1 - I've seen the future, baby - ota The Porter building - shortly after the 14th
Here, gone, here again. Memories appearing in the closed cellars of his mind like ghosts stepping out of the dark. It's all getting a little too damn familiar. Same Porter room, same city air, same -- wait. Those guns are new. Really new. Huh.
Logan straightens up slowly, counting breaths and pairs of eyes, not to mention the number of weapons pointed in his direction. An alarm starts to blat overhead, loud enough to cover the sound of adamantium bones and muscles cracking as he rolls his shoulders; a grunt across the room twitches. There are burn scars on the walls and sprays of blood on the floor. Nobody looks like they're happy they got out of bed this morning. The whole room smells like cordite and twitchy, dangerous fear. It's not a good smell, but when it comes down to it, he's seen worse greeting parties. Maybe these guys aren't as stupid as they look. He lifts one hand.
"All right, I'll give ya a second to think about -- "
"Get on the ground! Now!"
Logan shrugs. "Your choice, bub."
The guns, as it turns out, are as effective as they are pretty. It's a shame they don't know who they're firing on or they might have saved some bullets. Logan goes easy on them, mostly, not trying to kill anyone that doesn't deserve it. Most of them are scared, half of them are kids -- hey, maybe he's getting soft in his old age.
He's fought his way out of the room and is making his way through the halls, bloodied, torn up in a few places, bullet holes still smoking in his shoulders and across his chest, when the thud of an explosion and more shouts ahead and behind make everything a little more interesting.
2 - it is murder - open to resistance fighters The Porter building - later in the month
Logan's not about to turn aside the chance for a scrap, particularly if it means getting to kick over the hornet's nest of the city and stopping some unfortunate souls from being taken away in handcuffs. It's almost like old times. Fewer Sentinels though, which is probably a good thing, even if he is itching to sink his claws into something that might explode.
This time he's on the other side of the surprise raid, doing his best to make himself useful in this strange version of the city he once knew. They're hunkered down in the shadow of the fortress of the building, waiting for the all clear to move in. Logan has a cigar clamped between his teeth because he has an image to maintain and a scowl on his face because things aren't moving quick enough for him. He's not used to waiting, or taking orders for that matter.
Hey, go ahead and try to cheer the old man up, won't you?
Logan | Marvel 616
The Porter building - shortly after the 14th
Here, gone, here again. Memories appearing in the closed cellars of his mind like ghosts stepping out of the dark. It's all getting a little too damn familiar. Same Porter room, same city air, same -- wait. Those guns are new. Really new. Huh.
Logan straightens up slowly, counting breaths and pairs of eyes, not to mention the number of weapons pointed in his direction. An alarm starts to blat overhead, loud enough to cover the sound of adamantium bones and muscles cracking as he rolls his shoulders; a grunt across the room twitches. There are burn scars on the walls and sprays of blood on the floor. Nobody looks like they're happy they got out of bed this morning. The whole room smells like cordite and twitchy, dangerous fear. It's not a good smell, but when it comes down to it, he's seen worse greeting parties. Maybe these guys aren't as stupid as they look. He lifts one hand.
"All right, I'll give ya a second to think about -- "
"Get on the ground! Now!"
Logan shrugs. "Your choice, bub."
The guns, as it turns out, are as effective as they are pretty. It's a shame they don't know who they're firing on or they might have saved some bullets. Logan goes easy on them, mostly, not trying to kill anyone that doesn't deserve it. Most of them are scared, half of them are kids -- hey, maybe he's getting soft in his old age.
He's fought his way out of the room and is making his way through the halls, bloodied, torn up in a few places, bullet holes still smoking in his shoulders and across his chest, when the thud of an explosion and more shouts ahead and behind make everything a little more interesting.
2 - it is murder - open to resistance fighters
The Porter building - later in the month
Logan's not about to turn aside the chance for a scrap, particularly if it means getting to kick over the hornet's nest of the city and stopping some unfortunate souls from being taken away in handcuffs. It's almost like old times. Fewer Sentinels though, which is probably a good thing, even if he is itching to sink his claws into something that might explode.
This time he's on the other side of the surprise raid, doing his best to make himself useful in this strange version of the city he once knew. They're hunkered down in the shadow of the fortress of the building, waiting for the all clear to move in. Logan has a cigar clamped between his teeth because he has an image to maintain and a scowl on his face because things aren't moving quick enough for him. He's not used to waiting, or taking orders for that matter.
Hey, go ahead and try to cheer the old man up, won't you?