They walked together through now terminated town. Blackbird, ugly artefact from even uglier era of Mutant War was standing at town square, loading ramp invitingly open. Pilot, Scott Summers was sitting on it, last rays of the sun reflecting from the visor covering his eyes.
“She got a bit banged, tell Jean to take out medi-kit,” Logan shouted, grasping Marie who suddenly collapsed, and carried her on his arms the last steps, laying her gently down to a gurney. Jean Grey, their doctor took over, and he moved in to the cockpit with Summers.
“How was it?” Summers asked. Logan shrugged his shoulders, buckling the seatbelt.
“The same,” he grunted.
“Ready to go?” Summers asked.
“Ready,” he confirmed, and Summers started the procedure that would raise them up on to the rapidly darkening sky.
It was the same, day after day. They’d land, Marie and Logan would clean up their destination and Summers and Jean would clean up them after it was over. Summers would always ask how it was, Logan would always tell him it was the same, and they’d take off.
He waited until the blackbird levelled, then unbuckled and stood up.
“I’ll go and check on the kid,” he said to Summers who nodded, still fiddling with the controls of the jet.
“Oh, Logan? Could you ask Jean to come here? I need to speak with her, Summers called after him.
He found the good doctor cleaning up the mess she had made while stitching up Marie. Used up wads of cotton, dirty needles and scraps of tape littered the floor around the gurney.
“Scott wanted to talk with you,” he said. Jean picked up handful of litter and stuffed it to a trash bin.
“I’ll be right with him, I just clean up this...”
“I’ll take care of it. Go.”
It wasn’t until now that Jean realized that he needed to be alone with Marie. She left, leaving him the responsibility of the damage control. For that this essentially was. He’d sit down and ask Marie how she was doing. They’d talk about this or that. He’d tell corny jokes and make her laugh, or he’d just hold her and let her cry. On the ground she was a fiery spitfire, ready to take on anything, heaven or hell, she’d pull through, but up here... She was essentially just a girl, a girl old past her years and she needed an outlet for all the filth she faced on daily basis.
“That was quite a stunt you pulled back there,” he admonished her gently.
“Look who’s talking. You do that all the time. Barge in without checking up the place first,” she quipped.
“Yeah. I do that all the time because I can get away with it. You don’t heal like I do, kid,” he reminded her.
“So? I can drop them with my skin,” she said.
“Before or after they tear off your head?” He asked. Marie crossed her arms over her chest, huffing and opening her mouth for a witty retort.
“This isn’t some sort of a pissing contest, kid. We both know that you got balls. And we both know that I got even bigger balls. Let’s leave it at that already, okay?”
She just stared at him for a long moment, seconds ticking by. Then, all of a sudden the excited gleam in her eyes died down, and she was just a girl, insecure girl.
“Logan? Are we... Are we monsters?” She asked. Not once had she phrased that question this directly. Not once had she been this blunt. And this time there was no escaping the answer.
“For them we are,” he started.
“No bullshit, Logan. Just tell me the truth,” she demanded. He shook his head.
“There’s no one truth left to be told, kid. The plague took care of it.”
The plague. A year back people in power decided to solve the mutant issue once and for all. They released a virus, bred in secrecy. Designed to target only mutants. Their grand scheme backfired only few weeks after. The virus, carefully crafted and extremely balanced creature of art got confused. It fused together with cells it was supposed to destroy and got twisted beyond recognition. It was no longer targeting gene X that was present only in mutants. It was seeking out human physique. Gene X had become deterrent for it, mutants immune to Legacy.
What had started as a means to end war and wipe out mutants soon turned to swansong for man. And it was up to those who survived to cleanse the earth.
Who was to throw the first stone? Who was to pass judgement of the actions that took place? Mutants? Humans?
“From where I stand I see no monsters. There are just us and them, and they’re rotting away. We’re just... We’re just the cleaning crew, taking care of the mess they left behind,” he ventured, his eyes fixed on to blank nothing he saw reflecting from the window in front of him. The girl on the gurney took his hand and let out a heavy sigh.
“I don’t think I can do this much longer, Logan. After what happened today, after seeing what those kids did...”
“This is a fucked up world, kid. And nobody’s going to ask if you can make it. Nobody’s going to be nice enough to even consider the possibility that this all is too much to bear for you. We are going to keep going until there’s good enough reason to stop. So stop your fucking whining, Marie. We’re landing in couple of hours. Just a gas station this time. Shouldn’t be too many customers, ten at tops.”
So pull your shit together. For Logan as sure as hell wasn’t able to do that for her. At the beginning there had been fifteen of them in this jet. Tightly cooped up together, all for one and one for all. And one after another they had left the ranks. Some of them died. Too many of them simply fled. He wasn’t going to give Marie an easy way out. He’d need her when this all was over. He knew her well enough to know that out of all the people he knew she’d be the most likely candidate to pull it trough. After their little operation was over she’d be the one still standing. She’d be the one to start rebuilding.
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