Once upon a time, Josh Foley was a good kid. Not a great kid, mind you, but the kind of kid that reassured assassins that they were going to live and everything was going to turn out okay.

That's dead now.

He's not with the resistance, per say. He's pretty sure nobody in it wants to be associated with the methods he and Wallflower have started deploying to solve their problems. Things like, oh, infectious diseases. Absolute body horror, the full extent of the wrong side of his powers finally at his disposal and he's more than comfortable using it.

And so while Logan avoids a kill, he doesn't.

And so the men coming up behind Logan drop their guns, a broken gurgle replacing the sound of heavy footsteps. They're not dead yet, and sure to suffer until they actually are, and Josh releases one's grotesquely swollen neck and reaches into the other one's pockets, hunting for something that's evidently not there. The kid whimpers something about mercy and Josh's lip curls, dropping him and stepping over the body.

Then he takes stock of the man standing before him. Those pale eyebrows draw together, white eyes narrowing sharply as he realizes exactly who they'd been chasing.

"Dude," he says, entirely too normally. "You've gotten super sloppy."