1965-02-12 - It's all fun and games until someone loses an arm.
Summary: Logan and Hope meet under odd circumstances. Someone loses an arm.
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hope logan 

He caught up with Hope as some sort of function down town. One of those guys who passes out flyers, but this one wasn't for a new restaurant, a book sale, or even the latest symposium. This one was a bit more dour:


Or something like that. It didn't really matter, it was clear, and the guy was dumb enough to invite Hope to one of their meetings.


The meeting, which the young man promised would bring 40-50 people to talk about how their rights were under siege, is placed down by the docks. Even from where she stands, Hope will be able to see people filing in. They look like students. They look like housewives. It's all a bit underwhelming in some respects, and sad in others.

Hope has the benefit of being able to "pass," as they say. Nothing about her says she's a mutant. And in this time, the Purifiers don't know about her, don't know who she is. Maybe they don't even exist. And maybe, she thinks, if she can find out where they're coming from, she can fix some of the problem before it happens. She's slow to join the group, lingering around the outskirts of the building as others file inside, hands deep in her pockets.

There doesn't seem to be anything untoward. From the outside the redhead can see a group of folding chairs that are in a horseshoe around a set of four, similar chairs. Someone even brought coffee and cookies, which are set up on the far wall. As she lingers at the entrance, one of the men nods to her. His buzzed crewcut screams authority, but the scar on his face belies some sort of mystery.

Not far away a long journey is coming to an end. Logan and Bill have been driving through the night to get this shipment of lumber to New York City where it'll be cut and distributed across the East Coast. Normally these folks buy American, so it seemed important that their company got this work.

That's why there were two of them. Logan gives the portly, mustachioed man a nudge and reaches onto the dash for his cowboy hat. "We're here. Let's go see if they got some guys ready to unload."

Hope hesitates for a moment, considering her options and the man who seems to be running the meeting. This isn't the sort of meeting that seems like it's normally open to women, but…Well. If she wants more information, she'll have to go in. Tipping her chin up toward the man, she walks slowly over, getting a good look at the set up. "Hey, mister," she greets. "What sort of meeting is this? You guys got some sort of church going on here?"

"Well, it's just a get together, really. We're gonna do some talkin' about our rights and think about some ways we can organize, maybe. Stick it to those mutie lovers." His easy smile is off putting. He has no idea how this could ever be conceived as unjust, or even non-endearing.

Logan's company is paid to transport, not to unload, so he and Bill begin to check out New York City for a while, now that they have a few hours. Logan immediately lights up his stogie and looks around the city with peered eyes. He's not one for the big city…still…when in Rome.

Hope takes a look at the people trickling in, forcing a small smile for the man. "Sorry, I'm not from around here. What's going on with the mutants that's taking away from humans here?" she asks, keeping her hands in her pockets. "There weren't many where I came from," she explains. "Mutants, that is." All true, at least.

"It's not what they've done, it's what they will do, see. That bastard Lyndon Johnson wants to give our government to the blacks, the Jews, and now the muties. Soon it won't be safe to even be us anymore," the buzzed man says woefully. "Won't even be America no more!" cries out someone from inside the room.

From across the street, Logan can hear some of the conversation and stops in his tracks. Bill walks a few paces up and then turns, "Hey, Logan, what's up?" There's a quick head tilt towards the meeting across the street and Logan begins to cross.

"What're you afraid the blacks, the Jews, and the mutants would do if they were in charge of the government?" Hope asks, head tilting. It's not a challenge, at least not in her tone. There's some genuine curiosity there. Even if she's backing the man into a bit of a trap.

"Well…I mean,…they'd tak…" He seems stumped as he straightens, looks to the ground, and tries to find the words. If she came here out of curiosity and a thirst for knowledge, this man seems ill equipped to provide it.

Just as Logan gets across the street, with Bill a few steps behind him, a van turns the corner and begins to make its way down the street.

"And what is it you'd like to do to them, since you have most of the government?" Hope asks, all innocence. Maybe she can't change the arc of history. Maybe she can't even change this one man's mind. But if she's lucky, maybe she can make someone think twice about what they're doing.

"Well, I mean," but he never gets the chance to respond as a fireball comes hurtling from the van. The white vehicles screeches to a halt even as Logan is diving to knock the man Hope is talking to out of the way. The flames catch him over the side of the body and the face, and even as he stands, his body immediately begins to heal itself from the blistering burns that cover the side of his face. People begin to scream, even as four rough looking people get out of the van.

Whether it's the rush of heated air or the squeal of tires, Hope is already moving toward the man when Logan comes hurtling into him. She twists, rolling hard on the pavement and leaving raw patches of skin on her palms and her cheeks…which also start to heal as she stands up. That's a useful power to be around. She moves for cover behind a trash can, drawing a gun from her pocket and checking it as she watches the men move forward.

"Wait," Bill says as he's just starting to understand that the guy he's just rode 23 hours with might not be normal. "Logan, how'd you do that?"


"Holy shit, you're a mutant!"

The look on Logan's face is one scrunched with intensity. His head jerks to take in all four of the mutant mauraders and his nose sniffs intermittently. He doesn't seem to be paying any attention to Hope, yet.

"Look at what we have here. Some upstanding Americans exercisin' their right to assemble…" says the leader, who wields a baseball bat. The flamethrower guy's hands billow in flames while the other two aren't showing, yet.

The leader turns his head at Logan. "You playin' for their team, pal? You look like one of us."

Bill, however, just won't let it go. He looks appalled. And disgusted. They never told him he was riding with no mutie. In fact, he and the boss always were talkin' bout how much they hate mutants. Bill resolves to make a phone call or two, just as soon as he gets his fat ass clear of this mayhem.

"This works real easy if everyone just decides to go their own way," Logan finally says.

Once she's confirmed that her gun is prepped, Hope steps out from behind the trash can, moving up toward Logan's flank. She may never have met him here, but she remembers a Wolverine. She knows enough to work with. "You're just going to convince them they're right about how dangerous mutants are," she adds to the attacking group. "They'll feel like they're justified. You might stop these ones, but you'll just create twice as many when their families find out what happened to them."

"Yeah, well, we're not really ones for politics. We're more guys of action!"

The buzzed man who leads the meeting ducks into the building and shuts the door, trying to put some distance between them and the assailants.

The blonde haired leader of the mutant anarchists bum rushes Wolverine, even as his flame throwing friend attacks Hope. But as Hope brings up the gun she can feel a strong tug on it as one of the other mutants reaches out towards her with their mind.

"You all have picked the wrong target," Hope growls, reaching out with more than just her hand. Anything they can do, she can do too. Opening the throttle on her own powers, she soaks in the powers around her, flipping a thumb on the magazine of the gun to drop the ammo before letting the mutant with the mental powers have the empty piece. At the same time, she draws on the flamethrower's power to keep the flames away from herself…and pops claws from the fist that flies for his hand.

"Son of a bitch, that hurts!" she exclaims in surprise.

The fourth person has telepathic powers, much to Hope's luck. Unfortunately for her stomach, and for the anarchist leader, she won't realize it until it's too late. First he's attacking Logan, and one moment later, he's missing an arm and screaming his head off. "My arm! My fucking arm!" he exclaims, apparently having no idea how this could have happened. Logan is snarling and about ready to take out flamey fists!

"Whoa, hey, take a breather!" Hope spins flame-hands away from Logan by the claws she has in his hand. He probably won't appreciate that the way he should, but if it saves his life, that's an improvement, right? "We're not the monsters here!" Granted, as she pulls claws free of the flamer's hand, she promptly slams an elbow into the back of his skull leaving him unconscious on the pavement. The telepath will have to wait a moment.

Logan doesn't seem to be in full berserker, mode, fortunately, and heeds Hope's words just enough. He's standing there, snarling, even as the young woman seems to be getting things under control.

Just because flame-hands is unconscious doesn't mean Hope can't use his powers. Flames swirl around her un-clawed hand as she turns toward the telepath, jaw set in a hard line. "You should leave now," she advises. "Before he decides he doesn't want to play nice."

Hope seems to diffuse the situation and ole One Armed, McGee definitely flees back toward the van. They weren't expecting this—drunk on their powers they thought they would put the fear of God into these bigots.

As they flee back to the van, Logan's sigh seems to indicate he can't help but hate both sides. His dark eyes look down the road where his truck is. Looks like he's going to be on the move once again.

As the attackers flee, Hope lets the fire fade from around her hand, the claws retracting and the skin healing behind them, though she rubs at her knuckles with a faint frown afterwards. "I never realized that hurt," she grumbles, before turning back to Logan, head tilting slightly. "Hey," she greets quietly. "You maybe wanna get out of here?"

"What?" Logan says as his face wrinkles in confusion. The words, if you follow them, don't make sense from his perspective. "What do you mean?" He doesn't answer the second question.

"I mean, those meeting folks probably aren't going to come out and thank us for saving them, and the police are probably going to show up soon and be mad about, you know, the spare arm on the sidewalk," Hope replies, as if it's a conversation she has regularly. "So, since your partner there doesn't look like he wants to be helpful, you want to get out of here before there's trouble?"

Logan takes a look over his shoulder and then down the road. He may not trust her, but she does have a point. "Guess we'd better get out while the getting out is good," he snarls. "You know of any place to get a beer?"

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