Our Lady of the Assumption Hospital,

Lowtown,

Madripoor

1948

This place smelt like Hell on Earth.

But then, Logan thought dryly, pretty much any place Nicky boy sent him smelt like Hell on Earth.

It was as if his handler had a gift for finding piss holes to order him into, and another gift for making ’em stink extra once he arrived. In the last four years he’d been to plenty o’ places that qualified as Hades under the orders of Nicholas Joseph Fury, and every single one of them had smelt like this. Looked like this. Ached like this. Logan took a long puff on his cigar and breathed in the smoke, trying to ignore the stench of death that hung about him: You didn’t need his many, many years on this God-forsaken Earth to know that the kids surrounding him weren’t long fer this world. It was written all over ’em, reflected in their glass-with-hunger eyes, their death-ready faces. The way they didn’t even look up as he stalked through their number with his claws unleashed, just stared into space as if bleeding without being cut. Logan wondered silently what Mystique would make of the (now deported) Sisters of Charity trying to prolong their suffering with this hospital-

But then, he thought with a slight snicker, he hadn’t kept her around fer her philosophizin’. And shopping her to the cops in Singapore meant he wouldn’t have to deal with her bitchin’ on the subject any time soon.

“Mr. Fury told me to expect you,” a voice sounded behind him then. “It’s good to see you again, Jim.”

Instantly Logan froze.

Turned slowly- hands held out- claws at the ready. He’d neither seen nor heard the man before him coming and that didn’t exactly enhance his fucking calm. Not with what he knew of the newcomer’s history. Not with what he’d seen him do. He’d haveta talk to Nicky boy ‘bout that weird sense o’ humour o’ his, because he felt sure Fury was taking the piss with this assignment-

“Hello, Essex,” he rumbled then, slowly. Eyeing the man before him, taking in his pristine white lab coat, his copper-coloured hair. His red-on-black eyes. He could smell the stench of blood coming offa him, smell the human panic. Logan wasn’t really surprised: bastard had smelt the same after Dachau. And Logan would know it-

He was the one who’d delivered him there, after all.

Some tiny part of him had hoped the good doctor wouldn’t make it back out alive. But then hope was fer morons, everyone knew that.

Essex inclined his head then. “I knew Nick wouldn’t let me down. Didn’t think he’d send his finest though-”

Logan snorted. “With what you paid him, he’d have sent the Virgin Mary if she was under contract.”

Essex inclined his head, his dark eyes speculative. “I don’t require a virgin birth, I require a specialist. Apparently he felt you suited to the job.” His mouth gave a twitch of a smile. “Clearly, he understands the importance of my work here, Corporal-”

“Patch it is then,” Essex said good humouredly. “And you can call me Nate. Though something tells me you’ll call me plenty else behind my back.”

“Whatever I call ya bub, I’ll call it t’yer face,” Logan snapped. “Now how about you just point me at what needs gutting and let me at ‘em?” The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could get back to the Princess Bar and Seraph-

And his little chat with Nicky boy about the grave dangers of not respecting Jim Logan’s comfort zone, he mustn’t forget about that-

“Very well then,” Essex nodded graciously. “Your targets are in here.” And he gestured to a door marked with a red X behind him, eerily similar to the ones Logan remembered from interrogating prisoners in Berlin. He opened the door, waiting until the other man walked in front of him and then pulling it closed. It led to a corridor which stank of blood, excrement and human panic, (once again Logan wondered what precise criteria Fury had for choosing his assignments, other than bein’ a bastard) and then deeper into the bowels of the hospital, far away from its public façade. Logan tried to breath through his mouth, to keep the stench of misery and fear from getting under his skin but he was having trouble: A bad ass he might be, but none of the feelings which had marked this place were positive- And most of them had been felt by children. Not by the Slowly Dying above him, but by kids who’d clearly been lively enough to feel frightened- Lively enough to leave their marks on the room. Their panic was fresh enough to taste and it was making him tetchy: There was precious little he wouldn’t do for cash or thrills or the sheer Hell of it, but kids weren’t on the menu and never had been-

And that was when he saw the boys.

Logan and Essex had rounded a corner which levelled out in to a massive room, the kind that might once have been used as a war room. Caged against the wall opposite were three identical boys, all with the same red-on-black eyes as Essex, the same gaunt build and elegant hands. One of them was holding onto a little girl, aged about ten from what Logan could smell offa her, rocking her in his lap as if his life depended on it. The girl appeared to be made from snow, her skin pristinely white. The boy was glaring at Essex and if looks could have killed he would have been a dead man-

“These are the first ones you can deal with,” the Doctor said curtly then. He gestured to the boy holding the girl, his eyes turning colder. “Start with Etienne there. He’s our largest problem.” Another identical boy, with copper hair and red-on-black eyes, appeared out of the shadows as if summoned and Essex nodded him towards Logan, distracted- “Remy, see to it that Patch here has everything he needs for his assignment, take the bodies outside when he’s done and make sure you burn them-”

“Yes, Father,” Remy muttered quietly.

Logan shook his head. “That’s your biggest problem?” he asked cynically. “That kid is what you hired me for?” Boy couldn’ta been more’n fourteen…“Because I ain’t doin’ nothing to no kid, asshole-”

Essex shot him a glare, his red-on-black eyes narrowing. “That boy has endangered our whole operation. He needs to be taken care of-”

“Then why don’t you try it, bub?”

“I have more important work than taking care of the surplus.” Essex voice sounded like an Arctic wind. “I’m trying to build something here: They are superfluous to my needs. And it’s not like I can send them back to their parents, now is it?” He gestured sharply around him, towards the shadows, and suddenly Logan could smell other children. If he had to take a guess he would’ve said about twenty were packed in there. Now he listened some were even sniffing back tears. The boy Essex had called Remy looked disgusted at the sound. “I hired a professional because I want it to be quick,” the doctor continued. “I don’t have the time to take care of them individually; Neither gas nor poison will work on any of my progeny, so it has to be by hand, and it has to leave no trace. Why else would a man like myself go anywhere near you or Nick Fury?” And the bastard actually laughed. Like he could afford t’put his nose in the air. “Keep the mess to a minimum, I don’t want the other subjects tainted. If you feel like taking out the loss of your sentimental streak on something, I suggest you do so on Bella there-” Essex gestured towards the little snow-made girl being rocked inside the cage- “She won’t mind what you do to her, so long as it has Father’s approval, isn’t that right my love?”

The little girl nodded numbly, standing. Tottering out of the cage. She wasn’t wearing much beyond a rag, Logan noticed, her eyes red with what might have been tears. Her fingers so thin they looked like twigs. Her tears sparkled like ice. “Let me know when you’re finished and you’ll receive the rest of your payment,” Essex continued impatiently. “Until then I’m busy- Remy, take care of him-” And the doctor made to turn away, clearly dismissing him-

Logan growled then.

“You didn’t hear me, Essex,” he muttered. Held his claws out, already feeling the rage building inside him. It’d been a coupla months since he’d had an episode, but fer this sonofabitch he’d make an exception. “I ain’t killing no kids,” he growled, “Not fer Nick Fury, and certainly not fer you.” And he spun forwards, the blood-lust already running through him. His pulse pounding in his ears. Without a word he spun, throwing all of his weight into a blow at Essex’ head. It’d been so long since he’d fought a decent opponent- After Normandy he thought he’d lost his taste fer the one-to-one but with this smug bastard to deal with he’d rekindle it again- Essex blinked, surprised, and back-pedalled, dropping his clip-board and raising his hands upwards to shield himself. He staggered backwards, confused, and then regaining his focus raised his hand and tossed Logan without laying a finger on him, his mutation enough to send the feral smashing into a wall. But a little property damage wasn’t gonna discourage Logan any: He surged forward again, snarling like the beast Essex had hired him to be. Claws raised, teeth bared, growling-

And in a split second the boy Essex had called Remy picked up little Bella, holding her in front of Essex. Shielding him. Logan watched almost as if someone else was doing it as his claws slashed into her, her silver-blue eyes widening with fright. He couldn’t seem to stop himself, momentum carrying him forward-

“Father,” was all she said as she crumpled to the floor. Dying.

Dead.

A beat of horrified silence and then-

Every other child in the room surged towards Essex. Surrounding him, shielded him with their bodies as if it were the most natural thing in the world. All of them repeating the word “Father,” like it was a prayer. Or a curse. The boy named Remy leading them- Logan unable to believe what he’d done-

He couldn’t have, he couldn’t have- He didn’t-

And then- “Kill them all,” Remy muttered, his voice layered with some kinda meaning. Something unnatural even Logan could hear. He tried to pull away from the sound, tried to fight it. He’d always been highly immune to telepaths, nothing ever worked on him- But all he could see was little Bella’s silver-blue eyes wide and staring… The blood forming around her snow-flake coloured hair like a halo…And Remy’s voice echoing in his head…Whispering…He wasn’t sure when darkness claimed him, but it was total- There was only the smell of blood and salt tears left in his system, by the time Remy and Essex were through…

He wasn’t even sure what else they told him…