Wolverine II

Xander watched the camera recording with a shake of his head. How could Sarah not understand? He glared at the monitor and at the Doctor as she conversed with the clone, making promises to free it. He sighed, cutting off the video feed and rubbed his temples in an attempt to calm his nerves.

Time was drawing near where he'd have to get rid of her. If she managed to free X-23...

He squashed the thought immediately. That wasn't going to happen. Especially since he'd planned a contingency for something like this. Oh yes, he was somewhat expecting Sarah to trying pulling off something like this. It still came as a surprise though to see her try. He glanced down at his workspace. The computer he'd just cut the feed on occupied most of the table, with post it notes littering the border of the device. But all of that was unimportant. He opened the drawer located directly under the table, and pulled out an unassuming vial which contained no liquid, and a gun shaped object. He loaded the vial into the pseudo-gun, stuffing it in his pocket.

These developments were advancing his plans more quickly than he'd like, but he'd have to adapt. By any means necessary, Weapon X had to die.

Discreetly, he stood up from his space, nodding idly at the scientist adjacent to him. Almost religiously, he fingered the weapon in his pocket as he felt almost not in control of his actions while making his way towards X-23's room.

Was this what it felt like when about to commit premeditated murder? He didn't feel any crushing guilt at the prospect of what he was going to do. And why should he? Weapon X had taken his family away from him. This was revenge, after all.

No, not just revenge. Justice.

Wolverine was going to get what was coming to him. And anyone else who got in Xander's way.

Murdered by her own child...A tragic end, he lamented. Silently, he angled the gun as he considered the ramifications of what he was about to do.

Before it even registered, he'd already came to a stop in front of the familiar, featureless door, save for a label marked 'Dr. Kinney'.

1973 - The Potomac

With a start, Logan was pulled from unconsciousness, only to realize he was struggling to breath. His body seemed to take note as well, and as if on autopilot, forced the offending fluid out of his lungs and out the mouth. coughing out the remaining water, he struggled to focus his bleary eyes.

Where the hell was he?

He remembered being hired to protect his employer's daughter. But constantly protecting someone every night and being forced to keep close to each other, coupled with plenty of alcohol was a formula for disaster.

...So how did he end up on a boat surrounded by what looked like the Military? Maybe he finally did mess up big time and his employer had government connections...

He attempted to lift his head, but his nerve endings cried out in objection, as if wordlessly questioning why he would do something so ridiculous and stupid.

He let his head drop roughly, as even easing it back down to the floor caused too much pain in his neck and chest area.

"Shit!" A gasp was audible from above his prone form; apparently one of the men standing around him. "He's still alive!"

A silence ensued, and only the sound of water crashing against the hull of the barge could be heard.

"Is he conscious?" It was a different voice, this one carrying an air of authority.

"Yes sir...but...I don't see how", yet another voice answered. Logan could hear the shuffling of boots.

"This guy should be dead. If not from the rebar, then by a severe case of tetanus," the voice continued, sounding almost afraid.

Logan tried again to lift his head, only for his body to once again protest.

He blacked out.

Like how one's face felt when beginning to feel the first droplets of rain, so too did it feel like for Logan, slowly coming to.

His unplanned sleep was interrupted by a rocking sensation; he opened his eyes, realizing he was inside of a vehicle. A van from the looks of it. The area he was in was very spacious, if not a bit dark. The only source of light was a modestly sized window ahead of him, showing his frame of reference moving away from the road.

Lifting himself up, he felt strong resistance on either side of him. He looked down his nose to see that he was strapped securely onto a gurney of some sort.

"WhatDaHell..." he slurred, a bit confused as to why he sounded so sluggish. He blinked hard, belatedly realizing that he was no longer feeling pain everywhere like before he strangely went unconscious.

"Feeling better?"

The voice knocked him a bit out of his stupor, realizing he was being watched. Steadily, he turned his head to his right, to see someone sitting next to him in a chair fastened to the wall. Although it was a bit dark, he could still see clearer than most would in the same situation.

"I have to admit, never thought I'd see someone force rebar out of their body like that."

"Who are you?" Logan questioned, still attempting to blink the bleariness out of his system. It was fading fast, but it was still there.

"Someone who's here to help you."

Logan exhaled through his nose, narrowing his eyes.

"Pardon me if I think you're full of bullshit," he mocked, glancing around the interior and testing the strength of the straps. They were snug, and to his chagrin, not weak enough to muscle his way through.

"You can trust me," the voice said rising from their seat to kneel at his side. It was a man in military uniform. He recognized the voice from before when he was half conscious on that barge; he wasn't sure how long ago that was. If he was a betting man, he was certain this guy had ulterior motives. He glanced at the man's name tag.

"Major Stryker," he read aloud. "Why don't you let me out of here, and I don't kill ya."

To his confusion, the man only smirked before the man began to, for lack of a better phrase, turn inside out. It seemed as though a wave of blue spread throughout his body, replacing the skin it passed into a form more reptilian and blue in texture. And more feminine.

"What the fuck..." Logan breathed, a bit put off by the random magic show.

'Major Stryker' was no longer in front of him, but some naked blue chick with fiery red hair.

Logan swallowed, a bit of a loss for words as he stared her and her...assets down.

The woman seemed to not have noticed, or perhaps was ignoring his obvious ogling, seeming to laugh at his last statement.

"Charles did tell me you'd lost all your recent memory," she whispered idly, beginning to undo the gurney straps. "Guess there was something to that time travel thing after all..." she added more quietly, although Logan was able to pick up on her words.

"Time travel? Charles? What are you going on about?" the man asked quietly after catching on to why she was whispering, although seeing that she indeed was releasing him from the gurney, he wasn't feeling as irritated as before.

"Promise you're not going to try anything, first," the blue woman insisted, her hands hovering over the straps securing his wrists. Logan sighed roughly, although he had no choice.

"Fine," he relented. She finally undid the straps and Logan slowly sat up with a little effort, as the van occasionally rocked from whatever road it was driving over. Sighing in exasperation, he rubbed his wrists. Apparently, he'd been strapped down for some time, if the rapidly healing marks on his wrists were any indication. He looked away from his wrists to the broad to see that she was staring at the nearly vanished marks on his wrists.

"You didn't take advantage of me while I was out, didja?" he couldn't help but quip. To his amusement, she nearly sputtered a response, but recovered quickly.

"What?" she asked, a bit disgusted by his crass humor. "That's the first thing you ask after I get you out of that?"

"It broke the ice, didn't it?" he retorted calmly with a raised eyebrow. He swung his legs over the gurney to rest his feet on the floor.

"That and you're naked," he added matter-of-factly. He paused, looking her up and down. "You are naked, right?"

She only rolled her eyes with a shake of her head. But she couldn't refute his logic, as ridiculous as it was. He did get her to respond to him, after all. She made her way to a corner of the section of van they were in, grabbing a duffel bag that escaped his notice. It would have been in his blind spot had he still been strapped in. She looked at him, putting a finger to her lips, in a gesture of quiet.

"The driver," she mouthed silently, and Logan understood. He witnessed her shapeshift a second time, transforming into the form of the 'Stryker' person again.

She knocked on the wall that led to the driver space.

"SitRep! What's our ETA?"

The wall's door opened, and the front seat passenger breathed in surprise to see a blue skinned woman and the man from earlier. Claws of bone shot through the man's knuckles and he held them at the soldier's throat.

"Do as we say, and we all walk away from this alive," the clawed man assured.

With a start, Logan awoke, flinching at the realization he was inside of a jet. Logan wasn't sure how long he was out, but outside the Jet was nearly as dark as the interior. Logan had already gotten a bit more sleep, even though he didn't really need it after his prior rest at the mansion. He'd taken to looking out the window of the Jet. The landscape from this high up looked like puzzle pieces that all came together as they rolled past so far below, littered with blinking lights that might have come from any mix of cars, buildings, and streets.

That dream...It felt like more than a simple dream.

Was it a memory?

Perhaps he was actually beginning to experience the memories of this timeline. He rubbed his face, resolving to speak with Charles once returning to the mansion.

He felt body heat draw near him and come to rest next to him. He broke his gaze from the window to see Raven watching him, seated adjacent to him.

"How are you feeling?" the shapeshifter asked after a pause.

"I'm fine," Logan answered evenly with a nod. "Why?" Raven only sighed, expressing her annoyance by crossing one leg over the other.

"I'm worried about you is all," she answered somewhat irritably, as if expecting him to already know. "You haven't been having more memory flashes?"

Logan sighed and sat up, still processing that Mystique would be worried about him. "A few," he clarified with a shrug.

Raven nodded, looking thoughtful. "Maybe after this mission, we should take a small break," she said, trailing a finger along his arm. "Just the two of us."

"Sounds..." Logan hesitated, unsure of being somewhere with Raven on his own. "Sounds fine," he finished. He attempted a half smile. He really needed to sort this out before Raven figured it out on her own. He'd rather she found out on his terms than some sort of accidental reveal.

"Raven."

"Hm?" She cocked her head to the side, studying his expression. Logan swallowed, breaking eye contact. He suddenly felt his tongue lock up on him. Was it nervousness? This was unlike him, and he didn't like the feeling that gave him.

"Nothing," he assured, exhaling through his nose. That dream, or memory left him with plenty to think about. From what he could interpret, it took place right around the time his consciousness returned to the present. Maybe it would give him some insight into what happened.

A faint beeping alerted the both of them, although Remy was still unconscious on the other side of the plane. Raven looked towards the cockpit before standing up.

"We'll be closing in on the facility in about a half hour," she reported. "I'll let you know when we're landing." She made her way back to the cockpit and took a seat at the pilot's chair.