The Enemy From Tomorrow, Today (Part Three)

When I hit the streets, I found Mister Logan waiting in a pickup truck, windows down and seemingly snoozing with a hat over his face, "Thank Christ, you've got good timing. I thought I was gonna get roped into small talk with Frost," He tilted his hat up upon noticing my approach, "You finally done with your shrink session?"

I hopped into the passenger's seat and buckled up as he started the engine, "You didn't have to bring me, you know. I'm perfectly fine with skipping these."

Mister Logan scoffed, "Oh no, you don't. I'm the one who had to smarten up Slim and Frost to your little 'issues'," He said, "You came to me about this first, which means I'm involved, and I finish what I start, even secondhand. You're goin' through the program."

My hopes that he would be detached enough to let me slide were all for naught, "Whatever. Can I drive part of the way back?" I asked, trying to salvage some of my afternoon, "I got my license during break, see?"

He spared a glance to the side to see the laminated plastic card inside of my wallet. That was all the attention he gave it, "Good for you. No."

To be fair for him, I wouldn't have let me drive in the heart of New York City either, "You suck. Mister Rasputin would let me drive... or fly... or whatever the hell we'd use to get here," I tried to leverage. It was a no-go.

"Well tough-titty. Pete's got art teacher shit to do, so you're stuck with me."

"Don't you have gym teacher shit to do? Or self-defense teacher shit to do?"

"How much effort do you really think I put into being a gym teacher, Glowstick?"

"...We do play a lot of dodgeball," I mused aloud. Not that I was complaining. Dodgeball was the best. The sound of a rubber ball bouncing off of the side of someone's face could bring a man inner peace. Mister Logan just let out a grunt.

It was weird. Wolverine never seemed to have any patience for my hijinks, never seemed to humor me, and yet he never told me to screw off either. In fact, if I didn't know better, I would say he liked me.

I relaxed in my seat at that thought. Cool. He liked me. That was awesome. Finally, a teacher that didn't just tolerate me because I was marginally talented. No, this one thought I was great, which was also great. Real recognized real, of course.

Yep. I could just bask in the silence of two cool dudes who could acknowledge their respective coolness. There was no need for words on my part. I understood.

"So-," Mister Logan started to say after we'd gotten well on our way out of Manhattan, "When I ask Laura about things with the team, she clams up. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" He asked.

Or, maybe I didn't understand. Maybe this had all just been a trap? But then again, there was no way he went on an hour-long drive with me just for the chance to grill me about his clone.

...Who was I kidding? Of course it was.

I couldn't help but feel a bit of defeat, "Beats me," I said, slumping in my seat, "She's been avoiding me outside of any team things that we need to do."

He let out a grunt in response, "You were supposed to help fix that," He commented pointedly.

I turned his way and stared him down. He tried to ignore me in favor of the road, but eventually it lingered so long at a stop light that he had to acknowledge me properly. Only then did I talk, "Have you ever tried to get her to do something?" I asked. He opened his mouth to rebut before I cut him off, "-Without making it an order," That shut him up quick, "I'm trying. This shit is hard. I don't want to manipulate her."

"You saying you could?"

I wasn't happy about telling the truth, but that was no reason not to, "It would require what basically amounts to emotional terrorism, but yes, I could," I said, glowering over at the senior X-Man. I'd spoken with her enough to get a standard bead on her, and that was before Ruth gave me a brain dump of Laura's greatest hits, "I'd rather not start going down the slippery slope of being an even shittier person than I already am. Remember, I destroy the world in like 30 years. Do you want me to get a jumpstart on that?"

Mister Logan rolled his eyes and I fought the urge to zap him in the side of the head, "Glowstick, you're not gonna blow up the fuckin' planet. Not on purpose. I honest to God think you'll never have it in you."

He didn't know that. None of us knew that. Skip hadn't really been forthcoming on the details of exactly how I blew the planet up. I'd been more concerned with beating him down and getting my friend back at the time.

"Have you forgotten the conversation we had that led to me going to New York every week for therapy in the first place?" I pointed out, bringing up my complete lack of remorse over killing U-Men, Reavers, and Facility personnel in combat, "I'm a budding sociopath."

Mister Logan grumbled and looked like he wanted to reach across the seat and give me a knock on the head, "Jesus, you're a narcissistic little bastard," He spared a glance my way as he navigated his way through city traffic, "You've been around us for what, nine months? You think you're gonna be the biggest problem student we've ever dealt with? You don't even crack the top twenty. Trust me."

If that was his way of trying to make me feel any better, it was a complete failure. He got points for the attempt, if that was his intention, but other than that, nothing changed.

We continued to drive along until we made the turn that would get us onto the interstate to start leaving the city. Instead of getting onto an on-ramp, the car plummeted into a sinkhole. An interdimensional sinkhole that sent us high into the air over NYC proper. And then the freefall started.

"AAAAAAAHHHHH!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, my fingers tearing holes into the dashboard from how tight I was holding on. The truck plummeted hood-first, giving me the perfect view of just how we were going to go 'splat' on the ground.

Mister Logan involuntarily popped his claws and bit through the cigar in his mouth in fear, "Glowstick, move the car!" I looked at him in fright and he yelled at me, "Steer the goddamn truck over the water!"

I shot out the window and with a steady stream of concussive force, guided the vehicle we were in off to the side until we found ourselves dropping over the Hudson River. Okay, that was great. We were still going to die on impact, and so I continued to do the only thing I could.

"AAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Mister Logan had other ideas, apparently slicing apart the door on his side, as well as my seatbelt, "Stop screaming, brat! You're not dead yet!" He reached over and grabbed me by the scruff of my shirt before pulling me over his lap and out of the open door, "But you will be if you don't FLY!"

He threw me. That hairy asshole threw me out of a car falling from at least a thousand feet in the air. I screamed like a girl all the way down. I mean, I just got all the bitch in me out into the open. Then I let loose with the hand cannons and slowed myself down.

The truck hit first by about twenty seconds, and Mister Logan didn't make it out before it did. By the time I fell into the water, I saw blood on the surface. That wasn't good. I hit the waves fast enough that it hurt, but I was reinforced by my powers and swam down to try and get to the truck, using my hands as jets to get me there faster.

Mister Logan's body twitched and spasmed in the driver's seat. I could only imagine what kind of internal trauma he was healing from, while drowning at the same time to boot. Getting my hands on him, I dragged him up to the surface and then to shore. There, I waited for him to stop jerking around and sit up properly.

Mister Logan sat up like Frankenstein's monster, wide-eyed with a guttural snort. I just sat there with him staring out at the water, trying in vain to wring out my soaked shirt, "What the fuck was that?"

I wondered just how well-briefed Logan was. Even though I told Mister Summers everything I could, he wasn't there when we had our first little run-in with my new friend, "Did you hear about my new buddy Skip's powers? He makes portals. That was him just trying to kill me. Sorry you were there for it."

Mister Logan looked at me, and then at the river that now housed his truck. I figured he would have been more pissed about that than he was, "Huh. Why didn't he just shoot you, or something?"

I, for one, was really glad that Skip hadn't. Maybe it was easier for him to try and kill me with his powers? Maybe it was harder for him to get his hands on a gun or something? I didn't know, "That's a fantastic question. I'll add it to the list of things I need to ask him when I get my hands on him again."

"Not a chance," Mister Logan declared, "In case you haven't noticed, he can lay a mousetrap that'll drop you from a mile up. No way are you being left alone to tangle with him. We'll handle this."

That didn't sit well with me at all, and a stray thought drifted through my head.

"...Kitten playing a lion."

I wasn't even in Quentin Quire's telepathic range, and that jerk's words from the last time we interacted still taunted me.

I shook my head, droplets of water trickling down into my face from my hair, "That can't be your call to make. It just can't be," I said quietly, "I've got to get to the bottom of this."

Mister Logan stood up and gestured to the river, "This guy just tried to kill you. Got damn close to doing it, too."

I stood up as well and towered a bit, because I was taller than him, "That's right, he tried to kill me!" I emphasized, "So don't you think I have a right to know why?"

His face changed. He was going to talk me down. I could see it before he even started to speak, "Kid-."

"-No. No," This marked the second time Skip tried to take a chunk out of me, and the second time he almost got the job done, "Is what you said on Breakworld real or not? Am I an X-Man, or am I not? Because if I'm not, keep this shit from happening around me-," Like hell I was going to sit back and be passive. Turning the other cheek just got you slapped on both, "-And if I am, let me deal with it too. But don't do both and mix 'em up."

I was doing it again, running my mouth too much. Just because I thought something didn't mean I had to say it out loud. It wasn't like it would change anything. Besides, it wasn't Mister Logan's fault any of this was happening.

I calmed down before I could start getting worked up any further, "I'm just saying... what are you all training us for? You guys can't handle everything."

The wheels were turning in his head. I could see it in how his face went through changes, "We'll talk about it later."

I accepted that. As long as I got someone to listen to me, I thought I had a better chance than not of getting them to see things my way, "The good news is we're both alive. The bad news is-."

"-We don't have a ride back to the goddamn school?" Mister Logan said, likely bemoaning the loss of his truck. Again, I figured he would be more pissed about that.

"Well, that too," I replied, shrugging my shoulders, "I was gonna say the bad news is that we're in New Jersey now," Way to kill my joke, Wolverine, "…And we do have a ride back. We just have to call Miss Frost."

"Fuck."