After deciding on a final plot, I have expanded the three part story limit! Since I'm going to take this to five parts, I would appreciate COMMENTS at supereub@lava.net . I don't know if people just think my story is a dud, but I have only gotten one or two comments so far, which is not very helpful in forming a complete plot. So if you have any suggestions in an ending plot, tell me. I would be really grateful! *************** Cold Memories By Reuben A. Macapinlac *Supereub* March 1997 Part Three *** "Did I do that?" "Steve!" Bobby gazed at the television screen, interested although the program was not so appealing to him. (That Steve Yerkel guy really spooks me.) Click! "Today, many people around the state came to deceased Anti-Mutant Leader, Graydon Creed's funeral in Manhattan Memorial today." Bobby clenched his fist, muscles tense. "He's a killer! You're mourning the death of a..." Knock! Knock! Interrupted by a knock on the door, Bobby stood up and dragged his feet as he headed for the door. "Who is it?!" "..." (Stupid bum, doesn't even answer my call!) Bobby slowly turned the knob. Only to find a short and rugged man standing in front of him. "Me." the stranger answered. "Logan," Bobby said, blinking in surprise. "You're the last person I'd expect to visit me." "Yeah, I am just as surprised as you are." Logan grinned. "So, you gonna let me in or what?" Bobby stepped to his side, extending a hand towards the apartment. "Why of course! Make yourself at home." Logan took a step inside, scanning around the room as if he was inspecting it. He took a little sniff of the air. "Nice place." he finally said. Bobby closed the door behind him. He grabbed a wrinkled sweater lying across the couch and quickly put it on over his tank top. "You want a beer?" Logan turned his head halfway towards Bobby's direction. He nodded. "Sure, I'll have a brusque." Heading towards the kitchen, Bobby glanced at Logan from the corner of his eye. (What in the hell is he doing here?) he thought as he opened the refrigerator door. He grabbed a couple of Heinekens from the back of the fridge and rummaged through one of the drawers for a beer cap opener. "So what brings you all the way here from Westchester?" Bobby inquired. Logan didn't respond, but just looked at the pictures placed on the shelf. "This here your dad?" Bobby nodded. "Yeah." "Looks like an honest man," Logan complimented. "Remy said the same thing when I asked him." "Remy spoke to my dad?!" Bobby asked, puzzled. "That's what he said," Logan replied. "At Mount Sinai hospital, they had a little chat." "I see..." Bobby said, handing over Logan's beer bottle. Logan casually walked around the room, taking frequent sips of his Heineken beer. Then suddenly, he spoke up. "You doin' ok, you know, after that whole thing with your father dyin'." Bobby chuckled. "Well, I can't say I'm ok." "Let me tell you something kid," he said in a more serious tone. "You can't hide from everythin' your whole life..." "I ain't hiding Logan!" "Let me finish!" Logan pointed his finger on the tip on Bobby's nose, slowly placing the beer on a coffee table. "We at the mansion are worried Bobby, not me, but Jean and them are. They understand your in a world of hurt and they can respect your privacy. But hell Bobby, this ain't the way to be handling your problems! This, Bobby, this is why I came all the way from Westchester, to take you back with me to the mansion. And hell, I don't let Jean or any of them down when I keep a promise!" Bobby folded his arms as he walked towards the window. "That's a difficult promise to keep, considering I'm not coming with you..." Logan began to laugh. "You are funny sometimes snow boy! From what I heard, you just said you ain't comin' back with me." "You'll laugh some more when I say I'm not coming back with you or anybody they throw at me." "Stop patronizing me, Bobby!" Logan snapped at him, the tension between them rose. "You comin' with me whether you like it or not, you need help!" "No." Bobby said stubbornly, now looking out the window. Suddenly, a hand gripped on Bobby's shoulder, it almost seemed like the fingers pressed right through the cloth and onto the flesh. Another hand was placed on Bobby's hip, in a moment, Bobby was spinning across the floor. Bobby tossed his hair back, he glared at Logan, who at this time, had a claw unsheathed. "C'mon Bob, if you ain't willin' to come with me, I'm takin' you with me! No matter if I gotta kick your ass to do it!" Bobby scrambled to his feet, he took a step back. Surely, he couldn't take on this guy, a man who is probably one of the most dangerous close combat fighters in the world. "Please Logan, you have got to understand..." He growled. "I don't gotta understand nuthin'! Jean and Scott wanted me to bring you back, and God, so help me if I gotta go through hell to do it. That includes takin' you back, no matter whether you like it or not!!" Bobby took a glance of the lamp from the corner of his eye. Logan still stood his ground, no sign of his fighting stance. But his face still looked furious. "Bobby, I'll give you one last chance, I've been through days of traveling, bar fights, sleeping in crummy motels, and I didn't come all this way for you to back out on me now." He slyly took a hold of the lamp. "I'm not going, period. If you X-Men can't respect that..." Logan suddenly lunged at Bobby, his claws extended. Bobby quickly yanked the lamp out of it's place and threw it towards Logan. Next, he leaped to the side, landing on his couch. "Logan, are you crazy?!" "Not as crazy as you would be if you would see all the trouble I went through into coming here!" Logan yelled, coming towards him, scowling. Bobby jumped back, landing on his coffee table on his feet. He quickly coated his skin with ice, when Logan took another leap on him. UGH! Bobby struggled as Logan gripped his hand on Bobby's throat. "Grk!" Bobby grunted. Logan unsheathed his right hand claws, raising them in the air as a fist. "I don' wanna hurt you Bobby, but if you resist me..." Suddenly, a burst of ice slams against Logan's chest, sending him up in the air and lands straight through the coffee table. Bobby lifted himself up, his ribs hurt from the fall. This time, he was totally covered in ice, pieces of icicle poked out of his sweater. "Logan, you leave me no choice!" Bobby formed an ice club in his hands, he held it tightly as he raised it up in the air. Logan noticed Bobby and rolled over as he hurled the club towards the floor. THUD! In a dash, Logan counterattacked with a sweep kick. Bobby fell backwards. THUD! Logan rolled backwards, splinters of wood stabbed in his flesh. Fortunately, his healing factor could patch that up in minutes. Logan got to his feet, more furious than ever. "GRAGH!" Logan lunged once more. Quickly, Logan got a hold of Bobby's throat, both claws nipping his ear, the third sheathed. Bobby struggled with all his might, but Logan's strength overwhelmed his own, leaving him powerless. Too weak to activate his ice powers. "You listen Bob, you listen good!" Logan warned. "I ain't in the mood for brawling, and I don't want to hurt a guy like you. Especially since we were once teammates! I'll let you stay and rot like the coward that you are, but if anytime in the future you look back at this, don't ever say that I didn't try to save your ass. Cuz' I just did." Logan stood up, he sheathed his claws. Then after brushing some of the splinters of wood and dust off his motorcycle leather jacket, he walked towards the door, not saying a word. Bobby breathed deeply, gulping as sweat poured down his face. He had reverted back to his normal state. He heard a door slam a few seconds later. Bobby got on one knee, then with his remaining strength, lifted himself up. He looked around the room, broken pieces of wood and ice everywhere. Glass shattered from the lamp. (Oh geez, what would the neighbors think?) END OF PART THREE. Reuben M. *Supereub* supereub@lava.net - SUPER'S Home Page: http://free.websight.com/Macapinlac2 - Supereub's X-Men Krazy Page: http://free.websight.com/Macapinlac3 - Supereub's X-Men Fan Fiction Archive: http://free.websight.com/Macapinlac4 *-------------------------------------* | | | Hey, who took the cork off | | my lunch?!! | | - W.C. Fields | | | | | | | *-------------------------------------*