Disclaimer: I do not own X-men or anything related to to Marvel Comics.

CLAWS

MYSTERIOUS

The club was dark, the music so loud that he was sure that the other ravers would not hear her screams. His lips curled as he followed her into a back room, one that had been hidden behind an abandoned bar. She was asking for it, begging for his anger, his strength, the pain he would willingly give to her.

He felt his eyes darken in anticipation, his teeth sharpening, the little spines on his back extending to poke through his shirt. He could feel that blood lust rising, the need to grasp that slender neck in his hands and crush the life from her.

But not before other needs had been taken care of.

He gripped her shoulders, spinning her on her toes before pushing her back against the wall, his body instantly covering hers. He claimed her lips, his hand reaching for her thigh, hiking her dress up.

She pushed against his chest, trying to pull back. 'Hey!' she said, looking to the side, tasting blood. 'Stop it.'

'Why?' he laughed, wrapping his hands around her wrists. He slammed them against the wall of the corridor, holding them above her head, watching the pain in her eyes as he tightened his grip. 'What are you going to do to s–'

He gasped, wondering how she'd managed to wind him. He tried to breathe, but nothing came, no matter how much he gasped. He gripped his throat, his eyes wide as he met a swirling white gaze.

'Feeling a little breathless, Predator?' she asked, pushing him back. He hit the opposite wall, clawing at his neck, desperately trying to drag air into his lungs as he sank to the ground.

'What are you doing?' he choked, his eyes still dark.

'I'm forcing the air from your lungs,' she said simply, crouching beside him, no sympathy in her eyes. 'It's rather fitting, really. After all, you strangled your victims, crushing their windpipes.'

'How do you know that?'

'I've been tracking you for a while,' she said, examining her fingernails for a moment. 'You killed my best friend.' Her eyes narrowed, the white drifting from her eyes like mist. 'That was a very bad idea.'

He threw a fist and she caught it, her fingers tightening around his until he screamed, though only a wheeze could be heard.

'Now now, aren't you beginning to wonder why you're still alive?' she asked, releasing his broken hand.

He cradled his fingers against his chest as he asked, 'why?'

'I'm keeping just enough air in your lungs for you to live. If I wanted to, I could keep you like this for a very long time, on the verge of a breath that you will never have,' she said, tracing her fingers over his jaws. She gripped the little silver ring that jutted from his bottom lip.

Then she ripped it out.

He tried to scream, but again could only wheeze, tears coming to his eyes as blood rolled down his chin and filled his mouth.

'But I don't really think I can be bothered keeping you like this.'

His eyes widened as the little air remaining in his lungs was forced from his body, leaving him gasping in vain, his bleeding lips turning blue as his skin paled.

His body went limp and she stood, dropping the silver ring beside him.

She didn't relish killing the Predator, but Clara wanted to stop him, to know that her killer would never harm another. That was what she had told Sepharina on the night of the attack. She was a telepath, and in her last moments she had expressed her wishes, throwing the words into he best friend's mind.

'Stop him, before he does this to another.'

And Sepharina had tried, but for so long, he was just a step ahead. But he left a trail of bodies, and she had followed them, using all of her training and skills to stalk him, to turn him into prey.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a breath to calm herself. The white mist disappeared, revealing the pale blue of her eyes as she stepped back into the music and lights of the club, weaving her way across the dance floor to the exit, stepping out into the cool breeze. She ducked down an alleyway, pausing for a moment as a whirlwind collected around her, dispersing to leave nothing but shifted rubbish.

The wind felt good as it blew through his hair, the helmet he never used sitting on the back of his motorbike. He concentrated on the roar of the engine, the world turning to a blur of green and grey as he sped through the mountains at breakneck speeds.

Ha. As if he had to worry about a broken neck.

He pulled over, stopping at a cliff face, looking out at the city as the horizon turned red. He pulled a cigar from jacket pocket, slicing the end before biting down. He dug in his pockets, rolling his eyes when he found no lighter.

Right, he'd lost it when he'd tried to take on Gambit. That had not been one of his best ideas.

He clenched his fists, feeling his claws push past the bones in his hands to lengthen between his knuckles. He flicked his wrist, the claws grazing each other, sparking to ignite the cigar.

He took a long pull from the cigar, flexing his fingers once his claws had retracted. He closed his eyes for a moment, completely oblivious to the buzzing in his pocket, his whole being focused on that cigar.

Until the buzzing turned to a ring.

He rolled his eyes, digging in his pocket for a moment to extract the ringing device. 'Logan,' he answered, his voice gruff, conveying his displeasure.

'I need you to do something for me.'

He covered the receiver for a moment, swearing under his breath. 'Fine, but there had better be a good reason for it.'

'There's some crazy weather going on in the city, like tornadoes in the middle of the street crazy,' Gambit said.

'And you need my help, why?'

'Because we know that a mutant is doing it, we just don't know who. Could you go check it out?'

He closed his eyes, taking a breath. 'Yeah, fine.'

'It seems to be centred around Old St Patrick's Cathedral, and the weather just keeps coming.'

'I'll go have a look.'

'Thanks Logan. I'll catch you later.'

He snapped the mobile phone closed, so close to breaking the irritating device. He took another calming pull from the cigar, throwing his leg over the bike before speeding back down through the mountains.

There were no lights shining from the cathedral. Every window was black, but Logan could see something moving within, the tiniest flickers of eerie white flashing in the darkness. He stepped lightly – as lightly as a man with adamantium bonded to his bones could – as he approached the heavy doors.

He tried the handle, his eyebrow quirking as he found that the doors were unlocked. He crept inside, closing the door quietly behind him before he stepped forward, walking down the aisle, his eyes locked ahead of him on a sight that made him pause.

She was glowing, white mist flowing around her like a slow tornado, covering her perfect skin in light. Her hair was floating, the blonde almost as white as the mist. She was beautiful, breathtaking, but something told him that she was dangerous.

Logan took a few more steps, stopping halfway along the aisle, flexing his fingers as he waited, but she didn't acknowledge him. He cocked his head a little, trying to get a better look at her face, wondering if she was crying as he cleared his throat. 'Ah, excuse me.'

She looked up, her eyes swirling with the same white mist that surrounded her. She stood up, her movements quick and agile, her gaze never leaving him.

He held up his hands. 'I'm not here to hurt you.'

To his surprise, she smirked. 'You couldn't hurt me if you tried.'

She appeared just in front of him, the mist dispersing to reveal icy blue eyes. She laughed, reaching up to flick his nose.

He tried to grab her, but his hands went through mist. He turned on his heel, trying to follow her laughter as it bounced off the cathedral walls. He clenched his fists, his claws pushing through his skin.

'Oh,' she laughed, the sound echoing around him. 'Kitty has claws.'

'Who are you?'

'A gentlemen would introduce himself first.'

He looked up to one on the windows. She was standing on the ledge, looking down at him with a smile on her lips. He dropped his hands, though he didn't hide his claws. 'I'm Logan,' he said, the words bitten off. 'What's your name?'

She disappeared, coming to stand on the window opposite, on the other side of the cathedral. 'Sepharina,' she said, watching as he followed her voice. 'Now, Logan – actually I'll call you Kitten – what are you doing here? You see, I know why I'm here. I am grieving, and a cathedral always seems to be a good setting to do that.' She tapped her chin, her voice nonchalant despite her words. 'But you don't seem to have a purpose here. Well, except not harming me.'

'Actually, I'm here to ask you to stop making tornadoes outside,' he said. 'You're scaring the locals.'

'Not a lot I can do about that. See, I can control air, and all air within, say, a two mile radius reacts to my emotions,' she explained, 'hence the tornadoes.'

'You remind me of Storm.'

'Ah, but she can control weather on a much more extensive scale. I am more focused, sort of like an elemental.'

He quirked an eyebrow at her. 'Right,' he said after a moment. 'Well, could you stop the tornadoes?'

Logan wasn't always good with people.

She appeared before him, her eyes swirling with white, the mist dispersing into the air around her. 'Yeah, I'll just stop grieving over my best friend. It wasn't that bad when she was murdered. I mean, we'd only been friends my entire life, so I can't miss her that much.'

He retracted his claws, holding his hands up as he took a step back. 'Sorry lady, I didn't know.'

'Then think before you speak,' she growled. 'Or I'll make sure you never utter another word.'

'How are you going to do t–' His eyes widened as he tried to take in a breath, but the air was forced from his lungs.

'That's how.'

He gasped as the air returned to his lungs, his face red as he took desperate gasps. 'Noted,' he rasped, leaning on a pew for a moment.

She turned on her heel, walking down the aisle towards the doors. 'Well, I guess I'm going to have to find somewhere else to be alone,' she said, her steps making no sound. 'Goodbye.' She paused in the doorway, turning back to smirk at him. 'Kitten.'

He sneered, watching as she turned to mist, disappearing through the slowly opening door. 'Ah shit,' he muttered, looking at the claw marks in the pew beside him.

He turned, straightening his jacket as he walked down the aisle to the doors and back to his motorbike. He pulled his mobile phone from his pocket, quickly dialling Gambit's number. There were only two rings before he answered.

'Hello,' he answered, yelling over the noise in the background.

Logan swore, recognising the thumping beat as Daft Punk. 'You went out clubbing, while I went to talk to the pissed off air girl,' he growled into the receiver.

'It was just a girl?'

'Yeah, a girl who can force the air from someone's lungs and turn to mist,' he said.

'Did she kick your ass?'

'No,' he denied instantly, though part of him recognised truth in his friend's statement. She could have kicked his ass up and down the aisle in an instant if she chose to. 'That's not the point. She's like Storm. The air around her reacts to her emotions. The only reason she was making the tornadoes was because she was sad.'

'How can you be sure?'

'She got very angry when I asked her to stop making the tornadoes. Went on about a best friend that was murdered,' he said. He mentally lashed himself, remembering his stupid question. 'She was being serious.'

'Well I hope you tried to comfort her.'

Logan rolled his eyes. 'Very funny,' he said. 'But I don't take advantage of grieving girls.'

'Are you suggesting that I do?' Gambit asked, sounding offended.

'No, I just…' He sighed, leaning on his motorbike.

There was silence on the other end for a moment before he spoke, letting out a similar sigh. 'She got you riled, didn't she big guy?'

He looked up to the sky, the stars shining overhead. 'I guess so.'

'Don't get hung up on it, Logan,' he said. 'See you tonight.'

'More like in the morning. Don't wake me up when you get in.'

Gambit smirked. 'I'll try not to.'

Logan snapped the phone shut, though more carefully than before. He sat for a moment before throwing his leg over his motorbike. He sped off into the night, trying to concentrate on the wind in his hair, the feeling of it as it flowed over his skin.

Like mist.

He shook his head. Why was she still in his thoughts? Why could he still hear her voice, smell her skin, feel her finger as she flicked his nose? God, he'd never been so intoxicated by anyone.

And he hadn't been even known her for ten minutes.

Not only that, she had called him Kitten, had ridiculed him, taunted him right to his face and yet it didn't seem to matter.

I must be going soft, he thought as he sped along the roads, making his way to Gambit's. Through X-Mansion was, in many ways, his home, he liked Gambit's apartment. It was relaxed, with a jukebox of great tunes and a comfortable bed away from the teenagers at the academy, kids who liked to sneak around at night. He would always catch them, of course, and they would claim to be testing his hearing.

Mostly though, it was Rogue or Bobby sneaking between each other's rooms.

Logan stripped his jacket, hanging it on the hook beside his door. He sat on the edge of his bed, the springs squeaking beneath his weight. He pulled his shirt over his head, rubbing his eyes as he lay back, not bothering to pull back the covers. He folded his hands behind his head, staring up at the blank ceiling, his mind filled with thoughts of Sepharina, the mysterious girl able to control air.

She seemed harmless and dangerous at the same time, her voice almost playful even as she spoke of grieving for her lost best friend. She confused him, infuriated him, and yet he wanted to know more about her.