The red haze cleared from before his eyes and he was horrified to see what carnage he had perpetrated upon these men. Granted they probably deserved it, but still, a samurai should not behave so. Blood dripped from the blades he wielded with a precision that belied the savagery that lay before him. Only one was dead, but if he did not get them some help the rest would soon follow. Snikt – He sheathed his weapons, and moved swiftly to the phone, dialing 911 so as to get some emergency crews to help save these men. He turned his attention back to the men as the dispatcher sent the proper crews to the scene. He bandaged the worst of the wounded and was moving a particularly bad case when shots rang out behind him. The slugs were small but many, ripping small holes in the flesh of his back only to be stopped at his bones or proceed through flesh, organs, and skin. Cursing himself for his lack of awareness, he stumbled behind the bar, giving himself the few moments he would require to heal. The projectiles slammed into the cherry wood that at one time served as a watering hole for the people of this town. He could feel the redness surge behind his eyes, threatening to take over again. The man in him forced it back and kept control for the time being. Now fully healed, his weapons sprang from their housings in his wrists with a snikt sound. With a graceful arc of his hand the wall behind the bar fell open as an assailant jumped up on the bar. Logan rolled out through the hole he created as bullets rained down on the spot he just vacated and jumped on his iron steed. A throaty growl emitted from the Harley Davidson fat boy, just barley overpowering Logan's own growl. The night swallowed him in the outlying woodland, covering his escape.

The road was covered with leaves and other debris as he made his way to his home. He had heard no sounds indicating he was being followed, and with his hearing, he could be pretty sure that was the case. I can always trust my senses, he thought. The roar of his ride echoed in the trees lining the slim road up to Xavier Institute, and the night was thick and gloomy. The moon was nowhere to be seen and only a few stars pierced the night sky. The wind shifted and hit him full in the face, bringing a scent he knew. Lady Deathstrike. Why is she coming from the direction of the mansion? Logan knew this woman, she was and is a killer, who was looking for him and the indestructible metal laced into the fabric of his skeleton. He could see her now. She was running toward him, stumbling, her fingers molded into the deadly claws she had had made in order to kill him. If she has done anything to the X-Men ... He popped his claws and leaned forward on the bike, setting his right cowhide boot on the seat of the vehicle. He could hear her screaming to him, but couldn't make out what it was. The redness threatened to take him over again, he fought to restrain it, but there was too much history with this woman. He suddenly leapt at her preparing to strike with his claws, muscles and tendons tensing in anticipation. Something was wrong with her scent, and why was she yelling, "Wolvieeee!". He hesitated, but to the woman running toward him, his posture was very threatening. She reached out, and from her hands produced a bright pyrotechnic display, lightly burning the hair on his head and face. His hair burst into flames, as she screamed, and both fell to the ground, leaving Logan bleeding and blind. With eyesight like his, that attack was exceptionally effective. She couldn't ever do that before, and that looked a lot like Jubillee's power signature. Then he could make out her scent over Lady Deathstrike's. Logan stumbled to his feet, his face and hair recovering from the burns in moments, and waited for his eyes to readjust. His bike had fallen over and slid to a stop just in front of the woman who lay sobbing on the ground. Coolant from the bike trickled down forming a puddle around her and soaking and matting her hair with anti-freeze and water. Through all the smells he could still pick out Lady Deathstrike's scent, it was old, a week and three days.

"Wolvie, it's me, Jubes!" The hate and anger retreated slightly, his love for the young girl was one of the few things that could assuage his anger and bloodlust. He could still smell the stink of his enemy on her.

"Logan, you gotta hurry. Like, this guy and this woman came and took over the mansion and stuff, an', he..." Logan couldn't hear her prattling as he knew something was amiss back home, someone had hurt his Jubilee. That someone was going to pay, in spades. Logan had gone feral now. The twisting and swirling internal battle was over, and the animal had prevailed. His senses were heightened to a level that even he, normally did not experience. Wolverine suddenly burst into a full run, ignoring Jubilee and his motorcycle, he headed straight through the woods toward his home. Obstacles littered his path as he ran through the trees an small streams that created the scenery in Westchester. He ran with unmatched speed and maneuvered the terrain so swiftly it was as if there was nothing barring his progress. He touched nothing other than the ground on the way through the forest, leaving little evidence that he was there. When he emerged from the woods at the edge of the Xavier estate grounds, he didn't even alter his pace until he got to the door. He slowed slightly, slicing the door before sending his body through it. He could smell them before he even entered the room. Sabertooth. Omega Red. Juggernaut. Magneto. Sebastian Shaw. Some members of the Hand. He didn't reason on any of this, they all just registered as threats. Threats that had done a loved one harm. Darkness filled the room, an unnatural darkness, as Logan stood in the entrance of the large home. There were two stair cases, one on either side of the room, both leading to an upstairs landing that bled into a hallway. Sabertooth stood at the bottom of the right hand staircase, with Omega Red at the left set of stairs. The other three waited at the top of the stairs with Shaw in the middle. Instinct had taken over now and these people, all of them, were in trouble.

"What's wrong runt? Don't wanna play with your old pals?" Sabertooth said, "Red tried to give me the glow again. It didn't work. Games over for her." A huge grin creased the face of Logan's most hated enemy. He hurt Jean too! Blood dripped from his claws and time slowed as Logan watched a drip of blood land on the hardwood floor, Jean's blood. The crimson fluid making a small stain in the beautiful wood.