WOLVERINE'S WORLD

**The Xavier Academy, Summer Of 2010:

"I don't get it," Bobby muttered mostly to himself. He and Hank were in the Danger Room's control facility, overlooking the actual Danger Room itself. At the moment, a half-dozen of the Academy's students were running through a simulation. The holographic explosions and machine gun fire were making the Danger Room look like downtown Baghdad on a particularly bad day.

Hank set his cup of tea on the main console and glanced over at Bobby, "What don't you get?"

"X-23... Laura, I mean. The claws," Bobby replied absently as he made a note about the student's performance.

"I'm not following you, Bobby," Hank said with a shake of his head.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. I've never understood the thing with her claws. I mean... Logan has three on each hand, right? But Laura has two per hand and another on each foot. How the heck did that happen if she's Logan's clone?"

"Sexual dimorphism," Hank immediately replied.

Bobby thought that over before responding.

"Okay... Oh, yeah, now I remember. That's when the male and female of a species have a different form. Like the way male cardinals have bright red feathers, but the females are less showy."

Hank smiled agreeably - baring huge white fangs, "Good. I'm glad to see you actually paid attention in our biology classes."

"Can't hang around this place without picking up some of that stuff," Bobby said with a shrug. Then he frowned. "Hey, wait-a-minute..."

Hank cocked his leonine head, a slight smile playing on his lips as he watched Bobby consider the problem. Bobby was a lot brighter than most people realized.

"But that means..." Bobby continued slowly - and then stopped.

"Yes," Hank said with a nod, realizing that Bobby had figured it out.

"Logan and Laura aren't just another pair of mutants. They're an actual species," Bobby said quietly, his eyes now glued to Laura as she dodged away from two AK-47 wielding opponents and took out another man who was aiming a rocket launcher at a nearby building.

"Which means?" prodded Hank.

"If Logan and Laura were to have kids..." Bobby continued, then paused again. He apparently didn't want to continue that train of thought out loud.

"Yes," said Hank as he carefully picked up his teacup. His fingers appeared far too massive for such a delicate task, but Hank had lots of practice. "Logan and Laura would almost certainly breed true. And then we'd have little Logans and Lauras running around the mansion - claws, fast-healing, enhanced senses, friendly demeanor, and all."

Bobby whistled as he slowly shook his head. Then he said, "You know, it's probably a good thing that Logan thinks of Laura as a sister."

"A very good thing," Hank said dryly as he took a sip from his cup.

**Genosha Island, Spring Of 2011:

Looking at the monitor screen, Scott tried to keep his feelings to himself. The monitor showed a scene that would have seemed innocuous to any casual viewer. In a patch of woods on the other side of the island, two children - a boy and a girl - were playing a complex game of hide and seek. The boy had a strong, stocky build. The girl was slender and agile. They were both dark-haired and no more than eight years old.

"How many?" Scott asked quietly.

"Seven that we've found so far," Professor Xavier responded just as quietly. "There are almost certainly others that we haven't located. Erik and I are trying to reconfigure Cerebra to search for this particular genetic configuration."

The camera was following the boy as he hunted for his sister. The boy paused for a moment and crouched to sniff at the forest floor. He resembled his... brother... very strongly when he did that.

It was strange to see an eight-year old version of Logan.

"Dammit," muttered Scott. "Don't they ever stop?"

The Professor sighed, "Logan and Laura present a considerable temptation to anyone with a super-soldier program. By now, DNA samples from Logan and Laura are available for a very reasonable price on the genetics black market."

Both men fell silent as they watched the boy continue to track down his sister.

"So where did they come from?" Scott finally asked.

"These two were produced by an offshoot of the Weapon X program that's currently working for the Chinese army. Of the five others, three came from a Hydra operation based out of Malaysia, another was created by one of Dr. Doom's labs, and the remaining one is a product of the Italian intelligence service - and, no, I'm not joking about the last one."

On the monitor screen, there was a flurry of motion as the boy suddenly pounced into a dense thicket of low brush. Then two figures tumbled out of the vegetation and into sight. The boy and his sister jumped to their feet and began sparring - throwing punches and kicks at one another with eye-blurring speed while parrying with expert precision. The mock-fight eventually ended with both of them falling onto the forest floor, locked together in a wrestler's clinch.

Scott and the Professor watched the display of fighting skill silently.

Silently laughing - the camera system didn't have sound transmission capability, the young pair clambered to their feet and brushed dirt and leaves from each others hair and clothes.

Then the two children both looked directly at the camera.

Scott found it very difficult to look back.

**Tokyo, Summer Of 2014:

"I wish to meet my father," the boy said quietly.

Kitty was trying her best to keep her poise as she stared at the lethal-looking teenager who was talking to her. There were five dead Yakuza scattered throughout the building that testified as to just how dangerous the boy could be.

The youngster's genetic makeup was predominately Logan's - the resemblance was clear. But the eyes, skin tone, and hair also made it obvious that some Japanese had also been built into his DNA matrix.

"Logan is not your father," Kitty said in fluent, albeit accented, Japanese.

"Not in the normal sense," agreed the youngster. His eyes were very serious.

Kitty peered closely into the teen's face, "Your mother... I mean... who was the other DNA source?"

Then Kitty ground to a halt, unable to continue.

"Her name was Mariko Yashida," the boy replied softly. "When the Hand created me, they thought that would be an insult to her memory."

Kitty closed his eyes for a long moment, then she opened them. She would have to tell Logan.

"I met your... mother. She was a great woman," Kitty said firmly. Then she pulled a cell-phone out of her jacket and opened it.

"Katherine..." interrupted the suddenly hesitant boy.

Kitty paused in mid-dial, "Yes?"

"If Logan accepts me, may I have the honor of calling you 'sister'?" the clone asked - obviously worried that he would get a negative answer.

A surprised Kitty mulled over the idea. And then she smiled broadly.

**Munich, Spring Of 2015:

A dozen German emergency vehicles - police, fire, and ambulance - were arrayed around the brightly burning research facility. Overhead, a police helicopter and a pair of news choppers were orbiting the area. Their spotlights combined with the fire to turn the night into an eerie, flickering imitation of day.

Sam stood in the doorway of a nearby warehouse and watched the police vehicles carefully. So far, the police didn't seem to realize that the fire was anything other than normal.

In the warehouse, Betsy was facing the pair of young women they had just broken out of the now-burning building.

"My name is Betsy Braddock," she said in rusty, but passable, German. "The reckless American cowboy at the door is named Sam Guthrie."

Sam turned his head and nodded. Then he turned his attention back to the police.

The two girls that Betsy was talking to looked at one another. They were both blonde and very slim. You could only really see Logan in their dark, fathomless eyes. However, both girls had Logan's healing factor - in fact, that was why they existed. The otherwise quite respectable research company that had created the two girls had been using them as test subjects for medical experiments.

Betsy was standing at a very carefully calculated distance from the girls. If they became violent, Betsy wanted to have a chance to react. Actually, the situation wasn't as dangerous as it could have been. The two girl's claws had long ago been removed using a process that combined surgery and regeneration-inhibiting treatments, and they had not been trained as fighters. But then again, nobody had ever trained a lioness how to fight either - and Betsy knew lots of ways to kill people that involved bare fists and feet. So she wasn't inclined to take any unnecessary chances with these two.

"Why did you rescue us?" the older girl asked warily.

"Because nobody - mutant or human - should be used as an experimental animal," Betsy replied.

"But what do you want with us?" asked the younger girl.

"We want you to be free," Betsy said in a harsher tone than she had intended.

The girls nodded slowly. But Betsy could tell they didn't quite believe her. They were both obviously considering an attack - first at Betsy, and then at Sam.

"Betsy means it," Sam said without turning around to look at the girls. "If ya'll want, we'll leave right now and you can do what you want. But if you do that, ah suggest that you take an underground route outta here - the Polizei are pretty thick right now. And if you get caught, ah ain't sure that they won't just give you back to those folks that had you locked up. The guy in charge of that company has a lot of friends in your government."

The two girls seemed to consider Sam's words.

"Please," Betsy added beseechingly, "we don't want to fight you."

Both girls relaxed slightly. The older girl nodded her head slowly, her eyes never leaving Betsy's face.

Meanwhile, the younger girl looked past Betsy towards Sam.

"Are you really a cowboy? Like in the movies?" she asked interestedly.

"Nope, but ah have ridden a horse," Sam answered over his shoulder with an easy, cheerful grin.

Sam's eyes met that of the younger girl. She smiled shyly back at him.

**The Xavier Academy, Winter Of 2016:

Laura and Sooraya were doting over Laura's two babies when Logan entered the nursery.

Momentarily leaving Sooraya with the twins, Laura walked over to Logan and kissed him on the cheek.

"How you doing, Gramps?" she said with a wicked grin.

Logan laughed. He didn't really mind when Laura teased him.

The young clone who had got Laura pregnant was in hiding, but Logan had already regretfully made the decision to let him live. That had been touch and go for a while. However, Laura could be very persuasive when she wanted to be, and she definitely wanted to keep the father of her two children alive.

One of the girls jumped into Sooraya's lap and tugged energetically at her veil. Logan put his arm around Laura and they leaned against one another and watched the two kids play with a now slightly overwhelmed - but merrily laughing - Sooraya. At six months of age, both children were already walking. And running. And climbing.

"I came down here to tell you that Greta just popped," Logan said to Laura. "She had triplets - two girls and a boy. She and the kids are doing fine."

Greta was a couple of years older than Laura. She had been produced by a European bio-technology company that had wanted to research Logan's remarkable healing factor. The X-Men found out about the project and broke Greta and her sister free. The resultant scandal was still rocking the German government.

The father of Greta's children had been produced and trained by the Mossad. He had escaped two years previously. He was also the one who had discovered the research facility where Greta and Helga were being held prisoner. He secretly notified the X-Men and set in motion the chain of events that resulted in Greta and her sister being freed.

"Triplets?" Laura asked with a raised eyebrow. Then she glanced at her own twin girls.

Logan shrugged, "Hank figures we have a tendency for multiple births."

One of the girls - her name was Ororo, the other was named Jean - decided that she had been separated from her mother long enough. With a joyful cry, she rushed at Laura with her arms wide open. Laura expertly caught the giggling girl and lifted her up for a quick kiss.

"Getting to be a lot of us," Logan said with a shake of his head.

**Northern California, Summer Of 2017:

The beach was very isolated and they had it all to themselves. Rahne Sinclair was in her full wolf form as she charged through the surf, joyfully yelping as she jumped over and through the crashing, sunlit waves.

She was followed by a lean, but powerfully built young man. He was a full Logan clone, but had been modifed in-vitro to avoid Logan's distinctively short and stocky form. Hydra had wanted a killer who could easily blend into a crowd if it was required.

The young man loping after Rahne was very fast, but even he was having problems keeping up with her.

Rahne couldn't resist pausing and glancing over her shoulder at the man who was following her. They had been dating for the last four months - which had been some of the happiest months of Rahne's life.

That moment of hesitation cost Rahne as her boyfriend suddenly saw his opening. With a startlingly quick leap, he tackled Rahne and they both tumbled onto the wet sand in a laughing flurry of wet flesh and fur.

Rahne transformed back into human form. She wasn't wearing any clothes, but she didn't really mind. Modesty wasn't really an issue at the moment. And it hadn't been an issue between the two of them for some weeks.

The two young lovers lay on the beach, their arms and legs intertwined as they kissed passionately. Then the young man gently pulled away from Rahne and said something to her in Malayasian.

"What was that?" Rahne asked with a smile. She was picking up bits and pieces of the language, but she wasn't fluent with it yet.

"I just asked you to marry me", the young man replied calmly.

**The Xavier Academy, Summer Of 2018:

The summer picnic was a long-established tradition. Besides being fun, it gave everyone a chance to get back together and compare notes.

Hank McCoy sat in a heavily-reinforced folding chair and watched the chaos as current and former members of the Academy talked, ate, argued, drank, laughed, and played. Hank seemed to be the only one who wasn't taking part in the festivities. Instead, he was keeping a close eye on certain select members of the party.

Rahne Sinclair never got more than a few feet from her dark-haired and eyed husband. She was hugely pregnant and positively aglow with happiness. Hank had examined her just before the party started. An ultrasound test suggested that Rahne was carrying quintuplets. Fortunately, Hank was sure that Rahne's theriomorphic physiology could handle that big of a birthing without surgical intervention.

Meanwhile, Sam Guthrie and his wife Helga were busier than most of the people at the picnic. After all, they had two very active children to keep track of. In fact, Helga was currently dragging the boy out of a tree he had just expertly climbed, while Sam was keeping the girl occupied by chasing her around the picnic area. Sam was having some trouble keeping pace with the girl and every now and then he was forced to cheat by using his flying powers.

Laura, her husband, and their girls were off in the woods, tracking deer.

It had turned out that what Hank was calling the 'Logan Gene' was dominant - very dominant. The offspring of any mutant who mated with Logan or one of his clones, almost always produced children that shared many of his characteristics. And interbreeding between Logan clones resulted in children who were very much a part of the Logan-Laura sub-species.

Bobby walked over to Hank and collapsed into the seat next to him.

"What's up?" Bobby asked Hank as he fished a beer out of a nearby cooler.

"Nothing," Hank replied broodingly as he watched Rahne tenderly steal a kiss from her husband.

Bobby rolled his eyes heavenward, "Oh, for Pete's sake, Hank! What's got you so down?"

It was a long time before Hank replied. Then he shrugged and said distractedly, "I think I have received a glimpse of the future."

Bobby shrugged as he popped the cap off of a beer bottle, "And what does the future hold for us, oh prophetic one?"

"It will be red, Bobby. The future will be red of tooth and claw."

Bobby didn't catch the reference.

**Earth Orbit, About 200 Years Later:

The Shipmaster tried to feign interest in what his Cargochief was saying. The man was competent, but he had a tendency to ramble on about details that really didn't matter. And what really mattered was turning a profit. The Shipmaster, his ship, and his crew were from Hovarth - a small, resource-poor, but technologically advanced world out on the galactic rim. That world's economy was based on interstellar trade, and Hovarthian ships could be found all over this spiral arm of the galaxy.

So far, this voyage had been unspectacular and the Shipmaster was getting worried about what his financial backers would say when he returned home. He needed to make a big score and he needed to make it soon.

The Cargochief glanced at his notes and said, "Well, sir, this planet is called 'Earth'. It has an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere and a large hydrosphere. The climate is wildly variable, but is generally livable. The dominant sentient species has a standard bipedal/five-senses configuration - a sure sign of Host influence. Historically, this world was noted for a large meta population - another sign of Host influence. Interest in the meta population of this world led to frequent interaction with the Kree, Skrull, and Shi'ar Empires - there are even some crazy legends about contact with Galactus."

The Shipmaster couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of that statement, "Not likely, Chief. This is still a living world."

The Cargochief nodded, "Yes, sir. As I said, that part is probably just a legend. Anyway, a little over 100 cycles ago, this world had a big war which knocked it back to the pre-industrial era. For some reason, the Shi'ar had an Interdiction Squadron around this world for quite some time after that. But those ships were recently recalled back to the Empire - probably due to those Imperial succession problems we've been hearing about."

That made the Shipmaster perk up his ears. This world had a streak of meta-talent in its gene-pool and had also been locked down by the Shi'ar until just recently? Why, that presented quite an opportunity! The slave trade was particularly profitable if the commodity being sold could be gathered at minimal cost.

The Shipmaster turned to his first officer, "You've made an analysis?"

"Yes, sir. Probes report that this world's technology is at the bow and arrow level. We aren't picking up any sign of major meta activity. They're ripe for the taking, sir."

The Shipmaster looked back at the Cargochief.

"Using cryosleep, we could fit somewhere between five and six thousand slaves aboard ship," the Cargochief continued. "The loss rate in transit should be no more than five percent. Profitability analysis looks very good at the nearest likely markets. Profits could be extremely high if the population still maintains a meta-gene."

The Cargochief punched a button on his computer console. A set of numbers flashed up on the briefing screen. The Shipmaster blinked in surprise. The Cargochief was severely understating the situation when he called the profitability analysis "very good."

The Shipmaster smiled to himself. It looked like his problems were over.

**Two Days Later...

Screams and the roar of blaster fire echoed down the corridor just before the blast door slammed shut and silence descended. Trembling and gasping for breath, the Shipmaster leaned against the bulkhead and reloaded his blaster pistol with shaking hands. He had just abandoned the last few members of his crew to a gruesome death, but he didn't have any time for pangs of conscience.

By the Gods, landing on this world had been a horrible mistake! They should have wondered why the Shi'ar had interdicted the world! They should have spent more time studying this world before landing! And damn the Shi'ar for recalling the patrol ships that had been protecting the rest of the Universe from the natives of this world!

But it was now far too late for regrets. The natives were swarming throughout the ship and had taken control of almost every deck. The Shipmaster had lost his ship and his crew. But it was possible - just barely possible - that the Shipmaster could survive if he managed to reach the small bay that held the ship's launch. The launch didn't have a faster-than-light drive, but it would suffice to get him off of this hellworld. Using the survival pack in the launch, he could hold out in orbit for several months. Hopefully someone - perhaps the Shi'ar - would pass nearby and pick up his distress signal.

The Shipmaster finished reloading his pistol and looked down the corridor towards the hatchway that led to the boat bay.

Standing between him and the hatch was a young girl who was looking at the Shipmaster with a strangely calm gaze. She was dark-haired and wearing some kind of short dress that left her legs, feet, and arms bare. A bird-shaped pendant made of a translucent reddish-orange material dangled from her neck. She was also soaked from head to toe with the maroon-colored blood of the Shipmaster's crew.

For a frozen moment, the Shipmaster and the girl stared at one another. Then a pair of bone claws suddenly protruded from the backs of the girl's hands.

The Shipmaster screamed, voided his bodily wastes, and tried to raise his handgun.

The last thing he saw was a blur of motion.

**Report To Sector Command, Shi'ar Scout Cruiser 'Brilliant Lance'.

...the Hovarth trading ship was found on the western shore of the continent identified as 'North America'. Scans and probes showed no sign of survivors. As per standing orders, the ship was destroyed via orbital bombardment.

Given the nature of the inhabitants of this world, it is strongly recommended that the Interdiction patrol be re-established over this planet.