Exiles in Elseworlds

A large element of the city's populace is enthralled tonight by the extravagant engagement party thrown by the Lensherrs and the Summers families.

There'll never be a better time.

Logan worked for Xavier once, decades ago when he believed the man sane. It didn't last. He got wind of what was in store for mutants like him, and like the stubborn loner he was, tried to undermine the operation from the inside. He almost paid for it with his life, and believed his wife hadn't been so fortunate. Over twenty years gone, lost in his own self-pity and making statements with bodies of Xavier's cronies that couldn't be traced back to him. There'll be no hiding tonight; no going back. Either everything changes after tonight, or he and the woman he'd already thought dead years ago die trying.

He knew Xavier couldn't handle the kind of tech required for what he wants to do. Someone had to be doing it for him, but it's taken until now to find out who his greasemonkey was, much less find out what he's capable of. Either way, he knows he's likely to be dangerous.

Getting in isn't the hardest part: it's surprising what a severed employee's hand and a card will gain access to. Raven's taking another route, the better to up their chances.

Logan makes a point of leaving bodies in his wake. He's lived in the shadows for too long; kept his rage under wraps waiting for this moment. Each swipe, every staccato and deliberate movement brings that bloodthirst closer to the fore, just waiting to spill over and consume him whole. He's only too willing to let it. That should terrify him. It used to. Not anymore.

He leaves the stealth maneuvers to Raven. He can take the punishment. Make it loud, make it hurt. He's barely broken a sweat by the time he finds the lab.

Doors -- steel ones, in particular -- make great missiles.

"Knock knock, bub."