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Logan lit a cigar, the ember flaring in the neon wash of Vegas.
Leo watched him for a moment, curiosity getting the better of him. "Mind telling me about your past?"
Logan's brow twitched. The instinct was to shut down, say nothing, keep moving, but he caught the sincerity in Leo's eyes and exhaled slowly. "I've been around a long time, fought in more wars than I can count. When I got tired, I tried to live quietly. Then some bastard killed the woman I loved. I signed up for an 'experiment' to get strong enough to kill him… and the people who ran it tried to wipe my memories. I broke out. Then I ran into you."
Smoke curled between them. Leo blinked. "That's… a short story with a lot of wreckage in it."
Logan took another pull on the cigar. "Enough reminiscing. We find Nightcrawler first. If anyone knows where Victor is, it's him."
They started down the strip, but Leo's steps faltered as a cold, mechanical chime rang in his head:
[Daily Reminder: Three hours remain until midnight. Please complete today's mission. Failure will result in a penalty of −100 Exchange Points.]
Leo smacked his forehead. He'd almost forgotten the "do one good deed every day" trap. He didn't have points to burn.
"Logan."
"Yeah?"
"You go on ahead and find Nightcrawler. I've got to take care of something."
"You need backup?" Logan asked, one eyebrow raised.
"I'm good. I'll meet you at that boxing gym you mentioned." Leo vanished in a blink and reappeared on the roof of the tallest tower in Las Vegas.
The city sparkled beneath him glittering rivers of headlights, billboards shouting for attention, a carnival of noise and light. For the first time in a while, he found himself hoping for trouble.
Just a little. The kind of trouble that let him punch a bad guy, help someone, and check off that damn daily quest.
Nothing happened.
Half an hour of cold wind later, he huffed. "Standing around isn't a plan." He teleported off the rooftop unaware of the pair of hard, interested eyes watching from far above.
"A teleporter," a shadowed figure murmured, drifting down from the sky as if gravity were optional. "That's a surprise."
Leo hopscotched rooftop to rooftop until an ugly, greasy voice floated up from an alley below. "C'mon, sweetheart don't be shy. I'll be real gentle."
"Finally," Leo muttered, blinking into the alley's shadows. A big man loomed over a woman pressed against the wall. Leo hated men like this parasite who thought fear was consent. Tonight, though, he also needed the deed done.
"Easy there, big guy," Leo called, stepping out. "If you don't want your teeth rearranged, hands off."
The brute spun. "Who the hell are you?!"
At the same time, the "terrified" woman flinched, surprise flashing across her features. For an instant her eyes began to glow an amber-gold… then the light vanished, replaced by a carefully composed fear.
Leo splashed through a puddle and kept walking, blue eyes flat and unimpressed.
Even with his face shaded, Mystique picked out details height near six-three, clean lines, black cropped hair, strong brow, deep blue eyes, a sculpted jaw softened by a hint of gentleness. Useful face, she thought, amused. If I ever need to work a mark, I'll borrow that.
The brute-sized Leo up and snorted. "Another idiot playing hero."
"I'm out of time," Leo said to himself, then blinked. He reappeared right in front of the guy and drove a punch straight into his face.
THUD.
The man collapsed like a felled tree, blood bursting from his nose.
"Get home safe," Leo said to the woman, already phasing out of sight. He didn't see her roll her shoulders with relief as blue-scaled skin rippled back into place.
"A fellow mutant," Mystique mused.
"Explains the silent steps." She glanced at the unconscious man, smiled thinly, and set her heel lightly, then not so lightly, between his legs.
A wet crack. A strangled scream. One blue foot to the temple, and he was out again.
—
Mood lifted, Leo followed the neon trail to the boxing gym Logan had described. The steel door downstairs was locked and dark.
"Closed?" he said, frowning. He cocked his head upstairs lights. Logan's voice drifted through the floorboards.
Leo smiled and blinked.
Nightcrawler was on his feet in an instant, yellow eyes wide. "Who are you?"
"Relax," Logan said. "He's with me. Is Leo done with your errand?"
"Yeah."
Nightcrawler looked between them, surprise softening into something like wonder.
"Brother. I haven't heard you call anyone that in a long time," he told Logan. In the old days, that word had been reserved for Victor.
"What happened after I left?" Logan asked.
Leo leaned against the wall, listening.
Nightcrawler's shoulders fell. "He got worse. Angrier. He thought you abandoned him. He wanted to prove he was stronger than you so he started tearing everything down. A few months later, I quit the team. I didn't want to help hunt our own kind."
"Hunt who?" Logan's voice darkened.
"Don't," Nightcrawler said, looking away.
"Hunt who, Kurt?" Logan's growl rattled the bottles on the shelf.
"Mutants," Leo said quietly. "Right?"
Nightcrawler nodded, shame and fury mixing in his eyes.
"Stryker said it was for the greater good. Protecting humans from us." He spat the words.
Leo huffed a humorless laugh. "Stryker needs a psych eval."
"Maybe. Either way, how do you plan to beat Victor? Power-wise, you're even," Nightcrawler said to Logan.
"Remember the meteor fragments in Africa?" Logan asked.
Nightcrawler nodded.
Logan let his claws slide out three bright, silver blades. Snikt. They caught the light, mirror-bright.
Nightcrawler recoiled. "What did they do to you?"
"Don't ask." Logan sheathed the claws. "Agent Zero mentioned an island. Do you know where?"
Nightcrawler shook his head. "No. But Fred Dukes might. He was tight with Zero."
"Is he here?" Logan asked.
"Downstairs," Nightcrawler said, lifting a shoulder.
"Then let's go have a chat," Logan said, already moving.
"Wait. He won't show till four. And, uh… don't call him fat." Nightcrawler cracked open the fridge, tossed Leo a beer, and sighed. "He's working through… eating issues."
"Then we wait," Leo said, popping the cap.
—
By the time the gym opened, the ring thumped with noise. Fred "The Blob" Dukes eclipsed the ropes: enormous, dense as a wrecking ball, and surprisingly fast. He flattened a mountain of a man with one punch.
"He looks like he swallowed a different Fred Dukes," Logan muttered.
Leo whistled. "Genuinely curious how he still moves like that."
"Be polite," Nightcrawler hissed.
Logan stepped to the apron and nodded at a stretched tattoo on Fred's arm. "I remember when that tattoo didn't need its own zip code."
Fred slurped on a two-liter soda. "Still funny, Logan."
"Know where Victor is?" Logan asked.
"Nope."
"What about the island?" Leo added.
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," Fred said, turning his back.
Logan hopped up onto the canvas. "Tell me where it is. Come on, big guy help us out."
Fred's head snapped around. "What'd you call me?"
"I didn't—"
Fred bellowed and body-checked him. It was like being hit by a truck. Logan sailed backward off the ring and skidded across the floor.
Leo's eyes cooled. He blinked into the ring.
"Leo, don't," Logan warned, shaking off the hit. "You can't trade blows with him. He shrugs off artillery."
Leo smiled. "Who said anything about trading blows? I want to play a game."
Fred squinted. "What game?"
"The 'Fly High' game," Leo said, baring his teeth. He teleported to Fred's side, laid a hand on the massive shoulder, and—
—Both of them vanished.
Nightcrawler's tail drooped. "Oh no."
Down on the floor, Logan went pale at the memory of last night's skydive.
"Kid," he muttered, "you better not be doing what I think you're doing."
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