Wolverine--The Next Generation

Church Pew or Barstool

*The Next Day, Logan’s Point of View*

“It’s confirmed, Marissa. You and Peter are brother and sister. The DNA tests are 98 percent accurate,” Jean explained. Pete and Marissa had come in late yesterday afternoon, wanting a DNA test done on them. But when they got the results, they didn’t say a word to each other. There was definitely tension between them; or maybe awkwardness. Anyway, since they didn’t want to talk, I spoke for them. “It may just be me, but I have a hard time believing Tin Man and Metallica are brother and sister. They don’t look anything alike!”

“Logan, brothers and sisters don’t necessarily have to look alike. There are all sorts of genetic factors that are involved in the resemblance of offspring. There’s the X and Y gene from the father and the two X genes from the mother—”

“Spare me. I’ve been cooped up in here for two days. My brain can’t take it.” Jean looked at me, annoyed. I just shut up. I didn’t want a repeat of the episode we had the other day. “Anyway,” she said slowly, “you two are undoubtedly siblings. Pete, when was the last time you had contact with your parents?”

“Last Christmas, I think? I went home, but they kicked me to the curb, again.” Jean made the suggestion that they get in touch with their parents and let them know that Marissa was alive and well. Judging by Marissa’s reaction, she didn’t like that idea. She began to rant and rave, yelling to no one in particular, “There’s no way I’m going back to that hell hole! I ran away from them for a reason! They treated me like a—like a…” She stopped abruptly. “Mutant?” I suggested. She glared at me with murder in her eyes, “A monster. A freak of nature.” A single tear slid from her eye, “I gotta go.” She ran out of Jean’s office. Peter looked emotionless. His face was just blank. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to change his mind. He, too, left Jean’s office, leaving Jean and I alone. After what seemed like an eternal moment of silence, Jean said, “Logan, will you go down to the med lab with me? I need to run some tests on you. I need to gather more data on the radiation.”

“Sounds good,” I mumbled. I walked along side her down to the basement. It was quiet for the most part. Then out of nowhere, I hear Jean say she’s sorry. We stepped into the elevator and continue the conversation. “For what?”

“For attacking you.”

“Ah, it’s alright. Besides, I had it coming.” She smiled as the elevator doors slid open as we stopped at the basement. We walked out of the elevator, down the blue-grey corridor, and into the lab. The med lab has an MRI, x-ray, and a bunch of other fancy medical equipment. The infirmary has your standard medicinal supplies; syringes, surgical equipment—which I still find a little unnerving—, medicines of all kinds, and some more basic materials. Jean had me sit down on one of the examination tables. “I need to remove your clothes, Logan. I need to run some tests on you and your clothes to find out how serious this radiation is.” I started to unbutton my flannel shirt, but Jean stopped me abruptly, “No! Logan, you could compromise evidence!” I lowered my hands from the top button slowly, resting my hands in my lap. She started unbuttoned my shirt then moved around behind me, pulling the shirt down off my shoulders. She laid the shirt down beside me before moving back in front of me. “Raise your arms up.” I did as she asked before she slid my wife beater over my head and laying it on top of my flannel shirt. “Stand up.”

“What?”

“I need to take off your pants.” Oh, this isn’t good. Mentally, I looked up and said, God, I know you test me, and you do that a lot, but isn’t this going a little too far?!

I took a long, deep breath as I slid off the table, trying to fight off the… exciting situation I was in. I started playing scenarios in my head. Me and Scott trying to kill each other and me kicking his ass. Me kicking Sabretooth’s ass. Thinking of anything but Jean as she slid my belt out of the loops in my jeans. Jean had undid my jeans and pulled them off of me. I sat on the examination table as Jean took my pile of clothes and put them in a container on the other side of the room. And Rogue walks in. And I’m in my underwear! She looked at me kind of wide-eyed and said, “Are we doing experiments on Logan? ‘Cause I’d like to help.” Jean came up and wheeled me into the room with the MRI, “No, Rogue. You can’t help. I got this. But thanks.”