He hurried to catch up to the general, his stride not quite matching the older man’s. ‘Sir…’ he called out, ‘sir permission to speak freely.’
The white-haired barely even glanced over his shoulder before shaking his head, ‘Save it Bishop, I already know what you’re going to say.’
Bishop stopped, wondering if he had heard right, ‘Then the mission is to be postponed as I recommended sir?’
The General stopped also and turned to face him, ‘No, the procedure goes ahead as planned, and the MO is exactly as it was.’
Bishop frowned, ‘But sir…’ he waved the file he held in his hand at him, ‘surely you’ve read my report, the parameters have changed, she is no longer alone. You cannot possibly be considering jeopardising the programme through exposure.’
The older man bore down on him, ‘Jeopardising?’ He scowled, ‘son this is one man, and as remarkable as you seem to think him I hardly think he is capable of jeopardising our agenda.’
Bishop spoke through gritted having to remind himself that he was speaking to a superior, ‘Sir, perhaps you do not recall, but I was there the last time we tried to take them, I was part of the operation that sought to take Xavier’s Academy, and I remember Logan.’
He lifted his shirt to reveal to reveal an ugly scar bearing across his stomach, at least a few inches deep, running from one hip to the other. ‘I barely escaped with my life, and I saw what he did to members of my team. I watched him leap from a balcony General, at least 30 ft high and shred two men into pieces. Two men heavily armed, flak jacketed and expertly trained, he ripped them apart in minutes.’
The General grew tired of Bishop’s voice, ‘What is your point lieutenant?’ he quipped in his clipped Southern accent.
‘My point…sir, is that Logan; codename Wolverine will do anything to protect Marie. We cannot run the risk of taking her when he is around… sir, it will be a massacre.’ He gripped the General’s arm tightly.
The General’s scowl grew deeper, he looked down at Bishop’s touching his arm with disdain at which point the young lieutenant wisely removed his hand. ‘Bishop, I don’t think we’ve anything to worry about with Logan, maybe we can kill two birds with one stone, take him as well, from what I’ve read in that little file of yours it seems Logan would prove quite an asset to our programme.’
Lieutenant Bishop’s anger grew, ‘My little files sir? The programme that created Logan all those years ago is similar to the one we’ve instigated here; Logan is a breed apart…,’
His superior didn’t give him a chance to finish, he turned to walk away, ‘Bishop I have waited over a year to see that girl leave the academy, now barely five months into our campaign and you want to waste more time. Forget it....’
Bishop wasn’t ready to give up yet, ‘But sir…my source informs me she isn’t exactly open to his presence, perhaps given a few more weeks Logan will move on of his own accord. In that case sir we would be free to carry on uninhibited, the programme could move on at the desired pace.’
The General sighed, ‘And how probable is that Bishop, in percentages?’ He waited for an answer.
‘Percentages sir? I would have to say at least around fifty-fifty…’ Bishop called out even as the General walked on.
‘Not good enough…we take her, as planned lieutenant.’
It had been nearly a month since the big man had turned up at Starkey’s. And a whole month of having Marie virtually ignore them would have sent anyone crazy, but he seemed oddly calm about it.
Joe looked over at Logan pressed into the corner of the bar, bottle after bottle piling up on his table. He cleaned his glasses and turned to look towards the other corner of the bar and at the girl both of them were thinking about.
Marie moved effortlessly through the crowds, she wore thin strapped black stilettos, fishnet stockings, a short skirt of leather and a little white sleeveless t-shirt. The cold winter Canadian border had down nothing for her tan, but Marie just seemed to look all the better for it. Her eyes darkened with mascara, thick eye lashes heavily coated and a dark red lipstick worked expertly because of that alabaster skin of hers.
And it gave almost every prick in the bar an excuse to pawn after, to watch her wiggle that tight little ass of hers, to watch that shirt strain as she bent over their tables. And as long as they remembered and stuck to the rule, ‘No one touches Marie unless she wants them to,’ she was happy to put on a show for them.
So the skirts got shorter and the shirts got tighter and all the while mean old Logan just sat their watching. Not leering like the others, not leaning back so as to accidentally brush against her ass if she walked past, not looking down her shirt to get a good look at her rack, just…watching.
Marie could feel his eyes follow her about the bar, and she hated it. Hated the way he sat there bottle after bottle piling up on that table in front of him. Hated the way he looked after her, and hated the way almost everyone in the bar knew about it.
Because of him she hadn’t been able to get a decent tip; ever since he’d arrived it seemed she’d almost turned back into that Marie, the girl who couldn’t be touched. The regulars of Starkey’s knew nothing of the mutation that used to be hers, she’d been very careful to keep that part of her life a secret.
Now they were just afraid of big bad-ass Logan sat in the corner watching after the girl with the streaks in her hair. Watched if they got too frisky, watched if their hands wandered where they really shouldn’t, or if they looked after her ass for too long as she walked away. It was as if he was her personal bodyguard, one she hadn’t appointed and one she sure as hell didn’t need.
But the tips got smaller, even as her skirts got shorter and her shirts got tighter. Logan didn’t ever need to say anything but the way he put away those drinks and the way he put down men the size of houses in the cage sure spoke volumes.
‘No one touches Marie unless ah want them to, and that sure as hell ain’t gonna happen.’
And she hated him for it, that possessiveness, animalistic tendency, like a feral thing marking his territory. But if nothing else she got a decent lay out of it, needing to make up for the lack of tips her usual way and now as well as an urge to piss him off, revenge in the basest of ways.
Logan watched her as she made her way through the tables, careful to make eye-contact with the assholes she served.
A month, it was the longest time he’d stuck in a place since leaving the Academy, strange the only places he’s ever stayed still in the same place for any length of time was where she was. Stayed almost three years in that Academy, because she’d needed him to be there.
She'd needed him, Marie, who now fucked guys just as easily as she flirted with them, and who went outside with them, a seedy grope, and a quick fuck against a brick wall. Little gasps of pleasure, moments of madness, desire and everything that was fucked up followed by the slow rustling of dollar bills as she set about making good her little ritual, get drunk, fuck and fight.
Her ritual…his ritual. Thing was he was never gonna get drunk enough, bottle after bottle piling up on his table, never enough. Not as much as he needed, not enough to forget, enough to blur the image of a girl he had once known now all twisted up in bitterness, fucked up enough to think a quick fumble against a wall was all she was worth.
He had one bottle he always placed in the centre of the table, the first he’d order, drain it in a matter of minutes, set it up so it stood alone and then he’d hang the dog tags around the neck. So she’d have to look, she’d have to see that he knew, knew that even if she was too fucked up to care, he knew what she was, and what she had been.
Marie sat down heavily at the bar, and ordered a Scotch, neat; yep it had been one of those nights. Fuckin’ Logan, thanks to him it was regularly turning into one of those nights. Thing was aside from the tips she liked the attention she got, the regulars looking too long at her ass as she walked away, the stares as she’d bend over their table, 'cause for far too long she’d covered up hidden that figure of hers, damned if she touched someone skin on skin, terrified of getting hurt and of hurting them.
Even after the cure she’d dressed in long sleeves, sometimes shirts a few sizes too big, feeling awkward, revealing skin only when she was sure she wouldn’t get noticed, hiding away.
All that had changed as soon as she’d left the Academy, left that old life behind, and left him behind, ‘dammit Logan what are you still doin’ here?’ she muttered to herself as she looked up and caught his eye in the dirty mirror behind the bar.
Logan had stared at her back long enough for her to look up and catch his eye in the mirror. She stared at him for the longest while before slowly getting up, picking up her drinks tray and slowly walking over to his table.
She stopped a few feet in front of him, bent down low and began to pick up the bottles, her shirt hung open, the first few buttons undone and he caught sight of her bra, black lace trimmed with red, deep red like her lips. She caught his gaze and smirked at him, ‘not all that different from the rest of the assholes are ya Logan?’
He looked away and caught her reflection in the mirror again, specifically the back of her. The shirt had ridden up a little as she bent and he caught sight of something on her lower back that made him look twice.
Frowning he grabbed hold of her hand as she reached for the last bottle and pulled her towards himself. The action was so sudden she had no time to react as Logan pulled her over his lap, her chest resting over his knees as her ass stuck up in the air.
The tray fell to the floor as he held her in place with one hand, and then she felt his thumb move across her lower back, just above the band of her skirt, slowly, in circles as he traced the outline of an image he had glimpsed in the mirror.
She swore at him and pulled herself up, pulling her shirt back in place as she did. ‘What the fuck’s you’re problem Logan?’
‘Branding yourself above the ass, classy Marie, real nice…’ he growled his disapproval at her. He was referring to the tattoo, a picture splayed across her back, a bleeding skull being strangled by snakes.
She shook her head and smiled coldly at him, ‘Ya don’t like it? Got it last week, guess shoulda known ya wouldn’t approve,’ she leaned closer and whispered in his ear, ‘never were the biggest fan of needles were ya Logan?’
He looked up harshly at her as she smiled down at him, she knew about his nightmares, the ones he suffered almost every night. Images of men in white coats cutting him open, breaking him, killing him and bringing him to life again, injecting him with poisons…needles. Pain after screaming pain as they tore at his skin as they had made him what he was now.
She knew all that, yet here she was taunting him with it, she walked around him, picking up the bottles she walked back to the bar. If at any point Logan could have hated Marie that was it, he hated her then.
She threw the tray on the bar, the bottles clattering over as she did so. Her hands shook as she fought to control her anger. And that’s when she saw him walk in, she looked at him a long while, making sure it was the same guy before she smiled, looked like it was gonna be a bonus pay day after all.
He was the same guy, she was sure of it as she walked over to him slowly, even as he was still stood in the door, he spotted her as she was only halfway across the floor, and he smiled, his favourite sort of girl. Little Marie, just about fucked up enough to play any sort of game his sick mind could come up with.
He caught her up in his arms as she wrapped her long legs about his waist, she lowered her head to kiss him, licking his lower lip gently before she bit down hard, hard enough to draw blood.
He winced as the blood trickled from his split lip, moaning in pleasure as she lapped it up, cleaning him up with her tongue.
He smiled further, looked like Marie was ready to play.
Marie screamed out her orgasm knowing full well that was what he liked, girls making a lot of noise. She waited for him to still before she climbed off his body. He was the first and only guy she’d ever taken back to her room. Other times she was content with the wall outside behind the bar, and the guys she fucked were more than happy as long they got their rocks off, but he was different.
His taste was different, the sex was only part of it, and now that was done the real fun would start. He got rid of the rubber and waited until she was wearing her panties and bra again.
He leaned back against the headboard, having replaced his own pants and watched her as she replaced her underwear and knelt beside him on the bed. ‘Ready to play…?’
She nodded and reaching up he kissed her, slowly at first, until he pried her lips open with his tongue, brushing his tongue over teeth, over the roof of her mouth tasting every inch of her, until he broke away, and reaching inside his jean pocket placed something on his tongue.
He kissed her again, this time as she opened her lips he slipped the object inside her mouth resting it on her tongue, she tasted the metallic and knew almost at once by its deadly sharp edges, by the weight exactly what it was, a razor blade.
He pushed her back onto the bed, leaning over her he took the blade from her mouth and began to move it over body, gently at first, careful not to mark her, not yet anyway. He used his tongue to blaze a trail down her body before he moved the sharp metal following the same route as his tongue.
Along her perfect cheeks, down along her neck, flicking lightly in that hollow over her throat, and down across her bra, first one breast then the other, licking gently then pressing the flat of the razor over the material. She gasped slightly as he nicked at the hardened nub of her nipple.
He smiled at her then, and she looked intently at him, not there, not yet. He understood perfectly and moved down further, down to the flat of her stomach, he took extra care here, paying her taut skin the perfect attention, licking gently and breathing softly.
She arched her hips, an involuntary reflex, but he hadn’t found the spot he’d wanted, not yet. He moved lower, over the top of her panties, she was getting excited again and he held one hand over her knee to still her.
Moving his other hand further up her leg, he marked a cross with his finger at the top of her thigh where the material of her high leg panties met the flesh. He looked up at her for her approval she nodded and he smiled.
Taking the blade he turned it on its edge and pressed down at the place he’d marked, she winced in pain as the sharp metal cut through the flesh, she slowly sat up and watched as the cut slowly opened up and her blood trickled down her thigh.
Her gaze met his as he lowered his head to her leg, slowly he licked the blood as it trailed down, gently, slowly she moaned as his lips closed over her wound and sucked softly.
He knew she’d make this mistake, take a guy back to her room, even if the motel lot was only a few hundred yards away from Starkey’s it was enough to see her in trouble if she picked up the wrong guy. Turned out this time maybe this time she had.
Logan sniffed the air contemptuously, pounding the back of his head repeatedly against the wall, he stood outside the door, pissed off by all the familiar smells coming from her room, arousal, satisfaction… and fucking, Marie fucking another random guy.
But this was different, even as he picked up all the scents he recognised, there was something else, a coppery, tangy taste in the air he was as sure of as anything else. Blood, healthy, pounding oozing blood, something the Wolverine in him knew all about.
Fuck, Marie was in trouble, the guy was a cutter. He didn’t think twice as he rammed his shoulder against the door, ripping the lock apart and practically taking the door off its hinges.
He headed straight for the guy, seeing him bent over Marie, recognising the flash of metal in his hands as a razor blade he then laid into him. Picking him up easily he hurled him across the floor, ready to beat the crap out of him, that was before Marie got in the way.
She was shouting something he couldn’t understand until he finally calmed enough to hear above the blood pounding in his ears.
‘For fuck’s sake Logan…ah wanted him to do it!’ He looked at her then, Marie stood in her underwear, a patch of red growing and trickling down her right thigh, Marie, who’d barely five months ago thrown her arms about his neck and cried. This was too much; he turned away from her and ran a tired hand through his hair.
Marie turned back to the guy, by now a cowering mess on the floor; she threw his shirt at him, she then threw his jacket at him but not before taking a handful of folded bills from the pocket.
She nodded towards the door and he practically ran in that direction. Marie closed the door after him. Logan turned to look at her at last; she stood looking directly back at him.
‘You wanted him to cut you? That’s…sick Marie…’
She smiled at him, ‘that’s sick? How ‘bout listening to someone fuck, ya think ah don’t know ya follow me out every time, think ah don’t know when you’re standing on the other side of that wall.’
Marie approached him slowly, ‘come on Logan, don’t tell me you’ve never been curious, just to taste ya know, to cut someone to see what they bleed like, see how much it hurts before ya crave it.’
She was stood right in front of him now, stood in nothing but her underwear, pressing her hand over his, brushing her fingers over his knuckles, where she knew his claws to be.
He growled fiercely, suddenly gripping her by the neck he pushed back until she was pressed against the wall, ‘You are one fucked-up, vindictive little….’ He stopped short of that but she urged him on.
‘What?’ she spat at him, ‘…vindictive little what Logan….?’ demanding he finish.
‘Whore…!’ The word escaped him before he thought about it, but it fit, Marie was a vindictive little whore.
She laughed and pushed him back, ‘Wow Logan, that hurts almost as much as when ya called me a lost little girl, remember that? Almost hurts as much, just not quite.’ Seeing him on the back foot now she pressed further, determined to hit a spot she knew was sore.
‘You’ve sure got one helluva way with words Logan, no wonder Jeanie fell for ya…’ her smile was pure venom.
Logan’s eyes snapped to her and he shook his head at her in warning, ‘don’t…’
‘Don’t what Logan; don’t raise the dead…why not? Have ya still got a thing for everyone’s favourite recently deceased red-head….?’ She chuckled, ‘funny, given how many blondes you’ve fucked in between, ah would’ve thought you’d be over it by now.’
That was it, that was the point she pushed him too far, he pushed her against the wall again, his hand on her neck practically choking her, his body pressed crushingly against her.
Every scent came off in her in waves; the smell of that asshole still on her, her blood, the pure hate as she looked angrily up at him, all of that assaulted every one of his senses, and flooded his veins, she may have been cured but she sure spat venom.
It made him grab her by the wrist and hurl her toward the bathroom. Had to get rid of the smell, he had to breathe again, he pushed her roughly into the bathroom intending to stick her under the shower, scrub her clean just so he could look at her again, but he’d forgotten his own strength, he pushed her too hard, she tripped and hit the sink hard.
Logan stood by the door, stunned by his actions, of all the people whose ass he thought he’d have to beat on he’d never thought Marie would be one of them. Over the years when he’d lost his temper with Scooter, the other X-kids and even the Professor, he’d kept it under control.
But Marie, he’d never thought, never was any question...he’d never hurt Marie. But there she was down on her knees in the dirty bathroom of a cheap seedy motel room clutching her face. She rose slowly and turned to face him, with a deep cut above her eye and a split lip, the side of her face bruised.
‘Shit…Marie ah’m sorry…’ he had nothing else to say, couldn’t stand the sight of what he’d just done.
She shook her head and walked towards him, the blood from the cut above her eye trickling down her cheek. ‘You’re right Logan, ah am fucked up, ‘cause of you and Bobby and every bastard since, fucked up because of that damned academy that only wanted me when they could use me, yeah ah’m fucked up, but ah’m living my life… it’s what ya wanted isn’t it?’
She pushed against him then, punching him and slapping him, her arms flaying wildly against his chest, ‘So what are ya doin’ here Logan, what do want, ya wanna save me now, well guess what, too fuckin’ late.’ She pushed him back towards and out of the door.
‘So get the fuck out my head…and get the fuck out my life,’ she slammed the door in his face, ‘get the fuck out my heart…’ she muttered quietly to herself as she leaned heavily against the closed door and cried.