October 4, 2012: On order from Ronin Ogun, Kitty tracks down Wolverine with the intention of killing him. Things do not go according to plan.




  • Lockheed

Mood Music: * Bang Bang - Nancy Sinatra

Shadowcat may be immune-at-will to most of the options Logan has in a stand up fight, but she's lacking one important logistical advantage: she gets tired a lot faster than that particular old man. It was something Wolverine realized early on, and from there it was just a matter of making her push, fight with everything she's got, and waiting for his moment. When that moment arrived, it was as a spectre of death, swift and alarming even if one anticipates its arrival. Perhaps to her surprise, however, Kitty Pryde is not dead. She's not even restrained— though what would be the point of /that/? It's hard to say how long ago the sun went down, but the loft offices over a vacant, rubble-strewn warehouse floor, stripped of most furniture and fixtures, are lit only by a weak reading lamp that casts long shadows, scarcely illuminating the bedroll and pile of weaponry and books that makes up her quarry's current 'safehouse'.

It's that bedroll that she occupies, and there's even been some cursory effort to stem any bleeding, judging from sterilized bandages and antiseptics— it all might seem quite incongruous, given that the man she was sent to kill not only still lives, he's sitting in the corner opposite the nook, turning the katana she used over in his hand. Or, rather, the -remnant- of that katana— the blade has been cut clean as razor-shorn paper at some point, a bit less than half a sword remaining. It's going to be all but impossible for her to regain consciousness and look around without meeting his dangerous, searching eyes— Logan'll know it's coming from the moment Kitty's breathing shifts.

It feels like she's falling.

With a start, Kitty's eyes open, limbs futilely flail for a moment to catch herself from an impact that isn't happening. She is tired and in some pain, despite the treatment she's been given. Though an agile woman, her movement is quick but awkward as she springs up to a crouch so that she's on her feet. Eyes flick about her before they resolutely fall on the man in the chair. Her eyes narrow on her broken katana and then back to meet his eyes.

For a predator and a man who has lived as long as Logan has, it is easy to see the anger, pain and, yes, of course, some fear in her own eyes. She put a blade through him and he doesn't even sport a scratch. However, despite that fear, she does not look away. Instead, she calculates. She's still alive. He could have killed her, but he did not and that means there's a reason for it. Her muscles tighten, preparing to flee or to fight - not sure which yet. There's silence as the two opponents evaluate the other before she says in a scratchy voice, "That was my favorite katana."

Wordlessly, Wolverine tosses the half-sword forward. It clatters to the floor and skids in a quick spin the rest of the distance to rest several feet from the crouching Kitty. It's only in the moments after he lights a cigarette with a worn old zippo, the flare of firelight illuminating his form more fully, that he speaks. "Piece a' shit." Indeed, he doesn't seem to have a mark on him, though the bloodstains on skin and tattered clothing— a skintight grey shirt and worn denim— suggest that wasn't always the case. Even while sparking up his smoke, the feral mutant doesn't divert his gaze from Kitty, studying her eyes, her poise, the emotions flashing behind her features with a predatory calm that's at once reserved and deadly. It would be a mistake to consider his relaxed poise indicative that he's ill-prepared.

"Let me guess, darlin'…." even with the gruff overtones of a man who she just tried to kill, there's an element to his voice that's just… tired of this shit, already. "I'm the big, bad, gaijin wolf, fuckin' up the peaceful streets of Tokyo, an' the swordmaster that made you the badass ninja you are today…" there's just a tad of lack of confidence in Kitty's skill, go figure, "He's the honorable samurai who's gonna return honor and dignity to the Yakuza before innocents get caught in the crossfire of this shitpile of a gang war." There's a pause to puff his smoke, studying the woman's reaction from beneath thick, furrowed brow. "You -have- figured out by now that th' bastard sent you here to die, right?" Can't fault his confidence.

It's only as the broken sword is tossed toward her that Kitty takes her eyes off of Logan. Unable to stop herself, she watches its trajectory until it finds its landing place and the echo of the clanging metal rings out. However, it's not wise to not pay attention to the feral creature in the corner. So, noting where the handle is, her eyes snap back to Logan, eyes blinking and adjusting to the sudden flare of light in the dark before it recedes into a glow.

"So, you're not a murderer? A criminal? A menace?" There is no hint that his words affect her. She knows her own skill and while Logan is certainly the better fighter, it doesn't sound like she cares to defend herself. That's not what this is about.

"I'm a killer." Logan admits and clarifies readily, like it's a broad difference from 'murderer'. "An' laws are only as good as the people making 'em. Quality of people in this world, means some beg for breakin'." The analysis seems to amuse the Wolverine, a flash of tooth showing before he appends, "Menace, darlin'— that all depends who you ask." This seems to be a particular point of pride for the runty Canuck. A too audible crack of his neck to one side, then the other, succeeds another puff from his smoke.

"If yer going t' hunt and kill men like me for their demons, does a lot of good to make sure it ain't a devil whispering the targets into your ear." There's no condescension in the observation— it's laced with perhaps surprising amounts of sympathy. "Bloodlust and greed consumed Ogun years ago, lady." And there, nostalgic sorrow— he doesn't bother to bury it. "Whatever he once was, now he's something I hunt. Knows it, too— why he nursed the same ideal in you. Sure it's cracking him the fuck up right now." That hypothesis, that their lives are something to play with, something that arouses amusement, draws a firm glower from Wolverine that's not directed at anyone in the room.

"I'm not hunting you for your demons." It's a statement of cold hard fact. Kitty's anger and hatred are not reserved for Logan, though with all the things he's done, it may be easy to think that everyone is out to get him. All she adds is, her voice even and thick with conviction, "I don't want to kill anyone, but I will if I have to."

She knows the man is dangerous, and possibly even more so since he's attempting to play the sympathetic card. From his speech, she makes a decision. He's attempting to turn her or maybe just keep her to play against Ogun - which must be the reason he kept her alive. And that's not why she's here. She has other things, other people, counting on her.

Despite her wounds, she springs forward. In her jump, she snatches at the handle of the katana. There's a noticeable wince at the movement, but she doesn't stop. Instead, as soon as she has her broken weapon, she uses her momentum. With a deep breath, she keeps falling, passing right through the floor.

"Great." The monosyllabic displeasure is hardly reserved for Kitty's disappearance. There's an acerbic note of derision to it that's reserved only for himself. Sometimes, missing pieces become somewhat essential for negotiations. In this case, those talks break down in both directions rather abruptly— he's misguaged, and she misguages, and it spurs a profound sigh and shake of the Wolverine's cranium. This is punctuated by his smooth rise from the rickety wooden chair, which creaks its protest (or relief) as the surprisingly dense man rises, drawing back his breath deeply and stamping out his cigarette.

Wolverine doesn't seem particularly hurried in the process, giving Kitty those few moments of balls to the wall to get a lead on him, then he sniffs the air and follows her, taking silently to the rooftops in an attempt to get the deadly woman back in his sights— before she gets herself killed, or finds someone else she has to target at Ogun's urging. Hell, she might even lead him somewhere interesting, and he's the most curious of fellows. True fact.

Tired and injured, this is not the time or place for Kitty to take on Wolverine. It's on his turf and she's in no condition to fight more rounds with him. She'll have to rebuild her strength and attack again. But, this time she at least knows better who she is dealing with. The Shadowcat has some advantage in not having to go down stairs or find a door. Instead, she is able to just pass through the walls to find herself in an alley.

She's certainly not going to wait nor is she going to look a gift horse in the mouth when she doesn't hear the man immediately following her. Taking a steady quick pace, she keeps to the shadows, blending i as best she can. Though she doesn't know he can track her by scent, she also doesn't wish to stumble across random citizens while bloodied and bandaged.

Eventually, she makes her way to one of the more popular tourist attractions. There are enough people in Tokyo that its easy to lose yourself in a crowd, but being a Jewish girl from Deerfield makes it a bit harder to disappear. However, with a crowd of International tourists all interested in the small shops surrounding the oldest shrine in Tokyo, it may be easier.

He tracks by scent, yes— but in the heart of the big, scary city, it's hard to keep focused on just one aroma or rely on a footpath's traces to pursue his quarry. Once she's out of sight in the first place, it's only the remnants on the breeze, his own cagey sense of evasion and anticipation that keep him on the path. Once he's got a vantage point on the wily warrior woman's egress into the crowds, though? Well, it's lucky he sees like a cat, too. He keeps an eye, and often both of them, on Shadowcat as she crosses through the pedestrians, a wolfish grin playing across his lips with a degree of admiration. It's not -her- fault she doesn't know who she's dealing with; blame for that mistake rests squarely on Ogun.

Wolverine's patient, crossing rooftops and mingling with shadows amidst the open shops, moving only when he needs to to keep Pryde in view. However much she tries to hide either, the oil on the steel and the dried blood from her wounds makes picking her up the time or three she -does- make a deft move that slips his net only a matter of time and care. Bisecting her path on the way out a set of side steps leading away from the mall, he's eventually situated, leaning against a food stall with its iron curtains drawn, in a perfect position for her to happen upon him.

"Can't let you just get back t' it." He laments gruffly, somewhere near an apology— but not. "This is bigger than either of us, and whatever you think you need from Ogun, the only thing he's gonna get you is dead." If he has to yell as she runs again to make that clear, he'll do it. "If I were what he said, you'd already -be- dead." Whatever his concern, it's harder and harder to chalk it up to a need for a weapon; even one as capable as she.

It's true that Kitty's surprised to see Wolverine actually in front of her. It crosses her face for a moment before she steadies it into a more schooled expression. He also has the right of it because as soon as she sees him, she increases her pace into a run without even answering him. Though she technically doesn't have to weave through the tourists, she still attempts it. Phasing right through a group of people is a sure way to draw unwanted attention.

Even if he doesn't want her for a weapon or a bargaining chip, she still has a mission that she has to accomplish. And while he didn't kill her before, it doesn't mean he won't now. He's got the edge on her, especially while wounded.

"Damnit." Nothing's harder in his modern biz than dealing with people who don't want his help, that he can't just let go off to self-destruct. If it were just her, maybe— but who knows who else gets hurt, what else goes wrong before Kitty gets herself killed. Not Wolverine, who doesn't even have time to lament his readily approachable mug's ever-impressive ability to win friends and influence people if he's going to keep up with the spry warrioress. "I'm the only one in this city who can -help- you!" Which has the distinct tone of a barely suppressed /YOU FUCKING DUMBASS/ that's probably aborted only by his own swift footfalls.

The Canucklehead's agile, too agile for a guy his size, actually more graceful than -she- is, and even the large Japanese man who turns to try to keep him from pursuing the shocked Shadowcat can't lay a hand on him as he weaves around without missing a step. "Wouldn't chain you if I could.." he pants out in swift, steady pursuit, right on her heels this time, "But I can damn well make sure you don't sleep until you're hearin' me." Don't make him sing; you wouldn't like him when he's singing.

It may be true that Wolverine is the only person in the city who can help her, but in the way that Kitty knows it to be, the only way he can help her is by getting himself killed. She weaves one way and another, cutting between a narrow aisle between booths in an attempt gain some distance.

As Wolverine closes there's a slight whuft of displaced air before a small purple streak descends from the air. Lockheed gives a screech as he bombs down at the Canadian in an attempt to startle him back. He's not aiming to hurt or scratch at him. In fact, he didn't even breath fire. All he's aiming for is to redirect the man away from his friend.

Getting himself killed, now that's a hat trick for Wolverine under the best of circumstances. When there's shit to do? It's all but off the table. In this world, there's always more shit to do— more people piling on to that list day by day. This is proof positive of that, if nothing else. "Flamin' hell!" There's surprise at Lockheed's sudden appearance, and more than a couple gasped sounds and screeches from the nighttime tourists, as Logan reflexively rolls with and away from the impact, coming up on his feet and weaving to the side, eyes darting between the fleeing Kitty and the flying… well, dragon. "That's different." The Canuck mutters darkly, a growl sounding low in his throat amidst the words. Those intent eyes level evenly on Lockheed for a lingering moment, eye to eye, but there's even less immediate hostility from Wolverine than is exhibited by the little lizard.

"Fuck." It has the same air of derision and agitation as his initial obscenity when she ran, a hand rising to scratch at the back of his wild, windblown mane as he pauses his step, grits his teeth, and watches her flight. Terrorizing the young mutant wasn't really on his to-do list tonight, and necessity or no, it's clearly not making a bad situation better fast. When his eyes travel from the retreating Pryde to her pet dragon once more, there's fatigue there that has nothing to do with the foot chase. "I ain't the one you need to worry about…" He's said it before, if not quite so resignedly. Whether he's talking to himself, murmuring at Kitty's back, or thinks the dragon will get it, it's not really clear.

Perhaps the only indication that Lockheed understands Logan is that his own eyes reflect a bit of an apology at the motion. There is no second attack, his goal to delay the man is accomplished. Despite that, he hesitates a moment, a few beats of wings as he studies Wolverine. However, it's clear where the small dragon's loyalties lie. After the pause, he flaps after the fleeing Kitty, his mission to keep her as safe an ongoing process.

For Kitty's own progress, she does not look back. A hand curls around her side, the exhaustion and pain starting to make themselves known. Ignoring both, she pushes forward.

Eventually, she finds a hotel. Phasing through the walls into a room she knew was empty through the window, she makes for the elevator and then into another empty room. Eagerly, she throws open the window for her friend before simply lying down on the floor, panting, releasing all the fear and exhaustion she has kept in since waking up.

She doesn't have long to wait for the purple dragon to find her. Affectionately and carefully, he curls up next to her, resting his scaly head on the hallow of her throat. "Hey Lockheed," she says tenderly, reaching an arm around him. In moments, she falls into a deep sleep.

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