she got really pissed off.

But he feared he might anyways.

Hit with a newly formulated tranquilizer that was fifty times more powerful than morphine, and given a dose that should have put a couple of bull elephants down for a few days, he was still close to regaining consciousness. You had to hand it to Logan's mutation - nothing kept him down for long. If they could isolate those specific genes and inject them into soldiers, they'd have an unstoppable, virtually indestructible army.

But then they'd be, by definition, mutants, and that very idea was abhorrent.

He knew there were some dubious people who suggested that mutants were just the next step in evolution, but they were mutant fuckers, no better than mutants themselves.

Mutants were aberrations;genetic mistakes,like people born with extra chromosomes.He was tempted to blame it on the modern world-chemical exposures,EM fields,radiation-but Logan shot that idea to hell. He predated the modern world, whether he knew it or not.

Still,maybe his family-or at least his mother-was exposed to something strange,even that long ago.Or she was the carrier of an odd but latent genetic mutation-a devastating error,a throwback to an evolutionary dead end-that only expressed itself in her freakish mistake of a son.

But it was impossible to know - no trace of Logan's family had ever been discovered; it was like he materialized out of nowhere. And even if they could find them, it would be in some geneaologist's record books. Anything related to him must have died long ago.

Like he,by all rights,should have done.He should have died a half a million times, but, like a guest with no sense of decorum, he never knew when to leave.

But he was a great soldier for their cause.The best there had ever been;the best they'd be able to construct.At least so far-he held out hope they'd eventually make something better,and consign Logan to the graveyard where he rightfully belonged.

He heard the door open behind him,and without having to look,he knew it was Sanders. Who else lived just to vex him?

He was silent for a full thirty seconds,coming to stand beside him at the two way mirror through which he viewed Logan,and then Sanders commented, "Hairy bastard,isn't he?"

Kruger wanted to sigh,but restrained the urge,as it was remarkably pointless.There were probably forceps smarter than Sanders."Did you think he'd be bald as a mannequin?"

Logan had been stripped of his shirts (his jacket was partially flashburned anyway) so they could better fit the electrodes on his torso and spine. The ones fitted to his neck and temples were technically more important,but he had wanted to do a full work up, to see if anything had changed between now and when he had been with the Organization. The results were not so surprising: no change. Fifteen years, and nothing had changed.Not a cell.

Insane-it was insane.Everything he knew told him this could not be so; and yet there was the proof, laying half naked on the steel table,looking for all the world like a decomposing corpse,save for the regular rising and falling of his chest,and the adamantium bonds holding him down to the table.

Around his wrists and ankles,they were only meant to protect the workers from him during his few lucid moments. The silver semi-circles looked frail; not even a minor second's hesitation to the beast on the table.But,being adamantium,even he couldn't shatter them.

"Well,no.But why's his hair like that?"Sanders asked,noisily chewing on some gum."Did the explosion do that?"

Kruger crossed his arms over his chest,refusing to answer.He noticed on the brainwave monitor that Logan was very close to consciousness now. Time to summon the telepath.

"We fried Electra. Wasn't that a no no?"Sanders  said,as Kruger reached for his radio.

"She fried herself."

"Still..."

"And she may not be dead.We were unable to secure the scene,and there have been reports of a female survivor."

Kruger had no idea if Logan had looked for a tracker on the truck or not,but even if he had,he'd never had found it: it was inside the engine block, so deep he'd have to taken it apart to retrieve it. Some occasional electrical interference seemed to indicate that the ATV was indeed stolen by their fugitive mutants.

The seizure of them at the rest stop was textbook,except for Electra's unpredictable,suicidal outburst. But maybe it was accident on her part-who knew? And the arrival of a trucker who'd already radioed in the explosion left them scrambling to recover any incriminating evidence before rescue units arrived. Many of their men,dead or dying,were in a civilian hospital.

A woman had been said,by the trucker,to have crawled out of the wreckage of the burning store; it would make sense,since all the soldiers that survived (not many-a handful,compared to two entire units dead: some burned,others simply flash fried in their stifling armor) were in the back of the store.

"Can we confirm that? Can we take her there?"

"The third unit's leader went up to her room,but she was gone. We believe she snuck out of the hospital, possibly in the company of Angel, who eluded team seven earlier in the day,apparently on his way here."

Sanders stared at him in wide eyed disbelief."We need to go get them. Now!"

"No we don't. They'll come to us."

"Even after they got their asses kicked?"

"Yes. Electra wants her sister,and now she wants Wolverine."

"Why would she want him?"

"Because I think the freaks love each other, idiot." Kruger had seen the recordings of the failed attempt to collect them the first time.Logan had a clear shot to leave,but didn't take it. His only concern seemed to be protecting Naomi,which struck him as curious indeed. Why would a thing like Logan even care? But even animals were capable of feeling something for each other.

"Wow. Really?"Sanders sounded as amazed as Kruger did when he first realized it. Sanders looked in at the slowly rousing Logan, who, while not fully awake yet, was starting to tug against the bonds, an unconscious reaction to being restrained. It had happened enough in his life it was probably autonomic now.

He almost felt sorry for the bastard. It wasn't his fault he was born a freak.

But he was still going to pay the price.

She sighed,enjoying the feeling of his warm body,of his lips against her skin,and ran her hands down his back.She could feel muscles like coiled springs beneath his strangely smooth and flawless skin,although his spine,barely submerged beneath a thin layer of flesh,felt odd in ways she could not quantify.But she knew it had to be the adamantium,somehow coating his spinal column without fusing it together.

She trailed her fingers down his back as he gently scraped his teeth down to the hollow of her neck,and heard him make a noise low in his throat that almost sounded like growling.She didn't think he was actually growling,but it never failed to make her smile.

She felt him move his body on top of hers,careful not to crush her with his weight,as his lips brushed down to her chest,his breath hot against her skin,his fingers moving gently over her ribcage.

(But my ribs hurt - why do they hurt? And my arm...)

She ran her hand through his dark hair,hearing the electricity crackle through it,and arched her back,pressing against his hard body as much as she could.They had more than chemistry together:it was truly electric,a static attraction as palpable as a spark.And when he was gone, she had missed him,but physically it went beyond even that;sometimes she seemed to crave him like a drug.

And that's why she was so reluctant to get involved with him again.She didn't like the idea of someone having that much power over her,even if it was inadvertent.Also,there was no future here;they were both loners by nature.Any relationship between them was utterly doomed.

But who needed a relationship?What was wrong with a little lust?

It was then she felt warm metal penetrate her stomach,pinning her to the bed.

She opened her eyes and gaped in wide eyed horror. Logan had popped the claws of his right hand,and stabbed her.

Looking up into his face,she saw his lips curled back into an angry snarl,his green eyes as cold and empty as ice caves;pitiless,merciless.

"You killed me,"he growled,in an angry,inhuman voice,as the taste of blood flooded her mouth.

She jolted awake with a gasp,and for a moment she thought she was in a hearse.She was in the back of a black car,with black windows...

"Naomi?You okay?"

She looked towards the front seat,and saw Angel on the driver's side,looking back over his shoulder at her.

She dry washed her face as her bearings came slowly back to her."Yeah,I'm fine,"she lied.

Right-they were on their way to Grand Cache,although Angel was sticking to the more traditional,lower roads.And his car,for some unfathomable reason,had windows spray painted black,making her wonder if he had the same infrared vision thing that Scorpion had.Otherwise she had no idea how he could possibly see through them.

As it was,dawn was arriving;she could almost see things through the window.Well,fuzzy blobs, but that was better than before.

"Nightmare?"He guessed.

"Yeah."Her ribs did hurt a bit;she'd forgotten she'd cracked a couple.Her arm didn't hurt more than it simply itched like mad beneath the cast.

"About Logan?"

She didn't want to know how he knew that.Well,it was probably just the most logical conclusion."Yeah.How close are we now?"She had to change the subject,because she really didn't want to talk about it.Angel seemed like a nice enough guy-if Logan was willing to trust him,that was good enough for her-but she really didn't know him that well.

He seemed to get that she didn't want to talk about it,and he turned back towards the front, somehow watching the traffic as he drove."There was a roadblock up ahead,and the guys looked too military for comfort,so I had to take the long way around.But we're back on the highway now."

She grimaced,and wondered if they'd ever stop.How did you defeat an enemy that seemed to multiply like rabbits?She glanced in the rearview mirror,hoping to catch his eyes,but realized there were no eyes to catch.She leaned forward,in case the mirror was at an odd angle,but it didn't show him at all.He wasn't there.

"What is it?"He asked,confirming he was looking in the mirror,even though she had no proof of that.

"Do you know you have no reflection?"

"Umm,yeah.I'm a vampire."

She sat back against the vinyl seat as she considered that."Seriously?I thought that was just your name for it."

"My name for what?"

"Your mutation."

"No,I'm not a mutant.I'm a...well,demon."

"Oh.What's the difference?"

"Mutant or not,you're still human.I'm not."He paused briefly."Well,no,I was.But technically I'm dead."

"Oh."She knew this should surprise her-or at least convince her he was dangerously insane-but he seemed perfectly sincere,and almost embarrassed about it.And her life had gotten so strange she wasn't sure anything had the power to surprise her anymore."Is that why they can't kill you?Because you're already dead?"

"No,"he admitted hesitantly."I can be killed,but only in very specific ways."

She combed her mind for any knowledge on vampires.She remembered watching those old horror movies..."Stake through the heart?"

"That's the most effective one."

"Holy shit-sunlight,"she realized,looking around at the blackened windows."Should we be hiding you in a coffin or something?"

He huffed a sigh through his nose,shoulders sagging as if she'd said something very disappointing."See,I hate that myth the most.Vampires don't sleep in coffins,or on Transylvanian dirt:we can sleep wherever the hell we want.And after digging yourself out of your own grave,believe me,you never want to see dirt again.Also,I really don't have a problem with garlic.I like spaghetti...well,the smell-"

"So you're okay to drive?"She had a feeling this was a long,heartfelt rant,and she just wasn't ready to endure it just now.

He sat back against the seat,probably frowning,but she really couldn't tell from this position. "Yeah,I'm fine as long as the windows are dark enough to filter it out."

Had he really said 'dig yourself out of your own grave'?

She wrapped her arms around herself,and tried not to shiver.Wouldn't that give you a complex?

Naomi had a feeling she might know soon enough,although in a more straightforward way.She felt she was digging her own grave,and verging on diving in.

She just hope she had not dug it for Logan as well.

Sterile and still redolent of hot machinery,hot enough to burn the dust that landed on it,giving the cool,forced air a sort of an undertone of ozone and a scent that could only be described as static.

It was a familiar scent.Logan knew it,but he didn't know how he knew it.All he knew was that it turned his blood to ice,his stomach to stone,and made something in his mind instantly cower,as if it had any hope of hiding deep inside his skull.

They had him.He was back in their lab.

He remembered now.The attack,the explosion...Naomi.Oh god no.

The thought of her death left a cold,hollow pit in his chest that throbbed like an open wound that was in no hurry to heal itself,and overwhelmed his instinctive,atavistic fear with a cold, murderous rage.

He had to survive this and bide his time,choose his moment carefully.Because he was going to kill them.At least Shrike gave him some idea of how to blow these fucking places up.He would use that knowledge well.If he couldn't stop them all,at least he could stop these fuckers,and get some revenge for Naomi.

God damn it.Maybe it was better she died rather than be taken captive;maybe that's what she thought.But already he missed her,mourned her,and hated the entire fucking world.

He didn't even tug at the shackles;he could feel them,almost tight enough to cut off blood circulation.But it wasn't like he was in danger of dying from gangrene,was it?

Logan didn't smell anyone in the room with him yet,but he knew he was being watched;he could feel their eyes drilling through him like ice picks.

He opened his eyes without hesitation,ready to fight an enemy he was helpless against (but only for the meantime-if he played this right,he'd get a chance,they'd slip up or let their guard down.He just hoped he was patient enough to wait for it).

The room was dimly lit,but completely metallic,like a coffin lined with tin foil,so the light bouncing off every surface made it more than adequate to see by.There were lights somewhere behind his head,blue and green,LED displays that bleeped and hummed with the rhythms of machines.He felt the electrodes on his body,the conductive gel sealing them to him still cold.

A door opened-he heard the pneumatic hiss off to his left,and he turned his head to see who or what came in-and at first the doorway was so dark he couldn't make the figures out.But he could smell them.

One human,and one mutant.

The human-presumably a Doctor-looked like the stereotypical mad scientist in a black and white horror flick:tall and thinly cadaverous,he was like a stick figure miraculously given life and dressed in a grey jumpsuit.His skin was as fishbelly pale as his long white lab coat,as if he spent all his time locked up in here,and his narrow face came to a sharp point at his chin, making his cheeks look sunken beneath small,recessed eyes that were little more than dark pits beneath his wide brow."Good morning,Logan,"the man said in a thin,reedy voice,obviously gloating as he attempted a smile.But his thin lips pulled up over small white teeth that looked ironically rodential:it wasn't a smile more than it was a distasteful grimace,the expression of a laughing man who just bit down hard on his own tongue."Welcome back home."

"Eat me,"he snapped,looking past the shoulder of the balding,middle aged doctor to the mutant standing beyond him.