Steam rose and billowed from the nearly scalding spa, lightly scented with lavender and eucalyptus. Kenuichio eased himself into its depths, hissing out a sharp breath at the temperature; the shock faded as his muscles began to unknot and relax. Beneath the water, he flexed and unflexed his fingers in an attempt to ease the spasm in his forearm left from wearing a plaster cast and sling. A faint grimace twisted his heavy but chiseled features, making the puckered skin of the scar over his eye bulge unbecomingly.
Kenuichio stretched and sighed in the near silence of the suite, listening to the water drip from the jets.
“Want some company, lover?” He slowly swiveled his head toward the deep, indolent voice beckoning to him from the doorway.
“What do you want, woman?” His voice was hard, but his sable brown eyes roamed her body, draped enticingly in a emerald green silk robe. Her stiff nipples poked out, straining against the cloth. Her gait was graceful as she sauntered over to the tub, setting down the wide tray in her hands.
“What else? I want to make you an offer.”
“You’re offering me something I’ve already had.” She reached for the empty pitcher by the edge of the tub and dipped it into the steaming water. She poured it over his knotted shoulder muscles and sluiced some over the back of his neck. He sighed in contentment as he regarded her.
“You’ve already had your revenge against your half sister’s consort? And the witch who nearly killed you? My apologies, then, love.” She set down the pitcher and began to rise to her feet, but Kenuichio caught her by the wrist before she could straighten, nearly pulling her into the tub.
“Explain yourself, Viper.”
“We’ve found them. Wolverine and Storm have been sighted at that miserable little ronin thief’s apartment. We trailed them back from a nightclub last night when they were picked up by the security feed.” His grip on her wrist was still firm but less painful as he studied her, looking for any clues of deceit.
“You know what happens to those who lie to me,” he said simply.
“I left you the security tape upstairs. Feel free to watch it when you finish your soak.” It wasn’t lost on him that she didn’t claim an inability or unwillingness to lie. “Relax, my love. Rest, regain your strength,” she purred, running an errant fingertip along his broad jaw. “You’ll need it soon.” He rumbled his agreement as he reached for her, untying the fragile sash and letting her robe fall open and slip off her shoulders. He raked his eyes over her flesh. “You’ve licked your wounds long enough.”
“Watch your tongue,” he warned. He was still sensitive about the scar.
“Why don’t I put it to better use?” She lifted his hand and laid it against her cheek, encouraging him to stroke aside the soft fall of greenish-black waves of hair. Kenuichio closed his eyes and explored the contours of her scarred cheek, becoming acquainted with the damaged tissue by touch. He opened them again, meeting her gaze before he let his hand drop to her breast. He cupped it and kneaded the nipple until it turned a rosy pink.
Wounded animals, the pair of them.
“I want the gaijin to pay,” he grated out. Viper’s fingertips brushed his lips fleetingly. “I want him humiliated before I take his life. I want him to lose everything he loves and see that I was responsible.”
“You will.” Viper’s stomach fluttered as he nipped her fingertip, almost painfully. “I promise you, my warrior. You will.”
“I’m not ungrateful for your help thus far.” Kenuichio rose up onto his knees, letting the water sheet off of his rippling pectorals and taut stomach as he reached for her, gripping her shoulders and pulling her into the tub with no ceremony. Her laughter was cut off as he punished her with a bruising kiss. “But the killing blow is mine, woman. He dies by my hand, my sword. My honor, and that of Clan Yashida, demands blood.”
“And what of the weather witch?” She gasped as his fingers parted her, plunging into her roughly.
“When I’m finished with her, you may do with her as you wish.”
*****
“How do you like your eggs, Storm?” Yukio cracked two eggs deftly, jumping back as they sizzled and spit in the bubbling oil. “Storm? Stooorrrmmmm…helloooo?”
“Errrgggghh.” Ororo’s voice was muffled by the throw pillow that she hugged against her head, blocking out the harsh glare of sunlight streaming in through the patio.
“Can I take that as a no?”
“Ergh.” Ororo’s hand lifted weakly in a wave of dismissal.
“Remember what I told ya about mixing?”
“Told me…too late, you blasted man.” Logan’s grin widened as he met Ororo’s gaze, what he could see of it. Her cerulean eyes were narrow, wincing slits peeking at him from beneath the pillow as she glared at him like a disgruntled kitten fresh from a flea bath. Logan’s chuckle was rusty but low; oversensitivity to light was one thing, but he wasn’t going to take his life in his hands by being too loud when she looked at him like he was an easy target.
“Two overeasy for you, Logan-sama.” Yukio flicked hot oil over the tops of the eggs, watching the surface of the yokes turn an opaque, milky yellow. She handed him the Bloody Mary that she’d fixed him, chucking in a stick of celery.
“Don’t need the roughage, babe.”
“Eat your veggies; wouldn’t wanna stunt your growth.” Logan sat on the other end of the couch and relaxed with his drink and suffered another withering look from Ororo as he lifted her feet up to make room. He smiled at her anyway, and surprised her by laying her tootsies in his lap, massaging them gently. Ororo sighed in relief; they really had taken a beating in those bloody boots. She adjusted the pillow and tucked it behind her head, then glanced at Logan’s drink with a faint scowl.
“Isn’t this one of those rules you were preaching to me last night?”
“This is an exception to the rule. Sometimes ya hafta take a hair o’ the dog that bit ya.”
“Don’t listen to him. He’s got a healing factor and doesn’t follow the rules most of the time, anyway.”
“Henh, henh, heennnhh…” he pantomimed, raising his glass on a salute before taking a generous sip. “Used enough tomato juice, didn’tcha?”
“SOME tomato juice, Logan-sama. It calls for some.”
“I hate bringing this up,” Ororo began, rubbing her temples, “but I feel at a bit of a loose end. I came here to find you, Logan, so I could check up on you.”
“So ya found me.”
“Mmmmm. Now, the question remains, what do I do with you?”
“Who says ya hafta ‘do anything’ with me? What d’ya wanna do, drag me back to Chuck and One-Eye and act like everything’s fine?” He drummed his fingers against her toes, somewhat impatiently.
“The Professor understands why you needed some time away, I’m sure.”
“Then he probably understands why I ain’t comin’ back any time soon.”
“You’re not leaving for good.” Her voice stiffened, and it wasn’t a question.
“I ain’t necessarily back fer good, either, even if I do go back. I got matters ta attend to here, ‘Roro. You on the other hand, missy, ain’t exactly at a loose end. From what ‘Elf told me, ya got more than just our team ta lead these days.”
“I think I made myself pretty clear as to who was in charge that night in the tunnels.” Yukio slid the eggs onto the plate and grabbed the toast as it popped up, tossing it back and forth to avoid burning her palms. She almost dropped it at the stern looks Logan and Ororo exchanged.
“When the cat’s away…” he reminded her. “Can ya really afford ta use the honor system with the same folks who kidnapped one of yer teammates, kid? Yer business is back home in Westchester.”
“It’s not just my home, Logan. If you’ve forgotten that, let me tell you again.”
“Save yer breath.” Ororo’s mouth worked like she wanted to say something else before she settled on shooting him a scowl that could sour milk. She jerked her feet from his grasp and stalked away.
“Ororo, don’t you want anything?”
“I want him to see reason,” she called over her shoulder. The bedroom door slammed behind her. Logan was left with the sight of her long, bare legs flashing beneath the short robe that Yukio lent her, as well as a faint draft across his lap where her feet had warmed him. Crap.
“Boy,” Yukio quipped, “she sure wants a lot.”
An hour later:
WHAM. Thud. Thud. Thud. WHAM. THWAP! WHAM. Thud. THWACK!
“Shit. She’s a natural with the heavy bag.”
“Who d’ya think taught her, eh?” Yukio grunted at him from beneath the well-loaded barbell as Logan spotted her. She curled her upper lip in concentration, brows furrowing and collarbones standing out sharply as she moved it cleanly, slowly above her chest. Logan steadied the bar, watching Yukio’s form and checking to see that her grip and balance didn’t falter, but occasionally his eyes flitted from Yukio’s sweat-drenched face and sweat triangle-patterned shirt to his very irritated friend. Ororo was giving the bag hell, using hand wraps instead of the standard issue gym gloves. Her footwork was nimble, and her shoulders rotated with liquid grace as she jabbed and drove on.
Thud. Thud. WHAM. Thud. WHACK!
“Think she’s still pissed off,” Yukio huffed.
“Eh.”
“What’re you gonna do about it?”
“Ain’t up ta me ta do anything about it. She wants ta be ticked, that’s her deal, she chooses ta be pissed with me. She chooses ta play mother hen ta the team. Don’t make much sense fer her ta try doin’ that with me. I’ve been doin’ what I do since way before she was in diapers drinkin’ her mama’s milk.”
“You think you don’t need mothering? Tell me another one, Patch.” Yukio’s arms shuddered slightly, and Logan tightened his grip on the center of the bar as she mustered one more lift. “You don’t look like it doesn’t matter.”
“’Scuse me?”
“You keep watching her like a bear protecting its young. So,” she grunted out, hissing at the knot in her quadriceps, “maybe you’re more worried about her.”
“It ain’t every day ‘Ro shows up at my doorstep looking like she raided a biker bar.”
“Admit it, you dig it.” Yukio was unapologetic.
“It took something big ta make her take a huge friggin’ leap like that. I know it ain’t just skin deep and something she did just ‘cause she was bored.”
“Yeah, she wasn’t bored…” she muttered. “Who wouldn’t be if they were in her shoes? She was whining about that little munchkin giving her the cold shoulder at the wedding.”
“Kitty?” Logan’s voice hardened despite himself. ‘Ro never “whined.” Ever.
“Yeah, that one. What’s the big deal if the kid wants to act all snotty?”
“It’s a big deal ta ‘Ro.” Yukio shook her head to indicate that she didn’t want to try another one, and Logan hefted the barbell back into the pegs. “Ororo’s been the next best thing that Kitty has to a mom since she came to the school. It wasn’t intentional. It just happened. Dunno if she told you this already, but ‘Roro lost her mom when their house collapsed. She was just a kid when it happened, so she grew up without her mother. She tries to put on a good face, and she succeeds pretty damn near all the time, but ‘Roro gives Kitty a lot of the love that she missed out on herself, and that Kitty’s parents aren’t around ta give up close an’ personal, with her livin’ away from home. Think about it, little ronin. How would you feel if the woman who was the only loving, constant and stable thing in your life just one day up and decided she wasn’t up fer it anymore? Bye bye, baby, Mama’s checkin’ out.” Logan sat on the floor beside the weight bench and took a long pull from his water bottle. “That’s how Kitty felt, ya could see it on her face. And Ororo felt it, too, sensitive little thing that she is, as though Kitty had punched her in the face and disowned her.”
“But Ororo isn’t her mother.”
“Hurts just the same.”
“I guess. I wouldn’t know.”
“Eh.” Logan eyed the rowing machine and reached for this towel, noticing that the gym was surprisingly quiet. The three of them had bumped elbows with the crowd of fitness warriors and jockeyed for space on the cardio machines as little as an hour ago, but now Logan found the near quiet unsettling. It made his hackles go up.
“I expected it to be busier right about now; wouldn’t a gym downtown like this get a lunch rush?” Ororo voiced Logan’s suspicions for him as he was about to take another chug from his water bottle. He strode over to the mat and handed her a fresh one, not envying her the cotton mouth she no doubt still had.
Logan opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by a questionable sounding “BZZZZT!” and hollow click. “Didja hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“That sound. Almost like something was just shut off…” Logan looked up at the ceiling from where the sound seemed to come from, and his eyes fell on the video camera in the upper right corner.
The tiny red power light went off, and the automatic shutter over the lens swiveled shut.
“Storm?” His voice was low and steely, and Ororo nearly felt all of his muscles tense, even though she wasn’t touching him.
“What’s the matter, my friend?”
“Take yer wraps off an’ get behind me.” Yukio tossed aside the workout towel she had been trying her hair with and stood from the weight bench, a look of unrestrained glee and anticipation on her face.
“Why?”
“They might catch fire if ya use yer lightning.” SNIKT! Logan’s nostrils flared as he caught the menacing new scents of the corridor “ and above them, sons of bitches! “ tinged with the tang of metal. The overhead lights were extinguished, plunging them into near-darkness.
“Logan? I ““
“Don’t hold back, Storm,” Yukio growled.
CLANK! The grates over the air ducts dropped open as two men garbed in black leapt through the ceiling, brass knuckles gleaming under what little light that shone through the narrow windows. Four more sprinted out from the men’s locker room, making Logan wonder how long they’d been there. Damn it, old man, yer nobody’s amateur, ya shoulda been payin’ attention! Stainless steel shuriken flew like quicksilver across the suite. “I toldja ta DUCK, woman!” CLANG! TING! TING! Logan’s claws made a clean sweep, deflecting the deadly toys, but he grunted as one made its mark, glancing off of him and leaving a crimson stream in its wake.
“I heard you the first time.” Ororo reached for a nearby dumbbell and hefted it, tossing it toward the window. CRASSSSSSH! She sprawled away from the spray of shattered glass. “But I still need room to work.” Her eyes glowed white and the wind outside picked up, beginning to howl.
“I second that.” Yukio flung two ten-pound dumbbells deftly, catching the first assailant in the abdomen with an impact that nearly made him cast up his accounts. The other attacker lunged, plowing forward with his sai, his thrusts rapid. Yukio grinned at him as though he’d merely asked her to two-step. She played with him a bit, parrying and blocking his jabs, then decided to even the playing ground. He never even saw the throwing dart that she whipped out of the back of her waistband before it lodged itself in his cornea.
“YEEEAARRRGGGHHH!” She didn’t have time to savor that he’d been taken out of commission. The ninjas for hire were like ants; once you killed one, a pheromone signal went up to attract more drones to the feast. Yukio silently gave thanks that the day yielded more worthwhile fare than listening to Ororo and Logan argue within the confines of her tiny apartment…although that could be entertaining, too.
Ororo lost sight of Yukio amidst the hail of kicks and flying weaponry as she stirred the winds, pushing back the thugs that were still advancing on Logan. His hair whipped in the gusts, making him tingle as he gave in to his natural urge to fight, to maim. He bared his teeth in a feral snarl and began taking them out, feinting, punching, and letting his claws do what they were made for. Noses bled, bones crunched, teeth went flying and Logan earned more battle scars that would only leave their marks on his soul, when all was said and done. These boys were good. He was better.
Ororo wasn’t exactly a slouch.
A sable bow staff swung out; she ducked a mere hairsbreadth below its deadly arc, then swept the legs out from under her partner, catching him as he recovered with an elbow to his jaw. Weight benches were tossed at oncoming thugs, buoyed on Ororo’s currents. The scant sunlight streaming in through the window set her white hair ablaze as she stood, gathering lightning to her fingertips.
CRAAACCCKK!
“What the hell…?” Logan nearly missed being flattened by the thug as Ororo slammed into him, fist sparking and crackling with barely restrained ball lightning. His body flew, twitching and jerking, into two of his companions, colliding with them and throwing off their footing. BRAAKA-KOWWWW! Ororo began to work her way through the melee, summoning lightning from the sky and channeling it from her hands. For one fearsome moment that Logan knew would haunt his sleep, he witnessed Storm doing the unthinkable: She used her powers with ruthless intensity that rivaled his. And she was enjoying it.
That distraction nearly cost him. A bo staff was rammed into his ribcage, and he staggered back, claws extended. “Yer gonna eat that, jackass!” There wasn’t time to ponder Ororo’s motives. Yukio needed his help, even if she didn’t know it yet. Yukio let the momentum of one of her assailants carry him forward as she swung him into another, but missed a particularly mean-looking one coming up behind her, sai blade raised “
He needn’t have worried.
WHIZZZTT. THUNK! Logan felt the wind in the chamber pick up and whoosh past him with a bitter chill, almost stinging him as it added speed and impact to the shuriken flung from Ororo’s outstretched, trembling hand. Yukio dodged his falling bulk as he wobbled on his feet, clutching his throat where the blade opened his jugular. “Oh, ssshhiitt!” Yukio hissed. She grabbed the sai blade that clattered to the floor from his limp fingers and quickly dispatched him, stabbing him in the heart. He was dead before he even hit the floor. The winds died down, and Ororo’s eyes reverted to their customary blue, but remorse and rage flooded their depths.
“I killed him,” she whispered.
“Naw, ya didn’t, babe. Yukio did. Ya just saved Yukio from bein’ killed instead.” Logan’s tone was matter-of-fact and meant to stall discussions of the ramifications of what she did.
“Wasn’t any less than what they planned for you, Wind-Rider.” Yukio kicked her attacker in the ribs, allowing his body to roll over and exposing some of his flesh. She eyed the tattoos laddered down his forearms. “These guys are Yakuza, Logan-sama.”
“Very astute, little thief.” Yukio whipped around to confront the voice that was all too familiar, and full of menace. “They also didn’t come here alone.”
“Goddess,” Ororo huffed under her breath. “Viper.”
“Glad you remembered my name, weather witch. I haven’t forgotten you. And neither has a certain friend of mine. He takes exception to being electrocuted half to death, even on the best of days.” She stepped aside to allow the Silver Samurai to enter, clad in full regalia and armor, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana blade.
“I can speak for myself, woman.” Kenuichio sneered with unfettered malice at Logan. “I’m surprised to find you here, gaijin, instead of camped outside my worthless half-sister’s doorstep.”
“M’iko’s worth more than the whole lot o’ you bastards an’ yer precious clan put together, an’ don’t ya forget it.”
“She was never worthy of the power she inherited from our father. It should have rightly gone to me.”
“Maybe the old man knew what was obvious ta me from the moment we met. Yer a big pussy in a shiny suit.” Viper kept her blaster trained on Yukio, assessing her as a useful bargaining chip since she had no powers. The fact that she despised her didn’t hurt, either.
“And you’re nothing but an animal to be slaughtered, who knows nothing of family honor.”
SNIKT.
“I might not know anything about family, bub, but I’ve got yer honor hangin’ right here.”
“You realize you won’t be walking out of here alive?” Viper purred.
“Suits me.”
Yukio’s blood sang in her veins as she back-flipped nimbly over fallen benches and eluded Viper’s blaster fire. She leapt up in the air and flung her darts aloft. TING! KTING! The Samurai acted as Viper’s bodyguard once again, reacting with customary speed and grace for one so large; his sword cleaved through the air, diverting them from their target.
“Are you insane, woman?” Static crackled in the air as Ororo ran toward her to back her up.
“You’ve been asking me that a lot lately, Storm.”
“Can you blame me?” Ororo aimed a blast of lightning at Viper, missing her narrowly as she teleported out of range. The bolt singed the wall behind her.
“UNNNGH!” Yukio struggled against Viper’s iron grip around her neck from behind when she rematerialized there to get the upper hand. Viper cocked her blaster at Yukio’s temple.
“Go ahead, try again, weather witch. Be as sloppy with your aim as you like.”
“Let me give her some room to work!” Yukio found the pressure point in Viper’s tricep and gave it a bruising pinch.
“AAGHH!” She released her grip around Yukio’s neck for only a second, but a second was all she needed. Yukio ducked and flung up her arms, clenching them against Viper’s head and flipping her over. “WHUNNNFF!” Her landing wasn’t pretty, but it was effective. She groaned low in her throat and reached for her blaster, which had been flung free. Yukio wasn’t having it.
“Uh-uh-uhhh, it’s not polite to point those things at people. You could use some manners.” The women grappled for the blaster, drawing the Samurai’s attention away from Logan.
“I could say the same about you, ronin.” There was a loud thrumming as the Samurai’s blade came alive with energy, throwing off an eerie yellow glow. He lunged, sword raised over his shoulder, and nearly took Yukio’s head off in a clean sweep. She reached again for the fallen sai, abandoning her bid for the blaster, and moved to counter his move. To her dismay, the prongs of the sai were shorn neatly off the handle when it came into contact with the blade. Yukio’s eyes widened. Death, she wasn’t afraid of. A gory death was a slightly different story. She didn’t like that look in his eye beneath the visor of his shining helmet. There was no soul there. None. Yukio had gotten the best of him once before when she caught him by surprise.
Logan had already learned this lesson, to her relief. Almost soundlessly, he came up behind the Samurai and raked his claws across his back. His armor made an ominous sound as it weakened from the strike. The Samurai grunted in annoyance and swiveled around to return the favor, craving Logan’s blood.
The two gladiators faced each other and matched metal against metal. The Samurai’s field held its integrity against the onslaught of Wolverine’s claws, and he wielded it with years of experience, swinging it confidently, and drawing first blood. Logan reached up and gingerly fingered the deep cut beneath his eye and never stopped glaring at Kenuichio as he tasted the precious ichor, knowing it wouldn’t be the last. Logan’s muscles rippled and stretched, savagely, poetically beautiful as he fought. The Samurai’s armor had been fortified since they last met, but whatever substance it was made from was still lightweight enough not to hinder his movements. The Samurai feinted and lunged, measuring the distance between him and Logan’s nine-inch claws. More blood was drawn, and after a while, Logan couldn’t say whose was whose.
All he could see was red.
“Logan…” Ororo fought against crying out, not wanting to distract him. On the floor, Viper scrabbled for her blaster. “Yukio, she’s reaching for her gun!” Yukio dug her sneakered heel into Viper’s back and kicked away the blaster.
“Bitch!” she spat. She reached into the belt of her snug green flak jacket and extracted a small red-tipped dart. Her aim was true, to Ororo’s horror. Yukio was hit, and she staggered back momentarily, her eyes dazed at the tiny object lodged in her shoulder.
“Whuuuttt…” Her eyes rolled back as she collapsed.
“NO! YUKIO, NOOOOOO!”
“It’s a fast-acting blowfish toxin that targets the nerves. Yukio’s still in there, even if she can’t consciously react. But she can hear me. And she can feel pain.” Viper’s smile was of course, venomous.
“She’s not the only one who can feel pain.” Logan felt an uneasy sensation crawl up his spine as the air was again charged with electricity and the winds once again picked up. But this time, the air in the chamber was so cold it stung his exposed, perspiring flesh, biting into his cuts. “Logan, find something to hang on to! Use those blessed claws of yours, for Goddess’ sake!”
Ororo created a mini-tornado, complete with hailstones that howled loudly enough to rival the rumbling of a freight train. And she sent it hurtling straight for Viper. “Get away from my friend.” Ororo’s voice dripped with acid as she swept Viper up into the maelstrom. Viper was buffeted about by the gusts, tossed with abandon into various gym machines and weights at random. She held her arms futilely over her face to ward off the hailstones as big as quarters, and to protect the unscarred side of her face. The Samurai found himself blown back but stood his ground, partly anchored by his armor.
“Let her go!” Kenuichio ran at Storm, retrieving three shuriken from his belt, and he sent them spinning toward her, while she was completely vulnerable and concentrating on the gale. Logan only saw her look of shock as two of them found their mark, and she stared down at the shining metal spikes protruding from her chest and ribcage. Her eyes gleamed and rose to meet Logan’s, pleading with him. The winds weakened again but were still strong enough to fling gym equipment up against the walls. The Samurai took the open window of opportunity to catch Viper before she could suffer any more harm, wincing at the welts and reddening skin that bordered on frostbite.
“Get us…out of here. T-take us a…souvenir.” Logan’s sharp hearing picked up her breathy whisper, but his eyes were riveted on Ororo as he rushed to her side.
“RO?” The whites of Logan’s eyes were visible as they bulged in disbelief. Ororo’s blood oozed in a thick flood from the wounds as she sank to her knees.
“As you wish.” Kenuichio hoisted Viper up into his arms and knelt by Yukio’s listless form. He grasped her wrist and activated Viper’s teleportation ring. In a blinding flash, they were gone.
“Shit,” Logan hissed. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit. ‘Roro? C’mon, darlin’, talk t’me, please, stay with me, babe. Please, ‘Ro.” Ororo sagged into his grip as soon as he touched her, falling against him as she struggled for air.
“He took Yukio…unnnggh. Hurts,” she gasped. “Poisoned her.”
“That’s why they call that bitch Viper, kid. ‘Roro, we’ve gotta get outta here. NOW.” Logan wiped away a fleck of blood that had splashed up onto Ororo’s satiny cheek with a trembling hand. His touch was gentle, and Ororo ached with the distress and desperation written on his face.
“I might just…have enough strength…to carry us both, my friend. Could you move us away from that wall?” She nodded weakly to the one behind them. His brows beetled together as he obeyed.
“Why d’ya need-“
SHRAAKKKA-BOOMMMMM…CRACK! Lightning sizzled and struck the brick wall, pulverizing it and sending splinters and shrapnel spraying across the concrete floor. Logan looked up from the rubble and felt the breeze blowing freely upon him through the now gaping hole.
“Holy crap,” he muttered.
“Pick me up and hold on tight. Plenty of “ OWWWH! “ time to lecture me later.” Logan cradled her in his arms like a sleepy child and stood at the edge of the wall’s remains, and nearly lost his lunch as Ororo’s winds swept them neatly into the sky.
“I know this’ll seem a little awkward, ‘Roro, but take us to M’iko’s.”
Ororo’s voice held a note of caution and understanding. “Are you sure, Logan?”
“She and I ain’t on the most comfortable of terms right now, darlin’, but she ain’t one ta turn away a body in need.” Her sickly gray pallor urged him to believe his own words.
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