On the other side of town

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

Some things never change.

Ramon lights up another cigarette. Half a dozen butts litter the street by his feet.

He knew the minute he saw Issac's body. The additional data Mr. Lensherr sent along only confirmed it. This shouldn't be possible. Isaac's killer has been dead for over twenty years.

Ramon stares at the juggling rooster on the Cock and Balls bar sign. He doesn't have to do this. He could send in Mortimer or Dominic instead. They've never met the man.

He doubts they'd survive.

The broken glass outside the window, layers of peeling paint on the badly repaired doorsill, and strong stench of whiskey and cigar smoke are like a set piece from the worst part of his past. They should've stayed in Europe. America is too cold, too hard.

He takes one last drag on the cigarette and lets it fall to the ground. Time to go to work.

Comments

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

A bevy of shot glasses line up along the dirty counter. He's been here a few hours now, mentally entrenched in the events that took place in the Wundagore. It's too much to go home - more memories lie in wait there to assault him. And to put the proverbial icing on the cake, the news rags are all filled with the latest news: the two families he's spent most of his life attempting to take down are about to be one. With their resources combined, they'll be near-unstoppable. Xavier can do what he wants to do with impunity.

But all his thoughts keep coming back to Raven. The barkeep gives him a look. He holds up three fingers for more bourbon. "An' leave th' bottle this time," he adds.

There are some days he wishes he didn't have to fight his healing factor. Getting wasted would be a welcome diversion. And yet, he doesn't stop trying. Better to get it out of his system before he goes back home to Marion. She doesn't need to see him like this.

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

Ramon walks up to the bar. He downs the nearest shot, slams the glass on the counter, and punches Logan in the face.

"Why aren't you dead?"

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

The familiar scent he'd passed off as recollection.

The punch snaps his head to the side, and he reacts before he looks back at the culprit, grabbing for a wrist and slamming the offending hand down on the bar with considerable force. The barkeep skitters backwards.

"Guess I'm just stubborn like that. First punch is free, bub. Second is gonna cost ya."

He cracks his neck back into position, and downs another shot with his free hand. Not deigning to give this loser any more attention than necessary. Why the hell can he still smell Raven?

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

The wrist breaks.

"Stop whining. That hurt me more than it hurt you."

Ramon's fist shifts into a bone knife. He stabs Logan in the throat. Blood spurts out over them both.

"That's just to shut you up while I make sure I have the right man." He sits back and waits for the neck wound to heal. If he's wrong, well, no one is going to miss the kind of loser who frequents this bar.

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

Logan's temper is shorter than usual. He roars in pain and fury, then swivels like lightning, knocking the bar stool beside him over to grab the culprit by the throat.

And then ... his eyes widen. Considerably.

That's why he smells Raven.

"What th' hell -- "

Once in a lifetime was enough. Twice in one day? This is pushing it. His grip on Ramon's throat loosens. Slightly.

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

Ramon hasn't left any vital organs above his shoulders. Logan can tighten all he wants.

Damn. It really is him.

"You're sloppy, Tierchen. It's like you want to be caught."

A fist doubles up into Logan's gut.

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

A grunt answers. A leg sweep follows, along with a knee on the chest. A fistful of clothing is grabbed up.

"So which of 'em are ya workin' fer? That what th' scene in th' hotel earlier was about? Scopin' yer target?"

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

The clothing melts from between his fingers. It settles back into the lines of Ramon's immaculate suit.

"Hotel?" Ramon scowls up at him. "Am I going to find another body when I leave?"

The weight atop him is so familiar. There was always one easy way to get him off. Ramon's hand shoots up along the length of Logan's leg, bone sharpening to knife him in the belly.

"You're supposed to be dead!"

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

The patrons are rapidly scooting away from the escalating scene of violence, keeping their booze in hand. Chairs scrape the unkempt floor in their haste to move.

Logan never uses his claws in public. While mutants are accepted here, it's an advantage he'd rather not let his opponents in on. The knife to the stomach is met with a growled and bloody, "So are you!" before he pulls back to sit on the floor, a hand covering his torn clothing and the scarlet blossom that now spreads across it. He scowls, pausing the assault for now. This is turning out to be one hell of a day.

[marvel-citizens.livejournal.com]

"So..." one of the patrons stares uncomfortably into his beer. "Guess that explains why you ain't gotta woman."

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

It's a harsh and unwelcome reminder that they're not alone. Logan turns his head to the source.

"I don't see ya scorin' with anythin' but yer liquor." Turning back to Ramon, his fervor held somewhat in check for a moment as he's brought sharply back to the present, he mutters, "Mind humorin' me? Call me old-fashioned, but I preferred ya with more up top."

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

Ramon's been a man for the last twenty three years. At first it was best to run in an unexpected shape. Then it was an easier way to provide for his family. After that, it was just habit.

He pauses, a faint look of vunerability in his eyes. Then he shifts into a shape no one has seen since the day his children were born. A little shudder runs up her spine as parts are realligned.

"Well." She gasps. "That's one way to get rid of an erection."

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

It'll take slightly more orthodox methods for him. It isn't helped by the shift, either. How can something so beautiful hurt so much?

Carpe diem.

This place however is far too public. "We're leavin'. Now." With that, he pulls Raven up with him back on their feet.

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

She scales down to match his height.

"My car is behind the alley."

Her voice is thick. She can't keep her hands off him, as though if she lets go, he'll disappear.

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

His arm around her waist is cinched close to his own as they sweep out of the seedy bar. Maybe for the same reasons.

Good thing these Lincoln town cars are big on space. Their exchange is now measured solely in inarticulate sounds and movement, weighing heavy with time lost and years of desire lain fallow.

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

The car's too far away. She pushes him up against a wall. Her hands rip open his shirt. The sound of mingled heavy breathing is punctuated by buttons falling to the pavement. Fingers twine in his dense pelt of chest hair.

She nibbles a path to his ear. "Anyone else here?" she trusts his senses.

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

It should theoretically be impossible for his voice to get any lower, but it does. No immediate scents or sounds that tip him off to any witnesses. "No." A hand is pressed hard against her breast as he turns his face to catch her mouth in another dense, charged kiss.

Bone claws, partially unsheathed, scrape across her backside.

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

They're still a tangle of limbs. One hand absently strokes his hair. She kisses her way down his forehead, over his nose, her lips brushing lightly over his.

"You know I came here to kill you tonight."

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

There's a languid silence coating the air, beyond the ambient sounds of the main street some distance away. "There's still time." Another pause. "Lensherr sent ya."

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

One hand continues to slowly roam his back, mapping that familiar, forgotton topography.

"I'm providing security for his daughter's wedding. You can't expect the guests to step over a mauled corpse on the way to the ceremony."

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

A derisive grunt. "Why break th' habit o' a lifetime." Still there are questions that beg answers. "Still don't explain why I ran into someone who looked and acted a hell of a lot like ya at th' Wundagore."

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

"No. It doesn't." A streak of anger taints her afterglow. She's worked too hard for her position to allow another shifter to hone in on her territory. "If she touches you again, I'll kill her."

She kisses an ear, enjoying the feel of his stubble against her cheek. Business interests she can forgive. Mimicing her to Logan is personal.

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

Logan shifts his weight, setting her down and pulling back from her slightly; though his hands linger on her rear still. "No time like th' present." He hates loose ends.

[ms-tique.livejournal.com]

"Not yet. I want to know why."

One hand cautiously bridges the space between them, the fingertips brushing against his chest hair.

"I need this, Logan. It's not about Lensherr's money. It's about respectability." She can't quite meet his eyes. "Whatever your vendetta against him, please, simmer in your anger until after the wedding. How you act on it once this is over is your own business, but until then, it's mine."

[canadiansixpack.livejournal.com]

A shadow falls behind dark eyes. "I've been simmerin' fer twenty-three years. Xavier is th' man I want ta kill." He cups her face in his hand, his thumb brushing her cheek. "And once it's over? What then?"