CHAPTER ONE

Logan watched from the shadows, his eyes piercing the darkness with an accuity any predator would admire. He saw nothing. Not yet. He knew his quarry would pass this way. He could feel it in his bones, he could smell it in the air. The object of his hunt was not far away. He would not have much longer to wait.

He had been sent on this mission because of his abilities. Abilities the others lacked. Or so he had been told. He was beginning to wonder if that was the only reason. This individual proved to be very ellusive to be certain, but to Logan, this was but a minor irritation, nothing more. There was more to this mission, information was held back, and that, above all else, made Logan's blood boil. He required nothing more from people than plain honesty, and as of late, honesty was a commodity that was clearly lacking in his new "commrades". What were they trying to hide?, he wondered to himself. They surely were not trying to spare his feelings, as he had no ego to bruise. Thin skinned he was not.

No, there was more to it, especially this time. To Logan, far worse than dishonesty was the sin of ommision. He hated surprises, not that he could not handle anything that may arise, but rather, he had better things to do than to worry about what he should have been informed of in the first place. This was simply misplaced energy, in his view. Energy that could be expended in other, far more useful and meaningful ways.

His mind began to work over what exactly was meant when he was told his abilities would prove useful on this mission, and why he was sent alone. He kept coming to one conclusion. There was going to be trouble, trouble the others could not handle. He had prepared himself mentally for the fight that was destined to come. A fight he was becoming increasingly anxious for. A fight he would meet head on, and embrace. A fight he would make certain he would win.

His keen ears picked up a slight sound. Anyone else would have assumed it was the wind, but he knew better. Human. Footsteps. Slow, steady, obviously practiced in the art of stealth. He sank a bit deeper into the shadows, poised and ready. His eyes still captured no movement, but his ears rang with his prey's approach. He zeroed in on the direction the sound was eminating from, and soon, he spied movement.

He could not keep the sly grin from his lips as the figure neared him. He tested the air for scent, and was rewarded for his efforts by the odor of his target, who had obviously not bathed in some time. Anyone with a functioning nose could have followed this stink, he mused. Repulsive.

Logan's eyes focused on the figure, causing him to frown. This was what was going to be big trouble? It was small, almost frail looking. What the fuck was going on? They sent me on this mission to find a dangerous mutant, and it turns out to be a....a.....kid?

His attention was drawn to the kid's face. A baby! This kid couldn't be more than twelve, thirteen at the most. His disappointment washed over him, threatening to strangle him. He was ready for a fight, willing for a fight. Someone would pay for this. Logan suddenly became aware of the reason he was not told who and what his target was. He probably would have spit out a laugh and told everyone to fuck off. Fucking hilarious.

He was about to step out of his cover, when his ears detected yet another sound. More footsteps. The kid froze, having heard them as well. Logan watched as the kid frantically surveyed the alley, apparently looking for some place to hide. He could smell the kid's fear growing. It was beginning to appear that Logan just might get the fight he had been looking for after all.

Logan listened intently to the footsteps, never taking his eyes off the kid. They were loud, nearing. He decided he would wait, to see what would happen. If this kid was the mutant he was after, and supposedly so dangerous, he wanted to see what he could do.

Three men came into view, at the far end of the alley. The kid seemed on the verge of panic as they neared him. Shitless, Logan thought. He could smell the heavy pall of alcohol in the air, mixing with the B.O., already heavily present in the alley. He watched as the kid sank to his knees, cowering in his terror. Run, you little moron, run.

"There it is! Over here!" Two more men followed the original three in a trot down the alley, toward the kid. Five against one, not much of a challenge, Logan thought, should he need to step in. "Found you, you fuckin' little mutant!" Logan ground his teeth a bit. It was a sentiment he was used to, but hard to swallow anyway.

The five men surrounded the boy, who never moved, although Logan could detect his trembling from where he stood. "Time to get rid of this thing, eh boys? When is a mutant a good mutant?"

This question was answered by a drunken chorus, "When it's a dead mutant!"

In a flash, the five men pounced, kicking and stomping the kid. A fraction of a second later, Logan reacted, bolting from his hiding spot, and tackling the nearest drunk, sending him crashing head first into a dumpster. One down.

The remaining four men stopped their stomping, and turned their startled attention to this intruder, who stood before them, arms folded across his chest, a wry smile on his face.

"Who the fuck is this guy?" the tallest thug said aloud.

"Don't know. Where'd he come from?" the ugliest replied.

Again the tallest spoke, directing his threat to Logan. "You better reconsider stayin' here. This don't concern you. Get outta here, or you're next."

Logan's smile grew, and his eyes narrowed at the threat. "Fuck you," he said at last.

The statement had the effect Logan was looking for. The four turned their attention to him, and approached him, leaving the beaten child behind, lying in a heap, whimpering. They surrounded Logan much the same way they had the kid. These guys have done this before, he thought. Real pros at kicking the shit out of mutants.

"You're gonna be hurtin' in a minute. Need to say a prayer before we start? Write a will?" Ugly again.

"I was about to ask you the same thing. You order your body bags yet?" Logan's smile grew again, as he took note of exactly where each bum was.

"Fuckin' smart guy. You're gonna die." And as Logan had expected, they flew at him as one. However, they never placed a hand on him, as he deftly dodged their assault, leaving them to collide and collapse into a heap. This is a real challange, Logan thought. Only three got up, Mr. Ugly remained down, motionless. Two down.

They took a brief moment to gather themselves, and flew at Logan again. This time, he grabbed the first to arrive and tossed him aside, headlong into a fence. Three down. He spun, and caught the tall one in the gut with a fist, certain he felt at least a couple ribs crunch. Four down. The fifth bully stopped short, glancing at his fallen friends. He appeared confused, and a bit scared. He looked at Logan, sizing him up, as he returned to his previous stance, arms folded across his chest. Ok, shithead. What're you going to do?

Logan did not have long to wait for his answer. Number five reached behind his back, and pulled out a knife, holding it out in front of him, like gang members did in so many movies, thinking that this action would scare off the opponent. Oh please, Logan thought, his smile widening into a broad grin. You have got to be kidding me.

Number five neared Logan slowly, turning the blade in his fingers, crouching slightly. Logan had to restrain himself from laughing out loud. He was going to be a nice guy, and leave this guy a tiny bit of self esteem for at least lasting this long. He got Brownie points for the knife. Nice touch, if a bit old school.

"Nice knife. Sharp?" Logan's eyebrows arched in question.

"You'll find out when I gut ya." That made Logan wince, mockingly.

"Gut me? I don't think so. You're gonna have to do better than that."

"Fuck you!"

The man was only a few feet away now. Time to end this. "Is that all you got? One measly knife?" Logan slowly unfolded his arms. "I got you beat. Wanna see mine?"

The thug looked thoroughly confused now, but readied himself. Logan held his hands in front of him, knuckles facing the knife-wielder, and made two tight fists. He chuckled to himself as, with practiced precision and dramatic effect, six blades slowly emerged from between his knuckles. He focused on the guys, watching the blood drain from the asshole's face, and his mouth drop open.

"See? I got six. You lose." Logan dropped his arms to his sides, and waited. His opponent stood frozen for a brief moment, and Logan finally let out a huge laugh when he saw a slowly spreading circle of moisture form on the front of the idiot's pants. "Ooops. Not potty trained?" He found a certain amount of satisfaction in a job well done as the man melted to the ground in a dead faint. Five down.

He was at last able to turn his full attention to the kid. He turned, and was surprised to see the kid sitting up, wearing much the same expression number five was wearing, just before he hit the pavement. Wide eyed, mouth hanging open, scared to death. Logan also noticed the kid had a welt growing under his eye, and he wondered what other injuries lay hidden beneath the over sized clothing the kid wore.

As he approached the child, he found that he was much smaller than he originally thought. Maybe even younger. The boy merely stared, never blinking, as Logan knelt down beside him. He could smell blood, and fear. "How bad you hurt?"

The kid made no answer. He kept his same expression, same stare. Logan decided to take another approach. "You got a name? Mine's Logan." Again, nothing. He could see the boy trembling still, and could even hear his teeth chattering. "You hungry? I'm starved. Let's go get a pizza, and clean you up a bit, huh?" Still nothing. "I ain't gonna carry you. Come on, get up." He reached for the kid's arm, but the kid let out a shriek that made Logan's ears ring. While Logan was still stunned, the kid bolted, and ran down the alley, disappearing around the far corner.

Logan watched as he ran away, not terribly keen on following him, not just yet. "NOW you fuckin' run, you little shit!" he called after the fleeing child. He slowly rose to his feet. He was in no hurry, he knew exactly where the brat was going. He walked down the alley, back the way the kid and the five morons came, stepping over the strewn bodies as he went.