But she wasn't convinced by his story that they most likely wouldn't hurt Scott."Why wouldn't they?"Jean said,her face drawn and haunted with fear."I mean,they clearly don't think mutants are Human."

"No,but they want Logan,not Scott,"Bob pointed out calmly,aware he was fudging the truth ever so slightly."They won't hurt him,not really."

Jean gave him a glare that could have peeled wallpaper."Not really?"

They were seated in Xavier's cozy study,Storm,Jean,and a better Rogue on the couch (although the heavily covered Rogue continued to try shrinking into the fabric),while Xavier had parked his wheelchair in one of the far corners of the room,putting as much distance between them as possible.Bob was seated in an armchair he had moved back to the wall,trying to help out as much as he could.He knew Jean wasn't going to take this well,no matter how gently he put it. "I expect them to do a little telepathic futzing,make him more compliant,but there won't be any physical torture."He didn't add "I hope" or "Not much",but he thought it.

Jean's jaw dropped,and her hazel eyes became hard with sudden anger."And that's not bad enough?!"

"Other mutants work for them?"Xavier said,latching on to a subtle point.

Bob nodded,grateful for it."When I first met Logan,he was being manipulated by mutants who had worked within the Org's system.But the thing you have to understand is there's an insidious double cross going on:the mutants who work -voluntarily-for the Org mostly have their own agenda.They let the Humans think they're taking out their kind and otherwise aiding the Human race,but in truth they have this idea of creating a mutant master race that will obliterate normal Human kind completely.Of course,the Org has no idea of this."

"Why not tell them?"Storm wondered.

"Because then the killing would really begin.You think it's bad now?Wait."

"What if they rob Scott of his memories like they robbed Logan?"Jean exclaimed,her voice tight with rage.

Bob shook his head,glad he had a pat and happy answer for this."They can't.I believe a mutant named Lethe burned out Logan's memories forever and ever amen.But she died in the explosion at Grand Cache,and I doubt there's another mutant with that obscure ability in their ranks."There was no point in mentioning that Electra had killed her,trying to protect Logan,nor that she was Electra's sister;that was unnecessary pain and complication."Also,I have a theory Logan's own mind has 'healed over' some of the truly ugly bits of his past,but I can't prove that yet."

"Then why didn't it heal over the whole surgery thing?"Rogue asked curiously.She was feeling like her old self since Bob told her she was fine.

"He had to remember that.He had to remember what they did to him."

"Why?So he could never sleep again?"Jean shot back bitterly.She was torn between protecting Scott and protecting Logan equally.Scott was the man she knew she should want;Logan was the man she did want in spite of herself.

"So he could get revenge,"Xavier noted quietly.

Bob nodded."Got it in one."

Jean hung her head in her hands,and Storm,arms crossed firmly over her chest,asked,"But what do we do if they've brainwashed Scott?"

"Doesn't matter.The minute I see him,I can reverse it."

"If he doesn't kill you first,"Jean groaned,sounding defeated.

"He can't kill me.I can take away his power,if it comes to that."

Jean looked up to stare at him,and Storm and Rogue joined her.It was no surprise that he could do that,but there was genuine curiosity about the 'how ' of it.

Although Xavier was extremely curious about that himself,it wasn't actually on topic,and he knew that he would be less than forthcoming if questioned about it."But we have to find Scott first,"the Professor said.

"Still nothing on Cerebro?"Storm asked.

"No.They must be able to protect themselves from telepathy."

"Yes,they do,"Bob agreed,even though it was just logical speculation."The only telepaths they want to know they're there are telepaths under their control."

"So where do we start looking?"Jean asked.

"We don't-they'll contact us."

Jean threw up her hands in frustration."No they won't!It's Logan they want to contact!"

"And they'll think he's still here,"Bob said gently."Everyone else does."

"They do?"Rogue asked,surprised.

He hadn't so predisposed them,but since he brought it up he supposed he should give them a sample."I am Logan,"he said,and from the shock on all the women's faces,he knew they were seeing him exactly that way.The Professor was mildly surprised,but remained outwardly stoic.

"How'd you do that?"Rogue asked,impressed.

"Perception is all in the mind,"he told her,knowing full well it probably didn't clear a damn thing up.But it was factually true.

Storm's lips turned down into a puzzled moue."How are you doing his voice?"

"I'm not.You're just hearing me that way."

"You're taking Logan's place,"Xavier said,as if it was a revelation.

Bob simply nodded."They want him,but they're gonna get me."

Xavier smiled faintly,although it was tempered by trepidation."I almost feel sorry for them already."

Bob smiled,but in a cold,humorless way."So do I."

Now all they had to do was wait for these fuckers to make their next move.Then,they were history.

Not that they'd ever remember that.

The small pile of paper were topped by photocopies of newspaper articles,circa late May and early June in '87 England, and all were about gruesome murders by a killer nicknamed (in grandiose if rather predictable fashion) the "Sussex Slasher" (his killing spree started there).He liked to slash up his victims with extremely sharp knives and basically leave them a bloody pile of remains,and his victims were-oddly,in the serial killer world-mostly men:professionals too, men in the government,the military.Logan wondered if he had killed these men.

But Ruby had included some gruesome crime scene shots,and more out of desperation than anything else,he began searching for claw marks,trying to count them:and finally,with great relief,he realized whoever did this had more than three claws.So the so called Sussex Slasher had been responsible for the Hell massacre,or at least took part in it?
Why didn't the Watchers make the connection?Or did they think vampires were responsible for all of it?

Then there was a memo underneath,most of which was black out by heavy duty marker,but was probably from the secret government agency that Ruby said didn't exist.There were only a half dozen sentences not censored,but they were telling:they basically said the Slasher was not a normal serial killer but "a mutant,type unknown,with a heretofore undiscovered agenda" and "knowledge of the secret intelligence community",more or less indicating that all the 'professional' victims had ties to it.

The last killing to make the paper was June fourth,three days before the massacre,and a deviation from the norm:an American tourist named Leonard DeJong,found in a bloody heap on a bike path near Hyde Park.In another heavily censored memo,he was identified as a "mutant with extra sensory powers",and they speculated there was a personal dispute between DeJong and the Slasher that turned fatal.Why a telepath (if he was-it was possible he wasn't;he could have been just a psychic,a telekinetic,or some variation in between) couldn't handle the Slasher was an intriguing hint of what the Slasher might be.Also,how the hell did they know DeJong was a mutant with ESP?

Beneath it was another memo,dated May twenty seventh,lightly censored,reporting a very dangerous mutant had secretly entered the country and was to be watched "very carefully",as said mutant was "highly sensitive to surveillance and covert pursuit" as well as being "extraordinarily dangerous,and prone to outbursts of extreme homicidal violence".

Logan wished he was surprised to see the photograph provided on the flip side was a profile shot of him,somewhere in the city,dated May twenty sixth,1987.And Srina was right;he had not aged a day.Only his wardrobe had changed (and not by much-still into the jeans,t-shirts,leather and earth tones).

Another memo beneath,lightly censored,only had a photo of what looked like the club massacre he had seen his dream, with a single sentence typed beneath in large,bold faced font:"Slasher or Wolverine?"

Shit-he had been a suspect all along.No wonder Ruby wanted nothing to do with him.

"You must have an adamantium stomach to look at that stuff and still be able to eat,"Srina said,between mouthfuls of Szechwan prawns.

They had stopped and gotten some 'take away' from a small and rather unpromising looking Chinese food place called The Red Dragon,but the food was actually pretty good.He was working on a carton of cashew chicken sitting in his lap as he perused the paperwork Ruby had given him,spread out on a low black plastic coffee table.He barely had room for his can of beer on the table amongst all the papers,copies,and photos,but he managed so far.Srina was sitting in the corner of the couch,legs folded up beneath her,currently pretending not to be glancing over his shoulder at the papers.

"I've seen worse,"he said with a shrug,not admitting he'd probably done worse too.But maybe she knew that already.

"Well,there's a happy thought."

He could only shrug again,sifting through papers,hoping that there'd be some clue as to the identity of the Slasher.But all the paperwork ended with two pieces of paper:an article about a badly mangled body being fished out of the Thames on June ninth,and a memo the following day from those government assholes,declaring the body to be a "Protean mutant",identity unknown.The Slasher's last known victim?Or one of his?

"Find any answers,Sherlock?"She asked,not quite letting it go.

"Not really.What the hell did I do in London in June of '87?"

He gave her a questioning look,but she shrugged it off."You were gone a lot.I can only tell you what you did here.And I bet you could guess."

He shook his head,disgusted with her obfuscations and himself,and every goddamn thing.What did he think he was doing now?He really didn't care who killed these people,did he?He just wanted to make sure it wasn't him.He threw the papers down and sagged back against the couch,hands to his forehead.He was an idiot.A vicious idiot,if those reports could be believed.

She touched his shoulder,and by reflex he tried to recoil from her.But his heart wasn't in it,and the couch wasn't big enough."None of this is your fault,"she said,with some hesitation.

He let his hands fall to his lap,and scowled at her,angry enough to storm out but too damn tired to do it."How do you know that?Would you just fucking tell me what you know?Why are you holding out on me?"

"I'm not holding out on you,Logan.There's just not a lot to tell.You were hunting some guy-you were sexy at first,then kind of scary when I realized you were more than just a tourist,but then I knew there was more going on than I could hope to figure out.Also,I kind of thought we were kindred spirits,you know?And the sex was great."

He wished he could believe that.Well,he was willing to believe the sex part,although he was extremely disappointed he didn't remember that."What do you mean you thought we were kindred spirits?"

She shrugged now,looking down into her carton of prawns."It sounds as corny as hell,but I thought maybe you were as lonely as me."

He stared down at her brightly patterned,mostly crimson Oriental carpet,running a hand through his hair,wondering if she had a point.She probably did."I seem to be a stranger wherever I go,"he said,not sure if it was on topic or not.

She nodded in understanding."I think that's a mutant thing.It's funny-my parents would never use the word mutant, ever.They attributed my hair and eye color to a pre-natal vitamin deficiency,or chemical exposure in the hospital.Can you imagine all the denial they had to live with?I first heard the term from the bullies at school,who bet I was "one of them".When I tried to look them up in the library,I was sent to the science fiction section."

"It's easier for some people to think we don't exist."

"Yeah.It was those same bullies who helped me figure out I really was one.One day,they were waiting after school to beat me up,and I wished they couldn't see me.And what do you know,it actually worked.I thought it was a fluke,but I soon figured out I could make people not see me,bullies or not.Even my parents.What little I heard about mutants was always bad,so I kept trying to look things up in the library,and one day the librarian gave me a book I hadn't pulled off the shelf.She insisted I needed to read it,so I took it.It was just an encyclopedia,so I didn't see what the big deal was,but when I opened the book a pamphlet fell out.It was titled "Mutantism-The Facts".It was put out by this underground mutant support group,they gave a phone number,and I remember calling it and being so nervous I thought I was gonna barf.But,in the end,I was a little disappointed:I didn't feel so unique,you know?I thought about telling my parents,but then my father had a heart attack,and their business-they were greengrocers-went under,and it seemed like larding on the misery.They didn't want to know anyways."

He didn't know what brought on this autobiographical outburst-maybe she'd had too much beer-but it did bring up an interesting point."They still haven't figured out you're a mutant?"

"Well,they're both dead now,but no,I don't think they ever acknowledged it,even though my abilities helped keep us financially afloat after dad died."

"The stealing?"

"The stealing.Mom just thought I had a great job with Lloyd's of London."

"Didn't you ever...I don't know,want to do more with your life?"

She frowned at him,an echoing frown appearing between her pale magenta eyebrows."Like what?Be a hero?Save the world?I'll leave that to guys like you.I'm content with my life of quiet desperation."

"I'm not a hero,"he said defensively.He didn't know why that offended him,it just did."And how the hell do you know I ever saved the world?"

"I have friends in the mutant underground.The papers said that failed assassination attempt on all those world leaders by mutants was due to equipment failure,but they said it was really foiled by other mutants,and they'd seen security tapes that revealed some of it.They said one of them had metal claws that came out of his hands,and I knew it could only be you.I've never met another claw guy."

He didn't know there was such a thing as a 'mutant underground',but he knew he shouldn't be surprised."I wasn't there to save anybody.Well,no,I was,but not any politicians.I promised someone-forget it,it's not important."

She reached out and put a hand on his leg,giving it a friendly squeeze.When he glanced at her,she was giving him a warm smile."You kinda always had it in you,you know?Even back then.You don't like seeing people get hurt,not if they don't deserve it.I probably owe my life to that."

He looked away from her,feeling suddenly ashamed.Why should she be grateful they he hadn't killed her?It was such a fucking mess.No,he was a fucking mess.This whole thing was pathetic.

"Oh what?"She asked,grabbing his face and turning him towards her."You're going into self-pity mode."

"I am not,"he snapped irritably,pulling her hands away.

But she plucked the box of cashew chicken out of his lap and put it on the arm of the couch before straddling his legs, getting her face right into his so he couldn't look away.Unless he pushed her off,which was a thought."Yes you are.You are a moody fella,aren't you?"

"I am not,"he shot back,wondering how drunk she was.Her breath smelled more of Szechwan prawns than beer.

She gave him a broad grin,making a small collection of fine lines appear in the corners of her eyes.Maybe she was older than she looked,but time was starting to take a gradual toll,more visibly than on him.Not that it mattered;she was still oddly beautiful,exotic edging up to just slightly alien."Yes,you are.Any chance I can get you into a better mood?"

It had occurred to him it was at least twenty four hours since he'd last slept,and he was really in no mood to fool around with a woman who he knew-on some level-was lying to him.Lately,he'd been having nothing but empty sex with women who really didn't care that much about him:Helga was a case in point.She liked him,but that's where it ended. Didn't it just get a little ego crushing and pointless at some point?

Wait a minute-what the hell was he thinking?

He smiled at her,and said,"I don't know.What do ya got in mind?"

"I was thinking maybe we could try and jog your memory,"she said,wrapping her arms around his neck and finally kissing him.She tasted of Szechwan and beer,her remaining lipstick sticking to his lips like glue,but none of it was unpleasant.

He slid his hands beneath her shirt,making contact with her warm,soft skin,and on some level it occurred to him she just might be trying to distract him from examining those papers more clearly,derail his train of thought before it really got going,but it was almost remarkable how much he didn't care.

Hell,when you got down to it,this was probably all a big mistake anyways.

**

The old woman appeared in the nearest doorway,parting a blue beaded curtain with her arm.She was short with a sturdy build,body mostly hidden in a bright,tropical patterned shapeless dress,her skin the color and type you might expect to see on an unearthed mummy on display at the Natural History Museum;she looked smoked and cured, preserved forever in the dessicating sands of the desert.

Her round face appeared sunken,awash in folds and wrinkles,and brought to mind a dried apple doll.Her soot black eyes gazed at him impassively."You are one of the government men,"she said,in an accent you might have mistaken for European if you didn't get around much.But her accent was like nothing on this earth,because she really wasn't from around here.

Control simply nodded,wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible."I need answers on a type of demon we may be encountering in the near future,who isn't in our databanks.I know your 'databank' is more extensive than ours."

The old woman dipped her head."Take a seat."

This 'store' was just a dinky 'fortuneteller's ' place,therefore the only furniture in the room (besides bookshelves holding various occult related knick knacks,such as glass skulls,crystal balls,a stuffed raven,and some sort of Polynesian fetish with the biggest dick he had ever seen) was a small wooden table,bracketed by two flimsy looking wooden chairs.He took one with a great deal of caution,sure it was going to break and put splinters in his ass,but it held.Only when he was seated did he realize the tablecloth was decorated with an alternating pattern of Tarot cards in miniature:Death,The Tower,and The Devil seemed to be the favorites.

She sat down in the chair across from him with an aching slowness,as if afraid she might break a hip if she missed,and slowly unwound the azure blue scarf she wore around her head like a turban.Her hair,as brittle as straw and the color of landfill mud,fell about her head like wilted flowers,but the most interesting thing was the third eye in the middle of her high forehead.Uncovered,it now opened,revealing a slit shaped red pupil in an eye as yellow as the sun.

"What is this demon?"The Loor demon asked,neatly folding her scarf and placing it in her lap.

"Something like drayshahjaan,"he told her."We tried numerous permutations and found nothing."The telepathic scan of Summers had turned up several interesting things,most notable a 'school' that secretly harbored mutants of all stripes,a school where Logan had hidden out for some time.But,oddly,it had turned up a couple of recent demon encounters involving Logan,Summers,and several mutant women,but they seemed to have a demon on their side,that Summers thought disparagingly of as "Logan's friend".The telepath dug up a memory where a Ressik demon called "Logan's friend" (Bob?Oh please!) a "drayshahjaan",which seemed to scare the shit out the normally psychotic and fearless Ressiks.But Summers didn't know what it meant;no one knew what it meant.This dray whatever looked Human, and seemed to speak with an exaggerated Australian accent,which just made it all the more funny.It had to be a joke.

All three of the woman's eyes widened."Drai'shajan,"she gasped,as if he had just said something taboo.

"Yes,"he agreed,growing impatient with the creepy old woman/demon/thing."What the hell is it?"

She was quiet for a moment,her three eyes staring vacantly at a nothing point in front of her face.Just as he was about to pull out his sidearm and wave it at her,she said,"The Drai'shajan was considered a myth by the Watchers,by many demons,but it is now generally accepted to exist.There were several stories stories about it,but this is the generally accepted one.

"There was a war among the Higher Beings,sometimes called the Powers That Be.When one side lost,a troublemaker was chosen to take the blame,and cast down into the Lower Realms-this plane.It was confined in the guise of a lower wretch-a Human-stripped of all power and memory.Being a Lower being was the worst punishment that could be given.
They knew it would probably be killed by other Lower beings,having no knowledge of this life or how to survive it,but its life was saved by,of all things,the lowest of the low-a demon.This demon helped and sheltered the outcast,unaware of its true nature;some say it loved it,and there is speculation there were even offspring.When the Highers discovered their pariah was not only still alive but thriving on the lower plane,they sent out Emissaries to finish the job the Lower beings should have done."

"This story ends before tomorrow,right?"Control snapped,glancing at his watch.He should have known better than to expect a quick answer from an old woman.

She didn't acknowledge him in any way,seemingly caught up in her own story."The demon tried to stop the Emissaries, knowing full well it had no chance at all against Higher beings.It even tried to bargain for the pariah's life,to return to its people,even though as a Higher it would look down upon him as a filthy creature.They gave it the chance to withdraw,but it would not,even in the face of its own destruction.It even accused the Highers of being no better than demons;in fact,of being just a different breed of demon.The Emissaries were horrified-no one spoke to a Higher that way,or refused to obey them,and certainly not a Lowest of the Low-but one was fascinated to discover a Lowest with genuine intent,especially since his breed were only noted for their complete and utter self-interest.At the moment of its death,it fused the Lowest and the Fallen together."

Control stared at her blankly."What do you mean fused?"

"It's difficult to explain in terms we can comprehend.But at the moment the demon and the pariah stopped existing separately,they started existing as one,in a fashion.The abilities stripped from the Fallen were infused into the demon; the powers merged."

"So...he's a god,is that what you're saying?"

"He is a bridge between two worlds,"she explained,her slightly rheumy eyes finally settling on him for the first time since she started her story."He is the darkness and the light.He is the thing that should not be."

"A simple yes or no will suffice."

"He is a hybrid,an amalgam,a combination of the Lowest of the Low and the Highest of the High:a gestalt entity that has become more than the sum of his parts.The Powers now fear him."

Control's brow furrowed as he tried to work out the logic in that statement."Why?Isn't he just as powerful-or less so -than them?"

"In your terms,less,because he is not pure,not completely of them.But in practical terms he is more powerful,because simply by existing he proves what he said as a pure demon-the Highers are just another form of demon,no better than others,save for the exalted position they have assumed for themselves."

"Is there a way to kill him?"

"Unknown."

"Can't the Powers That Be knock him off?They made him,they can unmake him."

"Although he is a bastard child,they know he may not need a corporeal presence to survive,and they prefer he remain on this plane.As for 'unmaking' him...it is said he has powers of his own,ones they couldn't anticipate.They stay away."

He scowled at her,not at all pleased.He wanted answers,and a way to kill the goddamn thing if it tagged along with Logan."There has to be some way to kill it,or at least stop it.How can you stop him?"

"You can't."

"Everything has a weakness.The Ressiks were immune to him,right?"

"Immune to his control,but he can still kill them."

"There has to be some way to fight him."

"There isn't.If you wish to remain as you are,avoid any conflict with the Drai'shajan.He will get what he wants anyways."

"What do you mean if I wish to remain as I am?"