Author's Note: Kudos to djkauf for betaing this for me. Pic Credit: Found at Comicvine.
This story is unfinished at this point. My lack of interaction with my readers has pretty much killed my creativity across the board with all of my stories, so I'm releasing this one in hopes of reigniting the spark.

Chapter One

Previously on I Am The Night by Enemyoffun:

Location: STAR Labs, Chicago, IL

As I was flipping through the channels, the door opened and another girl came into the room. She was about my age, reddish brown hair, t-shirt and jeans. She looked out of place and as nervous as hell. She smiled at me and took a seat on the other side of the room. I watched her for a few minutes but it was clear that she was really uncomfortable. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was a Meta, too. It was the way she sat and walked, it screamed guy. It was the way she looked, too. Her clothes were a bit too tight even though they were for the proper gender and her hair was done all wrong. I felt bad for her because it was clear that she didn’t want this at all.

“Hi” I said, trying to make small talk. “My name’s Stephanie, what’s yours?”

She snorted. “Kevin…I mean, Kitty I guess.”

“That’s cute,” I said, trying to be nice. It was, too, I wish I’d thought of something that cute.

She scoffed. “My Mom’s idea.”

She shifted a bit, allowing me to see some of her ankle. It was then that I saw a purple dragon tat there. “Cool tat.”

She tugged on her pant leg but it was clear that it was just a tad short. “That’s Lockheed. He’s my school’s mascot. It was pretty cool when me and the guys got them, though it was on my arm before; I’m not sure how it got down there.”

I smiled and nodded. I decided to break the ice. “What’s your thing?”

She shrugged. “Damned if I know. Took a bad tackle in practice, knocked me out cold. When I woke up, bam, boob city. Two nights ago, I woke up underneath my bed. Then this morning I was in the basement, three floors beneath my room. My Mom freaked and brought me here. They said on the news they could help people like me.”

I nodded. We talked for a bit more. Kitty went to a school just outside Chicago or at least she did. After becoming her new self, she hasn’t been back since. Her mother was seriously considering moving, making a clean start somewhere else. Kitty said she found a brochure in the mail for some private school in Westchester County New York. She wasn’t too keen on the idea but it sounded cool to me.

And now, Chapter One of Ceiling Kitty is Watching You:

Tuesday, September 13, Year One.

When I stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of STAR Labs, I had to stop to pick a wedgie out of my butt. The weird look I got from some guy in a lab coat as he was going inside made me pause and think about what I was doing.

I guess girls don’t pick at their annoying panties like guys do.

“Something botherin’ you, bub?”

He flushed and rushed inside. I was really starting to dislike Americans. Three years ago, Mom ups and moves us to Chicago from Ontario. Everything was going fine. I even picked up football as a sport. My junior year I made starting wide receiver, then Smack Thompson nails me into the water table and rings my bell.

The next thing I know, I’m in the hospital and I have boobs, a tiny waist, a butt that you could copy and make valentines of, and my amazing wonder wand is MIA.

Then the masterminds at STAR Labs are able to diagnose something important. I’m a Meta.

DUH!

I mean seriously, after all the stories on the internet and TV about the majority of the Meta’s spontaneously changing gender, I think I figured that one out on my own without having to give a gallon of blood in the process.

Mom bumped me from the side. “Let’s go, Kitty.”

I felt like a stupid cat with that name.

“We’ve got a lot to do to get you ready for your new school.”

I caught up with her by the time we reached the car. “Mom, can we talk about this?”

She didn’t even bother looking at me. “We already talked. You don’t want to go back to your old school and we can’t move again so soon. I have a good job that I’m not prepared to leave. So, the school in Westchester is your only option.”

We got in and I did up my belt before squirming a little in the seat. The clothes she gave me were too small, but I already knew what she had in mind for alternative clothing. If I went to Westchester then I’d be in a school uniform which consisted of a skirt and those stupid girly shoes with the strap over the foot and socks that came up to my knee.

She wasn’t going to blow money on clothes that I wouldn’t wear.

“Where are we going?” I asked as she exited to the street.

“You can’t keep borrowing my things. We’ll need to get you your own essentials and we’ll have your ears pierced while we’re out.”

At my groaning she shot me a look. “You said you wanted to fit in so nobody would think you were a guy before. There aren’t a whole lot of girls running around without pierced ears, Kitty.”

I leaned on the door’s armrest and looked out the window cursing the stupid metagene and its presence in my body. I couldn’t even get a decent power. How is moving around in your sleep a power? It was totally useless.

I didn’t even rate a visit by the government liaison according to the brains at STAR Labs. They just took my picture and sent my information off.

Unless I was one of those super strong girls like Miss Mars it didn’t seem like anyone really cared too much. Sure, they went through the motions. They acted all caring and concerned that I woke up in the basement, but really, who would give a crap about that? Even I didn’t. I was saddled with a designation of a Base-Level Metahuman Variant. That meant I switched genders, and had a power that didn’t do much. I was one of the other nine percent of the Earth’s population that had what they termed nuisance powers.

So they did their tests and I answered their questions. Then with a pat on the back and a we’ll call you with the results, I was ushered out.

My new ID would be couriered to me within the next couple of days.

And so it went.

Mom was true to her word. I had all the girl niceties by the time we got back home. My very own makeup that she had already started in on the basics with, my very own tampons for that illustrious occasion, and a variety of toiletries ended the abuse. I called it my girl-kit since it fit all nice and neat into one of those smaller travel bags that wasn’t quite a suitcase.

She didn’t go all out and buy me everything a girl could ever wish for considering I would be leaving in six days. What she did buy was four sets of clothes that I could wear on the weekends. That consisted of different jeans, four warm shirts and a sweater. Anything else I needed she gave me a credit card for or I could use my own money.

By the time we made it home that night I was in full on grouch mood, my earlobes ached, and Mom wasn’t in much better mood either.

“I’m not leaving my motorcycle.”

“Kitty, you can’t take it with you. There’s no place to put it on the bus.”

“Then I’ll ride it to New York. I’m eighteen. It’s not against the law or anything.”

“We’ll talk about this later.”

“But…”

Then she left the room.

I tossed my bags on the bed and changed out of her clothes and into my own which wound up being a lot more comfortable. I grabbed my keys and helmet on the way out.

When my dad left us he also left behind a lot of his stuff, one thing of note was a classic Indian motorcycle that was supposed to be big deal. It was the first thing Mom let me sell. Anything of his that I sold, I got to keep the money, so you can imagine I went on a spree. EBay was my buddy and pal.

All the parts he collected over the years brought a decent amount, but the restored bike itself brought the big bucks. More than enough to buy my own bike that was actually new and didn’t need to be worked on every month. That’s where the Harley Softail Crossbones in blue pearl came from.

I adjusted my helmet as best as I could and took off to the dealer to buy a new one. Bad helmet fit pretty much equates to a broken neck if you wreck. Plus, if the bike was going to be my main mode of transportation then I’d need some accessories to go with it.

It was a different experience, riding with such a light body. According to the doctors, I’d lost eight inches in height and a hundred and twenty-five pounds of weight; where it all went, I didn’t have a clue. I was a lot smaller, obviously. That made controlling the turns a little different, but by the time I’d made it to the dealer I thought I had everything down pretty well.

One of the sales people met me out front and started in on their spiel thinking I was a newbie to the motorcycle scene.

“I already know what I want.”

Unlike most of the female species I know what I want when I walk into a store. The only thing that took me a little time was trying on a few items to make sure I had the right size. I wound up leaving with a sizable chunk on mom’s credit card, but I had what I needed.

All I had to decide on was which way I was going to travel next, New York or Minnesota.

Oh, right. You wouldn’t know about that just yet.

Remember we moved north of Chicago from Canada? There was a reason for that.

When Mom discovered my dad whoring around, she took up with a family friend soon after. I grew up thinking of him as my uncle. He was around a heck of a lot more than my actual dad, teaching me about fishing, hunting, and the like. He was a real outdoorsman. He was the one who taught me the basics in self-defense and using my body to its maximum potential. I owed my short stint in football to him as well.

I wasn’t a super Kung-Fu ninja or anything, but I could take a fall without injury and I could actually hit something without bruising my hand. Like I said, the basics.

Anyway, my uncle was the closest thing I had to family outside of the dysfunctional one I already had. He wanted to marry Mom, but after Dad left she didn’t want anything to do with more commitment.

That probably has something to do with why she’s so gung-ho about shipping me off to New York.

So, that was my other option. He lived in Minnesota.

~O~

“Where did you get those clothes?” Mom asked as soon as I came strolling through the door.

“If I’m taking my bike then I’ll need something to keep me warm and keep the rain off of me.”

“I thought we agreed that you weren’t taking that thing.”

She never liked that I rode a motorcycle. It was too much like my dad.

“No, you said that we’d talk about it later. I said I wasn’t leaving it here.”

“And who paid for that?”

I let my mouth drop open a little in disbelief. “Are you serious? Because of you and dad I have the genetics that changed me into this and you want me to pay for my own clothes. Sure… fine… no problem. I’ll cut you a check before I leave.”

It would dig deeply into my savings but the leathers would last a heck of a lot longer than my regular clothes. I’d worked hard the last three summers to stow away as much cash as possible before moving out after my senior year. After selling Dad’s leftovers I had about twenty-thousand put away. The bike cost me twelve. Walking away from the dealer tonight dropped it another fifteen hundred. So that left me with about sixty-five hundred.

My football scholarship was a bust because of the sex change. That meant college was a thing of the past, because I seriously doubted Mom was going to pony-up the dough.

Feeling my eyes starting to burn, I took off to my room and locked the door.

“You’re not going to freaking cry, you big baby.”

Pulling open the top drawer of my dresser I took my checkbook out and wrote the full amount I spent that night including an estimate around what she spent on my regular clothes.

“There, now I don’t owe her shit.”

I rubbed at my nose and sniffed before moving to the closet and pulling out an old duffle bag.

Slowly and methodically, I started rolling up my clothes and stashing them inside. I even changed out of the clothes I was wearing and put on the leathers, boots, gloves, and hair restraint. When I finished that I looked around my room.

Everything that was left held too many memories for who I was. Kevin Pryde was dead. All that was left was Kitty, or Katherine rather, or maybe Kathy. I hated them all. Maybe I could just be Pryde, or I could come up with a lame codename like all the other metas. Sleepwalking Girl!

I emptied my wallet into the hip purse that I bought at the dealer, slipped my phone inside and secured it.

Taking my helmet, I broke open the Bluetooth and audio accessories box and installed them inside. Testing it out, I called the number they gave me for STAR Labs and left a message for the government liaison to hold my papers until I could give them an alternate address for them to send them to.

That was pretty much it.

“Goodbye cruel Chicago.”

~O~

Mom was on her feet moments after I walked through the living room to the garage entrance.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving. You obviously don’t want me here, so I’m saving you the cost of sending me away to a boarding school so I won’t embarrass you.”

“Kitty…”

“Don’t call me that. It’s not my name.”

When I reached my bike I set the duffle on the storage rack and started strapping it down with bungee cords.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I overreacted. This is all just so confusing. One minute you’re my darling boy and the next…”

“I’m a girl with a disappointing super power and without a scholarship so that means no college. It’s all just one big disappointment, isn’t it, Mom.”

She moved in beside me and took hold of my arm. “No, that’s not it at all. You’ve always been a good boy.”

Pulling away from her, I stashed the girl-kit in the left saddlebag and then went over to the corner of the garage and retrieved my sleeping bag and camping equipment. It wasn’t much. Well, the bag was a pretty good grade. My uncle bought it for me. The tent was a simple pup, single size. That one fit in the right saddlebag along with the working contents of my hiking backpack. It wasn’t much, but I could spend a few days camping in a state park instead of paying for a motel if I needed to.

“Please don’t go. Don’t worry about the money. It doesn’t mean that much to me. I was just shocked.”

Speaking of which, I reached down and unzipped the waist purse and pulled out the check and her credit card. “Here. This is for the money I spent tonight and for the clothes and stuff you bought me. We’re square; I don’t owe you anything and you don’t owe me anything.”

~O~

She didn’t take the check, so I dropped it on the floor, put my helmet on and left. I was so tired of all the game playing and the manipulations. It all started when my dad left and it’s been going on ever since. Usually it was less obvious than what went on that night, but it’s taken me a couple of years to grow up a little and figure things out.

Needless to say I was annoyed, feeling betrayed, and to top it all off I was feeling sorry for myself.

When I reached the interstate it was already full dark and I turned north ready for my long ride to Minnesota.

Just in case you’re wondering, extended trips on a motorcycle is a little rough on the butt. I had a full seat and it was pretty comfortable for the first two hours, but after that, even the extra cushion I grew when I turned into a girl didn’t help.

I made regular stops just to walk around and work out the kinks, but after some trucker guy took an interest in me during my last rest stop, I confined my down time to gas stations. As Kevin I could have kicked his ass from here to next Sunday, but in my current body I probably couldn’t put up much of a fight. That gave me even more reason to visit my uncle. I seriously had to learn how to defend myself with no height, no weight, and no muscle.

When I made it to Duluth I pulled off into the first Motel 6 I could find. I was in no mood to pitch a tent and I wanted a shower big time. After an argument with the desk clerk about how my status changed so I didn’t have a current ID, his wife came out seeing me in tears and smacked him on the back of the head.

I had a key in my hand thirty seconds later.

The shower was sublime. I let the hot water pound on my back and butt for what had to be thirty minutes. Then I dried off and slipped between the sheets until late morning.

When I woke, it took me a few seconds to remember what had transpired over the last twenty-four hours. A glance at the clock told me that I had three hours until checkout time. That left me plenty of time to get ready.

Believe it or not, I still had yet had the peace and privacy to really look at myself after the change.

Mom took the week off to annoy the heck out of me. It seemed like I was allowed a certain amount of time in the bathroom after a shower and if I went over then she was knocking at the door wondering if I was okay or what I was doing.

I couldn’t exactly say, “I’m checking myself out, Mom. Can you give me a couple of hours?”

Even at night she had the room across from mine so if I had my light on when she went to bed she’d knock again.

That didn’t mean I hadn’t seen everything. I even tried out a few things under the covers with the lights off on the second day. That was a trip and a half. Things were a lot different girl-wise than they were boy-wise, but I guess that’s obvious.

What I’m getting at is I just never had the time to really explore this new metagene-changed body at length.

I didn’t bother with nightclothes of any type since I was by myself. For the last few days I used my football jersey. It was gigantically big and the collar hung halfway down my arm on one side, but it also hung over my butt by a goodly amount too. If I were still a guy and saw me in it I probably would just throw myself on the bed and well…

Anyway.

Standing in front of the large mirror over the sink I looked at myself, I mean really looked. Everything was simply cute. My hair was kind of flat, but the reddish-brown made it cute. Mom had it up in a high ponytail the first day, which looked… you guessed it, cute.

My hazel brown-green eyes looked greener in the buff. My nose was tiny and pert and my lips were full but not really puffy full, just cute.

I’m a small B-cup in case you were wondering.

My sexiest feature was my butt. There was no way around that one. It wasn’t all bubbly but it was shaped really nice. The legs were just average looking. Nothing was overly muscular. I was soft.

All of my football training was gone. I’d be lucky if I could bench sixty pounds let alone the hundred and sixty I averaged in training. I had a lot of work ahead of me if I wanted to make the most of myself in the future.

A casual brush of my hand against my legs let me know that they needed to be shaved.

Mom wasn’t wrong when she said I didn’t want people to know that I was a guy. I mean how embarrassing is that? So she gave me a rundown on what life was like in girl-land. That included a lesson in leg shaving, nail maintenance, hair care, and skin care. We hadn’t gotten to makeup yet. Plus, I had already forgotten half of what she said about the other stuff.

I sat my naked butt down on the edge of the bed and thought about what Mom had actually done for me over the last couple of days and then how I treated her when she finally spazzed. Throughout it all she remained calm and collected while I was the one freaking out.

I palmed my face and hunched over. “I served her a nice big piece of ass-pie complete with a side of chilled sarcasm. She takes a week off from work and holds your stupid inconsiderate hand through all of this then when she finally has her own little breakdown you abandon her. You’re a class act, bub.”

Looking at the very small set of dresser drawers, I spotted my cell phone which I turned off the precious night. I sighed and steeled myself for what I was about to do.

“Kitty!” She sounded frantic.

“Hey, Mom.” Me, not so much.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything? I can come get you. Where are you at?”

“I’m fine. I’m at a Motel 6 in Duluth.”

She was silent for a few moments. “I’m sorry about how I reacted.”

“Me too,” I said. “I was just sitting here thinking about how you haven’t… I mean… you kept it together for me and I go off on you. It wasn’t really fair to you. I’m sorry.”

Aww hell, she’s crying.

“Mom, don’t cry.”

“I thought you left for good, Kitty. I’m entitled to cry a little.” She got herself under control and cleared her throat. “Are you coming back home?”

It was me that gave an uncomfortable pause this time. “I thought I’d go visit…”

“Oh,” she said. “I know you’ve been writing. Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh. I mean school’s blown for me. I was thinking about just getting my GED and then getting a job somewhere.”

She didn’t waste any time replying. “You can get a job right here in Deerfield and when you’re ready, I’ll pay for your college. I still have a few connections. I’m sure I could get you into U of I. You can live here with me and we can save on dormitories and meals. Honey, come home.”

I was gritting my teeth trying not to cry. There were some serious downsides to being a girl. I’ve cried more in the last four days than I had in my entire lifetime.

“I need some time to get my head together, Mom. That’s why I came up here. You know he was always good at getting me to focus.”

We spoke for a little longer, but it was just more of the same. Eventually, I told her I had to shave my legs before they kicked me out and she reluctantly let me go.

Shaving is kind of cathartic if you do it right. As a guy, give me three or four minutes and I was clean and slapping on some after-shave before heading out the door. As a girl, I sat on the edge of the tub and concentrated solely on the long smooth strokes, a casual cleaning of the blade in the water and two taps to shake it out, then again and again.

At the end, I cleaned up a little in the mid-section and then rinsed. I did remember to put some lotion on so my skin wouldn’t dry out. That was easy enough to transition from my male side. Instead of after-shave, there was Japanese Cherry Blossom lotion. It was the only scent that didn’t make me think of femininity, although it was pretty feminine.

I gave makeup a shot. I mean how hard could it be?

~O~

“Oh, honey you really did used to be boy.”

All I wanted to do was turn my room key in and thank them for letting me stay without a major hassle, but one look from the lady and she had the most pitying face imaginable.

“What?”

“Your makeup, sweetheart… it’s…” she cringed apologetically. “Not good. Arthur, get your butt up here and watch the front.”

She held her hand out to me and said, “Come on honey. Get your makeup and come back inside. I’ll help you out.”

Oh, God. I knew it. I look like a hooker.

After making sure Arthur would watch my bike I grabbed my girl-kit and wormed my way behind the counter where the lady waited.

“Inside there and wash off everything.”

“Is it really that bad?” I asked.

She didn’t answer. “Go… wash.”

I looked in the mirror, grimaced and then got busy. It took me a good five minutes to get everything off before I returned and sat down. She already had every set out for me.

“I’m Lucille, sweetie.”

“I’m K… Kitty or Katherine, whichever, I guess.”

I got the pity look again. “What did your name used to be?”

“Kevin.”

Lucille patted the chair beside her. “Well, I think Kitty fits you just fine. I’m going to write all of this down as I talk you through that way you’ll have a reference when you do it for yourself, okay?”

I nodded eagerly. “That’d be great.”

Thirty minutes turned into an hour while she showed me what everything was and its purpose. Then I did it all while she supervised. At the end, I looked totally different.

“There, you see how your lipstick doesn’t scream out at the world, and only accents your face?”

I nodded.

“Save this one for when you have a sexy red dress and you’re ready to seduce some lucky… uh…”

I shook my head. “I think it’ll be a while before I’m that far along.”

Lucille patted my shoulder. “That’s probably for the best, honey. You need to watch yourself. You’re the one that would carry the baby for the next nine months. You should think about proper birth control.”

I swallowed and then choked out, “Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

Barring divine intervention I didn’t think that would ever be a problem.

Once I loaded everything back up, she kissed me on the cheek and wished me luck.

“Twelve-thirty,” I said to myself as I pulled out of the parking lot. “Two hours to the turn off and then the fun begins.”

~O~

About half-way there, in a little town called Silver Bay, I spotted a billboard for Academy Sports. Then my mind tweaked to what I was going to be asking my uncle to do. I pulled off and found a parking spot close to the front door then did a little more shopping before hitting the road again.

Lutsen was the turnoff into Superior National Forest. He had a cabin, or so he said. The directions were fairly simple. He had sent them one time when I thought we were going to go for a visit, but had to cancel at the last minute. I was really pissed at Mom for that, but now that I was older I kind of knew why she didn’t want to go.

She didn’t want to be the little woman. Living in the middle of nowhere didn’t appeal to her, even if she was in love with the guy that wouldn’t leave it.

Once I spotted the General Store I took the next right and started climbing. The paved road ended after four miles and it turned into a wide single lane road that looked like it saw more foot traffic than anything else. Another three miles and I slowed to look for one of those decorative clay suns hanging in a tree then I took that immediate left. It was another two miles until the road turned into a pathway. I wound up praying that I was going the right way.

I’d really hate to wind up some freaky teen horror movie with a family of inbred cannibals.

The pathway ended into a wide clearing and a very well built natural log cabin. The rumble of the Harley sounded really loud until I braked and killed the engine.

I watched the front of the cabin and waited for him to come out, but there wasn’t any movement.

“Great. He’s probably not even here.”

I undid the chin strap and pulled the helmet off then I popped open my jacket. It was warm enough on the road, but sitting still it became hot. Kicking out the stand, I got off and set the helmet down and stripped the jacket off. That left me with a blue camisole and my leather riding pants.

“You lost?”

I spun around and saw him standing there in a pair of tight jeans and a white, but somewhat sweaty wife-beater shirt, carrying a really big double-bladed axe.

Something deep down in me stretched and extended its claws before it started purring.

Whoa.

He was totally different. When I last saw my uncle — who’s not really my uncle — he was graying on the sides above his ears and while he was muscular, he wasn’t a freaking tank like the guy standing before me now. He looked my height, but that was made up for with a barrel-sized chest and arms the size of my legs… put together.

“I said are you lost. You alright, girl?”

I nodded. “Can we talk for a minute?”

He looked at me and raised an eyebrow, totally confused. “Uh… sure. He motioned with his left hand and I smiled at the ever-present cigar between his fingers. “There’s some chairs on the porch. Help yourself. You thirsty?”

I nodded again and smiled. “Anything’s fine.”

He grunted. “I’ve got beer, bottled water, and coffee, and you don’t look old enough for beer.”

Shaking my head I said, “I’m eighteen. Water is cool.”

He popped his cigar between his teeth. “I’m Logan.”

My grin almost felt like it was going to split my face. “I’m Kitty.”

His lips twisted ever-so-slightly with a smile. “Let’s get you that water and you can tell me what brings you up to chat.”

When he approached I saw his nostrils spread out a little like he smelled something. He got an odd look in his eyes and then escorted me up three steps to a homemade looking rocking chair.

“I’ll be right back.”

I played for a small while, rocking back and forth, feeling free for the first time in a while. When the door opened I stopped and took the offered bottle to quench my thirst.

“You remind me of someone.”

Giving him inquisitive eyes I stayed silent.

“You’re a metahuman,” he said.

I almost spit my water right out. Instead, I swallowed and asked in disbelief. “How?”

“Kevin?”

My mouth dropped open. There was no freaking way he could know who I was.

“Did Mom call ahead?”

He grinned and twisted the cap off his beer before leaning back to take a long swig. I watched his throat muscles working, emptying half the bottle before coming up for air.

“No phone. It’s your scent.”

I sniffed and then lifted my arm to see if I reeked. “I don’t stink.”

Logan shook his head. “You smell like your mother a little. It’s different, but it’s her all the same. Plus, I saw the Illinois tag on your bike and you’re eighteen. Not to mention you walk like a guy.”

Dammit! I thought I was getting better at that.

“When did it happen?”

I frowned. “Four days ago. I took a bad hit at football practice, woke up in the hospital like this.”

He winced a little for my benefit, I’m sure. “Tough break.”

I watched him take a more reasonable sip off his bottle before getting to the meat of the conversation.

“Uncle Logan.”

He groaned. “God kid, don’t call me that anymore. Just Logan is fine since I’m not really your uncle.”

I smiled and ducked my head. “I was wondering… I mean I know it’s kind of short notice and all…”

“Does your Mom know you’re here?”

I blinked at the interruption. “Uh, yeah.”

Then came the dubious eyes.

“Really. I called her from Duluth this morning and told her where I was going.”

“So you took off on her.”

With a shrug I concentrated on the bottle in my hands. “We got in an argument, but we’re cool now. I told her I wanted to see you and…” my voice kind of trailed off at that point.

“What did she say to that?”

“She asked me if I was sure.”

He grunted again. “She tell you about me?”

Looking up at him I watched as his blue eyes bored their way into me. “What do you mean?”

With a final pull off his bottle he leaned forward. “I’m a mutant too, or a metahuman, whatever you want to call it. We called it mutant back in the day.”

I snapped my fingers. “That’s why you look so different now! You got younger and you’re so big.”

Logan chuckled. “I got big because I built this entire place alone, from scratch. I’ve been this young for a while now, ever since I turned twenty-one.”

That kind of confused me a little, making me wonder when he turned twenty-one. “Do you have a power?”

His face turned distant as he looked down at his bottle. “Healing. It’s hard for me to really be hurt, plus a few extras.”

I deflated and leaned back in my chair. “You have more than one power?”

“Enhanced senses: smell and hearing mostly. I can see a little better than most people at night.”

“I sleepwalk.”

His eyebrows bunched up like he was asking if I was kidding.

“I shit you not. It only happens when I’m asleep. One night I woke up under the bed and the next night in the basement. So don’t feel bad. Your powers could be worse.”

Logan chuckled a little and then it looked like it was turning into a full blown belly laugh except he didn’t possess any sort of belly whatsoever. He got up and went back inside while I finished my water. When he came back out he handed me another bottle and in addition to that, a single beer.

“Just one. I think you earned it.”

I took it from him and struggled with the cap in frustration.

“Here.” He took it from me and twisted the cap off like it was nothing.

“Man, being a girl sucks sometimes,” I said.

“It’s not what’s on the outside that counts, half-pint.”

I emptied a mouthful of dark beer into my mouth and swallowed against the bitterness. Apparently my taste for beer had changed, but I welcomed it just the same.

“So, is this a just a friendly visit or did you need something?” Logan asked.

“I’m soft again,” I said with annoyance.

He looked me over with a critical eye. “You know what you’re asking? It’ll be just like starting from the beginning. Girls don’t muscle up like guys do, which means that you’ll have to work twice as hard.”

I nodded.

“I’m not gonna take it easy on you just because you’re a girl now. I’ll tell you what to do and I expect it will be done before you stop. If that means a little ache or a little blood then so be it. No whining.”

“I remember.”

Logan grinned with a feral look on his face. “No, you really don’t.”

I stood up and handed him my partially empty beer. “Where do I start?”

~O~

He allowed me time to haul my stuff inside the one room cabin while he set up a foldaway cot for me. I changed into a pair of Under Armour workout stretch shorts and a sports bra. When I stepped back outside he was puffing away on his cigar and handed me his axe.

“About thirty feet behind that tree line is where I was working. Finish the lot then find me. I’ll be behind the cabin.”

The axe must have weighed ten pounds by itself, but I lifted it without showing any strain. I wasn’t that weak. When I saw what I’d be chopping I nearly got back on my bike and left. Instead, I slipped on my workout gloves and wrestled what had to be a sixty or seventy pound hunk of tree in place and started chopping.

It was pathetic. I was pathetic.

For those of you that have never tried it, chopping and hauling wood is probably the most strenuous workout you could devise. You use virtually every muscle in your body; believe me, I know.

After the first five hours Logan came by with a bottle of water and I nearly emptied it in one go.

“Not bad for thirty minutes.”

I choked on the water and wound up coughing half of it back out. The tips of my fingers were already red and a little swollen and I had various cuts on my legs and forearms from splinters.

He smacked me on the center of my back. “You’re doing good, half-pint. Keep it up.”

My muscles were already screaming at me to give up and crawl back to the bike, but my brain pushed me further. Just one more log. Just one more log.

When it started becoming hard to see I looked up into the sky, though the branches of the trees, and wondered exactly how long I’d been out there. My arms were like rubber; I could actually feel what muscles I had, vibrating with overexertion.

Just one more. Just one more.

I tried lifting the ten pound axe again, but I couldn’t make it budge. For the last thirty minutes I was lucky if I even hit the log let alone hit it in the right place. I was kind of surprised that I hadn’t chopped my foot off to tell the truth.

That’s pretty much when my knees said, screw this, and I felt them give out. Before I hit the ground something scooped me up. It was probably an angel that had come for me. My heart probably gave out and I was being dragged off to my final judgment. I hope I wore clean underwear.

“I’m sure your underwear is just fine, kid.”

I couldn’t even open my eyes, but the angel sounded just like Uncle Logan.

“I’m not your uncle and I’m sure as hell not an angel.”

The sounds of my boots hitting the ground preceded the shower running a second before I got tossed into it. My eyes flew open and I screamed high and loud at the cold water slamming onto my body.

“Logan!”

“Ten minutes to dinner. You don’t make it to the table by the time it’s set then you don’t eat.”

I tried scrambling up, but I slipped and hit the floor. “Oww!”

“That’s gonna leave a mark.”

“Asshole!”

He turned around chuckling as he walked away.

Cold water showers, of course, and he didn’t even have so much as a curtain. The soap looked homemade.

“Who makes their own soap?”

“Eight minutes!”

All modesty aside I soaped down and rinsed off. I’d have to wash my hair properly the next day. Thankfully, he left me a towel which I only halfway dried off with before wrapping it around me and sprinting back inside to my pack to retrieve a pair of panties and my football jersey.

Looking up I saw Logan had his back to me at the stove, so I slipped on the clothes and made it to the kitchen as he was spooning something into a bowl.

“What’s that?”

“Deer stew. Make sure you eat all of it.”

He turned to hand me the bowl and saw what I was wearing. I think I caught him off guard. My hair was still dripping onto the jersey making it a little wet and my legs were bare and smooth from my morning shave. All humor aside, it made me happy that I’d rendered him speechless.

I took the proffered bowl and a wedge of homemade bread then went to sit down.

Within ten minutes I was mopping up the last of the stew with the bread and making yummy sounds.

“That was really good, Logan.”

He grunted and kept his eyes averted. “Get some sleep. Don’t eat anything for breakfast; we’re running tomorrow morning. Eat after.”

I nodded and didn’t argue. Sleep sounded like the best thing imaginable.

~O~

“Oh, God. I’m gonna die,” I whispered to myself after the first five hours of running through a well-worn path in the woods.

“Pick it up, kid. We’ve only been running for thirty minutes. This is just a warm up.”

I woke up that morning with only moderate aches. It was surprising until Logan told me that most mutants — his word for metahumans — had a moderate healing ability and to count myself lucky. At the moment I felt like I was going to…

“Blaaaarg!”

My stomach was cramping and rolling as I had to stop and vomit to the side of the trail.

After I was through, he was behind me holding a bottle of water. “Here wash your mouth out and then take one small sip, no more.”

I followed directions and he shoved the water in his pack.

“Just one more mile. Just one more mile.”

“I think it’s more like five.”

“Shut up, Logan. Just one more mile. Just one more mile.”

TBC...

Your comments, critiques, observations, etc. are welcome.

Author's Note: Kudos to djkauf for betaing this for me. Pic Credit: Found at Comicvine.
This story is unfinished at this point. Thanks for all the comments, reviews, etc. I was able to finish the 4th chapter in this story. So we've got that much at least.

Chapter Two

Friday December 16, Year One

“Rise and shine, cupcake.”

I groaned. “Five more minutes.”

“Museum opens in three hours. You coming or what?”

Cracking one eye I looked up at him from my cot. “What museum?”

“Get dressed in your leathers. We’ll talk over breakfast.”

Tossing the cover off, I sat up. “You cooking?”

“Yeah, I’d rather not have food poisoning, not that I wouldn’t get over it quick enough, but it’s the cramps I can’t stand.”

“Ha… ha…. Ohh,” I faked my laugh. “Stop, you’re killin’ me.”

Logan had already made it to the kitchen portion of the one room cabin while I was digging in my pack. Storage room was at a minimum; that’s why all my clothes were still in the duffle bag. Leather was supposed to breathe or else it gets funky and grows this white stuff on the outside. I have no idea what it is; don’t ask.

Slipping them up my legs, I relished the feel of the soft processed animal hide. Over the last three months I’d only worn them a few times to go to the store for some more clothes and to the post office to get my new ID.

The wood chopping was paying off in spades. Even as a guy I’d never felt so good. While I wasn’t bulky, I had definition again and my stomach was as hard as a rock. It really didn’t take long for the daily workouts to produce effect. I was only soft, I wasn’t flabby, so Logan had me doing muscle and stamina building exercise/work tempered with katas after the first month.

He was big on Japanese martial arts, owned one of those katana’s and everything. He would never let me touch the thing. I tried once and nearly got sent home as a result. Needless to say, I just stared at it now and again ever since.

Once I had a thick red sweater and boots on I grabbed my jacket and hung it on the chair as Logan was dishing out scrambled eggs, homemade link sausage — you really don’t want to know how that was made — and filled the rest of the plate with hash browns.

I poked the sausage to the side of the plate and he frowned at me.

“That’s good deer meat. You need your protein.”

“If I have any more protein I’m going to start growing hair on my chest. I need carbs. I have no fat on me.”

“Eat and I’ll pick up some bran muffins on the way back.”

My eyes darted up at him. “With blueberries?”

He dropped the skillet on the table and sat down. “Eat.”

I cut the sausage in three pieces and added a lot of hash browns and eggs on top before taking a bite.

“Why are we going to a museum?”

I watched as he swallowed an entire link. He may have chewed enough to break it in half. It was hard to tell with him.

“Have to check on something. I donated something to them and every three months I check to make sure it’s still displayed as promised.”

That kind of shocked me. “You actually have something a museum would want?”

“I have hidden depths.”

With a shrug I dug in and finished breakfast. After I brushed my teeth, I sat down and tried to put on a little makeup. Lucille’s instructions were a big help and since I only put it on a couple of times when I went to town, I still wasn’t very good at the process.

“What are you doing?”

Waving a tube of mascara at him I said, “Putting on makeup. I need the practice.”

He shook his head in confusion and went to his dresser to get ready. Over the three months I’d seen Logan with his shirt off more times than I could count, but I was still frozen in time whenever he took it off. After the first month, when I wasn’t in so much pain at the end of the day I figured out that I was attracted to him.

You’d laugh at the thoughts that ran though my head during that week. Most of them ran along the lines of, was I gay? It didn’t matter that he was probably twenty years older than me; whatever his metagene did, it gave him a youthful look, only a handful of years older than I was. I guess that was enough.

The remaining two months I spent dealing with that revelation. I know he’d never go for me. I mean he had sex with my mom. How freaky would that be for me to do that same? Not to mention I still wasn’t on the pill and I seriously doubted Logan was a condom type guy.

In case you haven’t noticed it yet, the man can literally live off of the land. He only goes to the general store for some staples and the occasional pallet of eggs. I mean, who really makes their own flour? Nobody. While he did have a garden for vegetables mostly, there’s something to be said for keeping in touch with humanity.

Anyway, once he had on his flannel shirt I could breathe again.

“Stupid. He’ll never notice you. And why would you want him to? That way leads to badness, and you’re not ready for that anyway.”

“Did you say something?”

I threw a look over my shoulder. “No… I’m just… stupid eyeliner.”

“I thought that was called mascara?”

Looking at the tube in my hand, I frowned at him. “Whatever.”

Forgetting about his improved hearing I mentally kicked myself. Oh that’s another thing. His freaking senses. He can smell everything.

The first time I had my period was a nightmare.

I was running along and he stopped to check me over. I’ll never forget that day for the rest of my life.

“Are you cut?”

“What?”

“I smell blood.”

“Oh my freaking God!”

What all of this is leading to is he can tell when I’m turned on, if you get my drift? The first time I noticed it was during one of his many shirt removing episodes. I had myself a little fantasy in my head much like I did as a guy. Except girls and guys react differently. I was sitting in front of the fire and he had just come in from chopping his own cord of wood. Off comes the shirt and up pops a scene in my head where I accidently trip and fall onto him, then we kiss and a bear skin rug entered the picture, I have no idea why.

It was then that Logan’s nostrils widened and he looked right at me, hard and somewhat steamy. Then he was up and out the door a second later to take a shower.

Needless to say, I was mortified.

He hasn’t walked around without his shirt off for more than necessary ever since. Dammit.

“Do I need anything,” I said as I slipped my jacket on and made sure my hair was pinned underneath. It really saves on tangles, wearing it that way.

“No.”

I clipped my hip purse on and made sure I had my cell so I could give Mom a call. Service sucks in the forest. While I was doing so, I watched Logan take his sword off the wall and slip it into a long plastic tube that I was pretty sure was supposed to be a map holder. Then he slapped a small padlock on it and tossed the whole thing over to hang on his back.

“Why are you bringing your sword?”

“Because we’ll be gone most of the day.”

Like I was supposed to understand that and just go along like it was another one of his weird idiosyncrasies. “Oookay. Do I need to bring my Uzi?”

He looked up at me and blinked. “Do you have an Uzi?”

“No.”

“Then don’t bring it.”

~O~

Logan had his own motorcycle, and I spent most of the trip to his right and one bike length behind. By the time we entered into the parking lot of the foreign history museum, my butt was numb.

I locked my helmet down and followed him in.

“Don’t touch anything,” he said.

“Do I look like I’m five?”

He just grunted and went inside with me in his wake.

We wove through the mostly empty corridors until we reached the Japanese Hall. As you’d expect, there were a lot of swords and pointy things that you poke people with, ceremonial masks, a big red dragon’s head and lot of silk things. In other words, boring!

“Logan,” an old Japanese guy came in with a smile on his face.

I made myself busy while Logan pressed the flesh and did geeky Japanese stuff that I had no interest in. Yes, I kept my hands in my jacket so I wouldn’t touch the ancient priceless swords.

If they didn’t want anyone to touch them, I don’t know why they didn’t put up those red ropes or put the stupid things behind glass. I mean they were just asking for some preteen to come in there and try to reenact a scene from Naruto.

Looking at Logan and the other guy, I sighed. It looked like they were going to be at it for the long haul, so I tried to slowly make my way around the entire hall to keep myself occupied.

“Sword… sword… pokey thing… bamboo thing… long boring written history about something Japanese that nobody in their right mind would care about… sword… another pokey thing… freaky devil mask.”

I stopped at the freaky devil mask behind a glass enclosure and read the placard.

One fine morning, in those younger days when he still wore steel instead of a wooden sword, Myamoto Musashi came to a bridge, only to find his path blocked by another samurai. Musashi said that the way is only wide enough for one. It is only fitting that the lesser man step aside to let the better one pass.

The samurai agreed. So, if Musashi would be so kind as to do so, then he would be on his way. Musashi bowed, telling him it seems they have a difference of opinion that only their blades can settle. The samurai agreed, also bowing.

And as one with blinding speed two gleaming katanas leapt from the lacquered scabbards. For one minute, the men stood poised, their eyes locked and then they sheathed their steel, bowed and went their separate ways, never to cross paths again.

“What the heck does that have to do with the mask? Japanese people are weird.”

Leaning in, I took a better look at the mask. It wasn’t ceramic or plastic; in fact, I didn’t know what it could be made of. Since it was in a museum, it had to be old, so it probably wasn’t latex. The slightly open mouth had a set of teeth inside. The canines were enlarged and pointed, demonic looking if you will, and there were two fairly good-sized horns on the upper portion of the forehead. All of it, except for the teeth, was a uniform red.

My hand hovered in front of the glass and before I knew it, I had the mask in my grasp. It was stiff, but not hard. The inside was just as red as the outer portion.

Don’t ask me why, but I had an overwhelming urge to hold it up to my face, just for a moment.

I’m young again, no more than four or five. Master Ogun, my sensei stands in front of me, ordering me to match his movements. I do so, being clumsy but determined. Trying again and again.

Slightly older, he begins teaching me the shuriken. Again, I am not good enough, but I slowly get better. Then the bo staff and the sai.

Years stack onto years in my memory. He is standing, meditating with his sword and I sneak up behind him. As I reach out to touch, sensei turns, swinging his blade around. I become like a ghost and the blade passes harmlessly through me.

More years pass. I learn the way of concealment, espionage, sabotage, assassination, counter measures, tactics, disguises, and the ways of Kuji-kiri.

I am a young woman, standing before my master, battling him with the katana. We are evenly matched, my youth and speed countering his experience. He backs away slashing with his hand. I block the hand-seal of cutting with the hand-seal of shield then lunge.

Master Ogun stabs forward with a killing strike. I ghost through the sword and hold my katana at his neck with my own.

“Musume-san, I am proud of you.”

He calls me daughter, instead of student, for the first time.

He orders me one last time to match his movements, this time with the katana. Both of our movements match precisely as we act in perfect synchronicity. Each movement brings us closer, form, thoughts, realities flowing together, until at last, in reality there is only me.

“Kitty!”

The mask is torn away from me from behind. I grabbed the attacker’s wrist and spin around, slamming his elbow with a palm strike. Hearing a satisfying snap of cartilage indicating the dislocating of his forearm, I pulled him forward and down to deliver two knee strikes to his face.

“GRRAAAHHH!” he screamed.

He reached for me and I ghost through and behind him delivering an elbow strike to his neck, but this time he is too fast and grabs my leg to unbalance me. Instead of allowing it to happen, I jump into the air and twist around to kick him in the face with my free leg.

This only seemed to enrage him even further. Before I could ghost away again he grabbed my other leg and slammed my back onto the floor knocking the wind from me.

“Kitty, stop! This isn’t you!”

I reached for my katana strapped to my back only to find it isn’t there. His grip is like steel until I ghost through it and roll backward, regaining a proper defensive stance.

A second to measure my surroundings is all I need.

My attacker pointed his finger at me. “Don’t,” he said. Warning was in his voice, but I have been trained to ignore threats. They have no meaning to me.

I feint to the right and lunge to the left, leaping high atop one of the displays to retrieve a proper weapon. There was only time to grab one katana and dodge to the side avoiding my attacker’s weapon. I spin in the air and land in a crouch, bringing the katana to bear.

Tiger Claw is his chosen weapon, though they are unlike anything I have ever seen. Instead of the traditional three-bladed weapon held in the opponent’s fist, it seems to be coming from the fist itself.

“Kitty, don’t make me do this,” he said.

I ignore him and lunge. His blades come up in an excellent defense stopping me from getting even close enough for a crippling or killing strike.

A thought goes through my head of annoyance that I didn’t dislocate his right arm as I had originally thought, though he was favoring that side of his body. I’d hurt him, but not enough to cripple.

Ghosting through his defense I scored a hit on his left shoulder, but not deep enough. He was unnaturally fast and rolled away before I could take his arm off.

Before he could regain his footing I leaped to his right to take advantage of his weak side only to be blocked again. I realized, far too late, it was a trap. I only caught a glimpse of his fist before it connected to my face.

~O~

My jaw was throbbing when I came to on the couch in some office.

“Oww,” I whimpered as I lightly touched my jaw.

The door opened and Logan was standing there looking at me with concern and wariness all rolled up into one.

“Waa happen?” I slurred, mainly because I could barely make my mouth work.

He frowned. “What do you remember?”

I shook my head. “I was jus’ lookin’ at stuff, and now mah jaw hur’s.”

Logan took a couple of steps into the office. I could see his fists clenched like he was right on the edge about something.

“You got a power kid, and it don’t got nothin’ to do with sleepwalking.”

Throwing my feet to the floor, I sat up. Logan tensed again so I relaxed and didn’t bother standing.

“What’d I do?” My jaw hurt talking like that, but at least I didn’t sound like I’d just taken a trip to the dentist.

He grunted. “You dislocated my elbow and broke my nose.”

There were spots of blood on the front of his shirt and a good amount on his left shoulder, not to mention a pretty nice piece of his shirt missing at the same place.

My mouth opened and I stared at him.

“I told you not to touch anything. When did you know you could phase?”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“Phase… make your body move through things.”

“I…”

He looked at me and rolled his eyes. “You have no idea what I’m talking about.”

With a slow shake of my head I watched as he relaxed his hands then motioned to the door. “Come on, half pint. I’ll buy you lunch.”

When I got up, I winced a little at the pain in my back. Logan kept an eye on me as we went outside. In addition to his map carrier he had a package with him which he stored in his motorcycle’s saddlebag.

We drove to, where else, a Japanese restaurant. I hated Oriental food.

Noticed I said hated, as in the past tense?

When I got in there, the smells overwhelmed me and I had to have an order of Crab Rangoon and Eggplant with garlic sauce. And here’s the thing. I ordered it all in fluent Japanese.

“What?” I sat there looking at Logan who was eyeing me with a great amount of concern.

“When did you learn Japanese?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You just ordered in perfect Japanese with a Kōgo accent.”

I looked at him like he was crazy. “I did not. What’s a Kōgo?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Does the name Ogun mean anything to you?”

I moved to say no, but stopped myself. “Uh… it sounds familiar.”

That earned me a grunt. “He was once a samurai who made himself into a warlord. Kōgo was the region he ruled over in Japan. I assume you’ve heard of the term, Ninja?”

He had me right up until there. “You mean like short guys all dressed in black with those funky toe shoes and…”

His face screwed up. “No, I don’t mean that stupid Hollywood manufactured bull. I mean real Ninja, Shinobi.”

“Oh, yeah, I have that game on my old PS2. It’s kind of lame though. I didn’t know you played video games… or had a TV for that matter.”

“Kid, you’re killin’ me here.”

Then I saw he was serious. “You’re not bullshitting me?”

The waiter reappeared with our appetizers and I slipped my chopsticks out, attacking the Crab Rangoon.

“Ogun was around in the mid-fifteenth century. There were a lot of skirmishes and wars at the time and the local warlords were always looking for an advantage.”

He was losing me again. History was always my worst subject.

“Ogun trained a bunch of his students in combat, and spy shit. Then he hired them out to go in and burn down enemy castles. That went well, so he started training them for assassinations and so on. They were called Shinobi.”

I swallowed and sipped at my tea. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Do you remember that red mask with the horns?”

Again, I was about to say no, but I did remember. A piece of my appetizer was halfway to my mouth when I remembered sticking my hand through the display case and pulling it out.

“Oh… shit…”

I set my chopsticks on the table trying to recall more. It was just out of reach, like trying to remember something that was on the tip of my tongue, except it was on the tip of my brain.

Do brains have tips?

“What the hell was that thing?” I said.

“Ogun’s mask.”

“Oh, okay. Whew, and here I was thinking that it was one of those Japanese party favors they use for Chinese New Year celebrations.” I gave it a three count. “You want to expand on that little tidbit and maybe tell me why I have the feeling I did a Jason Voorhees? Oh, and don’t leave out the part where it’s just sitting there for anyone to pick up and have their brains scrambled.”

His lips were pursed with annoyance at me. “I’ve tried destroying it. It just comes back.”

“Did you try fire, acid, active volcanoes, the space shuttle?”

“I haven’t tried the space shuttle. Odds are it’ll come back. It’s an ancient…”

I raised a hand. “Hold on… you really tried a volcano?”

“Diamondhead, 1993. Can I continue now?”

“Not if you’re going to talk about ancient history. I just don’t have the attention span needed to follow along. Can you give me the Cliff’s Notes version?”

It looked like he pondered that for a moment before beginning. “Ogun is the Japanese version of the Dread Pirate Roberts. That mask contains his evil soul or whatever you want to call it. Someone puts it on, and after a long enough time he comes back in their body, sets up shop, and starts selling Shinobi to the highest bidder.”

The hand that was holding my tea cup started shaking. “H-how long is long enough?”

His eyes dropped down to the table. “I don’t know.”

The waiter returned but my appetite had already left the building.

“Is he inside me, Logan?”

The answer was long in coming and I patiently waited.

“A portion of him is, or else you’d never have been able to fight me. I don’t know if the mask had enough time to… I don’t know.”

I reached across the table for his Sake cup, filled it and then downed the shot. “I want to go home.”

I sounded pathetic and scared, like an eight year old that knew Mommy could make it all better.

He immediately shook his head. “I can’t let you do that. Not until I know for sure.”

I didn’t ask the next question, because I already knew the answer, and a happy ending wasn’t involved. Instead, I moved the subject along.

“How’d you get involved with this?”

Logan gave me a quirk of his lips. “I met him after a skirmish. One of his men tried to stick me in the back and Ogun killed him for his lack of honor on the battlefield. We traded words and before I knew what was happening, he was training me.”

I was somewhat surprised. “You actually knew him; the real him?”

He nodded.

“Wait a second… I thought you said this guy was around in the fifteenth century.”

“That’s right.”

My breath caught. “Exactly how old are you, Logan?”

He filled the Sake cup and looked at it for a few moments. “Old enough. Let’s get out of here.”

~O~

The two hour trip back to the cabin was a lonely affair. I led this time. I guess Logan wanted to keep an eye out on me to make sure I didn’t run off and start a secret ninja school in Idaho or something. That left me plenty of time to think about the whole he’s older than dirt scenario.

I wondered about his healing ability, if that was the cause.

From what I remembered, Logan looked pretty much the same as he did when I knew him in Canada, in the face I mean. He was obviously a lot bigger, muscle-wise. The only thing I remembered that changed was his hair, and how simple would that be to run a few comb-fulls of bleach or white shoe polish or something in there to make it look like he was aging.

Maybe that’s why Mom couldn’t stay with him.

Maybe that’s why he lives in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe that’s why I would never have a chance with him.

I closed my eyes briefly, chastising myself for thinking about him in that way again. It was like I was a stupid lovesick teen girl. All I needed was the heaving breasts and the cliché would be complete. Being a chick sucked.

So here I am, a recently transformed metahuman who might or might not be possessed by the spirit of some whacked out ninja wannabe. Why not go for the Murphy’s Law trifecta and throw in something that will cap off a perfectly screwed up life?

What could top those two?

~O~

“Go meditate,” he said after I changed out of my leathers.

“Why?” I normally don’t question Logan when he gives me something to do. There’s usually a purpose behind his activities. Considering what happened, I thought we’d sit down and talk through this thing.

Thankfully he didn’t give me any grief for asking like he normally would.

“Because, if Ogun is in your head, then you need to strengthen up your mental reserves. I don’t want him gaining anymore of a foothold than he already has.”

The area in front of the fireplace was cleared since it started snowing outside. Minnesota in December wasn’t really friendly to bare skin or even light winter wear.

I went to change into my workout outfit, which was still short stretchy shorts and a sports bra, grabbed my hanbō and began going through my katas.

You may be familiar with the bo. It’s just a stick of wood about six feet tall. There are different variations, makes of wood, metal bandings and so forth. A hanbō is generally half the length. Mine was thirty-five inches long, coming up to the tops of my hips. It’s a weapon that pretty much anyone can carry with them without being arrested. Ever heard of a cane?

Granted, almost anything can be a deadly weapon if you knew how to use it properly.

I practiced with both and that was the extent of my informal weapons training. However, being inside is not conducive to training with a lengthy weapon. Hence the hanbō.

Normally, I warm up and then begin my kata. There are only sixteen movements at the start. I still hadn’t gotten the first form down without mistakes and until I did, Logan wasn’t going to teach me anymore. The man was severely anal about his martial arts.

After the warm up I centered myself and tried to blank out my mind so there wasn’t anything to think about except for my lesson. It’s harder than you think. I was painfully aware of Logan’s movements throughout the cabin, even though my back was to him. Not to mention all the crap that went on in Duluth was weighing on my mind. I began anyway.

By the time I’d entered into the third movement I felt a lot more centered and I was able to push away the events in the city. By the time I entered the sixth movement, Logan wasn’t a distraction anymore, even though I still knew exactly where he was standing. By the ninth movement there was nothing but me and my hanbō.

The movements felt fluid, one moving into the next with no effort beyond what I put into them. When I felt the end approaching, I concentrated on searching for the bad guy in my head. Not that I had any idea what I was doing, but what would you try in my place?

I tried opening my senses and looking in the darkness, standing in the museum staring at the red mask and my hand reaching through the display case to pull it out.

Flashes of holding a pair of Sai entered my head and then after that, throwing a handful of Shurikin. Throughout it all I never saw a face to put to the bad guy. Wielding a wooden practice sword was next.

“Kitty.”

My eyes snapped open. Logan was standing behind me and there was a faint smell of blood in the air.

Slowly turning my head, I saw him out of the corner of my eye.

“What’d I do wrong this time?”

It was traditional for Logan to point out bad positioning or a skipped movement. It’s how I learned.

“Nothing. Tell me what you just did.”

His voice was even and concerned, much like it was in the office when I woke up to a severely bruised jaw… which didn’t hurt so much anymore.

“Uh… the sixteen movements of the first form and then I went searching for Ogun. I remember a little of the training, but I didn’t see him personally.”

There was an unfamiliar sound, kind of like a snick. I couldn’t place it quite right.

He grunted. “You did all nine forms without a single mistake, and then some glowy thing at the end.”

My stance was still. I hadn’t moved since I’d turned my head. Since I only knew the first form, performing all nine was kind of freaky and worrying.

“Are you going to kill me now?” I almost whispered.

“No. You held it together. Dinner’s ready. Eat and get some sleep. Tomorrow I’m going to see exactly what Ogun put in your head.”

~O~

I either didn’t dream or I don’t remember doing so. Logan had me up right before the break of dawn, dressed, and eating breakfast. Inside, in front of a newly stoked fire, I spent a lot longer than I should have showing Logan my knowledge of unarmed combat styles.

He’d tell me to do something in Japanese and I’d either immediately know how to do it or he’d start showing it to me and I’d finish the movement.

All told, I knew and could flawlessly perform twenty-seven katas of Shōtōkan-ryÅ« Karate, an untold amount of Pre-World War II Aikido — apparently there’s different kinds and I knew a crap-load of them — and lastly, the nineteen Bugei JÅ«happan which was some sort of samurai fighting art skills which were adopted and corrupted by Ogun for his super-secret Ninja school.

According to Logan, I had more than a lifetime of martial arts knowledge downloaded into my brain. All of this was from putting a red mask on my face for an untold amount of time. Aren’t I the lucky one?

The one thing I didn’t like was the grim look on his face throughout the day. Every time he thought I wasn’t watching, I saw his jaw tightening and his fists clenching.

By day’s end I was told to go shower and start on dinner. I kept an eye on him sitting out on the porch smoking his cigar and nursing a beer. It looked like he was talking to himself every once in a while. It made me wonder exactly how much time I had left.

What do you do in a situation like this?

I could run, but if Ogun was really stuffed in my head, did I want to unleash him on the world?

Should I just grab that katana hanging over Logan’s bed and finish it myself?

Dinner was a somber affair. We ate our salads and the grilled deer meat. Logan drank three beers. I had bottled water.

When I was finished, I pushed away from the table and sat there staring over Logan’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you just do it and get it over with?” I asked. “We both know I’m fucked.”

I caught him in mid-swig. He stopped and looked at me, then set his bottle on the table.

“Because I ain’t seen no sign of him.” He picked up his beer by the neck and pointed a finger at me while he stood. “And I don’t want to hear you talkin’ like that anymore.”

When he gathered the empty bowls, I looked up at him. “What about at the museum?”

He shook his head. “That was different.”

“How?”

He walked away from me, toward the kitchen. “It just was.”

“Don’t you think I have a right to know?”

“It won’t help.”

I hated it when he started his short answers BS. It meant that I was getting shut down. This time was different; it wasn’t some need-to-know-secret that I didn’t need to know.

“It’ll help me understand. I need to understand. Who was this guy? Why is he evil if he taught you? Why is he stuck in a mask and gets his jollies from making more evil ninjas?”

My voice started cracking at the end. “Why won’t you look me in the eyes anymore? Am I that disgusting?”

The bowls clanged around and I watched as Logan gripped the edge of the sink, squeezing the wood until I heard it groan under the pressure.

“I’m ashamed of myself, okay!” he snapped. “I should have warned you. Even if I thought it was safe enough behind the spelled glass, I should have warned you to stick next to me. It’s my fault.”

I jumped when his bottle went flying and crashed against the wall. He turned to me and I could see the anguish in his eyes.

The thought never occurred to me to blame him for what happened. Logan had never raised his hand to me in anger. Sure, he chewed on my ass every once in a while when I did something I wasn’t supposed to, but I considered that natural. The thought that he would knowingly hurt me before that day was a foreign concept.

“Logan…”

He shook his head and walked determinedly to the front door, grabbing his jacket along the way. “I’m going hunting. Don’t wait up.”

When the door closed I sighed and ran my hands through my hair.

“It’s not your fault,” I said to nobody.

~O~

It had to be three degrees outside and Logan wanted to go hunting. I lay in my cot, staring at the fire, wishing he’d show up so I could let him know I didn’t blame him for what happened, but he was likely to be gone for most of the night. Even in freezing temperatures he liked to run around in the middle of the night chasing deer. How he caught and killed them without any sort of weapon or trap I had no idea.

Just as I’d finally given up hope he’d return, my eyes went from half-hooded to wide open.

Something wasn’t right.

I looked at the front door for a moment and then threw off the covers. All I was wearing was my football jersey and a pair of panties as I sat up and stretched out my senses.

The only thing I heard was the crackling of the fire, but something still felt really off, like I wasn’t alone.

“Logan?” I whispered.

No answer.

I grabbed my warm up pants and slipped them on before picking up my hanbō.

Without moving the curtain, I peeked out the back. Nothing. My next trip was to the front door, avoiding two floorboards that I knew squeaked when pressure was put on them. Again there was nothing, but I knew something was out there.

I stepped into my bunny slippers that Logan thought would be a funny gift the last time he went into town, then I opened the door.

The night was very still, with no wind and no snow. Taking a step out onto the porch I looked out over the forest. There wasn’t much to see in the black of night since there was only a half moon and its light was filtered through the trees.

“Who’s out there?”

My voice sounded strong, but I was shaking inside.

In response I heard something whirring through the air. The hanbō was up in a quarter of a second, vibrating slightly as two throwing stars imbedded themselves in the shaft.

I saw something green and fluid on the points which I somehow recognized as poison.

“Seriously?”

Before anything else was sent flying at me, I jumped inside and slammed the door, dropping the two by four across the middle to make sure it didn’t open for anyone but me. Turning around, I raced to the back and did the same there.

I looked at the hanbō and tossed it aside. “Screw this.”

Three steps later, I jumped on Logan’s bed and grabbed his katana, unsheathing the blade.

Giving it a twirl to get the feel of the balance, I was impressed. It felt so incredibly right in my hand.

Besides the two doors, there were two windows and there wasn’t much I could do about them at the moment so I hopped down off the bed and stood in the middle of the cabin with the katana in the ready position.

Slowing my breathing was the first order of business. Panicking would get me dead. I reached down underneath the fear that was making itself known and found the calm that had been taught to me.

“Center yourself, Kitty,” I whispered.

Once I was collected I reached out again and listened. Something was running across the ceiling. It sounded like a squirrel, but I knew better.

“If that’s you screwing with me, Logan, I am so going to kick your ass.”

Glass crashed and a small figure, dressed in black rolled to a stop on the other side of Logan’s bed. I could have sworn it was someone dressed up like a ninja.

“You’re got to be kidding me.” Taking a step forward, I kept my guard up. “You picked the wrong cabin to play ninja, bub. And you’re paying for that window.”

I saw a black blur and moved instinctively to the right, batting away three throwing spikes with the sword. Instead of waiting, I rushed him and my blade met his for a brief second before I counter attacked. Two brief flashes of metal and I opened his throat.

Bile rose up into my mouth as blood sprayed across my face.

He crumpled to the ground and I spat the acidic taste out on the floor in front of him. Without waiting around, I unsheathed his tantō, for lack of a better word, a dagger, and gripped it in my left hand.

Crossing the floor, I pushed the piece of wood barring the door and pulled it open. Holding up the tantō I extended my ring and pinky fingers.

“On jiterashi itara jibaratanō sowaka,” I said in a faint whisper.

My senses expanded outward, becoming one with the forest and my surroundings, feeling for things that did not belong; there were a lot of them.

Without waiting, I turned to the left and sprinted toward the closest one. Leaping off the porch, I met him jumping out of a tree that overlooked the cabin. It was probably how one of them got on the roof. Our blades met and I drove the tantō into and out of his chest before either of us landed on the ground.

I kept to my feet as I felt the others converging on my position. More shurikin were thrown and I ducked out of the way before three of them were upon me.

Releasing the air in my lungs I ducked under their attack and swept my katana across two of their midsections while I sank the tantō in the crotch of the third, ripping upward.

Spinning around I faded into the shadows. Ten more were in front of the cabin, frozen in place searching the tree line for any sign of me.

Raising my right hand, I extended my index finger into the air.

“On irotahi chanoga jiba tai sowaka.”

Time seemed to slow for those dressed in black while I moved forward. I could see their eyes start to track me, but they couldn’t move their blades fast enough to block me before I was upon them. I left the tantō in the first ninja’s chest and took my katana in two hands, decapitating the second, cutting open the third from shoulder to hip and disemboweling the fourth, all the moves flowing flawlessly into the next, using the minimum amount of effort need to accomplish the task.

The fifth lost his hands and the sixth actually blocked my blade a half second before I kicked him across the clearing and engaged the seventh.

Then everything started speeding back up. Sensing something behind me, I arched my back underneath the seventh opponent strike and let his blade pass harmlessly over me before three throwing spikes appeared in his chest.

“GRRAAAHHH!”

Logan exploded out of the tree line and I saw three blades appear out of the chest of my cowardly attacker as his head was twisted almost completely around.

The remaining two ninja-wannabes made a break for it and I chased them down.

“Kitty, wait!”

Not a chance. I just happen to get the gigabyte torrent of some ninja master downloaded into my head and all the sudden guys in black were attacking. It was all too convenient for me and if Logan wasn’t going to give me any answers, I’d get them myself.

Once they hit the tree line, they split up and I chose the larger one to trail. After spending three months running around those woods, I knew them like the back of my hand so I didn’t get tripped up on any felled trees or trap myself in a thicket, unlike my prey.

I heard Logan roar off to my right. Apparently he didn’t feel like leaving the other guy to his own devices. That left the last one for me.

His costume blended well with the shadows, but I already had his number. He was too close for me to lose this easy. Once he made a quick turn that lead to the thin trail approaching the cabin, I cut him off and leaped out to meet him face to face.

“What are you doing here? Who sent you?”

This one had two blades which he was wind-milling in front of him like some bad Benihana commercial in a lame attempt to confuse me.

“Seriously? I just killed eleven of your douchebag buddies and you think that’s supposed to scare me?”

“On ishanaya intaraya sowaka,” I quickly said, slashing my hand in the air across his body.

He screamed out in pain and dropped his swords. Before he had the chance to roll away, I slammed the point of my katana through his midsection and into the ground pinning him like a butterfly to a cork board.

“Who sent you?” I yelled.

I was about to jab him with a rather sensitive pressure point but white foam started coming out of his mouth and his body shuddered before going still. The scent of almonds filled the air.

“Cyanide? Are you kidding me?”

Footfalls sounded in the area. I grabbed the katana and jerked it out of the suicide and turned to face whoever thought it was a good idea to try to assassinate me.

Logan raced around a rather thick tree and slid to a stop raising his hands to me with three wicked blades coming out of each of his fists.

I dropped my guard and glared at him. “Friends of yours?”

He grimaced and the blades retracted with a snikt-snikt sound into his hands. I watched as he lowered his arms and looked down at the fallen ninja.

“Get his weapons,” Logan said.

I raised an eyebrow at him and watched as he picked the guy up and tossed him over his back.

“Come on. We need to get back before you freeze to death.”

Curiously, I wasn’t cold in the slightest, but thought it was better to be cautious at the moment. Scooping up the ninja’s two ninjatō, I trailed behind Logan until we reached the cabin and the slaughter I left behind.

He tossed the one he was carrying on the ground.

“Get inside and clean up. I’ll get rid of the mess.”

TBC...

Your comments, critiques, thoughts, pretty much anything is welcome. Well, maybe not your recipe for Crab Rangoon, but you know what I mean.

Author's Note: Kudos to djkauf for betaing this for me. Pic Credit: Found at Comicvine.
This story is unfinished at this point..

Chapter Three

I didn’t quite make it to the front porch before spotting some unknown guy’s insides spread out over his outsides. It was then that I took in the whole scene like a normal teenager who killed twelve people with a sword for the first time.

All those Saturday afternoon karate movies showed were the occasional red marks where the bad guy gets stabbed or slashed by the hero. Using real swords on human bodies was a lot messier in real life.

I held it together though. I didn’t lose my lunch and make Logan’s job that much harder; however my stomach wouldn’t quit rolling.

The guy inside was dragged out. I stoked the fire and added a couple of logs to make it blaze up to fight the approaching cold that I knew would be by at any minute.

Stripping Logan’s bed, I tossed the sheets and blanket into the wash with extra bleach before the stains set. That left me wringing out a mop for the twentieth time, and then working with a sponge to clean up the mess of the initial spray.

Blood was everywhere, little droplets of it that I had to break cleanser out to clean up because they had already dried.

After a while, the work seemed to get easier to perform. Maybe it was because there wasn’t gore everywhere anymore and it resembled dark red paint more than anything else, or it was because I was just used to it already. Maybe it was a little of both.

It wasn’t until I started sweeping up the glass that I thought we maybe should have called the sheriff, because it was a crime scene. Somehow I thought Logan might frown on my suggesting that. In all of my time at his cabin, I hadn’t seen anyone bother to come up his trail, much less law enforcement. He didn’t even have a mailbox; we had to travel into town to use a Post Office Box.

After I finished, I found Logan’s cleaning kit and got to work on the sword I borrowed, and then replaced it in its sheath above the bed before moving the bedding from the washer to the drier.

By that time, the cold started bothering me.

~O~

I think I got about thirty minutes of sleep and even then it was probably five minute spurts because I nodded off. That’s when dawn broke.

Giving up on any decent rest, I got dressed in warm clothes and prepared for a more cleanup time. Red clashes with white in case you wanted to know. Since it hadn’t snowed the night previous, the front looked like a slaughterhouse without the actual cows.

The porch was littered with weapons and tools that I was familiar with. There were even two keys, which meant that there were probably a couple of trucks or vans around somewhere.

“Did you get any sleep?”

I turned to see Logan standing at the corner of the cabin dressed only in dirty jeans and his boots, smoking a cigar.

How far had I fallen where I wasn’t immediately turned on at the sight? What a waste of a perfectly good sexually charged pose.

“No. You’ve been working all night?”

He grunted. “Big hole to dig.”

“Sorry.”

Logan pulled out his cigar and gave me an odd look. “You’re sorry that you defended yourself?”

I shrugged. “I guess there’s no really clean way of killing someone with the weapons that were available.”

With another grunt he thumbed behind the cabin. “I’ve got some Oxyclean out back. Grab a scoop and spread it over the mess.”

My eyebrows rose. “Detergent?”

“Hydrogen Peroxide in powered form. It breaks up the blood on the snow and soil. If you don’t do it now, it’ll start reeking in a few hours. I don’t need that with my nose.”

It was a five gallon plastic can of the stuff. He had four of them. What does that tell you about Logan?

When I was done with that I heard him showering in the back. I took a seat on the porch and looked at the weapons. Instinctively, I knew the ninjatō were crap compared to Logan’s katana. Those are the short and straight swords that you might have seen in karate movies. I did retrieve a tantō for my own use. It was about eight inches long.

“You don’t want anything else?”

Looking up, I saw Logan standing at the doorway with a towel around his shoulders, in a clean pair of jeans and his cowboy boots on. I shook my head.

“The shuriken are poison tipped and I’d rather buy a katana on Ebay than use a ninjatō.”

He made a noise that I associated with amusement. “I’ll find something else for you.”

“You aren’t mad that I touched your sword?”

“Under the circumstances, no.” He looked down at the weapons. “Pack up everything of yours. We’re leaving.”

I stood and gave him a penetrating look. “Where? Why?”

“They know where we’re at. That means they won’t stop coming until they get what they want. We’ll drop by your mother’s first and then there are a few people I need to talk to.”

That kind of startled me, but made sense when I thought about it. “What is it they want?”

Logan pressed his lips together like he didn’t want to say. “The mask and the sword.”

I felt a chill go down my spine. “The mask… it’s here?”

He ignored my question. “The sword was one of his making. He presented it to me when I survived his tests. It’s the only one that’s survived all these years… that I know of anyway.”

I pondered that for a moment.

“Get a move on, half-pint. We need to be on the road within the hour if we’re going to beat the storm that’s coming in.”

~O~

Once we passed Duluth the roads were less icy so we got to open up the bikes a little more.

Get this: I’m carrying the map case with Logan’s sword. I even have the key to the lock.

His reasoning was that he wanted to keep them separate and there was no way in hell I was carrying that mask after what it did to me. Plus, Logan came equipped with his own weapons; I had squat.

“Hey, Kitty,” his voice came over the mike.

Since we’d be doing a lot of traveling, I suggested that we equip his helmet with a mike that connected to mine.

“Yo.”

“I thought that dragon tattoo was on your ankle.”

Considering what skin was showing took me a moment. My sweater and jacket had ridden up and my lower back was probably showing.

“It was on my arm originally. That means it’s moved again, and I have no idea how or why, so don’t ask.”

He grunted.

Then another thought came to me. Logan was staring at my butt. A quick thrill ran through me and I might have arched my back a little more so it showed off better. It was just for a few minutes though; that position gets uncomfortable after a while.

We arrived midafternoon only stopping for gas and a very quick lunch, and once to pee. Did I ever tell you how much I hated using public restrooms since I became a girl? Those little travel cans of Lysol are a godsend.

I was exhausted when we pulled into the driveway of my house, almost tipping my bike over when I stopped.

“Your mother’s not home?”

I almost laughed. “Yeah, she has this thing called a job. It normally ends about five o’clock. I know it’s kind of weird, but there you go.”

He grunted at me.

“Don’t worry; I have a key.”

I popped open the garage and we rolled our bikes inside before heading through the back door.

“I’m going to have a real shower with real hot water. Help yourself to the kitchen and TV if you want. This may take a while.”

~O~

I used up all the hot water. I think I may have had three or four orgasms in the process just from the pounding water. I seriously missed it.

Standing in front of the mirror, I admired my newer athletic body once more. Granted it wasn’t bulging with muscles like I had when I was a guy, but my abs were hard and my arms and legs had taut definition. The soft body I had before was gone.

I missed my mirror. All I had was a small travel one and it wasn’t much smaller than the one Logan used for shaving once every new moon.

“God, my ass is fantastic. No wonder he was staring. Who wouldn’t?”

There, above that marvel of sculpted perfection, sat Lockheed in a different position than before. I don’t mean he was in a different location, which he was. When he moved to my ankle, he was sitting upright with his hands or paws or whatever in front of him, kind of like a dog sits. This time he was lounging on his belly with his front hands crossed and his legs splayed out. A tiny puff of smoke was coming out of his nostrils as well.

I pulled up a pair of really short Under Armour stretchy shorts and a matching cropped tank top. There was kata’s that needed to be performed before the day was out. I didn’t want to get rusty and I also wanted to take another shower after the hot water tank heated another batch of delicious liquid.

Not taking anything for granted, I grabbed the map container and the key.

When I made it to the living room, Logan was passed out on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He left his shirt on, dammit.

The sun was still shining in the back yard, so I called Mom and let her know we were in town before starting my workout.

~O~

Since Logan was dead to the world, I went ahead and took the katana out for use in my kata’s. It was something that I hadn’t had a chance to do since I hadn’t progressed that far in my lessons. However, since the evil download from hell, I knew exactly what to do. Then I lost myself to the movements.

“Don’t get near her just yet,” Logan’s voice said from a distance. “That’s sword is sharp.”

“Logan, she’s so beautiful. She’s changed so much in just three months.”

“Kid’s got good genes and she’s devoted to her studying.”

“How’s she doing otherwise? Girl-wise I mean.”

He chuckled. “Are you asking if she’s embraced being a girl?”

“That’s a little fluffy, but yes.”

“There are times I know it frustrates her, like when she doesn’t have the strength to do something she used to as a guy, but overall, I think she enjoys it now.”

Mom made some sort of noise that I couldn’t define.

“Is she attracted to you?”

I nearly dropped the sword, but held it together.

“Do you really want me to answer that, Terri?”

There was a long pause before I heard my mother speak again.

“Don’t break her heart, Logan. I mean it.”

He grunted and I heard him strike a match. “She can take care of herself… better than anyone I know.”

“Are you serious?”

“Kid’s got hidden depths.”

When I came to the end of my kata, I opened my eyes and looked over at them. “Could you not smoke that thing upwind from me while I’m working out?”

He smirked and moved a few feet over so his smoke would waft away in a cross breeze.

I sheathed the katana right before Mom attacked me in a hug.

“Kitty, I missed you so much.”

I squeezed her tight. “I missed you too, Mom.”

Logan stayed outside and puffed on his cigar while mom pulled me in and started dinner.

“Are you on birth control?”

My brows rose. “Um, no.”

She sighed. “You do realize that you can get pregnant now. All it takes is one time.”

“Yeah, I remember that from health class, Mom. It’s not like I’m surrounded by tons of boys that are itching to bed me or something.”

She smirked. “Nope, just one boy, and he’s looking particularly well-muscled at the moment.”

My spine stiffened. “It’s not like that.”

“So you won’t mind if I take him into my bed tonight?”

Jealousy almost raged within. She’d had her chance and she gave him up!

She smiled this time. “I thought so. Be careful, Kitty. I’ll make you an appointment with my ob/gyn for tomorrow. You’ll get on the pill. If things don’t work out between the two of you then nothing’s lost, but if you do decide to try things out then you definitely don’t want a condom getting in the way.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Oh my God.”

“Don’t be like that. Logan is an animal in bed… and out of bed actually.”

“Mom, please.”

“You could do much worse, and if you’re willing to live up in the forest, in the middle of nowhere, then he’s the man for you.”

“You’re not going to stop, are you?”

“We should go shopping tomorrow. You really don’t want him to take your virginity the old fashion way. The man is gifted. You really wouldn’t enjoy it. We’ll get you a few toys to get things in proper shape, if you take my meaning.”

By that point my face was flaming.

~O~

The next morning Logan wanted to hit the road, but Mom nearly disemboweled him at the thought. She had things to do with her daughter whose time he had monopolized for the last three months. The least he could do let her spend one single day in her presence for God’s sake!

I nearly couldn’t contain the laughter when she laid that guilt trip on him. It was nice to see him cowed for once.

The rest of the day wasn’t so nice for me.

I got to spread my legs nice and wide in front of a total stranger while he took a rusty paint scraper and tunneled for gold in my vagina. Okay, it wasn’t that bad, but gheeze, could they come up with a more embarrassing way to be tested? I don’t think they could. And what’s up with the male doctor?

Mom dragged me to the solon next where I had my first ever haircut as a girl. I was tempted to tell them to cut it all off just to see everyone’s reaction, but I really liked my hair the length it was, so she just shaped it up a little and got the worst of it out of my eyes.

Short fake nails came next and the manicurist chided me for letting my hands look like a boys. I drew the line at letting them have access to my feet. I can’t stand it when people touch my feet. I don’t know why.

Then Mom had them make me up, professionally. I had serious doubts about that one. Makeup and I just didn’t get along very well. At the end, when they showed me what they’d done, I couldn’t believe it.

“Honey?”

“Hmm?” I said back to Mom as I stared at myself in the mirror.

“Think he’ll like it?”

“Hmm?”

It wasn’t like she used tons of makeup to make me into this super seductive sex goddess or something unreal like that. The artist shaped my eyebrows into an angled arc that spoke of danger more than anything else. Some eyeliner, a little thicker, and sharp on the ends; the tiniest bit of eye shadow to darken the skin tone above my eyes; a tad of blush on my cheek bones, and a dark lipstick that she called plum was all she put on.

It was so simple even I could do it… well, I’d have to practice that eyeliner a little, but it looked like I’d be able to do something like that.

It made me look older, more experienced, kind of femme fatal. I freaking loved it.

“Kitty.”

“Mom, what?” I said with more than a little exasperation at having her interrupt my basking.

She giggled at me. “Come on, honey. It’s time to leave.”

We made one more stop and I’m not talking about that experience. You’ll just have to use your imagination.

We got back home about four and Mom nearly ran to her room to get ready. Logan was taking her out to dinner since I got to spend the day with her. Truthfully, I welcomed the time alone. Being cooped up in a cabin in the forest of Minnesota, with only one person to talk to, wasn’t exactly conducive to quality mental control.

There was that and Mom wanted to give me some private time to do something. She was quite familiar with Logan’s acute sense of smell.

The one good thing I got out of the whole experience that day was Logan’s reaction to seeing me all made up and quaffed properly.

“Mom did the girl thing with me. What do you think?”

His lips kind of shifted which I hadn’t seen all too often, but I had seen the heated look in his eyes before, and it was definitely back for seconds.

He grunted, of course. “You look good without all that stuff.”

It was his way of saying, “Kitty, you’re hotter than hell, but I always think you’re hotter than hell.” At least I think it was.

I smiled and licked my lips. “Thank you, Logan.”

~O~

After taking care of a little business, afterward I was very sore.

Okay, I know I’ve been beating around the bush about this subject, but Mom bought me a vibrator and a dildo. There, I said it.

The vibrator was to loosen things up and the dildo was supposed to be just a little smaller than the man I was failing to seduce. I swear I never had this hard of a time trying to attract someone.

I played with the vibrator for a while and I have to give Mom serious props for that suggestion. The dildo, on the other hand, was enormous, but I was tenacious. It wasn’t exactly porn star huge, but it was definitely a little larger than I had been as a guy.

The trick was to make sure I was sufficiently… um, ready. That took a lot of time and a lot of patience.

One would think with all the activity that I had endured over the last three months that I might have broken my hymen already; no, not me. I’ve got a super-hymen and it wasn’t very happy about being disposed of by artificial means. For all you girls out there that are thinking about having a boyfriend take your virginity, here’s what you can expect, if you’re still intact that is.

You know that webbing between your thumb and index finger? Grab a pair of pliers and just rip that skin right out.

Magical experience my ass.

After I cleaned up, I had to use a damn tampon and panty liner, like I don’t get to use those enough.

On top of that I felt entirely stretched beyond comprehension. Mom told me what to expect. She said that sometime girls differed, but that she had a difficult time of it and since I seemed to be following her side of the family genetically, odds are that I would too, hence the toys.

Enough about my gross and painful Introduction to Sex 101: The Dildo.

Once I was dressed and out the door, I realized I probably shouldn’t be riding a motorcycle so soon after. It wasn’t entirely awful, just distracting and a little itchy.

It was Friday, and I seriously wanted to catch the game between the Dragons and the Panthers at my old high school. It was the last one of the season and probably the last chance I’d get to see any of my old friends.

When I saw that Logan took the package the mask was wrapped up in, I thought it best to take the sword tucked away in its map case, so I looked like a dork sitting there on the bleachers, dressed in tight jeans a red sweater, my leather jacket, riding boots, and a map case between my legs.

I scored a hotdog, greasy fries, and a milkshake at the concession stand before finding a seat. It was almost better than my Mom’s cooking.

Not that she’s an awful cook, just the opposite in fact. But having nothing but deer meat and vegetables for the last three months, any change was nirvana, especially in the junk food category.

I wanted to sit up close to the team so I could talk to the guys, but I thought about how they’d treat me. I’d be a hot girl looking to get laid, so I moved in front of the cheerleaders instead.

One of my old girlfriends was on the squad. It wasn’t like I dated her or anything right before I changed. I didn’t have a girlfriend at the time. But we did hang out the previous year, went to Homecoming together and then broke it off after the beginning of the year.

We had sex a handful of times and parted friends unlike most of my other girlfriends. Some of them are psycho to this day.

Carly looked good in her outfit, with her blonde hair bouncing around in a ponytail. I tried to look at her in a sexual way and I pulled back nothing; not even the slightest desire to kiss her.

I suppose that was a good thing. At least I didn’t have to worry about being a lesbian on top of everything else.

Once their current cheer was over she stopped and looked at me for a second with curiosity then shook it off.

I watched most of the game and was slightly annoyed that the team could go on without me. The guy they put in my position even looked better than I did. They still got their butts handed to them in the first half though.

“Wow, you really have team spirit,” said some guy from behind me.

I looked over my shoulder and saw David something-or-other. I was bad with last names. Anyway, he was a Choir-fa… um, he sang in the Choir. Sorry, what can I say? I was a jock and sometimes a jerk as well. I’ve learned my lesson and I don’t say Choir-fag anymore.

“Your tattoo, I mean.”

Dammit, my shirt and jacket were riding up again. What is it with girls clothes?

“Uh… yeah.”

I turned back around and pulled my sweater back down. I heard a muffled, “Dumbass, what’d you say something for?”

Great, there was more than one boy trying to get a peek at my panties and perving on my butt. Well, it was a spectacular butt. I guess I could let it slide.

I bought a Dragon pin from one of the vendors walking the isles selling cold popcorn and hot chocolate. It was a memento of what I had missed.

As the game went on my interest lessened until I was entering a melancholy attitude. So I got up and slung the map case over my shoulder, waved goodbye to Carly and headed out.

She waved back even more confused than she was before.

I passed through the unattended gate and before I hit the parking lot I heard someone call out.

“Hey!”

I stopped and turned around. Guess who it was? No, it wasn’t the choir kid.

“Do I know you?”

I sighed with a happy memory of the short time we dated. “Sorta.”

She came to a stop pretty close to me and I could smell her perfume wafting in the breeze.

“You look really familiar, but I can’t place your face. I’m sorry.”

Looking around, I had a sudden urge to tell somebody, the truth. I know I said I didn’t want anyone to know about me turning into a girl, but I’d lost a good portion of my life three months ago.

“I’m… I was Kevin Pryde.”

Her eyebrows bunched and then as she looked at me, they shot open. “You’re a metahuman?”

I gave her a short nod. “Happened in the hospital after I took that bad hit.”

“I wondered what happened. I called your mom, but she said you left town with family issues.”

I shifted my feet feeling a little uneasy. “Yeah, I got back in yesterday, but I’m leaving again. I just wanted to stop off and…”

I couldn’t finish.

“Are you okay? You look good. You look gorgeous.”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” She was about to say something, but I stopped her. “Look, can you not say anything to anyone? I just…”

She nodded. “Sure.” That was followed by her making an X-gesture over her heart. Carly was seriously cute that way. She made an amazing cheerleader.

“Listen, the gang’s going out for pizza after the game.”

I saw where that was going and started shaking my head.

“I was going to say I could blow them off if you want to talk or something.”

The offer was really attractive. “I’d like that.”

Her smile lit up the area as she jumped forward and grabbed my hand.

“You gotta come back in and wait for the game to be over. Then we can take off.”

When we were halfway up the pathway was when we were interrupted.

Five short Japanese guys stepped out from behind the maintenance shed and cut us off. My senses went on high alert and I jerked Carly to a stop with a quick look behind us. Five more were coming in through the gate.

“Don’t move from this spot, Carly. When I tell you to run, you run for the stadium, okay?”

One of the guys decided to talk this time.

“Give us the sword and she can live.”

I reached under my jacket and retrieved the tantō.

“You guys just never learn.”

“Kevin?” Carly said with a large amount of anxiety in her voice.

“It’s Kitty now. Trust me, Carly. I’m better than them.”

Feeling something from behind, I grabbed Carly’s neck and pushed her down with me.

Poison coated shuriken flew over our heads and one of the five in front screamed out. Reaching out I pointed my index finger in the air like I did back at the cabin.

“On irotahi chanoga jiba tai sowaka.”

In case you were wondering from last time. It’s part of the Kuji-kiri that I picked up from the download. There are certain things that the imitation ninja’s couldn’t control. This was one of them.

Time seemed to slow down for them and speed up for me. I was up before I uttered the last syllable, racing to the one that was reaching for his blade first. I jabbed the tantō in his heart and used him as a brace to spin around and kick the second one in the throat. Whipping out my blade, I landed on my feet and sliced through the back of the neck of another.

Following through with the movement I spun and drove my fingers into the fourth guy’s windpipe and slammed the tantō into the chest of the last. When I stop, I looked up at Carly’s wide eyes.

“Run now!”

Time seemed to resume at its frantic pace.

The other five had stopped and looked at what I just did.

Bending over I wiped off the blade on one of the ninja’s clothes. They were dressed normally this time to blend in with the crowd. I reversed the grip and stood at the ready while I listened to two of the ones I attacked choking to death from crushed throats.

“You guys still want to do this?”

Carly ran past me, but I heard her footsteps stop.

Only one of them stepped forward with a ninjatō he’d pulled out from under his long coat.

I didn’t like the reach he had, but truthfully it wasn’t much longer than mine. That’s the problem with the so-called ninja blade. It was short.

“Last warning,” I said.

“Give us the blade and we’ll let you go in peace,” he said in perfect English.

“It’s not mine to give, bub.”

So he attacked.

I gave him three strikes to break my defense then I tightened my left fist and hit him as hard as I could right over his heart.

The sound of a rib cracking filled the air and he dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.

The other four turned and ran. Once they were in the parking lot and I heard tires squealing in the gravel I sheathed the tantō and turned back.

Carly was looking at the guy I just punched and then at me. She couldn’t have been more than ten feet away.

“Carly…”

Her eyes snapped back to me. She didn’t say anything. She just turned and ran.

~O~

I jammed my helmet on and called Logan immediately. Well, I called my mom. Logan didn’t have a cell phone.

She was laughing when she answered.

“Hello?”

“Mom, let me talk to Logan, quick.”

“Kitty?”

“Mom, now.”

I caught her voice in the background. “It’s Kitty.”

“Half-pint?”

“I just got attacked by another ninja glee club at a football game; six down and four ran.”

The sound of his feral growl was loud over the cell. “Get back home and get loaded up. We’re leaving tonight.”

“Protect my mom, Logan.”

He must have closed the line. I started up the bike and pulled out, crossing the front of the stadium on the way out. Security was already on top of the situation and Carly was with them. So much for that talk.

I was halfway home when I heard the alert for a text message.

Texting and riding a motorcycle really don’t mix so I held off replying; besides, I still didn’t know if it was really her and if she was on my side. The look on her face and her bringing the guards onto the scene was still fresh in my head. It might very well have been a cop texting me.

I tried thinking about whether or not I left anything behind with my fingerprints, and then I remembered the security cameras that were around the stadium. Odds were that I was on several of them. In all likelihood, the main event was taped for posterity’s sake and would be on the evening news. Wouldn’t that just be swell?

Once I was at the house, I paused for a moment to make sure the area was secure. I didn’t possess Logan’s keen sense of smell, but somewhere along the line I’d developed a sort of danger radar. There was nothing like that at home.

I hurriedly shoved everything in my duffle, and had to swipe one of my mom’s towels to wrap up my toys with. I wouldn’t want those falling out just anywhere. In a few minutes, my life was once again secure on the back of my bike while I awaited the return of Logan and my mom.

While I did that, I went to Mom’s makeup drawer and sifted through her lipsticks until I found one that was a pretty close match to what I was wearing. I refreshed a little and checked my hair. Helmets do awful things to the natural wave of my long hair.

What? Just because I was on the run from killer ninja’s in modern day suburban Chicago doesn’t mean I can’t take a moment to primp.

I took another few minutes to sniff a lot of different perfumes and found one that I liked, dotting a little on my wrists and behind my ears, before pocketing the lipstick and the almost full bottle. I’d have to pay Mom back later.

When that was done, I grabbed Logan’s bag and went to the garage to wait.

What I wanted to know was how they found us. I could see them finding the cabin. I mean, maybe they’ve been staking it out for years, waiting for the mask to show up or something. The thing was I didn’t have the mask. I had the sword. Were they tracking it? Did it come equipped with LoJack.

While I was considering the possibility of a little guy dressed in black in a room somewhere, calling LoJack several times in a row asking where his car was, the garage door opened and in rolled Logan and my mom.

She had her arms around Logan’s waist and I quashed a brief surge of jealously.

When he killed the motor, I helped Mom off the back and handed him his duffle.

“Sorry we’ve got to run.”

“Kitty, Logan tried to explain, but…”

“Mom, we don’t have any time. I promise I’ll call and explain, but we’ve got to leave right away.”

She looked at me and then at Logan. “You better.”

Mom gave me a bone crunching hug and told me she loved me. I hugged back and did the same. Then she hit Logan on his upper arm, and it wasn’t a love tap.

“You take care of my daughter, Logan, or you’ll have me to answer to.” Then she hugged him.

My mother is kind of odd at times.

Did I ever tell you how much I hate riding at night, wearing jeans, in freezing temperatures, in the rain?

Rain is bad enough on a motorcycle. On bare skin it’s like being popped with a rubber band, except about a hundred or two hundred times at once, and it never stops until you do. With clothes on, it’s like being popped by a rubber band a hundred… well, you get the idea; clothes help, but not much.

We rode until we were in Indiana and then Logan picked the first motel we came upon. It was almost worse when we stopped. My jacket and jeans were coated with ice. The only reason my visor wasn’t frozen over was because of my hot breath and my constantly wiping it off.

When he came back and saw me shaking beyond simple shivering. We hurried to the room and I killed the engine. The bike would have fallen over with me on it, but Logan grabbed it in time and flipped the kickstand down then he picked me up in his arms.

Ice broke apart from my clothes while he managed the key in the lock and nearly kicked the door open. I was dropped to the bed and I couldn’t hear anything over the sound of my teeth chattering.

I tried undoing my chinstrap, but my fingers were useless, cold and numb.

I don’t know when I started fading out, but the scalding hot shower woke my butt up really quick. I know I screamed.

“Shh, you’ll be okay,” he said in soothing tones. “We just need to get you warmed up. I won’t let you go.”

The hot water pounded on my back and pretty soon on my front. I was fading in and out all the while. When the water stopped I felt a towel wrapped around me and my skin rubbed vigorously. The next thing I knew I was being covered up. My teeth were still chattering, but it didn’t feel like I was going to break any of them anytime soon.

Then there was a feeling of real warmth along my back and legs like a pre-heated bear skin rug had been wrapped around my body. It was then that I finally sighed and dropped off.

~O~

Something was tickling my nose and if it was Logan with another squirrel tail I was going to be seriously pissed.

I opened my eyes and stared out over an expansive severely muscled chest, and it was chest hair that was tweaking my pert nose.

Rolling my eyes around I noticed we were in some hotel room and for some reason I was in bed with Logan. I’d know that chest anywhere, honestly. The odd part about the situation was that I didn’t have a stitch of clothing on, and neither did he.

Oh my God. We had sex and I don’t even remember it. No, hold on.

I wasn’t sore, and if I’m not mistaken I was pretty sure there was still a tampon wedged inside me.

Then I remembered the night before, the ice, the shower, the warmth.

For a moment I was embarrassed as hell that Logan stripped me down and showered with me, but the truth of the matter was that at the moment I was so comfortable I didn’t care. So instead of freaking out I lifted my leg higher over his and tightened my grip across his unnaturally hard abdomen, sighing in contentment.

That was probably a bad thing to do, because he woke up. I heard him inhale taking my scent like he always did.

“If you move, I may have to hurt you,” I said.

Instead of making things uncomfortable, Logan cleared his throat. “You were hypothermic. I didn’t take advantage.”

“I know. Thank you. I’m just very warm and comfortable right now, so stay still for a little while longer.”

He breathed in, making my head raise a little, and then he relaxed.

I wished I could press myself harder onto his side. Instead, I had to satiate that need with stroking my leg along his. Now that I knew what his body felt like, I wanted it even more.

The thought of doing something like that three months ago would have been ridiculous, but at that moment, I wanted nothing more than to just crawl on top of him and showing Logan exactly how I felt. So naturally, I rubbed my hand across his chest and then pulled away.

Throwing the blanket aside I pushed out of bed and padded to the bathroom. There was more than enough light peeking through the window for him to see every inch of me. My face heated up a little, but I knew he’d already seen everything that I had, so what was the point in covering up and acting like a sixteen year old girl with her first boyfriend.

I was seriously proud of my body and all the work I’d put into it.

Once I’d peed, disposed of the tampon, and cleaned the old makeup off my face I felt a hundred percent better. It was then that I remembered I didn’t bring any clothes with me.

I smiled naughtily to myself in the mirror and walked back out.

Logan was already dressed in his jeans and facing away from me. I seriously frowned.

“What did I say about moving?”

He grunted and I was about to go on full pout mode. Instead of whining, I walked up behind him and pressed my front along his back, trying in vain to slip my arms around his chest. He stiffened.

“Kitty.”

“Logan,” I teased.

“I told Terri I’d take care of you.”

That made me almost giggle. “So, take care of me.”

I let my hands wander down his abdomen, but he caught my wrists before I made it to anything interesting.

“You’re eighteen.”

“And you still haven’t told me how old you are. I’m an adult, Logan. I can make my own decisions, and I’m on the pill.”

He stiffened at that, and no I don’t mean he stiffened there, but I was hopeful.

“How…”

“My Mom. That’s one of the things we did yesterday. So, we have her blessing.”

I reinitiated my decent toward the button of his jeans, but he held my wrists fast.

“I said, no,” he snapped.

With that, he released me and went to the bathroom, slamming the door along the way.

My face heated to scalding levels and my eyes were watering with embarrassment.

“Stupid. I can’t believe you threw yourself at him,” I whispered harshly at myself as I tore into my duffle. “You’re worse than Becky Myers.”

She was the class bike, and yes, I had a ride.

Panties were on in a flash, along with my leather pants, a black cami and black cardigan on top of that. I didn’t bother with a bra because I wanted to be fully dressed when Logan came back out.

“Stupid, slutty move, Pryde. He doesn’t want you that way. I think it’s obvious. And now you’ve gone and made yourself look like a fool. Brilliant!”

Stuffing my feet in the boots, I zipped them up and gathered my half dry clothes, throwing them in a complimentary plastic bag, jamming the lot in the duffle and sealing it closed.

As I heard the door open I slid my helmet on and did up the chin strap.

“Kitty.”

I didn’t bother looking at him. I just shouldered the map case and dragged my duffle out to the bike to strap it down. Anger welled up inside me at what I’d done. I hated feeling embarrassed and there I was making the biggest ass of myself. I mean he had sex with my mom for God sake. What was I thinking?

That’s when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned quick and slammed a palm strike into the chest of the stupid ninja that decided to show up at a really bad time. Except it wasn’t a ninja.

If it wasn’t so serious I would have laughed at the scene. I actually lifted Logan up off of his feet and he flew about a foot back before landing on his ass, grabbing his chest right in the middle.

I took a step toward him when I realized what I’d done.

“Logan…”

I stopped. He was to his feet in seconds, but he didn’t do anything except stand there and look at me. Instead of making things worse, I zipped up my jacket, got on the bike, started it up, and left.

I may have broken a few traffic laws on the way out of town and once I found an exotic sports car that had a really nice radar detector on the dash, I trailed in his wake for as long as my gas lasted, until I entered the city limits of Indianapolis.

I stopped and filled up, and washed my face again to get rid of the tear stains. The padding inside my helmet was soaked so I grabbed some paper towels and blotted at it until it was mostly dry.

“You’re pathetic, Pryde.”

When I got back on the bike I looked around, wondering what to do next. I looked back the way I came, almost hoping that I’d see Logan pulling in any second, and then I looked south. I sniffed again, wiped my nose, and then put my helmet on.

I was tired of being cold all the time. All I wanted to do was to be back in that rundown motel room and under the covers again so I could do it all over and not make an idiot of myself.

“South it is.”

TBC...

You could comment, you could critique, you could leave me hanging ;) For all of those that have commented so far, my thanks to you.

And here's a pic, just because:

Pic Credit: Found at Comicvine.
This story is unfinished at this point... Thanks to those that have taken the time to comment after reading.

Chapter Four

Miles and cities flew by with the hours. Lexington, Nashville, Birmingham, and Montgomery passed with barely a thought. I spent the night in a cheap motel and set out the next morning. Interstate-65 was my life until it ran out, and ran out it did.

I pulled over to the side of the road when my only choices were Interstate-10 East or West. A flip of a coin chose west. It was just as well. That one ended in California, more than a few days ride away.

When I reached the outskirts of Biloxi, Mississippi, I pulled off for lunch and to refill my tank. The beach was as good of a place as any.

It took me a while, but I found a McDonalds, grabbed a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake before pulling off on the boardwalk… or whatever they called it. There were wooden boards involved and a gigantic casino not too far away, otherwise the place looked like crap.

I sat on a bench and looked at the beautiful white sand that didn’t have a single piece of trash on it. Then I looked at the Gulf of Mexico and the brownish-gray water that was splashing foam up on the pristine sand.

The weather was bearable. A nice balmy sixty-degrees and Christmas was in sight on the horizon. Lucky me, I didn’t have a single person to buy a present for because I’d left them all behind. I couldn’t go back home because I would put my mother in danger and I just couldn’t face Logan again. I was probably a wanted fugitive or whatever for the thing at the stadium.

That’s why I turned my phone off and pulled the battery. That way I couldn’t be tracked. It was probably dead anyway. I hadn’t charged it for four days.

When I was finished with the burger I balled up the trash and dropped it in the receptacle by the bench, then I pulled my legs up to my chin and stared at the water.

“Are you all right, honey?”

I focused on the middle-aged woman in front of me, wearing a jogging outfit.

“What?”

“You’re crying. I thought… I just wanted to see if you’re alright. Do you want me to call someone for you?”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “No, thank you.”

She sat down on the other end of the bench. “Man troubles?”

I choked out a half-laugh and half-sob; if it were only that simple. However, someone was there, someone that I’d probably never see again, so what would it hurt?

“I threw myself at him and he said no.”

She looked properly affronted for me. “Then he’s an idiot. Honey, once you wash that weepy look off your face, you’re a knockout, believe me.”

I sniffled and rubbed a rough textured McDonald’s napkin under my nose. “Thanks.”

“Is he worth it?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The trouble. Is he worth the trouble that you’re puttin’ yourself through; the running away, the self-torture?”

I sniffed again and set my boots on the ground. “What makes you think I’m running away?”

She laughed for a moment. “By your accent, you’re from up north, not to mention the Illinois license on your bike. You’re sittin’ on the beach looking at the water and crying. All signs of a girl that’s runnin’ from her problems instead of facin’ them head on.”

I chuckled. “Is that what I’m supposed to do? Go back?”

She shrugged. “This man that you love; what’s he look like?”

I looked back out at the water again. “A little taller than me, not much though. Looks like a lumberjack, loves flannel, and rarely shaves.”

“A lumberjack? Big guy I take it?”

I nodded and she smiled before getting up. “Honey, I wouldn’t worry about going back. Love has a way of catchin’ up to you. Take care of yourself.”

She started her jog again while I looked at her with a confused face. When I turned back to the water again, he was sitting in her place.

Logan.

I grabbed my helmet and almost made it to my feet before he took hold of my wrist and pulled me back down.

“Wait,” he said.

“Why? So, you can work me up again and toss me aside? I don’t think so.”

He still wouldn’t look at me. “I wasn’t working you up. I’ve been doing everything I can think of not to do that.”

I laughed, once, in his face. “Strip me naked and get me into bed? Okay, I can see the reasoning behind that. I was freezing and you were trying to warm me up. You didn’t have time to get me all dressed in my jammies. But tell me this, why were you naked, not even any underwear? You spared the time to bring our duffles in and you couldn’t spare fifteen seconds to put something between your dick and my ass?”

A guy was running by us and gave me a weird look. He looked like he was going to stop, but took one look at Logan’s red face and cruise missile-like arms and decided to let me handle the situation.

His jaw clenched.

“So yeah, I’m not buying your innocent noble man routine. I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes. It’s the same way I look at you. Maybe it’s because you haven’t been laid in eons and here’s this cute girl with a spectacular ass waving it in front of you, so maybe it’s the only choice you’ve got. But I’m not buying that either.”

I pulled my wrist out of his hand and stood up.

“What is your problem, Logan?”

His eyes flicked to me for a short moment. “I’m not aging.”

I blinked. “Okay, I think I figured that out when we were in Duluth and I got mind-raped. What’s your point?”

He sighed with an annoyed attitude. “I’ve tried to settle down before. I even tried with Terri. It always comes down to them growing old and me staying right where I am.”

My mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Mom told me that she didn’t want to live in the woods and you did.”

I got the look of, are you kidding?

“We had discussions about that, yeah, but I would have moved to the city for her,” he said. “She left, because when she would look forty, I would still look like I was twenty-one. She thought I wouldn’t want her.”

Okay, I could see that; wrinkly old woman and hot young guy. He would eventually find it gross, maybe having to call her Mom and then Grandma so people wouldn’t think it was weird for him to be holding her hand or some stupid stuff.

“You’re forgetting one thing, well, a couple of things actually,” I said.

“What?” He looked like he wanted me to make all his troubles go away, but knew for a fact that it was impossible.

“For one, I’m not my mom. For two, it’s only a matter of time before whoever is sending these stupid ninjas after us will wise up and send a hundred instead of a handful at a time. I’ll be overwhelmed and killed long before I see my first wrinkle. Forgive me if I want to enjoy what time I have left.”

Logan jaw clenched again and he started to cut me off, but I held a threatening finger at him.

“You know it’s a possibility as much as I do, so don’t try to make me feel better. I’m not giving up; I’m just being realistic.” I bumped his leg with my own and then straddled them while I sat down in his lap. “Give me a good reason why we can’t be together for now.”

I had him and he knew it.

“Am I too young? I’m an adult in everyone’s eyes but yours, for some weird reason. So you look a couple of years older than me at the moment. Does anyone really care? Are people stomping on their brakes in the street and screaming, child molester?”

It was almost amusing seeing him uncomfortable with my hand trailing up his chest to his shoulders.

“I-I’m your teacher.”

“You forgot about the download in my head. I don’t need a teacher anymore. You’re fired. What else.”

He briefly closed his eyes. I was right there on the precipice of getting him to admit that he wanted me.

“Kitty… we’ve… we’ve been living together for three months and I am… I was your teacher. It’s natural for you to look up to or even desire someone in that position.”

I chuckled. “You’re saying I have the hots for teacher, that this is a crush? Are you sure this is my fantasy or is it yours? Should I go out and buy a naughty schoolgirl outfit so you can keep me after school for acting up in class? Will there be spanking involved?”

He made a strangled noise, so I moved in for the kill.

“Logan, what I’m feeling isn’t a crush, and yes, I do look up to you. I’ve known you for most of my life and I think I can tell the difference between mooning over someone and wanting to wake up next to them every morning for as long as I can.”

Someone chose that moment to honk on their horn and woohoo us from the road. I grinned at them.

“See, even they think we’re good together.”

Logan swallowed and didn’t say anything else. Seeing as how he was still thinking about everything I chose to give him a break.

“Okay, you need a little time. Here’s my plan: I get up, get on my bike and ride west. If you follow me then we’re spending the night in a decent motel somewhere… together.”

I stressed that last word with a strong amount of innuendo.

“If you don’t follow me, then… well, I’ll know you couldn’t handle it. I’m not throwing myself at you again. If you don’t choose me over this self-imposed whatever it is you’ve got going, then I’m moving on.”

Leaning in, I pressed my lips against his and closed my eyes. His hands found their way to my thighs and eventually on my butt with his fingers digging into the leathers. I could feel things tightening below, my body preparing itself for what it thought was coming next, but I denied it by pulling away and standing up.

My lips burned with the desire to keep up with what I was doing, but I knew if I did then I was lost. I had to make the break then and there.

Logan watched me put my helmet on and mount the bike. I wiggled my butt on the seat to find a comfortable position because I had this incredible itch that needed scratching in the worst way.

~O~

He didn’t follow.

I could have sworn the kiss would seal the deal. It was inconceivable that he would turn me down, but there it was; he did it again.

By the time I made it to Slidell, I was through crying. By the time I made it to Baton Rouge I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than a soft bed and some time with the toys Mom bought me.

I had plenty of practice over the last two days, fantasizing that it was Logan that was taking me and making me his, but in the end it wasn’t enough. I was still left wanting.

This time was going to be different. I was putting him behind me and getting on with my life. If what I said to him didn’t change his mind then nothing would.

After I pulled in everything from my bike, I took a long hot shower and I might have wept a little more. It was hard to tell with water everywhere.

I dried off and looking at myself in the mirror I was trying to figure out what was wrong with me.

“Maybe I need bigger breasts.”

Due to the excessive amount of exercise I put myself through, I was edging on a large A-cup instead of the B that the metagene gave me. Yes, there were downsides to working out.

They were more perky than anything else… again, cute.

Maybe cute just wasn’t what Logan was looking for. Maybe he wanted sultry and dangerous, or maybe he was attracted to curvy bodies. My butt was plenty pronounced and my waist was bordering on waspish.

I sighed. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Kitty. Get him out of your head. You don’t need a man to make your life complete. You were a man, so you can have yourself.”

I wrapped a towel around me while I dug in the duffle for Shaky and his friend the Poke Master when I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Ugh. Awful timing here, bub.”

Crossing the floor, I peeked out the provided peep hole and gasped, then I looked at the vibrator and dildo in hands.

“Just a second!”

Running back to the towel I kept them wrapped in I tossed everything back in the duffle and closed it up. The bed was already turned down and my hair was moderately dry, I had no makeup on and I was wrapped in a towel.

“Dammit.” I sighed and shook my head. “Screw it.”

Running back over to the door, I unlocked the deadbolt and threw the hinge back on the hinge thingie before sweeping the door wide open.

“You followed me,” I said rather breathless.

Logan did the long trail of his eyes from my bare feet up over the towel and to my flat semi-wet hair.

He was dusty, unshaven with what looked to be a week’s worth of beard growth, his jacket was open showing off his wife-beater and chiseled chest, and I noticed portions of him were very happy to see me. In short, I almost drooled.

He took my scent in and I tried to keep myself from jumping on him in the middle of the doorway. Then I thought of his little speech before he agreed to train me, three months ago.

“If you come in the room, there’s no going back. I’m not gonna take it easy on you. If that means a little ache or a little cuddle then that’s the price you pay. No whining about our ages or the future, just us, for now.”

His lips ticked to the side, ever so slightly, before he took a step inside and wrapped his arm around my waist. I let go of the door and smashed my mouth against his.

~O~

My nose tickled again, except this time I relished the feeling of waking up in Logan’s arms. I lay half on and half off his body as boneless as could be. Whatever tension I had built up over the last three months had been whisked away when he thoroughly took me and made me his again and again over the course of the night.

There was a major ache between my legs and my entire pelvic area felt like it had gone fifteen rounds with the heavyweight champ, but with that ache came a feeling of contentment and satisfaction that I’d never had before as a guy or a girl.

Logan stirred and I felt his arm tighten around me. My leg had a mind of its own climbed around his waist pulling my body with it.

“Morning,” I whispered before I kissed him.

There was something down there that was lightly poking me in a rather sore place. I grinned and rubbed my smooth cheek over his rough one.

“I need a shower, and possibly a large bag of ice.”

He looked at me weird for a second and then chuckled. “What about that little ache being that price you had to pay?”

I shook my head and crawled off him and out from under the covers. “No, this is a major ache. You do good work, Logan; no complaints from me.”

I must have made quite the sight, limping to the bathroom to relieve myself and letting whatever remnants of Logan’s evening deposits that remained wash out of me. It felt so incredibly good that I considered just staying in bed and reenacting the entire evening again, except I definitely wouldn’t be able to walk and might need medical attention afterward.

The hot water pounded on my back as I grabbed the complementary soap got to work cleaning things. That didn’t last for long.

The shower curtain was pulled back and I was joined by someone that was willing to wash my back, and other portions of me.

~O~

Jeans were my choice for that day. My leathers were about to accomplish standing up all on their own. I seriously needed a cleaners that could do quick work. When I mentioned as much to Logan, he just said to pack them away and he’d buy me some more.

I didn’t mind that. I’d lost weight and gained muscle. They didn’t really fit like they used to.

“Where are we going next?” I asked.

He grunted. “To take care of an annoying problem, but first you need the right tools for the job.”

I smirked. “Is that west of here?”

“East, or more like north-east. Charleston, South Carolina.”

Ugh, north. Just when I was thinking that I might be able to go sunbathing on Christmas. At least it wasn’t Maine.

I won’t tell you about the drive this time as we’d probably confused the hell out of the LoJack the ninja’s had on the sword. I could just picture that call: She’s going south, no, she’s going west, no, hold on she’s going north-east now. Maybe they’d give up. I could only hope.

We took our time this round and wound up cruising into town two days later. We could have made it in one if my seat came with a built-in massager. After the frantic and animalistic pounding I took the night before, I just couldn’t ride for that long.

We stopped in front of a really old style build on East Bay Street, and parked our bikes.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“It’s a building.”

I shot him an annoyed glare. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. What are we doing here?”

“Someone’s holding a package for me.”

I tried grunting like he always did to me, but it sounded like I had something caught in my throat instead. I suppose a noncommittal noise like that takes practice to pull off properly.

We climbed the steps and went inside. It looked like a cross between a museum and a place that rents out rooms for things like meetings or maybe dinner parties. There was a plaque to the side with another one of those annoying history of stories written for visitors.

The Old Exchange and Provost Dungeon.

“You take me to all the nicest places.”

“Don’t touch anything,” he said.

This time I stuck my hands in my jacket pockets and vowed to keep them right there. I followed him past one of those red velvet things that are put around places regular people aren’t supposed to go, figuring that he wasn’t one of those people. What I was wondering was, why wasn’t anyone stopping us.

There was a front desk of sorts. The person took one look at Logan and started looking twitchy, not that I blame him. The man can be seriously intimidating when he wants to be… and pretty much any other time as well. Only those of us that know him well know that he’s just a big teddy bear under that steely glare. Granted, that teddy bear had actual claws that extended about a foot past his knuckles whenever he was seriously angry.

We trotted downstairs and entered an area I assumed was the Provost Dungeon. It was air conditioned now, but I remember seeing the date on the history plaque. It was pre-Revolutionary War. I could only imagine the oppressing heat and stench that was soaked into the walls back when English soldiers used to toss criminals down there to be transported at a later date.

I mean seriously, sure soap had been invented by then, but do you really think anyone used the stuff? Nah, they tended to take a monthly bath which was usually shared with the rest of the family at the time, if they were lucky. Sometimes they’d go to bath houses and share dirty water with complete strangers. It’s true. I read that in National Geographic… or was that Men’s Heath?

Anyway, what they would do was to take their monthly bath and then whenever they started to stink again, they’d just douse themselves in perfume or cologne to cover it up. I shuddered just thinking about it.

I have a hard enough problem passing someone in the mall that spritzed a couple times too many that morning, or being trapped in an elevator with some old lady whose sense of smell died about fifty years previously, so she just pours half the bottle of the cheapest perfume she can find on herself.

I mean really, who thinks that stuff smells good? Is someone supposed to introduce their self and compliment her on the three dollar a quart perfume she bought at the Dollar Store?

It does keep mosquitoes away though, can’t same the same about bees.

What was I talking about?

Oh yeah, dank dungeon that resembles an old wine cellar minus the racks of wine.

Logan led me over to a brick covered archway where he pushed up on one of the bricks. I heard a click and the sound of chains moving. Turning around I saw one of the bricked walls rising up, portcullis style. I was going to ask how he knew that was there, but this is Logan I’m talking about. Seriously, nothing surprises me about the man.

It was a fairly big extension to the dungeon, another room about twenty by twenty with the same old style dank brick. There were several shipping crates lining the walls and bits of straw littering the floor. It didn’t look like the room had been entered in over a decade; hence the overabundance of spider webs and dust.

He looked around for a few moments before walking over to one set of crates and started muscling some around, before making a fist and popping one of the blades in his fist out.

I winced as he tore through the skin and I saw a few drops of blood hit the floor.

“Oww, doesn’t that hurt?”

He grunted. “Got used to it a long time ago.”

I stepped closer to get a better look, taking hold of his hand and running a finger along the back portion, the blunt side. The light wasn’t the greatest so I couldn’t make out what it was made of too well.

“Is this… bone?”

“Super dense bone; they’re harder to break than the regular stuff.”

I nodded, feeling a lump behind his middle and ring fingers where I guess they locked into place.

“So this is natural I’m guessing?”

“It’s one of the reasons I prefer the word mutant instead of metahuman. This ain’t something that I usually call normal. Now if you don’t mind…”

Stepping back, I watched as he shoved it underneath and wedged open the top portion of the crate. The nails squealed against the wood making goosebumps rise on my skin. Once there was enough room, the blade retracted back into his hand with a snikt. His skin and muscles rolled as I watched the blade travel almost the full length of his forearm where they were stored when not in use.

That so had to hurt. It wasn’t like the he could develop internal scars or calluses that would ease the movement along. Logan healed everything equally as well. That meant every time those claws popped out had to be like the first.

While I was sitting there pondering the freshly raw nerve endings of his hands, he was rifling through the crate, pushing old straw to the side so he could pull out a couple of boxes.

“You know anything about Masamune?”

I drew a blank and shook my head.

“He was arguably one of the greatest sword makers in history. You can find a few of his works still around if you look hard enough.”

With a nod I ventured a guess. “I suppose he’s dead?”

Logan grunted. “About six hundred years and change. He specialized in tantō, the daggers and tachi, the long swords. But he did work on others.

He depressed a button and I heard a hiss of air before he opened the first case. Looking inside there was a pair of sai facing each other. With a nudge, he moved the case in my direction.

My eyes lit up. “For me?”

Logan’s head tilted a fraction of a millimeter and I grabbed them before he could change his mind.

There was no sign of the metal being tarnished or even a spot of rust. It was one of the reasons you’re not really supposed to store blades inside their sheathes for extended periods of time. There were specialized sheaths for long term storage or you could go the hermetically sealed route like Logan did.

I gripped them lovingly and then spun them across my fingers to test the balance, threw in a couple of defensive and offensive moves and then brought them back to ready form.

“If you think you’re getting lucky tonight, then you would be very right.”

He smirked and grunted at me. “That’s not the best part.”

“Oh, more toys?!”

I set the sai back in their case and he closed it up, setting it aside. My eyes gleamed at the longer, wider case. At first I was thinking, katana, but it was a little too wide. I bounced on my toes waiting for him to go through his routine. When he opened the case, I may have made an eep sound.

“Is… what is…?”

“Technically they’re called wakizashi. They’re normally companion swords for the katana, but I thought with your height these will serve you better. They’re a little longer than normal, but just under the limit for a proper katana.”

I ignored the jab at my height in lieu of the presentation of really shiny things. This time, I didn’t wait for permission. I just reached in and picked one of them up.

“Minoru.”

I lifted my brow in question. “It was common to name a sword. The one you hold is called Minoru, Truth.”

At the base of the sword was the Kanji symbol for the name. At least I could tell them apart. I had to tilt my head to read the second one.

“Takeshi. That means… violent?”

Logan shrugged. “More like violent warrior, technically, I chose to call it War instead.”

“Why?”

He looked down at that particular sword, tracing his fingers just above its surface. “Something you need to remember; in war, truth is the first casualty.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Does this have to do with freedom of the press or something?”

“Not exactly.”

Logan finally settled his hand on the grip and lifted it out with a pained look on his face.

“There are at least two sides to every story, Kitty. Before you decide to use these, every single time, make sure you’re on the right side.”

In case you were wondering, yes, I do realize there’s some really messed up story behind why he told me that, but from the look on his face as he stared at blade, I just didn’t have the heart to ask.

That kind of took the fun out of trying the swords out but I did get the feel for each of them before returning them to the case.

~O~

On the way out, the receptionist cautiously raised a finger to get Logan’s attention, but he ignored him as we made our way out of the building.

“Is there a reason the staff is scared to death of you?” I asked.

Logan grunted. “The only thing they pass on is requests for some historical association that wants to buy the place. I’m not interested in selling.”

Like I said before, nothing surprises me about him.

“Give me back my katana.”

I set the weapons cases on my bike and slipped the map case off my back. “I thought you didn’t want to have the mask and sword near each other.”

“Dumped the mask off on the way down, before catching up with you.”

That interested me. “I thought…”

“It’s safer where it is.”

“Oookay. Do I get my own map case now?”

He turned around and looked at me, like haven’t I given you enough already? I just smiled innocently at him. That earned me a minor grimace and he dug into his saddle bags.

I wasn’t really serious. Some people just don’t get my humor.

“Here.”

“Oh! A necklace…” Then I got a good look at it. “A really gaudy half-black half-red necklace. You really shouldn’t have. I mean it; you really shouldn’t have.”

The necklace itself was silver… maybe. It was the medallion that hung off of it that was gaudy.

“It’s the rising sun of Japan,” Logan clarified for me.

I gave him a very weak smile. “I’m not all that much into Japanese stuff like you are.”

“Put it on. It’s supposed to make people that don’t know you, ignore you.”

Raising an eyebrow at him, I lifted the necklace up. “Is this a jealousy thing that I don’t know about? You don’t want anyone looking at my spectacular ass? I worked hard on getting it just right, you know.”

“It’s so you can wear your weapons without being bugged by cops.”

I seriously doubted that a necklace would stop cops from seeing a hot girl decked out with oversized Ginzu knives.

“Will they be staring in horror at this thing instead?”

He shrugged. “It’s magic. I don’t pretend to understand all that mystic crap. I just know it works, so put it on.”

I think the years had finally caught up to my sweetie-pie. “Logan, magic doesn’t exist.”

He growled at me and I growled back, except mine wasn’t nearly as intimidating.

“If you think that growling is supposed to scare me, well, you’re doing it wrong,” I said. “It just turns me on.”

Have I ever told you how cute Logan looks when he gets flustered?

He took me to some really weird sports store, except they didn’t really carry anything like footballs or tennis balls. Instead, they had things like magazine clips, compound bows, and lots and lots of camouflage.

“Take your jacket off.”

You know those leather shoulder holsters that make an X on your back. Well, Logan was holding one of those.

“What’s that for.”

“Your swords.”

“How am I supposed to wear my swords on my back if I have my jacket on?”

“I’ll cut the leather.”

I stepped back. “I’m going to have to hurt you, Logan. No cutting the leather. Do you know how much I paid for this thing? And besides, that’s tacky.”

His shoulders dropped like he was getting tired of arguing with me.

“Haven’t you ever seen Highlander?” I said.

He snorted, and I pretended that I didn’t hear it.

“They’ve got these coats with their scabbards sown inside their jackets. It’s pretty cool too because it doesn’t show or make it hang all weird.”

“Kitty, your jacket isn’t long enough.”

I just blinked at him and cleared my throat. “Yeah, I know what you mean. If I only had one of those knee length leather coats. That would rock, right?”

Maybe he wasn’t taking the hint.

“You’re going to be one of those high maintenance girls, aren’t you?”

Or not.

I scowled at him. “I’ve spent the last three months sleeping on a cot and taking cold water showers. Not to mention the possession, killer ninjas, and the fact that I can never go home again without putting my mother in danger. If you think that’s high maintenance then I’ve got some bad news for you.”

Without a word he hung the shoulder holster back up and we left to go to a proper store.

“Ooohhh, pretty!”

Yeah, I was laying it on pretty thick, but I didn’t appreciate the high maintenance comment, so I was torturing him.

“Do you think it comes in pink?”

There was a minor groan behind me which made me smile.

“I’m kidding.” I pulled a regular knee length coat out and checked the size. “This will do.”

“You’re not going to try it on?” he asked. There was a wary look on his face.

“Why?”

“To see if it fits.”

I smirked. “Logan, I don’t know if you remember, but three months ago I used to be a guy. I probably hate shopping as much as you. If I ever spend more than ten minutes in a store, looking for something to wear, you have my permission to ask what’s taking me so long.”

He tried to pay and I threatened him with bodily harm if he didn’t back off. We have an odd relationship.

~O~

Do you know how hard it is to sew a scabbard into the lining of a leather jacket? Logan wisely decided that would be good time to go out for pizza while I wrestled with ripping out the stitching for a third time. When he returned I had one finished and was working on the second. You’d think sewing ability would come with the X-chromosome; it doesn’t.

I did snag one of Logan’s beers. That made me happy.

Every once in a while he’d allow me to swipe one. I guess it depended on the situation. It was really weird though; I never finished them. After two or three swigs I passed the rest to him. Maybe it was a girl thing. Though I remember quite well some of the girls in high school drinking just as much as the guys. Maybe it was a me thing.

He looked dissatisfied flipping through the channels on the TV. It appeared that he wanted to be doing something. For someone that kept himself busy day in and say out in Minnesota, sitting in a motel room in South Carolina was probably torture.

“Will you talk to me about something?” I said.

Logan’s eyes darted toward me. “About what?”

I shrugged my shoulders as I added a stitch to my coat. “When were you born?”

It appeared as if he thought I was going to ask about something else. “June fifteenth.”

I smiled at the evasion. “You’re funny.”

He grunted and switched channels a lot faster.

“If you don’t want to talk about that, we can talk about Ogun.”

“We should get some sleep,” he said.

Shaking my head I lifted my coat. “I’m only halfway through with this side and you’ve been avoiding me asking about this. I get you wanting to be private. But I need to know what could possibly be stuck in my head, and I’d like to know more about the real you.”

The TV clicked off and he set the remote on the nightstand. Standing, he walked over to the ice bucket where the last two beers were chilling.

“I was born June fifteenth in the year of our Lord twelve-fifteen, the day the Magna Carta was signed by King John. It wasn’t called that at the time though. My mother was English and my father Hungarian. I grew up in Hungary, at the bottom of the aristocracy. When I was twenty-one, my father beat my mother to death for defying him. I tried to stop him, but he’d shoved his sword through my chest.”

My mouth had dropped open at the year he mentioned and it stayed open the entire time thereafter.

“When I didn’t die, I pulled it back out and watched as my chest closed up. I thought I was either an avenging angel sent from God or a Demon sent from hell. Either way, I had revenge for my mother. By the end of the day I was I was half-way to Poland.”

Logan twisted the top off his bottle and drank half the contents in his first pull.

What could I say to that?

“Thank you for telling me.”

“I’m gonna go smoke.”

I nodded and watched as he pulled a cigar out of his duffle and stepped outside.

When I finished with the coat, I secured the swords and hung it up, washed my face, brushed my teeth and went to retrieve my wayward boyfriend.

That sounds messed up, doesn’t it? Me, the former Kevin Pryde, wide receiver for my high school football team and general all around semi-womanizer, going out to bring my boyfriend back so we could go to bed where I would show him how much he meant to me. But that was my life now.

I was a girl, or a woman, whichever, and I was probably going to be that way for the rest of my life, however long that may be.

After pulling him back inside, I took off his shirt and jeans then laid him down in bed. His face was expressionless and I’d caused that by dredging up the past. Let’s just say his melancholy didn’t last for very long. I can be very distracting when I want to be.

~O~

I am a young woman, standing before my master, battling him with the katana. We are evenly matched, my youth and speed countering his experience. He backs away slashing with his hand. I block the hand-seal of cutting with the hand-seal of shield then lunge.

Master Ogun stabs forward with a killing strike. I ghost through the sword and hold my katana at his neck with my own.

“Musume-san, I am proud of you.”

He calls me daughter, instead of student, for the first time.

He orders me one last time to match his movements, this time with the katana.

“No,” I said and backed away. “I won’t let you take control.

Ogun frowned and sheathed his sword. “This is unfortunate.”

“For you maybe; I like being me just fine.”

“Koneko, my presence here is not as it appears.”

He called me Kitten, which is the closest word to Kitty as the Japanese language allows, I suppose.

“It appears like you’re in my head, after dumping a lifetime of martial arts in there along with your personality,” I said. “Trust me, it’s crowded enough. What do you want?”

Ogun’s hands went to his hips as he looked down at me. “I wish for us to be as one.”

I sheathed my own katana. “Don’t you mean you wish for me to step aside so you can go restart your evil ninja school?”

His lips twitched. “As you have seen for yourself, Koneko, my school, as you call it, has already continued, though it is substandard if you were able to defeat them so easily.”

You want to know the weird part about facing off with someone that you know is supposed to be really evil? The normalness of him.

He wasn’t twisting his handlebar mustache and cackling maniacally, or telling me his evil plans for the destruction of the Earth. He was just a guy.

“So, you’re like alive in someone else right now?”

He shook his head. “Logan has thwarted my attempts for the last eighteen years.”

Ogun smiled with almost a proud look on his face. “He was never one to use magic as a resource. It is good that he has set his stubbornness aside, at least in this instance.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “So, who’s running the school if not you?”

“A descendant of one I possessed, I assume,” he said. “Do you love him, Koneko?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Logan, my son or my student as you are or were.”

That made me uncomfortable. “I don’t really see where that’s any of your business.”

“If he discovers that I am still here in your mind, it will be my business and yours. Logan has destroyed each of my incarnations throughout the centuries. If you wish to live for much longer, you must leave him.”

I shrugged. “I’m telling him about this when I wake up, so you’re wasting your breath.”

Before he had a chance to complain or whatever, I tried to take advantage of his apparent truthfulness. “How are they finding the sword?”

His hands went behind his back grasping one another. “It is not the sword they are tracking.”

I closed my eyes and rubbed at them. “It’s me. You’re inside of me and they’re tracking that.”

“Correct.”

“So they don’t really want it, they want me.”

“No, I forged the katana. That is reason enough for their efforts. They already have a leader. They need no other.”

“Oh. They want the sword and they want me dead.”

Ogun’s eyes narrowed in appreciation of my dilemma. “Destroy them. It is your only option.”

~O~

I filled Logan in on the evil guy in my head over breakfast at Denny’s.

“What do you think?” I asked.

He grunted. “I think you’re safe enough. If he had the power to take you over, he would have already done it. He’s trapped.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I think I got that part when he didn’t try to turn me into a shish-kabob. I’m asking about the whole take-the-fight-to-them bit.”

I received a shrug in return. “That was my original plan, but seeing as he’s giving the same advice, I’m second-guessing myself.”

“You know where these guys are?” I couldn’t believe we were wasting time state-trotting when he might have known all along.

“I have an idea. It’s not confirmed.”

Setting my orange juice down on the table, I gave him as much of a death glare as I could manage.

“Okay, game playing is over. I want to know specifics: names, places…”

“You aren’t ready. You can’t even consciously control your phasing power yet and that could be a major advantage with overwhelming odds.”

I ground my teeth. “Great, can we quit screwing around now and get to business? What do I need to do?”

“Phase through things.”

Wonderful, I’m dating a comedian.

“Any idea how?”

He shrugged. “Mine works without thinking about it. I can’t help you there.”

I sighed. “I’m guessing that you don’t know anyone that can help me out, any other metas?”

“The ones I knew are long dead.”

It was then that I started putting things together. “Hold on, there were metas before Jade?”

“Jade isn’t a meta. She gets her powers from her ring. She said so on TV. And yes, they’ve been around forever… just not as many. A lot of the more famous people in history were mutants.”

My brows furrowed. “Who?”

“Joan of Arc, Alexander, Attila, Julius Caesar, most were before my time, but I’ve met people that heard things. From what I know, there has only been a handful across the world at any one time. Something happened… I don’t know, another mutation or something, and now everyone’s a mutant.”

Something else occurred to me. “Did you used to be a girl?”

“No.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “You wouldn’t tell me if you were would you?”

“No, but I wasn’t.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Logan. I’m not one to talk. If you were a girl at one time that would be fine with me. We’d have something in common.”

“I wasn’t, so drop it.”

“We could talk about petticoats or makeup.”

A growl came up out of his throat.

“There you go again,” I said. “Trying to turn me on.”

TBC...

You've been very generous with your comments in recent chapters, They are very welcome. Thanks.