Disclaimer:
Hi there.  Sabretooth, Logan and Jean Grey are all characters
copyrighted by Marvel.  Mulder & Scully belong to Ten Thirteen
Productions, I believe, or Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation.
Everything else is my own creation, except New York.  Apparently no
one is taking the blame for that.

Here There Be Tygers, part IV
Sean Venning, April, 1996

Logan stood crouched in the darkness.  He could hear voices up ahead
in the warehouse.  Moving forward again he kept close to the wall.
Turning the final corner, he sniffed the air again, but the
overpowering stench of fuel filled the air.  No wonder Creed had
chosen the place.  He could see the beams from powerful lights
flashing through the gloom ahead.  No more than two.  He crept
forward, stopping just before the end of the passage.

The old warehouse stood in a seedier area of the city, but that alone
wasn't the reason that Creed had chosen it as a haven, of sorts.
Logan knew that the warehouse was more useful for another reason.  Far
below the city ran a series of tunnels, through which Creed had gone
on a killing spree several years earlier, slaughtering a helpless
group of outcasts known as the Morlocks.  This warehouse contained an
entrance to those tunnels, one that Creed had made use of and Logan
had tracked him through.  It had been easy enough to find, but he
hadn't expected company here now.

Cautiously peering around the corner, he looked into the cavernous
storage area.  Pinpointed by their searching torches, the two figures
stood out amongst the towering stacks of long forgotten crates.  Logan
looked closely at them.  One a tall, dark haired male, the other a
female.  A red headed female.

*here's trouble*

Sensing no one else, Logan held his place to listen for a while.

"What do you think, Scully?"

"I think it's a renovator's nightmare."

"I don't think our suspect's all that fussy, judging by his M.O."

"Look Mulder, are you sure this is the site?"

"Our anonymous friend said she saw a tall figure wearing some sort of
animal suit running in here."

"Well, I can't see anything in here that looks like someone is hiding
out here.."

"That's 'cause you're lookin' for the wrong things."  A match sparked
to life in the darkness, as Logan lit a cigar.

"FBI.  Hold it right there," Mulder's gun swivelled to cover the
newcomer, as did his partner's.

"Put the toy away, son.  You ain't scarin' anyone but yourself."

Mulder looked across at Scully, shrugged and lowered his pistol.

"I'm Agent Fox Mulder, this is Agent Dana Scully.  We're with the FBI.
Would you mind telling us what you're doing here?"

Logan calmly shook out the match and took a long drag before looking
over to Mulder.

"Mindin' my own business."

Scully broke in.

"Have you seen a tall, blonde man wearing some sort of animal costume
in or around this area?"

Logan smiled inwardly.

*bingo*

"Nope.  Can't say I have."

"We're investigating a series of mutilation murders.  Can you give us
any information relating to them?"

"I could.  But you'd be better off not knowin'."

"We're with the FBI.  We're meant to know."

"Trust me Red.  You don't want to."

"So you know something about them, then?"  asked Mulder, stepping
towards Logan.  "Any chance you could at least give us your name?"

Logan took another long drag on his cigar.  "Logan."

"Is that a first or last name?"

"Whichever you want, Red."

"My name is *Agent* Scully, *Mister* Logan," came the terse reply.

Logan chuckled to himself.

"*Agent* Scully it is then, Red.  Tell me, are either of you capable
of arm wrestlin' a five hundred pound gorilla?"

Scully turned to Mulder with an exasperated look, then turned back to
face Logan.

"Well, I am out of training at the moment," began Mulder.

"Didn't think so.  Look, here's some free advice.  Take it and go.
Creed ain't likely to be stopped by you two.  Hell, you'd be lucky to
even find him.  Just go back to your nice warm offices and write this
one up for the 'too hard' basket.  Trust me, you'll be happier in the
long run."

"Mister Logan, our office *is* the 'too hard' basket," Mulder raised
his pistol again.  "Now I suggest you cooperate, or we'll be forced to
arrest you for withholding evidence.  Maybe you'll be a bit more
helpful then."

Logan stared at him.

"Son, I thought you looked smarter than that."

"It's Agent Mulder to you."

"You suits are all the same.  I've tried to be nice, but you don't
want to listen.  Creed ain't your nice, friendly run-of-the-mill
psychopath.  He's far worse than that, and I ain't got the time to
stand around yabberin' with two fancy dressed kids if I'm goin' ta
stop him.  Just keep out of my way."

Logan turned to leave.

"I'd suggest you stay right there, Mister Logan," said Scully.

Logan stopped, looked to the ceiling, then turned around.

"All right, I can see you don't want to be sensible.  Fine.  We'll
play it your way then."  He started to casually walk towards them,
still puffing on his cigar.

"That's close enough, Mister Logan," said Mulder, as the short man
approached him.

"What's the matter?  Scared of an unarmed man?"  Logan casually raised
his arms, palms outward, as he came to a halt just out of arms reach
of Mulder.

"What now, son.  Got a plan?"

"We'll cuff you and take you back with us."

"I see," Logan took another draw on his cigar.

"Will you cooperate with us, or not, Mister Logan."

Logan turned his head to look at her.

"I don't think so," he said, as he casually flicked his cigar away.
For an instant the two agents followed it with their eyes, and Logan
sprang to life.  Three sets of razor honed blades sprang from the back
of his right hand with a metallic 'snikt'.  Leaping forward, he
brought the glittering claws down in an deadly arc.  As Mulder took a
reflexive step backwards, Logan continued on into a diving roll,
neatly sweeping the tall agent's legs out from under him.  Gracefully
rolling back to his feet, Logan started running towards a nearby stack
of crates.  Scully turned to follow him with her pistol.

"Stop!" she shouted. "I will fire!"

Logan ignored her and kept running.  Behind him a gun fired once.  He
felt the scorching pain of a bullet tearing through his left shoulder
and out through his chest, nearly knocking him to the ground, but he
managed to stumbled on.  In a moment he was behind the crates and
gone.

"Mulder, are you all right?" called out Scully, as she stepped
forward, pistol outstretched before her, sweeping her torch's beam
through the darkness.

"Yeah, but I feel like someone smashed an iron bar across my shins.
Where is he?"

"He got away."  She stopped to peer at the floor.

"Judging by the blood here, though, I think I hit him.  I'll get a
call to the hospitals to look for a gunshot victim answering his
general description.  It shouldn't be too hard to spot him, not with
those sideburns and that hair style."

Mulder had stopped paying attention to her, his interest elsewhere.

"Of course, if this official business is boring you...?"

Mulder spoke without looking up.

"No, no it's just that...Scully, come over here and take a look at
this.."

Scully walked over to where her partner was crouching on the floor and
shone her beam down at the object of his interest.  There, in his
hand, he was holding his pistol.  Most of it, anyway.  Mulder looked
up at her.

"Scully," he said, "I don't know how he did it, but he just managed to
cut my pistol in two."