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Sure Isn’t Coffee and Doughnuts

Delcore was one of the prime business centers of the galaxy, also making it a prime target for organized crime. Hammerhead had his fingers in extortion, number running, arms dealing, and protection; any way there was to make an illegal profit was prime game for him.

Logan had met Hammerhead once. He didn’t think much of the John Gotti wannabe, either. They had parted on less than friendly terms, and even though no hit was put out on him, he knew Roccamora would love the chance to burn him down at the next possible meeting.

All the more reason to make this a quick one.

Logan had hit up his usual sources. He had a few snitches on almost every planet in the Core; some he paid for the information, others were given the less than subtle method. He decided to try Toombs; the old con always had his ear to the ground for these kinds of things.

He found him in one of the old dives in the old sector, a shack of a place where the booze was as bad as the smell. Logan winced as he entered; the stench of urine was harsh.

On a rundown stool sat Toombs. The old man was knocking back shots of the stuff they tried to call whiskey and looking a little worse for wear.

Logan took a seat next to him and looked over with a smile.

Toombs was mid-shot when he saw the Hunter.

He spit out a large bit of liquor, hopped from the seat and ran to the door.

Logan grinned all the wider as he rose and pulled out his blaster. The bartender said nothing, only winced and ducked down behind the bar.

“Oh, Toomby,” Logan said, his voice sing-song, “where ya goin’ ole buddy?”

He fired a shot at the door, singeing the handle and making the few passed-out patrons moan in pain at the noise. Toombs stopped frozen, staring wide-eyed at the door that had just been marked by blaster fire. He flinched as Logan came behind him and draped an arm over his shoulder.

“Ya know, Toomby, ya keep runnin away from me every time I come to see ya, and I might get he impression ya don’t like me very much.”

Toombs laughed nervously. “Now that would be the furthest thing from the truth there man! I just remembered I had to pick my kid up from the day care.”

Logan swung him around and threw him down into a nearby chair. “You having kids is a disturbing idea, bub. If yer gonna lie to me, at least tell me something that won’t make me nervous for the development of the species.”

Logan walked to the bar and took one of the bottles on the counter and sat back down next to Toombs. “Drink?”

“Ya know, I am trying to cut down lately,” he responded.

“Next thing you’ll be telling me is that you’re joining the priesthood.”

“I always heard you can’t beat their retirement plan,” he answered and took a long sip from the offered bottle. “Well, I guess you’re not here to keep the gossip up to date, eh?”

“Actually, that is just what I need from you, Toomby.” He took a small gulp from the bottle; damn donkey piss. “I need some info on a guy named Hodge, Cameron Hodge, some former law rep that stepped into a big ole pile of steaming trouble.”

“Hodge? Hmmm, nope, don’t know anything.”

Logan placed his blaster on the table and dug into his coat pocket. He produced a small stack of plats and threw them in front of the con. “Know anything now?’

Toombs picked up the money and quickly counted it. “You know, it is on the tip of my tongue, but it just isn’t ringing any bells.”

Logan loudly cracked his knuckles under the table. “Don’t make me ring those bells for ya, Toomby.”

The thought of an adamantium-reinforced fist against the head made Quasimodo get back to work on those bells in Toombs’ brain. “Oh. Hodge, yea, that’s right, yea, I heard a little through the grapevine about him.”

“Well, time to start squeezing them grapes, then.” Logan leaned forward and snatched the bottle away from Toombs.

Forty-five minutes later:
Logan stood in the alleyway near the place Toombs had sworn on his unborn children that Hodge was holding up in. His timetable was running a bit close for his taste; it was past time to make a move.

Logan checked the charges on his blasters before moving them both to the shoulder holsters under his coat. He moved from the alley and briskly made a walk for the hotel that Hodge had supposedly been occupying these past few weeks. It was a nice place, large and well furnished, but not the best place to be when the Reds had a hit out on ya. A public place wasn’t always the way to go. Way too many people had access to ya in these conditions.

Still should make my job a bit easier to get to him, Logan thought.

Right before the automatic doors opened for him, an explosion rocked the building, and a gust of fire threw him back onto the street. The screams and alarms were both blaring, as people fled and scattered from the burning building.

Logan picked himself up off the ground and cracked his neck. He had a large piece of glass shard embedded in his forehead, and his armor bore fresh singe marks. He reached up and yanked the glass out painfully and threw it aside.

He sighed as he saw the lights of approaching authorities and Fire containment units.

“Sixty thousand plats up in fucking smoke,” he cursed and kicked at the shattered pieces of glass at his feet. “Can’t I just once catch a break in this damn…”

He trailed off as he saw a tall, thin man in a ruined business suit stumble out of the broken doors and run screaming down the street. It was Hodge.

Logan cocked his brow and looked up into the sky. “Uh…thanks.”

As Logan ran after his quarry, a pair of bodies came flying out of the ruined front doors. They slammed into the street as the gale force wind died down around them. As they tried to raise themselves up, they were met with a hard kick to the face from a pair of stiletto heels.

Ororo gave each another quick kick to the side of the head for good measure and took a few deep breaths. It had all been going so well. She had found Hodge’s hideaway, snuck in, and after some “polite” conversation, convinced the little weasel that his best chance for living to see another day was to accompany her off-world. Just as they exit the lift, a pair of Reds detonate a small thermo charge and almost brings the house down on their heads.

It had all been going so well.

She pulled a small device from inside her coat and switched it on. The tracer she had stuck on Hodge’s coat was still active. Even though Hodge had been in her custody, in the Hunter lifestyle, one never should count their money prematurely. Ororo ducked into the alleys and followed the tracer signal.

Meanwhile, Logan was still in pursuit of the half-crazed and half-charred man running down the street. The scrawny slime must be pumping so much adrenaline that it was a wonder he had not caused his heart to burst.

Hodge’s suit still smoked from the burnt spots, and even from the distance Logan could pick out the trace of urine from the man. He did not have to worry much about losing him. A half naked man trailing smoke and screaming to the top of his lungs just tended to draw attention on a busy street such as this.

Logan’s break came when the delirious man took a turn into one of the nearby alleyways. Pushing his legs harder, Logan closed the distance with ease. A bull rush tackle later and three hundred pounds of adamantium and flesh rested atop Cameron Hodge’s chest.

“Oh, God, please don’t kill me!” he practically screamed. “Please, I’ll pay whatever you want, just don’t kill me!”

Logan rolled his eyes and hauled Hodge to his feet. “Just calm down, bub.”

“Please, I’ll double what Hammerhead is paying you, just let me go.”

“I don’t work for Roccamora, so just calm down!” The need to just wallop him upside the head was really growing inside of Logan. “Just calm down and I’ll get ya out of here.”

Hodge still was on the verge of hyperventilating, but he did manage to stop flailing about. “Are you from the Guild? A Hunter?”

Logan nodded slowly. “Yup, and I’m here to get ya out. My ship isn’t far, so all we gotta do is high tail it there and then we’re home free.”

‘What about your partner?’ he asked in a still trembling voice.

“Partner?”

The sound of a charged blaster rang in his ears and Logan saw Hodge’s eyes go wide.

“Yes, Wolverine, what about your partner?’

That voice.

That sweet, sultry voice.

That sweet, sultry, Hells be damned voice, which haunted both his nightmares and more than one of his dreams.

Logan was grinding his teeth, and he turned and saw Storm with a blaster pointed at his chest. “Figures.”

She smiled at him and took a few steps closer. “You are such a bad boy, Wolvie, don’t you know that I have already laid my claim?’

“Well, I should know; ya’ve laid just about everything else this side of the quadrant.”

Ororo tsked him. “Do you always have to be so vulgar?”

“Do ya always have to be a thieving bitch?” Logan fired right back.

She scoffed at him. “You never change, do you? I cannot believe that the two of us were ever together.”

“Best times of yer life, Darlin’.”

With a speed that she could barely follow, Logan pulled his own blaster from his coat holster. Ororo did not flinch; neither of them did. Hodge was trying his able best to sink into and become a part of the alley wall.

Their eyes remained locked on each other. A clashing of wills was taking place, and both knew the other would never back down.

“Weigh your options, Darlin’,” Logan said. “Ya blast me and I’ll be up and good as new in no time. You can’t say the same.”

“I could see how many volts of lightning it takes to turn you into a Christmas tree,” she replied, letting that wicked, almost playful gleam in her eyes shine.

“I’d smell the ozone and burn ya down before ya even had a chance to go all Thor on me, honeybunch.” Logan took a strong step forward. Their blasters were now side by side each other. “But by all means, Darlin, take yer best shot.”

“You know, the tough guy act was cute for the first ten minutes, but it got old really quick, Wolverine. Why don’t you just accept that you are in a situation where you don’t have total control,” Ororo said.

“Um, excuse me,” Hodge said, finally building up enough courage to speak.

“Oh, I got control,” Logan said, ignoring Hodge, “my gun in your face seems like a world of control to me.”

“You seem to forget that my gun is in your face, too,” Ororo said.

“Excuse me,” Hodge said a bit louder this time but still for naught.

“That little pussy Four-nine charge blaster couldn’t burn the leftovers off my dishes, Darlin.”

“Bet it could make you a foot shorter, and sweetheart, you barely meet the requirements for anything but the kiddie rides to begin with.”

“Excuse me!”

“Oh, the Ice Queen makes a joke!” Logan was half snarling, half smirking. “Geez, Darlin, how long have ya been holding on to that one?”

“You are such a child,” Ororo scoffed. “Thank the Goddess for showing me where my mind was and correcting a possible lifetime mistake.”

Logan bared his teeth. “Yea, and yer little Goddess led ya right into the arms of that slick shit geriatric.”

“Forge is more of a gentleman than you could ever even imagine, Logan,” she sneered.

“Yea, and I bet that his Viagra bill is a bitch too!” he laughed.

“You bastard!”

“Bitch!”

“Asshole!”

“Tight ass!”

They had not even noticed that their guns were lowered and that they were standing chest to chest against each other, their faces close and lips even closer.

“Animal.” Ororo breathed the word out slowly. Her breath was hot and smooth against his cheeks.

“Tease,” Logan growled out softly, sending a shiver through her shoulders.

Their eyes locked and they moved closer…

“EXCUSE ME!!!”

The two hunters whirled around in frustration. “WHAT??” they shouted in unison.

“I think I’m in trouble,” Hodge said, bringing his hand up from his side and showing them it was covered in blood before he passed out and fell to the alley ground.

“Ah, shit,” they both breathed.





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