And I'm back! So in order to get myself ready for new chapters for this story, I went back and reread Greer and the X-men (do yourself a favor and check it out) and now I am going through these first chapters to re-familiarize myself and to make some much needed edits. No need to panic if you don't want to reread these chapters, no major plot changes, simply making some improvements. Anyways, let's get started...

He lay coiled in the grass just outside the compound. The only movement the slow swaying of his tail. The tall grass and shade of the trees providing enough cover that he was not concerned of being spotted by the inhabitants. His dark fur provided ample camouflage.

He had been patiently waiting for the last two days for his target to return. The Admiral had instructed him to return with the target at any costs. In his current state, there was no other thought beyond obtaining the objective. No room for outside concerns or distractions. Outside of HQ checking in via his com every six hours, he could have laid in the tall grass for another day before needing to rethink his strategy. The Admiral was very specific about his three day time frame and he dared not deviate.

He tightly rolled his shoulders, attempting to keep away any knots in his well-formed back. Night had fallen and outside of a couple of non-targets returning from what looked like a late night training session on the grounds, his target still had not returned. Hours passed, midnight came and went. The Admiral was in his ear considering revoking the mission as his window had now closed. He almost growled in protest, so focused on achieving his objective, but he could never refuse a direct order from his handlers, no less the Admiral himself.

Suddenly, his ears trained for the slightest of sounds, stood straight on his head. The gentle rumble of a motorcycle was approaching the compound from a few miles away. Keeping the rest of his body completely still, he silently inched through the grass, barely disturbing his surroundings. The pads on his hands and feet keeping him virtually silent.

With his eyesight only being improved in the moonlight, he saw his target pass through the compound's gates, swing the bike around to the enormous garage, step off the motorcycle and make his way into the mansion. This time he did growl, his first sound in days, but only to signal HQ that the target had arrived.

He heard a crackle in his ear, "You are green to engage the target. You have twenty minutes." Like a shadow, he made his way out of the tree-line, as if an extension of the night itself, and made his way towards the compound.

No prey had ever escaped him. Not even the legendary "Wolverine" would not be an exception.

"Sorry Logan, the Professor, Ororo and Dr. McCoy all went to some conference at the UN. I don't think they are supposed to be back until morning." Scott barely finished speaking as Logan had already waved his hand and headed towards the fridge. Scott and Jean were relaxing in the kitchen alone, back on break from college in Boston. Besides for them the house was mostly quite, the majority of the students asleep upstairs.

"Well who is here?" Logan asked seemingly half-interested as he made his way to the fridge.

"There's me and Jean, and I'm pretty sure that Kitty, Rogue, Bobby, Sam, Rahne, Raye and Amara are upstairs." Scott listed off the names like a drill instructor calling out roll call, but Jean really knew what Logan was asking.

"Greer should be getting back soon. She spent the weekend at her mother's." Jean stared at Logan's back and fought the urge to read his mind but knew better than to venture into that mind. Some places were better left undisturbed. Besides, Jean knew full well of Logan's protective nature towards Greer. Not that Greer needed it. But Logan it seemed has already moved on.

"I knew I left some in here..." Logan had his head in the fridge as if looking for something.

"Logan, you know the Professor throws out all the beer as soon as you leave. This is a school after all." Both Scott and Jean had smelled Logan before he had even walked into the kitchen and Jean was personally relieved that she and Scott had drank Logan's beer as soon as they were sure he was gone. Not that Logan ever needed to find that out. Jean was fairly certain that would not be an experience she would survive.

"Right, school." Logan grumbled in frustration. "Just tell Chuck that I need to speak with 'em before I leave." Logan didn't bother to make sure the pair heard him as he made his way out of the kitchen. He was certain Scott would speak with Charles as soon as he got back, if for no other reason than to tell Chuck that Logan had shown up drunk on campus.

With that Logan exited the kitchen and made his way up the stairs to his room. Opening the door, Logan didn't even bother to undress as he dropped face first onto his bed and took advantage of the liquor his body had yet to burn away and quickly fell into his preferred drunken stupor.

Having been prepped before the mission and observing the compound for three days, avoiding the security was not a concern. He had been trained for far worse and avoiding detection almost gave him pause as being too easy. But he knew better. He knew that the real security lay inside the compound.

Nimbly climbing a tree and clearing the six-foot gap, he used an open second story window as access and landed silently on the floor. He knew his quarry lay sleeping only down the hall at the end of the far next wing. From what he had smelled on the grounds, likely in a drunken stupor. Simple.

As planned, he found himself in the female wing of the mansion. He had seen M-3, aka Jean Grey, and M-8, "Cyclops", in the kitchen on the main floor. Those two were of particular notice. Jean Grey's powers included telekinesis and telepathy and he loathed engaging telepath's. True, his training and "enhancements" allowed him to resist most physic attacks, but something so non-physical and unseen disturbed him. It was not natural. It was not combat. Never trust something you can't see. As for Cyclops, he was their tactical commander and field leader. With his limited window, avoiding detection was the best strategy. Otherwise, neutralizing the pair would have to be first priority.

He breathed deeply, checking the air for complications. Immediately to his right, he could smell M-4 aka "Shadowcat." Younger than the rest and purely defensive in her powers, she was a low priority threat. From the same room came the pungent smell of sulfur and ash, clearly the scent of M-7 aka Amara. She was young, like Shadowcat, but her power to become living magma was not a power he intended to test if he could avoid it. Although, he had come prepared for any eventuality. Further down the hall, he could hear the metal music emanating from the room of M-6, aka "Rouge." The brief on her had been vague at best, simply advising avoiding all contact and taking her down quickly if needed. Taking another breath, he was more focused on what he did not sense; the acrid smell of alarm or fear. None had sensed his presence. A successful entry into an enemy base always gave him a primal feeling of satisfaction.

As he silently made his way down the hall on all fours, inches from the ground, he came to a sudden stop outside the last door that he knew roomed Jean Grey. He had matched each scent to those designated in his briefing. Had already noted their minimal strengths and apparent weaknesses. Here however, was a scent he had not expected. It was the scent of something feral...something he almost recognized as being close to his own, and yet markedly different. He remained there, like a statute, in front of the open door. His curiosity at war with his focus of completing the mission at hand. Giving one last look down the hall, he went into the room. He had never before sensed something so close in likeness to himself.

What am I doing in here? This is not the mission. Focus on the mission. There is nothing else.

And yet, he stood there in the dark room taking everything in. He wasn't even sure what it was he was looking for. Approaching a dresser, he saw some kind of aureoles that smelled horrible. But there was also a picture. He recognized the red haired mutant as Jean Grey from his brief - but the other mutant in the picture...it almost looked like...

"Hey Greer! Glad your back. Sorry to bother you but - oh shit!"

He lay directly over the unconscious body. He had been careless. His hyper-focused mind had wandered and he barely had time to process the scent of the teleporter aka "Nightcrawler." Reacting on instinct, he had froze when he had heard the mutant call out. He knew that this could ruin the entire mission. One look and the teleporter could raise the alarm in the entire mansion before he could make it to evac. Before Nightcrawler could realize that he was not this "Greer," he had pounced.

The darkened room having worked to his advantage. An elbow to the temple and he was out. He was sure to catch him before he could hit the floor and after making sure he had not been detected, propped the now unconscious mutant in a dark corner of the room. But now he had to move.

He quickly exited the room but his carelessness had cost him. He was not alone. Standing on the stairs was the telepath, Jean, and Cyclops. He saw some of the other mutants exiting their rooms at Cyclops call. But they were still confused, disorganized. A quick glance was all he needed to see what to do next.

He attacked.

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